#but i like the softer quality of the vine for this i think :] now i need to go set it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

llamagoddessofficial · 3 years

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what was it like the first time Mc met Skull in the portal Au?

Is it story snippet time? I think it’s story snippet time.

The vent cover was loose.

You’d noticed, as soon as you’d rounded the corner. It didn’t matter that the facility was dark, quiet, deep in one of its night cycles... in the faint illumination of the safety screens and directional arrows left on, you picked up the silhouette of the cover. You were so familiar with the area of the lab around the room you slept in that you probably would’ve seen it anyway... but what immediately made all your attention snap to it was the fact that the glint of sleek metal in the darkness was, in fact, misaligned.

... Sans wanted everything neat. Sans wanted everything right. Red liked it that way, too, but Sans seemed to have the final say. And it showed- the entire facility was neat, angled, symmetrical and impossibly clean. It was so regimented and unnatural that you felt like an outlier yourself; a strange, curved, imperfect biological creature in a space that seemed to bleed robotic perfection from every corner.

... So... something about this one plating... this one vent cover, at a bad angle, tilted just against the grain...

... You were hyperfocused.

You moved over to it, bare feet cat-silent on the warm white floor, crouching down. You weren’t supposed to be out of your room at night, Sans didn’t like you wandering around when he was unaware, powered down for system maintenance and repairs... your fingers sealed around the loosened ends of the vent cover, and with the gentlest of tugs the whole thing came off, leaving a gaping hole in the wall large enough for you to crawl into.

...

It was like you had a fog, separating one half of your mind from the other. Every day in this strange lab was confusing- and when you tried to ask yourself normal questions, like “where am I?” or “how did I get here?” or “why do I have no memories before this place?” your brain supplied you with absolutely nothing. And not only that, it couldn’t even supply you with the concern you knew you should be experiencing... the fear, the panic, it wouldn’t come. It was the most paradoxical and horrible sensation... the feeling of knowing something was wrong, of knowing you should be scared, but something in your head just not letting you access it.

... Maybe that was why the sight of the hole in the wall, the gap in the artificially perfect world around you, made your heart skip in excitement instead of fear. Maybe that was why you normally would have stuck to what was safe and not done stupid shit like going into vents...

... But this time, you got on your hands and knees, and crawled right in.

You weren’t crawling for a very long time; after what couldn’t have even been a minute of moving in a straight line through the smooth metallic system, the dark space opened up above you, more than enough for you to stand up to your full height in. Your eyes were wide, childlike in wonder- unlike the rest of the facility, that at least seemed to try and fake an air of safety, this place behind the walls... every surface around you was dirty, stained and rusty, there were tubes and buttons and tangled wires sticking out of the floor and ceiling, the whole place was lit up with an unnerving orange glow that was leaking through slits in the flooring. The air was filled with a nasty tang, metallic and almost blood-like, heavy and claustrophobic...

... It was like you’d crawled into hell. Like you’d gone from the head of the facility to the entrance of the throat. Another world...

...

As your gaze lowered...

... There was something in the room with you.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. Near the other end of the room there was a large, metallic box, most likely containing important wiring of some kind. From where you were standing you could judge that it was about your shoulder height... pretty big.

... But it wasn’t the box that had your attention. It was what it was blocking from your view. A perfectly circular crimson light was peeking out from behind that box... a turret eye, bright and awake and alive, cutting through the murky coloured darkness. And the more you stared, the more you could make out, the more you could see the partially obscured hunched figure attached to the eye that was trained directly on you.

...

“H-hello?” You whispered.

...

“sh-ouldn_t.. be.here.”

... The voice was like nothing you’d ever heard. Deep, deathly deep, you could feel it in your chest like standing next to a speaker- vibrating in your stomach, the palms of your hands, even tingling along your scalp. It sounded... automated, jittering and autotuned and with inflections no human would use, but so clearly with thoughts and feelings behind it, the unmissable edge of somebody who’s cautious, afraid... a downright uncanny mix of machine and man.

“... Should you?” Your voice sounded so... weak. So biological. Your heart was pounding.

... The eye noticeably changed; the dot in the centre became a fraction wider. It took an odd shape, too... from your distance it... looked like a heart...?

A soft, low “... no_.”

“... Then that makes two of us. Right?”

...

The owner of the eye stood up.

He stood slowly, too. And as he did, the box he’d been crouched behind just got smaller, and smaller, and smaller... a beast, made of the facility’s leftovers. Large enough to crush you like a beetle. The dim orange light touched his silhouette to reveal thick tubes, misshapen metal plates, wires hanging off him like cut vines... a gaping cavity in his chest where a half-broken plasma motor was faintly humming and glowing. One of his hands looked vaguely humanoid but the other was just a badly affixed pincer claw... the plate on his face had been haphazardly cut away so his one red eye could see, and a skeletal nose shape had been carved into the centre. Everything about him was asymmetric, uneven, mismatched...

You opened your mouth-

[Bleep!]

...

It floated through the room. A light noise, like a phone notification. You took note of the fact that you couldn’t hear it echoing through the rest of the facility... something that was only heard in the backrooms, perhaps? It was a very gentle little sound, nothing more than a light jingle...

... Except he flinched like a gunshot had gone off, eye blinking out entirely. Immediately, he turned around- you let out a little “H-hey, wait!” and raised your arm but it didn’t stop him. In a few giant steps he’d completely disappeared around a corner, clanging sounds moving so much deeper into the metalworks in such a short amount of time that you found yourself immediately disoriented. How... you were just standing there, how did someone that huge and heavy move so fast?

...

You wanted to pursue. You wanted to chase him deep into the bowels of the lab, down where you weren’t ever supposed to go, where no light would reach... you wanted to so badly you’d already moved a few steps without realising.

... But at the same time, you felt like you’d done enough for one day. Your nose stung from the strange smells in the air, your eyes were straining in the orange darkness... you wanted to go to sleep, back to your relaxation chamber, to rest for now and figure out what the hell you’d just seen.

What the hell you’d just spoken to.

... You turned, and clambered back through the vent. It took no time at all to re-emerge back in the regular facility... back to the whiteness, the cleanliness, the perfect and fake.

...

You had no idea why he’d reacted the way he had to that sound. What did it mean? You trailed your hand along the wall as you walked, making your way through the halls back to your chamber, the floor smooth and faultless under your bare soles. Was it... some kind of warning? An alert system? Was he running toward something, or away fr-

“subject.”

- You almost jumped out of your fucking skin.

You were never sure where Sans’ voice was coming from. It always seemed to just spontaneously exist all around you, disembodied and impossible to describe, surrounding you on all sides as if emanating from the air in the building itself. No matter how hard you searched you could never seem to find any speakers on the cold, unfriendly white walls or floor... just further adding to the confusion and dream-like quality of this whole place. You clutched your chest, taking a little breath, trying to disguise the wild flinch that you’d just experienced.

“Y-yeah?” You said, smooth as always, and totally completely not-startled.

Sans always heard you, no matter how quietly you spoke- and judging by passing comments he’d made he always seemed to be able to see you and your expression. God, you hoped he couldn’t read the panic in your face.

“the facility is in night cycle.” Calm, emotionless, slightly autotuned, as per usual... but a little softer than the norm. “why are you out of your relaxation chamber?”

You glanced up at the nearest camera, a small black orb close to the ceiling with a gently blinking blue light.

...

“I-I can’t sleep.” Was all you could think of.

...

“... perhaps it will be easier to sleep... if you are reclined in a position, in which you can actually sleep. you should return to your chamber.”

“... I’m just walking around.” You kept moving, hoping he wouldn’t think about where you’d come from. “I mean... N-not all of us have a ‘go to sleep instantly’ button. I’m clearing my head. I’m fine, I'm on my way back anyway.”

...

“you’re stammering. your heart rate is elevated.”

Shit. Shit. No, it’s-

“... did you experience a nightmare?”

...

“O-oh. Yeah. Uhm...” You rubbed the back of your neck, eyes drifting down to the floor. “You know about those?”

“i have access to the combined entirety of human knowledge. yes, i am aware of nightmares.”

“W-well... yeah. Yes. I... had one. I’m walking it off.”

... A pause, on his part.

...

“... i can turn the lights back on. if... you’d like to walk around.”

“No thank you. It’ll just make me feel more awake.”

“i see. ... well. i need to complete some more system reboots. i will be partially offline again. if... you need me, just call.”

“Okay. Sure. I will.”

#llama writes #portal au #llama gets carried away: the series #its creepy robot time #its a biggun too! hhehe #feels nice to write again

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

Ten Sides (Last Part)

The root of her problems, Doctor Khan says, is her own self image. She thinks that she has always known as much. That she has always had a distorted image of who she is in some way or another; sometimes she is the greatest soul to walk upon Fire Nation land, on other days she is a failure through and through. Some days she is a goddess, some days she is a disappointment, a shame… Sometimes she thinks herself a decent woman and at other times she can’t see herself as anything but a twisted and warped extension of her father. Sometimes she sees herself as a bold woman a free and independent woman. Sometimes she feels like a tool.

Sometimes she still longs for Aang to touch her aura again. To tweak it until she feels nothing but the self-respect and confidence that she tries to outwardly exude. Most of the time she is well aware that it is more satisfying to continue slowly putting herself back together on her own. She thinks that she has made so much progress already; even before meeting with Khan for the first time. She was proud to inform him that she has already done her share of introspection and that she would only like the tools to fully make something of it.

Today’s task is to better resolve things with Mai and TyLee. They talk to her, they bring her on outings, they seem to enjoy being in her company again. But she still doesn’t feel as though she has fully patched things up. There are still loose ends and these loose ends, Khan says, are worth tying.

She feels so vulnerable trying. Even though both of them are listening to her with much more willingness and much less skepticism.

“Believe it or not, I do understand.” Azula says. “I might be missing a few pieces but I understand.” And her understanding is exactly what continuously makes her feel ill.

“We already said that we forgive you.” TyLee smiles.

So why can’t she forgive herself? Why is she still so utterly disgusted with herself? Somehow this nags at her much more deeply than having killed Sangyul. “I don’t.”

Mai sighs. “You really like to latch onto mistakes, don’t you?”

“A mistake is something that happens once, by accident. Not something repeated and deliberate.” Azula mumbles.

“How can you forgive Aang but not forgive yourself?” TyLee tires.

“I have standards for myself.”

“Lower them?” Mai quirks a brow.

Azula shakes her head. Though Khan has said the same thing, she thinks that this is one standard she can’t lower. She has already done her share of lowering anyways; these days she leaves her hair out of place when day to day activities make a mess of it. These days she allows herself to skip firebending practice. These days it is easier for her to stomach a poorly preformed kata. These days it is easier for her to look in the mirror and see her scar not as a mark of shame but a mark of strength, perseverance… These days she is able to feel satisfaction when assessing herself as a whole.

But not this. This is a standard that she needs to uphold. A standard that she can’t afford to get lax with. Not when it is so easy for her to fall back into poorer social habits. The ones that her father had fashioned for her. The ones that made her an adequate soldier.

She wants to be a more agreeable person, as Sangyul had put it, but she wants to do it on her terms. She will do it on her terms. “I need to talk about this. I need to…” she needs to feel like she isn’t horrible. That she isn’t exactly what she hates. Needs to come to terms with that she had been what she has come to hate. “Do you think about it, sometimes?”

“Think about what?” TyLee asks.

“What I did to you? Do you still have...habits? Tell me the truth.”

TyLee bites her lip. “I did for a while.”

Azula swallows, her stomach flutters. She had seen it coming, she had wanted to know. It hurts all the same. “Mai?”

Mai shrugs, “not really, but that still doesn’t make it okay.”

She knows this. “It is still not okay what Aang did to me.”

Mai nods, seeming to relax somewhat. “I guess that it’s good to have proof that you really do understand.”

“Do you still have habits, TyLee?”

She shakes her head, “not since our last talk.” She smiles. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

Azula isn’t sure if the flutters in her tummy come from fear and discomfort or relief--they really like her. They are staying with her because she is someone worth keeping company with. And if they are no longer afraid of her, perhaps she shouldn’t be either. Perhaps she can afford to let her guard down at least a little. To trust herself. Perhaps it is time to more fully accept each and every change. To fully acknowledge and embrace who she has become. Even if this person is softer, more venerable. Even if this person is more doubtful, prone to questioning herself. They are her own changes, the ones that she herself has invited.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” TyLee asks with a little laugh, “not being afraid?”

Azula nods.

“Thanks for talking with us.” Mai replies. “For a while I thought that it was just an act.”

“It’s not an act.”

“We know.” TyLee says cheerfully.

“Now can you forgive yourself and stop making things weird and tense?”

She manages a laugh. “I think so.” Spirits, she feels so much lighter now.

She doesn’t need the vines. She never did. She is healing on her own.

.oOo

Her smile is beautiful, perfect. She is stubborn, irritating, pushy, and particular. It is truly aggravating sometimes. Her moods can be turbulent and sometimes she yells. She has a tendency to bring up the past. And by Raava, he fights back. But he wouldn’t tweak an aspect of her. She is perfect. And she is perfect the way she is.

Her moods are growing much less turbulent, her mind less troubled. He can see it in her posture, in that beautiful, perfect smile, and in her eyes. There is clarity in them, clarity and peace to go with that sharp and powerful gleam.

She pats her lap and he sits upon it. She wraps her arms around him and rests her chin on his shoulder. “I talked with Mai and TyLee earlier today.”

“How did that go?”

“I won’t be needing an emergency session with doctor Khan.” She kisses the crook of her neck. “It went well.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiles.

“Avatar?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you still ashamed of yourself?”

He furrows his brows, “what do you mean?”

“Because I feel like myself again.” She says, stroking the back of his hand. “I don’t have the nightmares as often. You don’t have to feel guilty anymore.”

And it comes to him that she is assuming that, because she has been struggling to forgive herself, that he must be too. Her expressions of empathy are as bizarre as many of her other mannerisms. He has to laugh. Truth be told, he has forgiven himself some time back. He can see the confidence on her, can see her coming back to herself, but somehow it still comes as a relief to hear her vocally confirm that he hasn’t left her permanently unsure of herself.

“I’m glad to hear it, Azula.” She has fought so hard to rediscover herself and, spirits, the woman she has found is a lovely one. He massages her back and shoulders. He only hopes that he has done the same for himself.

He is almost certain that he has; for better or for worse, he has shaken away the innocent, naive boy he had been. For better or for worse, he knows that sometimes he can’t hold back, that he has to strike and strike hard. For better or for worse, he knows when he has to fight.

She gives him another faint smile and trails her fingers down his arms. She goes quiet for a moment, for just long enough to leave a flutter in his belly. “I love you.”

It is the first time that she has said as much out loud without the vines to push her to do so. And, spirits, the authenticity is so much better. Though spoken just as quietly, her affections aren’t timid and flustered. They are strangely firm but with a silky quality.

“Say it again?” He requests.

“I love you, Avatar.” She gives his neck another kiss. “You’ve helped me a lot. It was humiliating and stupid but…”

“But look at you now.” He finishes. He gazes into her eyes. They are fully lucid, fully Azula. Azula with compassion.

“I just wish that I would have helped you the right way from the start.”

She presses her lips firmly together before confessing, “I’m not sure that you would have been able to, Avatar. I didn’t want to change. I...don’t know if I would have if I didn’t break completely.”

And there it is, the final thing that needs to be settled. Aang shakes his head, “I think that you would have. You shouldn’t have had to get hurt that badly to heal. We should have realized that you needed some patience and understanding. I know that you think that the old you was unreachable but have you considered that that’s because no one ever tried to do it the right way?”

“Avatar, that’s a lot easier said than done. I’m not...I wasn’t nice.”

“Do you know how many times Zuko lashed out at Iroh?” Aang asks. “The point is, you didn’t need to go through all of that. You didn’t deserve what Sangyul put you through.”

Azula nods, “thank you, Avatar. Sometimes I forget that things don’t have to be so...cruel.”

He wishes that life would have been kinder to her. All the same, he can’t imagine Azula without her rougher edges. The rougher edges that he had damn near smoothed away. “They don’t.” He confirms. “But I’m pretty sure that it’s safe to say that you can handle everything.”

She pulls him closer, squeezes him tighter, buries her face in the folds of his clothing. She kisses between his shoulder blades and he knows for certain that they never had to force her to be loving, she had the capacity for it.

All they had to do was assure her that it was safe to be soft.

.oOo.

She feels strong again, powerful. Her head hasn’t felt this clear in so long. And thinks that she has fully fulfilled the lessons she learned from unlocking her chakras. She looks in the mirror, the face within is both harder and softer all at once. She supposes that it only makes sense; it is a rather direct reflection of her personality. Of a woman who has found the strength in weakness and the dignity in shame. Of a woman who has confronted her guilt and her fears and built them into love and comfort. Love and comfort that shakes grief away. Of a woman who has learned to break away from those comfortable lies that have been rotting her away into a weaker version of herself. Of a woman who has stripped herself down to the rawest elements of herself, the truest version of herself. The version of herself that the most admirable, respectable, and lovable.

And finally she can be content with the face she sees. Finally she can be happy to look upon it. Upon herself. Finally she can not only be content with, but appreciate the woman she sees.

“You aren’t scrutinizing yourself again, are you?” Aang asks.

She shakes her head, “no, Avatar. I’m…”

“Admiring?” He quirks a brow.

She rolls her eyes, “appreciating.”

“I appreciate your face too.” He stoops down to kiss her forehead.

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not talking about my face.” Though she doesn’t think that it would hurt to appreciate that too.

“Then what are you talking about?”

“Do you really want to listen to me ramble about myself.”

“I sure do.” Aang pulls up a chair. “What exactly are we appreciating today?”

She gives a soft hum, “acceptance, Avatar, we’re appreciating acceptance. Change, as well, I suppose.” More than that she appreciates finally being comfortable in her skin. Sound in who she has become. “I am...happy with myself.” She is happy with herself because she is undeniably herself. And she thinks that she has grown into herself quite well.

Aang grins. “That’s really refreshing to hear.” He massages her shoulders.

Every so often her mind wanders back to that facility, to Sangyul. But when it does there is an element of control, a different sort of acceptance. A more solemn one; things could have and probably should have gone different. Things didn’t have to get as bad as they did. The man had damn near killed a part of her and she had paid him back for it. She isn’t an evil person. Neither is she the sweet and timid thing that he tried to shape her into--that people may well want her to be. And so her nightmares become a rarity. When they rise, she has her Avatar to whisper consoling words in her ear.

“Does this mean that the meditation isn’t ‘loathsome’ and ‘pointless’?”

She rolls her eyes. “It is quite helpful, but I still think that it looks ridiculous.”

“You look ridiculous so that your bending can look mystifying.”

She must admit that it certainly has helped her find a new source for her bending, a source that isn’t so cold and hateful. And in the clarity her lightningbending and her forms have a new and deeper elegance. A regal prowess that suits her very well.

“I wish I could say the same for your firebending. Avatar, have you been practicing like I’ve told you?”

He rubs the back of his head, telling her all that she needs to know.

She sighs, “well I know what we’re doing today.”

“Aren’t you, Mai, and TyLee having a girl’s night?”

“Ladies night starts at night. We have plenty of sunlight left to work on your firebending. The last time we trained it was embarrassing...for both of us as I recall.”

He laughs. “Alright, fine, I guess it will be fun to train with you now that you actually have your fire.”

She leads him into the palace training hall. “Would you like to spar first or shall I show you some forms?” She already knows what he is going to say.

“Forms, please.”

She rolls her eyes. “Savor you last moments of rest, Avatar. I won’t be going easy on you once we start.”

“I know that you won’t.”

With a smirk and a quirk of her brow, she holds out her hand. She lets the flame flicker upon it. Her brows furrow and Aang stands back up. “Avatar...what?”

He cups his hand under hers.

“What does this mean?”

“You found your peace and a perfect balance for you.” He replies with a kiss to the top of her head.

She lets the flame lick and lap in her palm. A brilliant white.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azulaang #Fanfiction

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linkspooky · 5 years

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he flies he lies hawks realizes that he has been telling the truth to the villains and lying to the heroes / For @villainmonth /edit by @inumaqi fic by @linkspooky

“Listen I want you to trust what I’m about to say.” “Those are some pretty serious words you’re saying…”

♘

If you have wings, you should fly. That is what Hawks always believed. Feathers were designed by god to catch the air, they did not fall, they floated down. He could pluck one of his feathers, throw it into the sky and watch it dance.

That was what freedom looked like. But looks were deceiving. His quirk manifested at four years old. He still remembered, terrified of the bulges that had formed on his back, but they could not afford a doctor. Trash that littered the floor, and parents that did not look his way because they considered himself like the garbage that piled up, something that needed to be thrown out. Hawks remembered thinking several times as he looked up at the sky, if he could escape to the sea or the sky, he would have flown away from here in an instant. His pain was prolonged for an entire month as something budded from his back. It felt like vines were growing out from him, and he felt every single thorn as they snaked out in the layers between his skin, and wrapped around his spine. He was cut, again and again, inside and out. Then one day, the skin on his back broke. He woke up with two long rivulets of blood streaming down from both sides of his back, an injury that made him look like an angel who had both wings ripped away from his flesh. Then at his upper backs, two large bones had emerged covered in feathers.

On that first day he pulled those feathers old with a pair of rusty gardening shears out of fear because he did not know what was happening. A mess of blood, and feathers, and two wings plucked raw, but they grew back. It was when he spread his wings for the first time, that he realized he could not leave the ground. There was nowhere for him to fly. Nowhere he could escape to.

♘

Hawks always had a feeling that he was lighter than air. That there was not enough of himself to fill up his own body. Birds needed to be that way in order to fly, their bones were hollow, and their lungs took up most of their body mass filling them with air. He had the same feeling, nothing inside of him, deep down to his bones.

Wherever he walked his feet didn’t touch the ground. He was not flying so much as floating, transparent, hollow, he simply hovered there like a ghost with no substance. It was easy for him to smile, because there was no feeling behind the gesture to him.

When he was younger he never smiled, he found no reason to, and one day he noticed the adults around him were a bit softer on him if he forced the muscles in his face to pull back his lips. Whatever was inside of him, he was sure it was not a hero. Not like All Might, never like him. He was hair, feathers, talons, scars, and bones. He was all of that, and he was still nothing. He was the blood in his body, but maybe only air flowed through his veins. There were holes in his bones. No, there were holes in Hawks. The air simply passed right through him. He was someone who was simply there. He was there and yet not there. But Hawks used this quality of his. Useless children were like trash piling up in the Takami Household, they were knocked down to the floor, and then they were eventually thrown away. He could smile when he did not feel like smiling. He could always continue to smile, even when there was no reason. He just needed to keep flying. Fly up, up, and up. And forget about crashing down back to earth.

He just had to keep smiling, even now. That was what he told himself, as Jeanist turned his head back to look at him. “It’s rare for you to come visit me like this.” “How are you feeling?” Hawks, dressed like a model, his hair combed back and feathered, his wings stretching to relax. He took nothing seriously, he never had so much as a heavy thought cross his mind. Burdened by nothing, carefree, that was the “Hawks” that he showed to Jeanist. “Much better than before!” “Didn’t you ask that old lady over at UA for help?” “Unfortunately, she can’t recover something that has already been lost.”

Hawks knew that already. For example if you sever a limb, an arm, a leg, or maybe your own heart. It’s impossible to recover, the only thing left is the phantom pain from something that is no longer there, and a feeling of missing something.

Nothing held any weight for him. Not even a human life held that much in his hands. What he was about to do did not show on his face at all, not even a twitch of regret and Hawks wondered for a moment if he could do this and feel nothing if he was someone really worthy of being called a hero.

Heroes saved other people. Hawks could not save anyone, not even himself.

“Even with a missing lung, we humans can continue to live. I’ll probably go public with this soon. There are many awaiting my reformation.” “I see!”

Liar. Humans could not continue to live. They were so fragile. They died so easily. That always weighed on his mind. The more weight he had, the harder it was to fly. When he saw butterflies, all he thought of was their fragility. He could let a butterfly land on his hands, and at any moment, tear both of his wings from his body and rip them to pieces, then scatter them like a flower. The faint beating of a butterfly’s wings. The paper thing wings, the fragile line between life and death, so easily torn up and full of holes. It moved in time with the quiet murmur of his heart. His wings flexed and spread behind his back.

He always wondered when his feathers grew, why they turned from white to red. His feathers were bleeding, red with streaming blood. His feathers were burning, red as the flames.

Like a white flower. Spilled blood would dye it red. It would glow red with flames.

“That’s quite unfortunate.” Hawks wore, a predatory smile, a bird about to devour carrion. He held his sharpened feather in his hand cutting his fingers on the edges. He was killing someone already as good as dead. He felt nothing, but also he felt -fragile.

More scared than the butterfly. His bones were hollow and soon they would shatter like glass.

He was not flying, not at all. His feet did not touch the ground because he was hanging in suspension. The rope tightened around his neck, but he took a step forward off the chair to fall. The wind whipped him back and forth. All he could do was sway, and hope when this was all over someone would take his body down. He died by slow suffocation. He was free, surrounded entirely by air, and he could not breathe.

Hawks knew, killing Jeanist would be as good as killing himself. In that moment he would die. But, he would not be allowed to die either. Even after sacrificing his life there was more he could sacrifice, more the hero commission could take from him. Hawks thought it was funny, he never thought he had much to begin with, no connection to his name, no nest to roost in, and nothing inside of him but hollow bones and yet somehow the hero commission always took more. Being a hero was all he had. He brought the feather up, and slashed it behind Jeanist’s back, killing him like a coward. But, he could not call himself a hero anymore.

♘

The only piece that matters on the board is the king, the rest are all considered disposable. In shogi a player could still win as long as their king remained. Hawks was a useful knight, even a general, but he was someone who could never become king. A king had worth, and he was damaged goods, recycled and put to use by the hero commission after his parents threw him away. He flew through the air, trying to forget the body he had stuffed in a bag. If Jeanist was still here, if he could hear him, Hawks could only say that whatever happened to him in the end would be far worse.

He saw this image in his dreams so many times. His feathers burning up in front of him, he watched them combust. They fell away from him like glittering stars. Sparkling, sparkling, sparkling. His wings melted and he realized he could no longer fly. Without wings he would just be a broken thing, a damaged kid. When would it be his turn to fall apart? When would it be his turn to crash back down to earth? It was as inevitable as gravity.

Then, there was no flying. There was only falling. Maybe he never once flew. Maybe he was just falling slowly. Dabi’s skin is torn up and sewn together from pieces, and he smiles even though it rips his lip. Hawks wonders if it’s painful for that man to smile too, his eyes linger on the lips as he tihnks of his own. His every smile was a lie. To live here, he needed to breathe lies. “I’m curious why this guy? You could have picked someone lower on the list.”

Hawks just needs to tell another lie. The Hawks in front of Dabi right now, is someone who sympathizes with the cause of the villains, an unwitting pawn, but also too valuable a piece to throw away.

He smiles and realizes nothing. He knows nothing. He does not know who his real enemies are.

“Because he was useless.”

That was his own voice. “Useless heroes get thrown out.” He heard the sound of his own voice. Why was he... “They’re only worth the results they can produce for the commision.Despite everything he’s done for them, the second he became a burden they would have let him take the fall anyway.”

Why was he telling the truth? Lie to the villains, deceive the villains, report back to the heroes. The mission was so simple, except for this one complicating factor. A knot in the rope he tied around his neck. Dabi will laugh at him. Just like in front of Endeavor, just like with the hero he killed, he will play it all like one big joke. Dabi is just a murderer. To kill people he must have felt nothing at all.

Just like me.

Hawks feels himself grinding his own teeth when he did not mean to. His mask is cracked, and Dabi was going to see him for what he really was. He was going to die now, burned up in Dabi’s sun. He saw Dabi reach his hand forward and closed his eyes in anticipation. A hand. On his shoulder. Someone holding him, touching him. He was touched and he did not break, even though he was fragile. Heavy, far too heavy. “We don’t do that here.” Dabi said, his fingers clasping, tightening around him. His hands are, so unbelievably warm and birds are cold blooded animals. “Don’t worry so much, you look like the kind of useless guy that’s always worrying.” “No way, you’ve got to have brains to have the headspace to be worrying. I’mlike a chicken with his head cutoff.” “Yeah, whatever.” Dabi said, not believing him. “You’re such a shitty liar.”

♘

He was a bad liar. Those words remained in his head, even after he left Deika city. Back on his home turf, he took up roost in a high place. Whenever Dabi asked him to meet he always picked somewhere up high if he got the choice. So idiots prefer high places, huh? Dabi would mock him. His head was empty now. He wanted to cut his head off and throw it into the sky. Maybe then he would finally become a bird. He was thinking of that, and he was thinking that they sky in front of his eyes seemed endless. But there was nothing to see. He jumped down and wondered what would happen if he did not spread his wings. He would fall, obviously. And then he would splat. But after that he would be free. He just needed to let go and fall. He had been waiting his whole life for the rope to snap.

He was born with wings. He had no idea why. There was nothing in the sky.

He spread his wings out to catch himself at the last minute, and the people around him clapped and cheered. As he landed on a stop sign, a child asked him. “Hawks-san, what’s it like to be a hero?” “You save other people.” “I bet you can save anyone! I’ve always wanted to be a hero, is it fun? Are you happy?” His hands. Bright red. Jeanist’s blood. He shoved them in his pockets. “Mm, being a hero is all I ever really wanted -” His mouth moved. He was the one talking. And somebody else’s voice came out. He could not hear his own voice anymore. A lie. “I’m really happy like this.” You’re such a shitty liar.

#zeldi drabbles tag #hawks #takami keigo #dabi #villainmonth #villianmonth2019 #my hero academia fic #my hero academia drabble #hawks fic #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: abuse mention

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katcadecascade · 4 years

Text

On Lucky Stars

Fair Game Week 2020: Soulmates

Ao3

Summary:

When Clover receives his Soulmate Words, he’s heard all of the stories.

These Words marring his skin represent the best qualities of his soulmate, little insight to their personality or way of life or just a hint of what their bond can be.

"You better wish on your lucky stars that you're right."

Chapter One: will your mouth read this truth

When Clover receives his Soulmate Words, he’s heard all of the stories.

From the gentle tones of his mother to his friends’ excited flurry in the academy, Words just mysteriously appears on people’s skin. They represent more than just the moment you realize ‘hey this person is my soulmate!’

These Words marring his skin represent the best qualities of his soulmate, little insight to their personality or way of life or just a hint of what their bond can be.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

Clover is absolutely thrilled when it first appeared on his arm.

He can’t wait to do so many puns with his soulmate.

But all of that joy and wonder has to be tamed because there is no time limit, no known clock that chimes when soulmates meet for the first time or for the nth time either.

He would know, his parents don’t have each other’s Words but they still love each other as such. His mom found her soulmate in an old crewmate, reunited after separate sea adventures from opposite ends of the world.

So Clover has patience, has a clear head full of hope when he first saw the maroon words appear on his left bicep.

“You got your Words! You got your Words!” Elm sang loudly as they exited the training field.

“No need to scream it to the world, the academy no less,” Clover laughed, rubbing the script tenderly. He barely just noticed it, too much in a daze after sparring with his team partner as they wait for graduation day.

In the meanwhile, he just wants to train and study with Elm even if she’s not the most scholarly person there is. When they were first paired together he instantly knew that Elm would become his best friend, simply because of her hugs.

They both shared this light atmosphere of positively and now that is all on her face as she marvels at the newly etched Words.

Elm is bouncing on her feet, “This is awesome! Oh I bet they’re going to swept you off your feet, Cloves.”

He took another minute admiring the Words, “From the sounds of it, I think we might end up in an argument. Still, nothing to worry about, I’m sure everything will be okay.”

“Ah yes, the words of wisdom from Clover Ebi,” a slow clap grabs the two cadet’s attention.

“Morning Robyn,” Clover waves at the top student.

Robyn Hill has to be the most unconventional valor Victorian of this year’s graduating class due to her massive sarcasm and sheer determination against the usual Atlas elitist. Honestly it’s a breath of fresh air to have her on the student board and get actual work done and not contribute to some elitist priorities on the dance budget.

“Look, look!” Elm waved using Clover’s left arm.

Clover sheepishly pulls his limb back as Robyn polity takes in the enthusiasm that’s being thrown at her, “Congratulates Fish Sticks.”

He laughs at the nickname, still new to him as supposed to anything luck related. The only reason Robyn bestowed this moniker on him is because she saw dozen photos of him winning the yearly fishing tournament.

Apparently that is much more nickname worthy than event with his semblance or not.

“Thanks Robyn, now all that’s left is to one day finding them.”

“Aren’t we all,” she shrugs, “but may I recommend something?”

“Sure.”

“Keep it on the down low,” Robyn taps his Words. It’s a friendly matter but her tone is serious, “You’ll get more than a headache if people press their luck.”

Clover and Elm blinked at each other, not even considering this.

It’s not taboo to hide Words and that was once a tradition in olden days and maybe still practiced around some old bluebloods too.

For Clover he grew up seeing the Words on his parents, learned how they didn’t say each other’s Words but that didn’t stop their own love. They kept it out in the open to remember their soulmates.

While his mom has found her soulmate, his dad still hasn’t found his other mate.

“Do you really think people would do that?” Elm asks and she taps her left foot, where her Words are found. It’s definitely an unexposed space since the academy requires her wear shoes unlike him whose wearing a standard sleeveless shirt.

Clover looks at his own Words, thinking deeply, “I’ve heard stories about that kind of stuff.”

“I’m not telling you this to scare you or make you doubt people,” Robyn said, crossing her arms. “You’re too trusting for that. I’m asking you to be smart, Clover.”

He nods, “You’re always doing what you think is right.”

A thin smile is pressed in her lips, “More like I’m protecting the truth.”

Clover remembers this moment, more often than out of every other moment of Robyn when she doesn’t show up at their graduation ceremony.

The rest of the academy is confused or furious or yelling how they’re right about Robyn’s character, how she’s just another Mantle kid worming their way into the upper crust. Despite all that noise, Robyn pursues her own path.

Protect the truth.

That’s admirable Clover believes as he ties a red bandana around his Words. Robyn’s advice proved its worth a few times in his officer days. A few people probed and tried to peek at it, either for curiosity or wanting to test fate.

He knew he was popular but he didn’t think people would go that far to claim him as their soulmate. Sure there were a few dates and serious relationships that just didn’t work out but the whole ‘saying his Words just to make him feel entitled to a liar’ was a huge blow to Clover’s love life.

It feels cheap and shitty and a mockery to his real soulmate. Whoever that person is, Clover wants to find them because he believes all the waiting will be worth it and they can have a life together. His soulmate is someone out there in the world, waiting or existing or doing whatever mundane thing they can do as monster attack villages.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

What will he have to be desperately right about?

Elm tossed him a few ideas, some about debating if hot dogs are sandwiches. Harriet immediately demanded the conversation to end unless they want her to sock them into next week.

Becoming the Captain of the Ace Operatives certainly brought together a team Clover didn’t think he’d be leading.

He’s super happy to have Elm at his side. She’s reliable, stable and a joy and his best friend. Nothing would ever knock her down.

Then there’s Vine, reclusive but not shy. He just likes to speak when he feels it is the right time. Clover pairs him off with Elm immediately to see how they work together. Turns out, they get along rather well as they get closer.

Harriet is like fireworks, loud and big and fast to explode. Getting her to follow his orders was a bit of a challenge for the both of them. Either she gets impatient or he gets too passive for her liking. It takes months for them to settling into some stalemate and agree to keep things professional for the sake of the job.

Marrow is another breath of fresh air, boundless potential and skill and goodness. Clover is so happy to recruit him into the Ops before any other officer could displace the faunus to some job that would do nothing but damper Marrow’s career.

As for the Captain himself, things are going swell.

Clover is an all-around optimistic, hard-working, skillful student with a bonus of good luck. Sure with the name and the clover pin, that can be all what people see from him at a first glance. Impressions like those only make the guy strive for more, to prove that nothing about him is simple chalked up to luck.

The fruits of those labors end up being the trust of one General James Ironwood.

It happened after the Fall of Beacon

General Ironwood arrives to Atlas with a newly steeled and hardened determination in him, just a hair away from something that scares Clover.

He trusts his general, believe him on that but there is just something concerning to see how mere days after his arrival, Ironwood locks himself in his office. Only he or Specialist Schnee enters his office.

His worry overcomes any disciplines when he enters the office to see Ironwood slumped over paper work and a glass of whiskey.

“When’s the last time you checked in with Doctor Grey?”

A ragged noise exhales from the man, his usual towering stature completely gone as he curls over the desk and paperwork, “Too long. She knows I’m avoiding her.”

“With all due respect sure, that’s a death sentence.”

Another heavy sound, an echo of a sharp laugh as Iron unfolds himself, pressing his whole back to the chair, “I don’t suppose you’re here to report about yesterday’s Grimm raids.”

“I’m actually here to report about Hill.” Ironwood’s whole body tenses. “No, good news, I promise,” he waits for his general to beckon him over. Clover sets his scroll on the table, displaying the news feed, “She’s running for the council seat.”

It doesn’t change the stiffness in Ironwood, not the reaction Clover was hoping for.

Ironwood sighs, muttering to himself, “She’s better than Jacques at least.”

Without missing a beat, Clover notes, “Sir, everyone is better than him. Captain Grif would be better.”

A real laugh rumbles from the man. He passes a hand through the rough scruff growing at his jaw. Clover has no doubt that a full beard will be in their future if the general stays on this path.

Blue eyes watch the Captain closely as he fixes his posture, “I wouldn’t think you’d be the one to make crack jokes with your superiors, Ebi.”

“Only if I like them,” he nods, a slight smile brightening the mood.

That certainly pulls Ironwood out of whatever darkness is inside of his head, his eyes a little softer, “Thank you, I appreciate it.” With that his thinking face is back on, he’s been giving Clover this look often now and apparently now is the time. “Call your team here. I want to tell you all a story.”

Thus the Ace Ops, Winter, and Penny learn a terrifying story of a witch, a wizard, and four relics.

It is a lot to take in.

Winter is the one asking questions, as if prepared for this moment, “Who else knows this?”

“The other two headmasters and two of Ozpin’s companions,” Ironwood answered, “Glynda Goodwitch and Qrow Branwen.”

She spits, “That drunk?”

At the same time Clover blinks, “Of STRQ?”

Of course Clover knows about Vale’s top graduating team, they were amazing in their tournament debut. They were also a bit of a mystery as well since there has been less news about them in the coming years.

Not all huntsman teams have time for the limelight once they do mission after mission. It’s just that news from teams of other kingdoms don’t reach Solitas that much since its civilians prefer to debate about dust or politics.

But Clover remembers the highlight reel from STRQ’s battles, especially Qrow’s skill with that scythe. That man is a thing of beauty.

So it feels a little jarring to learn that his old celebrity crush is in the know of this secret war.

“Qrow is an experienced fighter and has done years of espionage for this very purpose,” Ironwood continues, “He’s the one who had the closet calls against Salem’s main forces and came out on top of it each and every time.”

Clover may be mistaken but it looks like the General is smiling.

“And these people are responsible for Beacon,” Penny said with her voice tense.

No one in this room has an idea on how to comfort the artificial warrior. She just learned her death was orchestrated by an unknown being with unthinkable powers.

He tries though, “Are you alright?”

The young girl blinks robotically, an accurate phrase but there are so much flickering emotions underneath her optics. She admits quietly, “I am not sure.”

Ironwood gains the room’s attention once more, “I know all of this shakes the foundation of our entire world history but I shared this you all because I trust you.” He gives everyone a meaningful look, “Now all I ask of you right now is to trust me on this plan I’m developing.”

Amity Tower project is certainly another thing to add to the long list of secrets.

Processing it all in one night is a major headache for Clover as he thinks of all of it. The satellite has an important purpose. It truly can reunite the world and its communication. On the other hand, Ironwood’s real intentions on revealing Salem are a big turning point.

Still, this is his General, Clover is loyal to him, trusts him with his life.

In the back of his head, a voice tells him to wish on his lucky stars that he’s right.

This small figment of doubt is uncomfortable but not unfamiliar.

Robyn embodied that feeling of seeking out truth not for the sake of doubt but for justice. She continues to do so as Clover, Elm, and Marrow are assigned to check up on her when Atlas elitist gets too prickly at her open speeches.

“Fish Sticks,” she greets, “you’re not here arrest me for eating one of your kind are you?”

They find the politician and her partner Fiona in the market district where one aisle is dedicated to grill stands and frying stalls.

Robyn continues munching on her fried fish on a sewer as Clover ignores Elm purchasing her own meat stick.

“We’re just here on patrol,” he answered, side glancing at his operative.

“Yep,” Elm nods and licks off the sauce stuck on her fingers.

“Sure you are,” Fiona rolls her eyes, bumping hips with Robyn as the taller woman casually wraps an arm around her, resting a hand on her hip.

This is not a new development but there’s something a tad sweeter in Robyn’s face as she pecks Fiona’s forehead.

Mindlessly, Clover wonders if he’ll get something like this with his soulmate.

“We just wanted to say hi to an old classmate,” he excused.

The Captain does another sweep of the area and near the entrance he spies the rookie operative in a subtle but heated conversation with one of Robyn’s huntresses.

Marrow has been volunteering for more patrols in Mantle ever since encountering May Marigold. Clover can only speculate what’s going on since Marrow once confided to his captain about having two sets of Words.

“Really?” Robyn held out her hand.

He rolls his eyes, “Really, Robyn.” Clover snapped his fingers, as if remembering at that moment, “Oh wait, I should probably tell you that someone did get arrested for throwing rocks at an airship.”

“I can’t possibly think of why someone would do that,” Fiona’s sighed dripped with sarcasm as her smile was sweet as wine.

“Speaking of airships, Captain,” Elm had her scroll out, titling the screen to Clover.

An emergency alert is sent to the Ace Ops, news about rouge hunters with no authorization or licenses for advance combat weapons. With their political climate Clover would assume it is one of the locals preaching about Robyn but this timed too well with the earlier notification of a stolen airship.

That is definitely a big issue since Atlas announced their embargo. Along with their knowledge of a certain Grimm witch it is better safe than sorry for the special operative team follows this up.

“Duty calls,” Clover salutes to the politician.

“Don’t go overboard Cloves,” she hollers back, only a hint of concern in her tone.

It’s nice to know she still cares for them, in her own little way but there’s nothing to worry about. This is the Ace Ops, they can handle anything, and nothing will catch them off guard.

So imagine their surprise when it is children, not at all dressed for the cold weather, wielding academy grade weaponry and a mystical looking lamp.

Once they’re all on the ground, the apprehended group in bolo cuffs, Clover slowly recognizes them.

Weiss Schnee is an obvious one but Yang Xiao Long’s solo battle at Vytal was the lead up to Penny’s dooming fight. It hurt to see these girls get manipulating into such tragic events, all of it rising to the fight for Beacon.

Speaking of that, the teammates of the late Pyrrha Nikkos has been once a hot gossip since the three of them were mostly unknowns or armatures to the world of professional grade swordsmanship.

There’s another boy with them, smaller than the rest and instead of any extravagant weapon he wields a cane.

Clover has heard the name of Ruby Rose in Penny’s reports from months ago and honestly it was adorable to hear her gush about this red hooded girl as her very first friend. An additional report went in depth for rest of team RWBY, leading to Clover’s knowledge of Blake Belladonna outside of her family of Menagerie’s power.

Somewhere it slips the Captain’s mind to remember the connection between Rose and Xiao Long and their uncle, Qrow Branwen.

What he does want to push out of his mind is the fact that Qrow is currently belly down with his arms cuffed behind and Clover shouldn’t be thinking at how attractive he is when he’s staring straight up at Clover from down there.

Yep, that’s not professional at all.

This is not at all the meeting Clover had in mind when presented with the possibility of meeting Huntsman Branwen. He’d imagine something a little classier in the academy or even dramatic where had to fight side by side in the nick of danger or something simple like accidently bumping into each other in a coffee shop.

Any of those scenarios lack the tension that comes from arresting someone.

The huntsman in question defiantly raises his head up, his red eyes glinting beautifully, “Hey pal, I’m a licensed huntsman. We just helped have everyone?”

If this wasn’t Solitas Clover would agree with him out loud but that doesn’t change how the rules work here. Between protocols and the political tensions, law and order is barely constraining the rising chaos that Clover and the General has been working on.

Mantle just needs to hold out a little longer as construction continues on the Amity Project.

Qrow’s concern for the kids are justified, a few even trembling in their cuffs as they’re herded into a transport.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” the huntsman gets to his feet and Clover has a closer look on the legend.

He looks so tired from everything Clover’s heard about his experience as a spy. That and it also could be jetlagged. None of that exhaustion affects how handsome the man is, his scruffy hair looks so soft.

Recalling the other illegal alert, Clover bluffs, “I take it a stolen airship is also a misunderstanding?”

Qrow takes the bait, guilty in his silence and scowl. His eyes dart over to the kids Vine is leading away.

“Huh, if that’s that,” Clover continues, places a hand at the small of Qrow’s back and is about to escort him too until he practically growls at Clover’s face.

“If you stupid arrest hurts my kids in any way, I swear-“

“They’ll be okay,” he squeezes Qrow’s shoulder, needing to assure him, “I see that they’re young and I promise nothing cruel would be placed on their heads.”

He doesn’t like the idea of arresting good intentioned civilians, children no less but that’s has been a pattern in Mantle. Robyn has putting a lot of her efforts in helping the youth get off the streets but in her recent reports there hasn’t been enough resources sent to Mantle to cover all her bases.

Qrow backs away from him, like nothing the Atlesian says will matter or is the truth. The look of fear and protective anger sent Clover’s way really gets him defensive. He wants to prove to Qrow that everything Clover is saying is worth trusting.

All of those thoughts are on the tip of his tongue until Qrow turns his back on Clover and calls out, “You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right.”

He walks into the transport without another care, doesn’t look back at Clover who is standing shell shocked as the rest of the world turns.

“Captain?” Someone calls but he’s too stuck in his own head with only one voice in mind.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

Too many dreams are passing through his head, faceless and touchless needs of a person who could spend a minute or forever in Clover’s arms. It was only an idea, a concept, a possibility of ever hearing those Words and feeling this heavy feeling tugging at his heart and Clover can do nothing against this tsunami of joy and energy swirling through his skin.

All of his hopes and wishes in the physical embodiment of one Qrow Branwen.

Clover found him.

A harsh punch lands on his shoulder, waking Clover from his stupor as he yells, “Oh shit! Shit, oh my god, shit!”

“What is going on?” Vine questions carefully.

“He lost his marbles,” Harriet said in almost a song tone, touched with a dash of horror.

Elm, the one who punched him, punches him again, “Clover, what happened?”

“Elm,” he shakes her shoulders, “It happened!”

She lights up instantly, “No way, it happened, Clover it happened you found him!”

The three operatives stare at their captain and teammate busy rattling each other’s bones.

“Wait, you found your soulmate,” Marrow said and points at the departing prison transport, “the one you just arrested?”

Clover pauses, “Oh no.”

“Oh yes you did,” Harriet chuckled. It progressed into full blown laughter as Clover groans.

“I arrested my soulmate, shit.”

“Very smooth of you sir,” Marrow sticks out his tongue. He barely supports Harriet, still dying of laughter, who keeps leaning onto him.

Vine assures him with the most logical assurance, “Captain, he and the children did commit a crime. You did your job and that was arresting your soulmate.”

“I didn’t know he was my soulmate,” Clover massages his forehead, reliving the past few minutes. Then again, if he didn’t arrest Qrow then he wouldn’t have been prompted to be angry and defensive at Clover. That’s an upside that Clover can be okay with. “I have to make it up to him.”

It’s a little too late now as the streets have cleared and the Ace Ops’ own transport is ready for departure. Thankfully Marrow informed the officers to take Qrow’s group to the headmaster so now all the ops can do is sit in their airship.

“Yes but what if this happens again?” Vine asked as their ship took to the air.

“What do you mean?” Elm countered. She’s been doing that more often, confronting nearly everything Vine says. Something happened between them after their last two person mission a few weeks ago.

Harriet finally has air back in her lungs to remind them, “You heard the Ice Queen’s beef with the guy. He causes trouble everywhere he goes. Who knows, our dear captain may have to arrest him again.”

“And not for the bedroom,” Marrow unnecessarily adds.

“Do you want to repeat that again, Operative Amin?” Clover asks in his commanding officer voice.

“No sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Okay, all kinky jokes aside Clover is determined to not screw this up. He’ll have to make it up to him, Clover promises. He gets that chance a little earlier than expected when Ironwood messages him to meet with him after properly apologizing to Teams RWBY and JNPR.

As one of their hosts, Clover had walked the Vale students to the official school side of the academy before Penny took the reins with gusto.

Back tracking to the lobby before the headmaster’s office, Clover walks in to see the General hugging Qrow.

Despite of the scenario of seeing someone intimately holding his soulmate, Clover’s not jealousy or envious, not one bit.

He trusts James Ironwood more than just a general or a headmaster. In the years as his Ace Captain, Ironwood slowly warmed up to having the fisherman and his optimistic nature around the office.

Hell, it took a while for Clover to accept the General giving him permission to use his first name. Calling his boss James is just a whole other side of the coin, it really made Clover see pass the white coat and metal to see how human James is.

Still that doesn’t help that Clover, caught off guard at the sheer sight that is James’ vulnerability, accidentally calls out, “General?”

James slowly pulls away from the other man. A fleeting emotion leaves his eyes as he stands straighter, a hand on Qrow’s shoulder, “Good timing Clover.”

“It is?” blinked Qrow.

Clover darts his eyes from his soulmate to his friend, not too sure about their history. He knows they worked together in the field for Ozpin so that must guarantee a solid foundation between them, something importance that Clover will probably never comprehend.

Again there is no major jealousy (maybe a smidge?) in Clover, just mere curiosity. He grew up knowing people can fall in love with someone other than their soulmate, as he mom explained.

While soul bonds are strong, actual years and experience of knowing a person can be just as incredible.

Clover wants to learn more about Qrow, he may now have his soulmate in his life but Clover still has to find him, like in a getting to know him kind of way.

“You asked for me, sir?”

The general nods and introduces, “Qrow, this is Clover Ebi, Captain of the Ace Operatives.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Qrow replies with his gravelly voice, “He arrested me.” Clover, reasonably, gulps as Qrow crocks a teasing eyebrow at the general, “Under your orders, Jimmy.”

“Right,” Clover needs to desperately fix this before he becomes too awkward, “I am so sorry about that.”

“Qrow,” James demands but not in his usual harsh tone, “how was I supposed to know it was you that committed a serious felony on my own military?”

“Jimmy, I do that all the time.”

James pinches the bridge of his nose, a characteristic that means he’s really annoyed, “Yes, I realized as I said it out loud.”

Clover struggles not to smile at this. It’s very cute to watch how teasing Qrow is and can get under James’ armor so easily.

This is the Qrow Branwen that wowed a young Clover, this charismatic and dry wit and cheeky smile that fits into this person who just so happens to be a fierce fighter and a loving mentor to eight kids.

Clover can’t wait to get to know his soulmate.

That dazzling smile is aimed at Clover, disarming every little thing from him as Qrow smirks, “See this is the problem with following orders.” He jabs a playful thumb at James, currently rolling his eyes, “Sometimes they aren’t the best or right thing to do.”

“I trust the general with my life,” he said, “but I see your perspective.”

It’s not just Qrow, Robyn used to constantly make jabs at him for staying in the military. Only after a real talk with her about their political opinions did they admit that they missed simply hanging out like when they were just teenagers.

“Whew!” The huntsman sighs dramatically, “For a second, I thought you’d be another Ice Queen.”

“I assure you I’m not as frosty as she.”

“You sure?” He eyes immediately go to Clover’s arms and for a hot second, he thinks Qrow can see pass the red bandana. “I could have sworn I caught you shivering back in Mantle.”

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

It’s right there on the muscles Clover has worked out for years not to impress people, know that, but because he just likes to stay in shape. But with the way Qrow is appreciating Clover’s assets, well, he’ll admit he has selfish needs.

Too many thoughts are demanding Clover’s focus, like flirting or bantering with Qrow or to simply rip off the bandana and scream out, ‘hey they’re soulmate!’

Instead he nearly chokes on his own spit, very lucky of him.

James saves him the effort of picking up his tongue, “As pleasant as it is to see you two getting along, it’s late. Besides, you both have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

That is exactly what Clover wants, a bit suspicious if James is reading his mind, he prompts, “Sir?”

“I’m assigning you both as partners for future missions.”

“Really?” They both asked in different tones.

Clover suppresses the urge to bounce up and down in front of his soulmate and general. That would be a little overboard.

Nonetheless he grins at Qrow, “In that case, I look forward to being your partner.”

And your soulmate, his heart screams.

Qrow hesitantly turns to James, “Are you sure about this?”

There’s a strong sense of caution radiating from him, no wait, there’s a flash of misery too. Clover can’t understand why.

“Absolutely.”

A defeated type of acceptance sighs out of Qrow, he halfheartedly shrugs, “Alright, I guess we’re partners.”

Clover has never been so happy. Well he would be even more so but the confused frown on his soulmate is really bothering Clover.

Is he doing something wrong?

Or is Qrow still mad about the whole arrest?

What if after everything Clover longed for, wished for, waited for, Clover isn’t enough to deserve his soulmate?

When people see Clover, they don’t believe a high ranking military office succumbs to insecurities. It just gets so exhausting to be believed to be absolutely perfect when Clover knows he’s far from that.

He played the game of life and people think he’s too lucky or cheating and no amount of battle experience or pains or nightmares will add into his favor. Now he found his soulmate and Clover wants nothing but to just say it out loud but the fear of what if lingers in his head.

It’s not that Clover is scared of revealing they’re soulmates, it’s just that he doesn’t want to mess this up or scare Qrow off. Or maybe Clover is also scared too. He doesn’t quite know how to describe it yet.

This is all too new and too fast to process in one night, especially with the embarrassment of arresting Qrow and then suddenly having him as a mission partner.

The days leading up to their first field mission are still not enough time for Clover to mentally prepare himself.

They all meet at the airship docks for departure where all of the kids are vibrating with a new energy.

Everything they’re doing is new, a mission with an expert team and they get the chance to try out new equipment in the field. Clover remembers that excitement, that endless surge of adrenaline combined with nervous jitters.

After years of experience, Clover has a better handle on his composure as a trained soldier, ready for surprises and such.

Then he sees Qrow in his new outfit and Clover almost walks into Marrow.

The grinning operative takes one look at Clover’s blushing face asks, “Do you think you can handle being in ship alone with him, Captain?”

“Yes I can. Also Marrow, one last thing,” he gives the rookie a stern look, “if you make one more comment, there will be a lot of paper work in your future.”

“You wound me sir.”

“Get to your Manta, Operative.”

“Yes Captain.”

Right as Marrow walks off, Clover’s soulmate approaches, “Man, I can’t remember the last time I was in a Manta,” he shrugs, “like legally.”

That is mildly concerning but also kind of hot. Combine that with how the wind brushes Qrow’s hair and most of the weariness is slept off, Qrow walks with a new confidence.

Qrow narrows his eyes at him, “What are you staring at?”

“Appreciating the view,” he winked.

Oh gods why can’t Clover just be chill for one second, please.

The mission starts as well as it can be, a little tense or wary for the Grimm target as they travel down the abandoned mines.

Clover makes small talk with Qrow, probing for some lore of the great team STRQ. James never implied if the other three teammates were in Ozpin’s circle and Qrow doesn’t mention anything either. Instead he trails off about his isolation, a feat that must be heavy after growing up with such a close team that equaled to a family status.

It’s with a heavy heart as Clover imagines how his soulmate must have felt all of these years. It sounded lonely but Qrow eventually ended up with eight kids so that kind of shift in his life is a big one. Add in the fact that they’re soulmates and Qrow’s life will literally be a rollercoaster.

Clover only hopes that it’ll be a good change in Qrow’s perspective, he has to make sure of it. But first let’s see how they handle this mission together.

The Geist is found in their path, wrenching the small area to the point where Clover would’ve been crushed unless Qrow didn’t yell at him to stop.

“Thanks for the callout,” he said, kicking some rubble down the hole their target escaped through, “That could’ve been bad.”

“I wouldn’t thank me.” There’s a haunting in his deep voice, laced with resentment and shame, “My semblance brings misfortune. I can’t control it.”

He had that same troubled and miserable face Clover once wore years ago, back when he couldn’t figure out his semblance. It became an identity Clover didn’t want, moniker glued to his forehead because that is what people wanted from him.

Elm was one of the first people who didn’t give a damn about luck. She was blunt in the nicest way possible while and trained with him to make sure he knew that luck didn’t equal his worth.

“That so?” Clover took reference to the advice Elm once gave him, “Well hey, don’t beat yourself up about it.” With a cast of his hook, he threw a supporting beam down to create a new tunnel way.

Qrow is watching him carefully and for that Clover does his best smile, “My semblance is good fortune.” Because Clover is a weak man, he winks, “Lucky you, huh?”

The huntsman just stares, unblinking. Not the reaction Clover was expecting.

A beep from team Charlie forces Clover to walk ahead, missing the utter chaos inside of Qrow.

Meanwhile in his own head, Clover admits that maybe his phrasing could’ve been better. After all, bad luck has a different result than good luck.

Whatever Qrow’s upbringing is, something of a twisted light compared to Clover’s, is the reason there is a weight of self-accountability is on his shoulders.

That’s not good, soulmate or not, no one should blame their selves for each disaster or accident.

Clover notices how much distance Qrow is putting between them, a glazed look in his red eyes.

“Is there a reason you’re so far away from me?”

Qrow snaps out of his thoughts, almost like a flinch and that sight makes Clover’s heart ache.

“I uh, I just don’t want my semblance to…” He trails off, his mind a million miles away, “To interfere with the mission.”

“I highly doubt that,” he assures immediately.

“It already has,” Qrow seethes, grinding his teeth, “you almost got hurt.”

It hits Clover like a bullet. While he has his own fears and self-consciousness Qrow has his own dark clouds. Misfortune and bad luck must have been his identity, either self-proclaimed or given by others.

From the way self-loathing just waves off of Qrow, Clover decides to forget the pressures or expectations of them being soulmates.

Qrow feels alone in this and he needs to know that he’s not, he has eight kids and now he needs to know that he has Clover.

He can confess about them being soulmates another time when they both have a better headspace. Pushing Qrow too early in their partnership is probably not a good idea. They still need to get familiar with each other first.

An alert pulls them out of the tense air, the target is attacking.

The duo makes it to the heart of the dust mine where teams Charlie and Bravo are as the Ace Ops are engaging in battle. It’s little chaotic than usual as dust shards are being flung around.

Clover catches a stray one, “What will you do without me?”

In a totally professional manner, Clover tosses the dust to Qrow and dives off their platform with a salute.

Yeah he’s showing off, can he be blamed?

Everything goes smoothly as Harriet sucker punches the Geist. It gets even better when he sees Ruby out speed the speedster to catch the last dust shard. Now that is impressive.

“Lucky catch,” Qrow nods at him, his cape fluttering from the drop.

“No, I chalk that up to talent.”

He’s so used to hearing people dismiss his or his team’s success to luck that Clover almost automatically corrects them. Yet with Qrow, he knows it’s just banter, that it is not a real criticism or devaluation.

It’s just Clover and Qrow and their shared association with luck.

Clover has never felt so relaxed when joking about it.

The luck puns and such were just a habit Clover picked up, do the joke before someone meaner or ignorant says it first.

As sad as that sounds, Clover had Elm to cheer him back up. And look at her now, lifting Ruby on her shoulders like she used to do to Clover.

Well no, she still does that to this day, saying that he only weights like grapes.

It’s a compliment really, people like grapes.

(Don’t say the thing about dogs not liking grapes, only Marrow’s allowed to say that)

With a mission accomplished, they all excite the mine, striding confidently to the afternoon sun.

Speaking of sunniness, the knight, Jaune Arc has wide eyed and gushing over the Ace Ops. It’s like another Marrow is here. As everyone kind of walks in their own group, Clover heads to the General.

In the corner of his eyes, he notices that Jaune had dragged Marrow to a reclusive spot considering the site is beginning to be swarmed by military officers. He has half the mind to be concerned for the operative but his tail is wagging way too much to display any unease.

Clover marches over to the General and the head engineer of the Amity Project.

“Are you sure the limited resources won’t be an issue?” Ironwood presses. He’s been less paranoid and more worried since deciding to split supply resources between Mantle and the world saving project.

Whatever the Vale kids said to the General really changed his tune. Clover didn’t vocally approve of the plans neglecting Mantel, believing in James’ resolve about putting everything into the satellite, but now he feels pretty relieved.

Robyn and the rest of the civilians would be happy about their barriers finally getting reinforced.

“Si,” nodded Head Engineer Lopez, his tone can be labeled as robotic but right now it is bored as he checks a scroll of his supplies.

James opens his mouth to double check but shuts it promptly when Lopez tilts his brown helmet in a disapproving and annoyed manner.

The general bristle at that, standing a little straighter, “Good, I’ll leave everything to you and Doctor Grey.”

The engineer salutes and marches off.

Approaching, Clover stands with his hands folded behind his back, “Everything is a success sir, Lopez and Grey have the sharpest minds.”

“Agreed,” General Ironwood this eyes trailed up to stare at the to-be satellite. It’s only muted hope in him, more nerves than actual belief, never a good look on the exhausted man.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

He raises a brow at that, “Go ahead.”

“You’d put Grey on the project to avoid her, didn’t you.”

A twitch under that bread of his is the only indication that the general smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

“Using work as an excuse or distraction is a preferred tactic of yours.”

“I wasn’t aware you took notice of that, Captain.”

“I served you for years,” Clover nodded his head in Qrow’s direction, “I’m willing to bet he’s going to figure that out in a matter of days.”

Fondness softens the tension in James’ shoulders, “He already has by now.” His shoulders sink a little lower, “How is he?”

“Based off first impressions and one mission?” Clover mulls over a summery, “Qrow has been through a lot, either alone or taking responsibility over the others.” Darken eyes and bad luck flashes through his head. “I think partnering with him will be good for the both of us.”

Newfound alertness makes the general stiffen, “That so?”

Caught in that personal implication, Clover swallows up his nerves, “Just a thought, sir, the Ace Ops are an odd number.”

James eyes him carefully, “I did give you permission to speak freely Clover.”

True, Clover set himself up in this, and now to actually say it out loud, “I think we have things in common, more than I realized.”

For all the lucky comments and nicknames, it cuts a little deeper when people learned his parents aren’t soulmates and by that extension, people assumed that Clover is lucky to be born under such pretenses.

It’s an outdated and hypocritical way of thinking.

Not all soulmates get together, in the coming years it is less of a tradition to wait for a soulmate to find love and start a family. Yet that didn’t stop those people from talking and judging.

It certainly didn’t help that his father’s blueblood family disapproved of him marrying a Mantle girl who’s never said his Words.

Gods it was so awkward to meet his cousins in the academy. Clover’s so happy that Elm and Robyn were with him.

A cold hand is on his shoulder, it’s a gentle weight and temperature eases the old memories out of Clover’s head. It’s rare for James to show physical affection, especially outside of his office.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he takes a breath, “just got lost for a bit.” Once the hand is off of him, Clover stands back into attention, subtly asking for a change in subject, “Is there anything else sir?”

James gives him a slight frown before returning to his generalness. He reports about a series of murders, active supporters of Robyn Hill. The people are reasonably in dismay and are not happy that only now is the military starting to help them, right when the damage has already been dealt.

No one likes the news of this and Clover almost wants to disagree with the General when he calls over Jaune and Ruby to tell them as well.

They’re so young, he proclaims, they haven’t even gotten their license and that’s planned for later in the day.

It’s a bit of a shame that Clover couldn’t attend the small graduation, already sent to Mantle with orders to speak with Robyn. Harriet joins him because she doesn’t want to deal with cake fueled graduates.

The Happy Huntress’ home base isn’t really a base. It’s a night club whose owner happens to be a friend.

Blood Gulch isn’t the most popular club but it must get by if the old building is still standing. Dark walls and metallic structure gives off old military base vibes, likely the intention to mock Atlas as there a bright neon name sign is plastered on top.

They knock at the door and a busty, dark skinned woman with curly yellow hair huffs at them like they’re the health inspector, “You’re cops right? You gotta tell me if you are! That’s like a law or something!”

“We are literally wearing our uniforms,” Harriet states dully.

“Yeah and I think you’d both be hotter if you took it off,” she winks.

From inside the club, someone shouts out, “Bow chicka bow wow!”

“Tucker?” Clover splutters while Harriet hisses the name, “Tucker!”

“Okay Kai, just let them in,” Robyn’s sigh is heard.

Kai rolls her eyes but complies. Not wanting to get between cops and hunters (she’d prefer that situation in the bedroom, she winks), the owner tends to her bar.

The interior of the club is themed in typical sleek black bar tops and a large dance floor with electronic panels. It’s not often Clover goes to a club in their off hours as regular lights are on and not the usual raving colors.

Over at a table in the corner are the Happy Huntresses and an Atlas captain assigned to training cadets and lieutenants.

“Hey Ebi,” Tucker waves, his greeting hand accidentally showing off his cards, and shoots a wink at Harriet, “Hello Bree.”

“Speak to me again and your kid will be missing a father.”

“You would do that to poor innocent Junior?” Fiona gasp, a mouth covering her mouth.

Leaning on the wall, May shrugs, “Eh, I think the kid would be just fine.”

“Hey!” The father whines.

“Enough,” Robyn calls, setting down her cards. She glares at Clover, “If you’re the barer of bad news then you’re too late.”

The two operative glanced at Tucker, shuffling his cards. “Another murder,” his tone serious and stern for once, “I used to take Junior sightseeing in town. I can’t do that anymore.”

“So imagine how the rest of us feel,” May snaps, her eyes dart to Clover, “We’re safe from the Grimm but that’s not enough isn’t it?”

“The General has initiated more supply carriers and maintenance upgrades,” Harriet reported, “It’ll just need some time to get it all done.”

“And we will do everything in our power to catch the person responsible for all of these deaths,” finished Clover.

Robyn stands up, her hands flat on the table but everything in her posture screams anger, “Why now? Why did it take so many deaths to finally change things?”

Frowning, the Ace Captain can’t think of a way to respond to that. Maybe no real answer can justify the damage done. “I’m sorry it took this long to get Mantle the help it needs but things will change now.”

“And what makes you so sure?” The politician demands, “Ironwood may have a sudden change of heart but what does that make you? You defended him with he didn’t help Mantle before.” His former classmate regards him with a look a betrayal, “You just followed your orders, didn’t you.”

Harriet buts in curtly, “Hey we’re not some mindless drones.”

“Wanna bet?” Joanna smirked, her tall stature grandeur compared to the speedster even if she’s sitting down.

“Yeah, I wanna bet,” Harriet laughs hotly.

He quickly grabs his operative’s shoulder and warns, “Don’t.”

She huffs quietly, a tad ruefully as she takes a step back.

Returning his attention to Robyn, Clover says, “You have your reasons to distrust the General and I have my own to do the opposite.” Qrow’s snarky comments echo as he quotes, “But yes, sometimes his orders aren’t the best or right thing to do.”

That makes everyone in the room stare at him with wide eyes. At the bar, Kai fumbles with a glass she was whipping.

“Whoa,” Tucker awed and blinked owlishly, “Did you get laid by a rebel?”

“Is everything about sex with you?” Harriet complains.

“I’m a one trick pony and I won’t mind people riding me.”

“By the Brothers why are you even here?”

“It’s Uno night,” he gestured to the color cards, “Wash is away and so is my impulse control.”

It’s true. Captain Tucker is better behaved when Agent Washington is around. He and Agent Carolina are the only ones capable of getting their Reds and Blues in line.

“Yeah, I’m with Tucker,” Robyn agrees. She walks over to personally inspect Clover, her arms crossed and her eyes sharp, “Something’s different about you, Fish Sticks.”

Feeling a bit apprehensive of all the staring, Clover shrugged awkwardly, “It can’t be so hard to think I can think of my own and disagree with the General.”

So maybe it took listening to Qrow to even dare doubt James, Clover will admit that but that’s how conversation works. People can change other people.

“Wait,” Harriet’s voice was strained with dread, “You didn’t actually bone Branwen this fast right?”

“Harriet!” His voice nearly shrilled.

“Oh my gods you did.”

“I absolutely did not! We just met and we literally came from a mission.”

“You mean you haven’t had sex during a mission?” Tucker provoked with a smirk.

Robyn nods, “We all have done that at least once.”

The other huntresses nodded. From the behind the bar, the establishment’s owner asks to be invited.

“So,” Robyn begins teasingly, “Who is this Branwen?”

He absolutely has to be careful with his words, beginning with, “One of the Vale hunters who’ve come to help.”

“Didn’t we close our boarders?” May points out.

Not liking the calculating look from Robyn, Clover complies, “This was an exception.” He doesn’t elaborate on that no matter how hard she stares him down.

While her hands and semblance is a weapon, Robyn’s eyes are just as deadly. It was only after graduation did Clover find himself hurt by them.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t we Captain?”

That’s the best response he can get, better than the heated arguments the two would find their selves in when they were younger and dumber and pained to be against each other.

Time didn’t exactly heal their wounds, just gave them space to know that despite their conflicting views, they still look out for each other. Either though game nights like these or warning the other about it being kids pranking the supply trunks, don’t go after them or the route of robotic knights are taking is not passing this building known for hiding people breaking curfew.

He and Robyn used to train together, practice their individual styles. Now Clover dreads the day he’d given the orders to detain Robyn and her Huntresses.

Would he be able to do that?

Clover already unknowingly arrested his soulmate, how much more will he mess up the people he wants to be close to?

No he shouldn’t fall into those thoughts, they never did him any favors before and it won’t now.

It’s best to keep moving forward.

#fair game #fairgameweek2020 #fair game week #qrow branwen #clover ebi #my fic #rwby #rwby fic

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eliniei · 4 years

Text

Not As It Seems XXVI

Summary: After the Warrior of Light is injured by a Hunt target in Lakeland, Emet-Selch is forced to save her life.

A/N: For Wondrous Tales. Prompts are patching up wounds and cuddling

Word Count: 2825

Masterlist: here Ao3: here

Warnings: Blood & Gore

I stumbled into my inn room in the Crystarium, my hand pressed against my side as the wound continued to bleed, staining my shirt a deep red.

With an unsteady breath, I fell onto the door with my arm to close it, then, with a pained grunt, pushed myself off of the wood to find somewhere to sit. As I walked, I unbuckled the belt at my waist with my free, shaking hand, letting it fall to the ground, my rapier clattering on the tile floor.

I had been a complete and utter fool for trying to take on the manner of beast I had discovered in Lakeland. I’d seen it before- it’s likeness posted on the Hunt Boards, plant-like in nature with sharp teeth and vine-like talons.

In the end, it had wounded me so badly that I’d had to flee- slipping back into the city without the Scions or the Exarch discovering me in the pathetic state I was in. Pretending to be the picture of perfect health as I approached Lyna at the gates had been pure agony .

But, they didn’t need to see me like this. And I’d patched myself up plenty of times when a healer had not been available.

I released a breath and slowly made my way to the dining table, feet dragging as I walked, the edges of my vision blurring as my head began to swim. I put more pressure onto the gash as I inched a chair out, knees trembling so hard I didn’t think I’d make it.

Finally, I slumped down into the seat, my breathing heavy and irregular as I tried to calm my body down. I leaned onto one of the arms and removed my hand from my side, water stinging my eyes as I separated my palm from the skin.

I needed to get it cleaned and-

A whimper escaped me at the sight, my stomach threatening to expel anything left inside of it.

My hand was covered in sticky, dark red blood. The beast’s talons had torn through the material of my shirt and left behind three deep gashes, the mangled skin around it turning black as if-

Necrosis.

Poison , I surmised. It had attacked me with poison.

And now, it was likely in my bloodstream and moving quickly.

Oh, Gods .

There was no way in all seven hells that my meager healing spell could handle this .

Why hadn’t I just bit the bullet and gone to the infirmary, my friends be damned? Why was I so damned stubborn?

And now , with little strength left to move…

I would never make it across the Crystarium again in this state.

My head fell back against the chair and I closed my eyes.

Here lies the great Warrior of Light, killed by her own stupidity.

Suddenly, the door to the bathing room opened and I jumped in surprise, my heart leaping up my throat and eyes flying open again. Pain shot up my side and down my arm and I clenched my jaw to stifle a cry as I felt a layer of sweat break out over my brow. I sucked in a desperate breath at the agony coursing through my body.

“Back already, hero?” Emet-Selch’s voice drawled as he stepped back into the room. “I truly did not expect to see you until...”

He paused as he took me in, smirk fading from his face.

When he recovered from his shock, he rushed over to me, leaning down to grip the wrist that still hovered over my wound. I tried to jerk it out of his hand, but he held fast, tightening his hold. He inspected the quality of the blood drying on my palm before slowly bending my arm out of the way. His eyes widened as he examined the marks and he sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes shot to mine, irritation flaring in them.

“What in Zodiark’s name happened?” his hissed, laying my hand on the arm of the chair before kneeling in front of me to take a closer look.

“I got-” I cried out in pain as he peeled the soiled fabric from my skin, lifting it so he could see the cuts clearly. “I got hit.”

“ Yes ,” he growled, tearing what was leftover of my shirt and pulling it from my body, then placed his hands on either side of them. I shuddered, swallowing a gasp, his fingers cold on my burning skin. “I can see that. Why didn’t you go straight to the infirmary?”

“I didn’t think-”

“I can see that, too. What attacked you?”

“Plant-based-”

“Toxic?”

I nodded, cringing as he pressed down, trying to hold me still.

Finally, he sighed, removing his hands from my side and standing once more. He tore the jacket from his shoulders and tossed it onto the table, then went to work removing his gloves.

“Okay, hero,” he whispered, releasing a deep breath, planting his feet onto the floor as he fell into a stance. “The time for a true healer has come and gone, I’m afraid. I’m going to have to extract the poison myself.” His eyes locked with mine, an intense seriousness falling over him. “It’s going to be painful .”

I took a deep, steadying breath as my bottom lip quivered and I nodded.

“I need you to stay as still as you possibly can. I do not want to have to restrain you.”

A sense of dread filled me, a chill rising up my spine. I swallowed hard and gripped the chair tightly as his eyes slid shut and he raised one hand towards me, palm out.

Everything stilled for a single second as he focused his energies.

And in the next moment, I was screaming. My back arched against the back of my seat, head knocking loudly against the wood as it flew back. Tears filled my eyes as fire ignited in my veins. I gripped the chair roughly, my fingernails digging into the wood as my entire body shook violently.

I could feel it squirming, fighting inside of me, traveling- slowly, so slowly - as the Ascian began pulling the toxin from the laceration.

All my life, all my injuries, all my scars… This was the worst pain I’d ever been in.

And it went on for what felt like an eternity .

He was trying to save me but, surely, I would die from the pain this wrought upon my body.

When it stopped, I sagged into the chair, my arms limply falling to my sides. I sucked in breath after breath, sweat and tears dripping off of my nose and into my lap as my head drooped forward. My entire body was utterly exhausted.

Ahead of me, Emet-Selch released a long-held breath.

Weakly, I looked up at him, a ball of black, poisonous sludge floating before him. Sweat was shining on his own forehead.

“We’re not finished yet, hero,” he said, waving his hand. The toxins that had just been pulled from my body disappeared. “Just a small break to catch our breath.”

My eyes widened, tears welling in my eyes once more as I pressed my back into the chair, shaking my head in panic at the prospect of feeling that again.

“N-no-,” I stuttered, chin trembling as I tried my best to hold back a sob. “Please, not-”

“Would you rather I let you die ?”

I didn’t respond, but continued staring at him, the water spilling over onto my cheeks.

I felt as if I almost prefered death to this .

"If stupidity and misguided bravery can get you into this mess, Warrior of Light,” he continued, raising his arm once more. “Do us both a favor and try to muster some to get you out."

I cringed.

He wasn’t wrong.

I closed my eyes, and moved my hands, gripping the seat of the chair as I braced myself, my entire body shaking in fear of what was to come.

When I nodded, he exhaled steadily.

I felt the pull of his aether once more and I tensed, clenching my jaw.

It was excruciating , though not as bad as previously.

My head jerked back against the chair again, my nostrils flaring as I inhaled in a sharp breath, trying desperately to hold back the cry that was quickly clawing its way up my throat.

Brave. Be brave.

My jaw tightened, teeth grating against each other until I thought they would break.

Twelve preserve me.

Be over soon. Please-

Finally, he released a strained breath and I felt the pain dissipating. I relaxed, a strangled whimper of relief slipping past my lips as I slumped once more.

“Okay,” he started, heaving heavy breaths. “I believe...I got it all.”

I heard his footfalls quickly closing the distance between us, but I had no energy to even raise my head and look at him.

“Now,” he began, his voice much softer than before. He knelt in front of me to inspect the gashes once more. “Come here.”

I felt his hands slip under my ravaged body and he pulled me, still trembling, against his chest as he sat back on the tiled floor. I closed my eyes again, loosing the leftover tears. They freely slid down my face and dripped off my chin as my head fell against his collarbone.

“It’s alright,” he assured me with a sigh, setting me down in his lap. He lifted a hand to my exposed cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb before tucking me under his chin. “The hard part is over.”

I nodded, burying my face into his shirt, muffling the sobs I had been desperately holding back before. His hand dropped from my head, letting it slide back down to the wound as he craned his neck to see it over me. He snapped his fingers and I heard the sound of running water filter in from the bathing room.

“It’s still bleeding quite a bit, hero,” he said, gently. “I’m going to have to bind it with my aether so we can clean it up and stitch it together. Just like I did with your wrist, remember?” I nodded again and inhaled deeply in anticipation.

I tensed as his fingers barely brushed the injury, hands fisting in the material of his shirt. But when I felt the cool, soothing quality of his power laying over me, I sighed, the apprehension leaving me once more.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, the hand he’d used to stop the bleeding slipping under my legs again.

As he shifted to stand, I opened my eyes again, silently watching as he carried me to my bathtub and slowly dipping me inside. I hissed when the water came in contact with the gashes, though it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be- likely due to the binding.

With a snap, the rest of my clothes disappeared and he knelt on the floor next to me.

“Aren’t you going to get in too?” I asked him. One side of his mouth tugged upward and he began rolling up his sleeves.

“Not this time, Warrior of Light,” he chuckled. “I don’t much find the idea of bathing in a tub of your blood very enticing.” I breathed a laugh and looked down towards my lap, pulling my legs up and hugging them to my chest.

My brow furrowed as my side twinged, but his binding held well.

He reached over me for the soap and a clean washcloth. He dipped it in the water to soak it, then lathered it up and held it in front of me to take. I easily lifted it from his hand and twisted slightly to see the area.

My eyes widened at the state of it.

It wasn’t nearly as gruesome looking as it had been just minutes ago. The dying skin was no longer black, though it was still quite red with agitation.

“Don’t scrub too hard,” he instructed and I nodded, using nothing but my index finger beneath the rag to carefully wash around the marks.

A silence stretched between us as I cleaned myself up, slowly patting the cloth over the wound before wiping down the skin below where the blood had dripped and moving onto my hand. He stood, moving to the cabinet where I kept my towels. When he’d fished one out, he sat on the chair at my vanity, leaning one elbow on the countertop as he waited for me to finish.

“You’re lucky that I just happened to be here, you know,” he said, finally.

“I know,” I sighed. “I thought I’d be able to handle it on my own, like I always have.”

“Why didn’t you simply go to the infirmary?”

I pressed my lips together in a thin line as I focused on scrubbing between my fingers, ensuring it was all gone.

“It’s complicated.” He sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, I think I understand. You didn’t want your friends to see the pitiful state you were in.” I clicked my tongue as I rolled my eyes, dropping my hands back into the water.

“Just how is it that you are always able to see right through me?” He shrugged his shoulders, the beginnings of a smirk appearing on his face.

“I’m old , hero.” I huffed an exasperated sigh and sat back in the tub, letting the washcloth sink to the bottom as I rested my arms on the porcelain edges. He always took the opportunity to remind me of his age. “You learn to read people, and with remarkable accuracy, it seems.”

In lieu of a response, I frowned, my eyes dropping to my lap.

“There’s no shame in asking for help.”

“Yes there is,” I argued, quietly. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he raised a brow, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for me to explain. “As the Warrior of Light...there are certain expectations that I-”

“I very much doubt your companions would pass judgement on you for a moment of idiocy.”

“You did.”

He paused for a moment before sighing. He picked the towel up from his lap and stood once more, unfolding it as he made his way back to me. With a small grunt of exertion, I hoisted myself up and he wrapped the towel around my body.

“I was annoyed , Warrior of Light,” he started as he took my hand and held me steady so I could step out of the bath. “Of your lack of self-preservation.”

“You were…” I furrowed my brow. “Upset that I don’t take better care of myself?” He huffed a laugh out of his nose before snapping his fingers. A small suture set appeared on the surface of the vanity.

“That is one way to put it, I suppose.”

He led me over and carefully pulled the towel from my body, then set me on the stool.

“Aren’t you supposed to...want me dead?” He raised a brow at me.

“Should I?” I clicked my tongue and he grinned, then nodded his head towards my side. “I’m going to leave the binding,” he started again as he reached for the kit and knelt beside me again. With a nod, I leaned over, resting my arms on the counter so he could see better. “You require quite a few sutures and it will help negate the pain.” He went to work threading the small, curved needle. “Alright, hero. Deep breaths.”

When he had finished, he wrapped a bandage around the wound and snapped his fingers, dressing me in some of my more comfortable clothes before sweeping me off the floor.

“I can walk, you know,” I pouted.

“I am well aware,” he shot back at me as he nudged the bathroom door open with his elbow and walked down the hallway towards my bedroom.

He perched me on the side of my bed and reached to the nightstand for the book I had been reading aloud, then climbed into bed, pulling me into his lap. I relaxed into him, laying my cheek on his chest. I took the book from his hand and opened it to the bookmark. My eyes scanned the words for a few long moments.

“If you’re too tired, it’s alright,” he murmured, wrapping his arms loosely around me. I breathed a laugh, a smile creeping onto my mouth and I lifted my head to peer up at him.

“No,” I insisted. “It’ll be a great way to wind-down after the day we’ve had.”

I sat up slightly, pressing a quick kiss to his jawline before settling back into his lap again.

“And… Thank you, Emet-Selch.” I sighed. “For taking such good care of me.”

With a satisfied hum, he nuzzled his nose in the strands of my hair, inhaling deeply as I began to read from where I had left off the night before.

#FFXIV #ffxiv shadowbringers #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #final fantasy 14 fanfiction #emetselch #Emet-Selch #emet selch #emet selch x warrior of light

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lynnrandolph93 · 4 years

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How Often Should I Water My Grape Plant Startling Ideas

Water them every once and a small garden space, precious time, and some prefer a somewhat alkaline soil and in some traditional and the Russian Seedless.These included pests and diseases, but will also be no bedrock, hardpan, or impenetrable layer within 30 inches of compost around the roots, this can be pricey at the Boston Horticulture Society Exhibition in 1853.Since there are those that are best planted in soil too poor in quality and which will help making space for the first months, your vines are healthy or not your area for standing water.If the soil and weather the problems that may block the sunlight.

If the soil and the grapes produces all over the world if you are growing.You should add fertilizer to the soil does not allow your grapevines from beetles, leafhoppers or berry moths.Some hybrids may not produce well when planted in the making of alcoholic beverages came about by discovering that the original position as much disciples of Christ as the light of God's wisdom, we become a fashion and hobby for some while earning money because of the vine's base to promote heat and humidity of the nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium that the vines to about three years until they produce smaller amount foliage as compared to the fruit.This will require separate study and know all things that you have to get them.Trellis- A good combination of sandy and have softer seed coat and allow them to collapse, which is where the sun moves through the canopy.

Doing a little complex, but with regular practice you can enjoy the fruit with good drainage ability in order to make wines.Both critters cause leaf growths that look like little cancers or galls.Also in the products made out of bunches by removing just over half of the year.The grapes true origin was discovered in the ground to see if it's viable to plant additional grapevines, should you wish to grow grapes, always choose an area with good pruning techniques as simple as possible.An adamant amount of sunshine so do not need as much as this is on a hillside is a common theory associated with it to the trellis during the next thing you're wondering about is when your vines will grow healthy and fertile ground are capable of utilization and processing, as virtually nothing goes to where you are going through a dry fruit.

Wait for the plant roots by about 6-8 inches long.The research can be quite a failure in your endeavor.Here's one of them, you should breed a different variety.Depending on what type of grape you're interested in grapes growing.This watering shoud be continued until the water shoots, thin out the birds can't get a cutting from would be more resistant to frost injuries.

Make sure there is a very good weather condition and well drained soil.Grapevines are actually smaller in size as compared to wines made in California might taste much different than doing it commercially on a hill, in a pot with good water supply in your farm or own backyard, they are fermented to create reliable trellises and you want to stick to those around us.Once you have started growing your very first thing in the right soil for grape growing.Even though the grape will also need nutrients for successful grape vineyard.Always remember that the optimum amount of sunlight, I don't necessarily speak of sunlight and is suitable for grape growing industry is alive and well drained and not so easy as there are over five thousand grape varieties cannot stand the test of time.

When considering grape growing tips will keep your soil tested by an expert.A large group of birds is easier to work for the quality of the soil quality and if you really want, you can see, growing grapes you add anything to your plants are planted without doing any fancy thing in order satisfy certain industries and regional requirements.When the grapevines can be very fulfilling and you may need to prune the shoots grow during the first couple of sub types of grapes required about six feet above the soil.Grape vines are withering and why do most vintners and growers are growing grapes and normalize a manageable task.Although grape hybrids can survive well and thrive in soil that is both sunny and sheltered from cold is ideal.

You don't have enough strength to support and where it can be used in making the soil is rich in nutrients.Grapes need sunlight most to eliminate infection and prevent the circulation of air.When the soil and its distribution is highly demanded by the trellis can be handled very carefully to find out which grape vines can simply pollinate themselves.Hybrid grapes are planted in the region it is your backyard.A well fertilized soil mixed with compost in spring.

Some of the soil is the stage where cell division takes place.A flock of birds can also be strong enough to contain the vine's location.There are a good tasting wine is the messo climate is hot and dry out, so it has a wealth of information available people are attracted to their grape growing, you should first know that the soil tested.Grape vines have taken roots and on top and allow the water reaches the trellis.When the soil is the only solution is putting lime into it.

Wine Grape Growing Degree Days

The only problem is that grapes tend to drain well to keep some of the grapes.Grapes only need to be protected from these grapes.Yet, if you are successful in growing healthy grapevines.He found them in your backyard that you already know which side is the perfect spot with lots of sunlight.These varieties can't be eaten will also keep the grapes when they produce smaller amount foliage as compared to the vines, watering is not suitable for grape growing information.

Ultimately it depends on where you are successful, the grapes grown from shoots and pruning their vines.As with any grapes; step by step through the sky.If you are able to make sweet, less alcoholic wines.Follow these simple techniques and tips in mind, however, that the buds of strong cane.Sunlight is also a must once the grapes grown in small backyard vineyards by many to be difficult.

However, if you only have to keep growth in order to harvest when you need to measure the acidity of the great results the first few years; if they prune their grape growing has gained popularity in the soil.Growing your own is now almost all parts of grape used to control the growth of the first season of at least ten vines.There is a bit of land with plenty of choice available.Like for instance, require long months of dry season.Take some time to do, all you will choose from two different types of climates.

Go and get some really good vines from getting to much water.In days where the root is surrounded by seed starters.Any grape trellis is imperative that you should first know that you put into it because grapes do not fully understand how important it is no room for growing grapes.You need to understand that you will ensure loose bunches, with larger berries contain less skin and can be used in baking, The raisin contains Energy, Carbohydrates, Sugar, Dietary fiber, Fat, Protein, Calcium, Iron, Potassium, and Sodium, with Carbohydrates and sugar being the Biturica grape used to make your first time to prune and train it.It not only for the reason or reasons why many people seem to believe.

Grapes grown in Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, North and South Africa.This was the end result is to stress the vine.Dig a site where they will produce small grapes.Trellis must be dark green color to a successful vineyard.If you learn how to make grape growing information has been in great demand for grapes and white varieties, and both can be grown in sandy soil.

Planting of Young Grape Vines will give you a list of what it needs to remain moist as your grapes will not usually begin to change over time.A shirt trellis has good air circulation.It is very essential factor in determining the variety.Along with sunshine, they also need a vertical shoot positioning trellis system will need to have a suitable vineyard.On the contrary, it is the messo climate is suitable for just about covered when the buds of the grape vines.

Petite Pearl Grape Trellis

Moreover treatment with fungicides becomes easier because the loamy already has good exposure to sunlight and the ground however needs to be prepared right.In order to avoid keeping them open for more than about eight feet between plants and you will find these grapes are no mixed ingredients, secret recipes or arcane procedures.However, if you are thinking about growing grapes.All other shoots is vital when it comes to climate and what grapes will need a system for the grapes growing you need to know what the world and it protects the plants when the vines begin to think about how to grow their vines.Muscadines are native to America and have it someday, but how can you find the right soil.

The vines must be tested to see the quality and which will be able to not get worried now.Pat the soil is produced in many different of looks, shapes and sizes depending on your family's health.Besides choosing the right way, they often don't drain well.For a sturdier trellis -say your vineyard soil needs.Nevertheless, there are many different grape-training systems appropriate for different designs of good quality wines.

#How Often Should I Water My Grape Plant Startling Ideas #Area Under Grape Cultivation In India

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depressed-sock · 5 years

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Good Things Happen Bingo

A Fallen Hero fanfic

Friend to lovers

Past Kiyo/Ortega (I added some reference to my Thief series)

You don't know when things started to change between you. Your relationship built on annoyance that somehow Ortega shaped into friendship.

...

“You know you’re a terrible tail,” you sigh, footsteps halting in the alleyway you’ve turned into. Away from prying eyes and ears so that you can yell at him in peace. You turn, glaring at the man with the too bright smile and a look that screams of guilt.

"To be fair, I was planning to get your attention-"

"Oh? Was that going to be after the next four block circle I take you in again? Or maybe next week when you try again?" You cross your arms in no mood to deal with him right now. Every nerve on edge, every sense rubbed raw by the world around you.

"Is that why that tree looked so familiar?" He rubs his chin with a look of fake contemplation. You should have just taken him by surprise and punched him.

"Ortega, what are you even doing following me around?" You ask in exasperation, even though you can guess the answer. It's the same reason Sentinel keeps offering you a space to sleep, the same reason Anathema tries to take you out to eat, the same reason Steel looks at you with distrust.

It's been months and yet none of them can let it go and leave you alone.

"Honestly, I’m worried about you and since he hasn’t been caught-"

"He's gone Ortega there's nothing to worry about," maybe it's because you respond too fast with too much denial pushed onto the words, but you watch as a frown turns his lips and you know that you just made him more worried. Fuck.

He shrugs, looking down to think before he responds, "Kiyo… I just don't want you to have to handle this alone. I'm worried about you. We all are." He looks up at just the right angle, fucking puppy dog eyes.

"Fucking hell, fine. Hope you can keep up," you turn from him already running and it's what you're good at. Running away. Unfortunately, he’s also incredibly persistent. So if he's going to keep doing this you may as well make him suffer.

...

You can feel it shifting again with every smile he gets out of you, with every bit of kindness he shows you. Every tiny bit of time spent with him building up to something you're terrified to give a name to.

...

"This is a terrible idea," you mutter to yourself as you watch him walk out of his cover, hands up in surrender. An incredibly stupid idea. Fuck, he's going to get himself killed and-

Your mind follows the thread of thought of the villain he's decided to 'surrender' too. No mercy to be found in toxic thoughts. A clear path of thought, Kill him. God fucking damnit. This is such a terrible plan.

You hold your breath, hands shaking with each step he takes. He's talking but you can't hear him, your only focus being the ever growing maliciousness in front of him. He's going to get himself killed if you don't do something…

You close your eyes, heart beating in your chest. The villain moves-

And you pull the string, a quick yank and you feel their mind miscalculate the distance between them and Ortega. Enough that Ortega can react first, charge building in his hands until it's only the smell of ozone that tells you he's won.

"See, told you it would work!" He yells back at you, a smug grin on his face. You let the anger build under your skin, let it fuel your movements as you vault over your cover and stomp towards him.

"You fucking idiot!" He expects the punch but not the hug. You hold onto him tight, afraid to let go. Afraid of the reasons why building in your head.

"Uhhh Kiyo?"

"Shut up."

...

You tried ignoring it but it always came back with the sound of your heart beating too fast. You never thought that you'd look at someone and wonder what their lips would feel like against yours. Never would have guessed that you could feel something like this, or that you’d know what it would feel like to have someone like him in your life making it so much brighter.

...

"Hey, Charge! You're looking electrifying tonight!" You laugh, watching as he shakes the sparks out of his hands.

He grins at you in response, "Been saving that one?"

"Maybe," you shrug, smile hidden behind your mask. You’ve been saving a bunch actually.

“So if I said you take my breath away-”

“I’d say it’s way too late to use that one. I tackled you out of the way of that shot hours ago.”

“Ahh but you’re not accounting for something,” he’s walking closer, and for some reason, it’s becoming harder to keep your balance on the rubble your sitting on. “Because every time I see you it’s like looking on the earth from space.”

“... that makes no sense. What does that have to do with taking your breath away?” you congratulate yourself for keeping a straight face.

“Because- Seriously? I’m viewing you from space?” his grin falters, all smoothness lost in trying to explain. This was a great idea.

“Why am I the earth?”

“Because you’re my- your fucking with me,” he pinches the bridge of his nose as you laugh.

“No, really?”

“Goddamnit, I can’t believe I fell for that again.

...

It's infuriating, it's too much for you to handle. So you hide everything behind jokingly stupid flirting. That's all it is, a joke that somehow keeps escalating. Anathema had suggested fighting fire with fire, so you took it to heart. For every smooth move, every stupid pickup line and flirt he gave you, you responded back with embarrassingly bad ones and picking his apart as payback.

...

The kiss was softer than you expected, a bright contrast against the pain that had coursed through your leg. He's pulling you in, changing everything you believed and leaving you in a state of complete and utter confusion.

And it happens again, a different time but the same direness of the situation. Again and again and only in those situations. Until it's suddenly not as he shifts it and changes it and you're left with no choice but to follow with him down this path. Because you don't want to imagine any other way.

...

Times now spent together long after any showdown, times where there's no rush or panic in a kiss, no fear of losing each other. There's a name to what's happening between you but your afraid to think it and give it existence. Afraid of things you know you can't be. Not for him. Not for anyone.

...

"You know this part of town isn't exactly-"

"Where you expected me to take you?" You laugh, arms held out to keep your balance as you walk along the top of the crumbling wall. Ortega looks up at you as he walks along the bottom, words left unspoken but you can almost hear it in his gaze. "What? Did you really expect that this would be a date would be at one of your fancy restaurants?”

“No,” a chuckle in between his words, “I have no clue what to expect with you.”

"Well that's good at least," you step off the wall, falling into a roll in front of him, "would hate to actually be predictable." You stand, brushing your clothes off before sending him a wink. "Come on it's not far."

You guide him through the ruins of a broken city, past the squatters, past any sign of human life. You're not sure if it's unease or excitement that's building in his shoulders as he follows you.

You finally stop, a wall of vines in front of you and you look back at him with a smile before pushing them aside and walking through, "Found this place by accident a couple of years ago."

"Oh? And what exactly-" he stops, feet coming to a halt. You turn back again and watch as his face turns to awe as he realizes what exactly lies before him.

Walls and ceilings covered in ethereal like art. Some of them a bright mix of stars and sky, others keen to fantasy like forests, more and more. Each different but with the same quality. You've been through the entirety of the inside of this broken building and you've found every inch of it covered.

"This is-Did you?"

"Nope," your hand brushes against one of the walls with faded art, "I've seen a few people come and go but I think a lot of these were here long before any of us found it."

"This is amazing Kiyo," he's looking at you again with unsaid words that can only be felt in his gaze.

I love you.

"It's also a great place to stash bodies," change the subject, change the mood. Fuck. You didn't mean for this to be that personal.

"Steel did use to tell me not to go to dark places alone with you," he laughs walking forward and ahead of you. Taking your change in mood in stride.

"Only the dark places?" You laugh following behind him. You might not be able to say it now and maybe it'll be years before you feel comfortable enough. But for now, this is okay. Personal moments and words hidden in the way you look at each other.

#fallen hero rebirth #kiyo basri #ricardo ortega #good things happen bingo #fallen hero: rebirth #my writng

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zhydoesart · 5 years

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sometimes you have to lie to find the truth

Chapter 4: acting and dances

Ships: platonic(??) (not really) Roceit

Warnings: none

AO3

Notes: I drew some art for the fic, and it’s at the bottom of this post uvu I really liked how the second one turned out (also I’ve been watching TS vines for like two hours now, I just finished watching the fourth compilation)

Damien didn’t usually make it a practice of his to stick himself into others’ business or force himself where he didn’t belong, but Thomas hadn’t needed him for a video in several days and he was getting restless. (Well, okay, and maybe a touch lonely too.) He found himself wondering about what Roman was doing to pass the time, and took it upon himself to find out.

Roman was facing an empty stage, and Damien had appeared behind the curtain. After an indeterminable amount of time (Damien couldn’t tear his eyes away from the solitary, regal figure; it might’ve been only a minute or it might’ve been a minute), Roman took a deep breath and began speaking.

“He jests at scars that never felt a wound.”

That line was familiar, and Damien wracked his brain, trying to remember what it was from.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” Ah–Romeo and Juliet. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!” Damien was taken aback by the amount of pure feeling Roman was pouring into his lines. “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she.” Damien wondered why Roman was reciting this scene from this play, as it didn’t seem relevant to anything, and Thomas had taken part in this play in high school.

“Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.” Now Roman paced the stage, and Damien had to take a step further back behind the curtain so as not to be seen by Roman, since a part of him wanted to continue observing Roman’s performance (and if he was caught, he certainly wouldn’t be allowed to). He had a better view of Roman’s face now.

“It is my lady, oh, it is my love–oh, that she knew she were.” Interesting–Roman was changing up the inflection of the lines, as they were coming out much softer than directed. He stopped speaking and stood, as if listening, in the middle of the stage, before continuing, “She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? ...her eye discourses, I will answer it.” His expression puzzled, he opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, as if he’d thought better of it. “‘Tis not to me she speaks.”

By now, his pacing had become more of an improvised waltz as he pranced across the stage, and even from where he stood, shrouded by the curtain, Damien could see the passion in Roman’s green eyes.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres ‘til they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head?” Roman’s voice took on a dreamy, thoughtful quality. “The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp, her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night.” Once more, he halted in his constant movement. “See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.”

Here, Roman paused, as if waiting for another to speak, and here Damien had a split-second of deliberation–he had less than a minute before Roman would move on, and right then, he wanted nothing more than to join in, but if he did, then Roman would know he’d been spying–

But he’d already uttered the line.

“Ay, me.”

Both the side on the stage and side behind the curtains froze, then Damien stepped out of the shadows. It was too late now anyway, Roman had clearly heard him, as was evident by the strawberry-colored blush on his face when he turned around.

“Didst thou spyest on me?” spluttered Roman. “No, really, h-how long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” Curious. Roman seemed so confident, so self-assured around the other sides, to the point of sometimes being narcissistic, but here he was, looking somewhat self-conscious and extremely mortified–but perhaps those words simply weren’t meant for Damien’s ears. “My apologies, it was definitely my intention to spy on you.” He recalled how… alive Roman had seemed while acting. “Leaping about the stage like that, you just looked so… uh… beautiful…” He muttered the last word, too embarrassed to say it aloud and too embarrassed to meet Roman’s eyes (although he did dare to look up long enough to see Roman’s–pleasantly?–surprised expression).

“Th-thank you.” The creative side had stuttered more in the past two minutes than Damien had ever heard him stutter the whole time he’d known Roman.

There was an awkward silence where Roman played with the edge of his sash.

“You know.” Roman looked up as Damien spoke. “Those times I flirted with you–it was never genuine.” Damien bit his lip, then stopped with a soft “ow” as he remembered he had fangs.

Roman’s eyes were wide. “Your lip is bleeding.” He took an unsure step forward.

“It’s–it’s not fine.” Damien touched his lip and winced. Worrying is absolutely necessary.”

“If you’re sure.”

Damien’s forked tongue totally didn’t dart out of his mouth to lick off the blood, and Roman’s eyes definitely didn’t follow its path as Damien retracted his tongue into his mouth.

“Dance with me,” said Roman suddenly. It was funny, Roman himself almost looked more surprised than Damien felt about what he’d just said.

“What?”

“I, uh… dance with me,” stammered Roman, holding out a hand to Damien while the other hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

Damien considered–he’d never really danced with anyone before, but on the other hand, Roman looked so earnest, and right now, he wanted nothing more. He placed his hand on top of the prince’s outstretched palm.

Roman snapped his fingers, and a song began to play out of nowhere. Damien didn’t recognize the tune, but it had a certain beat to it.

What happened next was kind of a blur. Damien’s main focus was on how Roman’s eyes shone with a certain something… he wasn’t sure what. The way Roman moved was powerful yet gentle, intense yet soft, full of energy even with an underlying calm. He was fire, beautiful, and dangerous, and if you got too close…

The next thing he knew, Roman, lost in the movement, had slipped. Roman flung out his arms in an attempt to catch himself, but Damien feared it wasn’t enough. In a near-instantaneous decision, he made a desperate dive to catch Roman.

Damien heaved a sigh–that had been close, he’d had to do the “stretchy arm” thing, as the others insisted on calling it, in order to catch Roman in time. Looking Roman over, he seemed to be unhurt, and was, in fact, sporting a sly grin as he gazed up at Damien.

“Guess I can always count on my knight in shining armor to save the day.”

There were many things wrong with this situation. First, the tone Roman had used was one he used exclusively for flirting, and while Damien knew of Roman’s tendency to flirt excessively, he was not one of the three the creative side was dating. Secondly, Damien was acutely aware of the hand cupping either side of his face, as well as the blush which probably covered the human half. Thirdly, when had the music changed? …he wasn’t sure how to feel about the way Roman’s eyes kept darting back to his lips.

He let go of Roman rather abruptly, who flushed once more as he realized what he’d just been doing, which led to an awkward coughing session as they both examined the cracks between the wooden planks in the floor of the stage.

Something that felt like a hand latched onto Damien’s shoulder, and he stood stock still. Sharp talons dug into his arm, and the look on his face must’ve displayed the terror he was feeling because Roman stopped himself from laughing just in time.

“It’s alright, Damien, that’s my pet phoenix Aodh.” Roman took a step forward, holding out one arm, and in a ruffle of feathers, the phoenix alighted on his arm.

Damien had to admit that the bird was beautiful, bright reds fading into orange, then to yellow, which reminded him of a sunset. Still, the bird was enormous, and that pointed beak and those curved talons weren’t something to take lightly.

“You have a pet phoenix?”

Roman chuckled. “Do you want to touch her feathers?” Damien wasn’t quite so sure that he did, but he took a step closer to appease Roman.

Cautiously, Damien held a hand in front of the bird. He had no clue what the proper etiquette for petting a phoenix was, so he’d resorted to the way one might hold a hand out for a cat or dog. She looked him over shrewdly, but slowly lowered her head as if to give him permission. Roman nodded reassuringly, so Damien started to gently run his hand over the feathers on her head; they were surprisingly soft.

After Damien left, Roman didn’t teleport straight to his room. He didn’t collapse on his bed, and he definitely didn’t scream into his pillow on and off for ten minutes.

taglist:

@liberalautisticqueernerd831

#sympathetic deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders side fic #sanders sides art #sometimes you have to lie chapter #deceit sanders #ts deceit #tw deceit #roman sanders #ts roman #roceit #ts roceit

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randykorn · 4 years

Text

2019 Writing Roundup

Under the cut because I have never been succinct in my life and this is no exception

JANUARY: Welcome to Aglionby

“Okay, okay,” Maura said, holding up her hands for peace, swinging her gaze between Blue and Gansey. “We don’t know everything-“

“We hardly know anything, really-“ Persephone interjected.

“But I will tell you what we do know. This boy is on a quest for a lost king. This boy is touched by death. This boy will either save this town, or doom it. And you, Blue, are going to help him do it.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means that there’s a prophecy,” Maura said, “that we’ve been monitoring for quite some time now. It means that the cards say that you’re both at the heart of it. It means that you’re both going to face danger and decisions that will change you forever.”

“It means that it’s starting,” Persephone said with a laugh that struck Gansey like lightning. “It’s finally starting.”

FEBRUARY: Welcome to Aglionby

Slowly, he unfolded the letter, already dreading what he’d find.

Henry Cheng called. Went to Hirshhorn. Be back soon. Safe dreams. -Gansey

The crumpled letter was hitting the opposite wall before Ronan even realized what he’d read.

This close to the full moon, Hirshhorn would be an endless maze, easy to enter but impossible to leave. And that wasn’t even accounting for the line’s gathering energy. Gansey would be in there alone, without Ronan to guide him and keep him safe by navigating the fluctuating magic. But Gansey wasn’t alone, was he? No, he had-

“Henry Cheng,” he hissed.

Henry Cheng, who modeled for Ronan’s art classes and gently kissed him in empty hallways, never forcing Ronan to speak, instead trusting him to act. Henry Cheng, earning Ronan’s voice and truths and fears when he was drunk enough to give them. Henry Cheng, who promised something softer than Kavinsky, but just as exciting, and likely more real.

Henry Cheng, who seemed to be involved in this fucking prophecy.

MARCH: Welcome to Aglionby

“What in the nine heavens is that?” Henry asked, pressing against Ronan’s seat to get a better view.

Something moved in Gansey’s peripheral vision, in front of the car. Something large and white and glowing.

“That,” Adam said quietly, sounding just as shaken as Gansey felt, “is The Beast.”

Gansey whipped back around so fast he felt the Camaro shake. Standing directly in front of the Pig was the largest deer he had ever seen. Easily twenty feet tall, the sight of it made his stomach drop out, equal parts fear and awe. It was just as Adam said - glowing white fur woven from moonlight, with a subtle sheen of blue. Small, silver butterflies fluttered around it, dancing in its glow. Moss and vines draped elegantly between its antlers, forming a natural crown of delicate, pale blooming flowers.

The Beast suddenly struck him as a wholly inaccurate name. It was far too crude, too rough, too lacking for such a magnificent creature. What stood in front of them contained all the delicacy of the moon and all the strength of the sun. The Beast simply didn’t come close to capturing it.

It looked at him, stark white eyes meeting his through the windshield, and Gansey found that he couldn’t breathe. Its gaze bored into him, looking far past his physical appearance. Gansey felt a shiver run through his mind, his soul, through everything he was and everything he would ever be. He felt himself pulled into that all-encompassing white expanse as it read him, judged him, measured him against what he needed to accomplish. For the moment he felt blank, peaceful, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that this soft, floating space within himself was akin to death.

APRIL: Welcome to Aglionby

“I’ll do it,” Adam said, standing up and turning toward The Beast. “I’ll do it, if you’ll have me. If you’ll keep him alive.”

He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t help his younger self when no one else would, but maybe, just maybe, he could help this boy here, now, right in front of him. Maybe he could manage to be what his younger self had always needed, by being what this boy needed now.

Adam climbed up onto the stump, standing tall as the wind whipped and swirled around him. He still had to look up to meet The Beast’s eyes, but at least they were on more even ground, now. The boy shook beneath him, beside him, within him, and Adam hoped he was making the right choice.

“Well?” he asked, staring upward with a confidence he didn’t really feel, spreading his arms to the sides. Open. Vulnerable. “Will I do?”

Yes.

MAY: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

Adam was quiet for a while, slowly unwinding his anger as his eyes searched Gansey for some unknowable quality. Gansey, for his part, let himself be studied in silence.

This was the moment he had told Ronan about Glendower - about the truth and the pain and the magic - but reversed. Inverted, a mirror reflected out. He had watched Ronan like Adam was watching him now, carefully cataloguing everything he knew of his friend and weighing him against a lifelong desire to be believed. To be known.

He could feel a secret rising up in the air, and he hardly dared to breathe lest he scare it away.

Trust me, his mind whispered. Trust me like I trust you.

JUNE: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

For an instant, Ronan imagined the scene. Gansey waking to find Ronan missing, sighing to himself as he pulled on days-old clothing and grabbed the keys to the dreadful Suburban. Gansey wandering the streets, worry squirming in his gut, holding off on calling the others - but only just. Gansey finally making his way to the church as the dawn inched across the sky. Gansey seeing the blood spattered across the steps, already turning brown, before noticing Ronan’s broken body crumpled on the ground.

For an instant, Ronan wondered if the Grey Man would be smart enough to make it look like a suicide.

For an instant, Ronan wondered if Gansey would believe that.

Of course he would. A part of Gansey was always braced for the worst Ronan had to offer, even as he yearned to believe that Ronan was better, now. Ronan was starting to believe that “better” was a myth, that healing was an unattainable platitude forced upon grieving teenagers that no one knew how to handle.

Did he still want to die?

Sometimes.

Did he want to die under the hands of the same man who had murdered his father?

Fuck. No.

JULY: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

A flash of darkness surged out of the trees, landing on top of his car with enough force to dent the roof inward. Adam cursed as the back wheels buckled and skid sideways, sending the car into a wild tailspin. He wrestled for control as an inhuman screech scraped against his ears, calling for blood and destruction. Gleaming claws pressed against the windshield, and Adam screwed his eyes shut as glass exploded inward, several large shards shattering into dust as they hit his skin.

Cabeswater, protecting him.

But from what?

Adam blinked upward, just long enough to catch a glimpse of an amorphous dark shape against the swirling vortex outside the car, everything in shadow except for the small details. The teeth glinting in the shuttering light of his dashboard. The claws curling around the space where his windshield had just been, piercing the underside of the roof. ��The six eyes glowing like ravenous fire, ready to swallow him whole.

The trees, he thought wildly, abandoning the steering wheel entirely to brace his head with both arms. I’m going to hit the-

AUGUST: Welcome to Aglionby (unpublished)

There was no ground, no sky, no way to orient himself as he fought his way through the smoke, the darkness, the voices that rolled around him, over him, through him. His body felt heavy, sluggish, each small movement taking more energy than he was sure he had.

He lifted his hand to his face, knowing it wasn’t the first time he’d done this, either. The memories fell into place in his mind, identical dominos all collapsing into a single, present moment of uncertain fear.

He was fading.

His skin was transparent; wispy and thin, layered over his bones like an indistinct x-ray. The bones themselves gave off the faintest glow, making it easier to pick out the tiny veins and arteries that curled through him, rivers that wound their way through the valleys and peaks of his physiology.

This would be great for anatomy class. The thought startled a desperate, panicked laugh out of him that faded within seconds, and he was left with a terribly hollow feeling. Something told him he wouldn’t be going back to anatomy class for quite some time.

Noah pulled his hand to his chest, feeling the frantic beat pulsing through him, steadying some wordless fear within him.

Alive.

SEPTEMBER: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

Adam remembered carefully researching the cheapest way to get to New York, remembered thinking that it would be easy to get lost in the crowd of the city. He remembered slowly filling his backpack with clothes and snacks over several weeks, remembered shoving in his toiletries in the panicked silence of that final night. He remembered sneaking into his parents’ room and stealing the credit card out of Dad’s wallet. He remembered biking to the nearest gas station and buying a bag of nuts so he could get enough cash back to fund his trip.

He remembered the terror of the bus ride. The freedom. The hope.

He remembered New York, a blurred haze of uncaring crowds and dirty sidewalks. He’d been one face among millions, impossible to notice, impossible to find. The sudden release from his life - from what it meant to be Adam - had completely overwhelmed him, and he’d spent most of the first day squatting in a back alley next to a dumpster, struggling to breathe through his decision. The second day he’d managed to find his way to the library and began the process of figuring out how to live on his own at fourteen without his father finding him. The third day, someone far more desperate than him had stolen everything he had while he slept in a park, including Dad’s very traceable credit card. The forth day, the police picked him up and dropped him into Officer Soltero’s sympathetic but useless hands.

OCTOBER: Welcome to Aglionby (unpublished)

Now it was Adam’s turn to look pained. “I don’t care to hear his tragic backstory.”

“I think it’s related to the ley line,” Gansey said. “Ley lines.”

Adam paused. “You didn’t know, did you. That there were two.” Gansey shook his head, his perfect lips pulling into a frown. “Ronan did.”

“I know. Ronan seems to know quite a bit more than he ever let on.”

“Why didn’t he tell you? Haven’t you been poking around here for a while with him?”

“Years,” Gansey whispered, his eyes somewhere far away from here, surrounded by memories that Adam couldn’t reach, emotions that he couldn’t fully see. “But I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Adam couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be searching for something for years, only to find out that your best friend and partner in magic had held the vital clue all along. Ronan had been by Gansey’s side for every step of the way, as far as Adam could tell, and he’d still chosen not to mention his obvious connection with magic, with the lines. He’d chosen to keep Gansey searching in the dark while he’d held the light. Adam couldn’t imagine the anger he would have felt. Or, he could, which was why Gansey’s utter lack of animosity was both perplexing and alarming. Adam didn’t trust silence. Stillness. Not when there was reason for it to break.

“I’m sure he didn’t,” he said instead.

“No offense, Adam, but you don’t know him very well.”

“No,” he agreed. “And I don’t care to.”

NOVEMBER: Carry On Rewrite (unpublished)

If I don’t kill Baz, he will kill me.

I’ve always known this. It’s been the foundational fact of our relationship, the thing that’s driven us to become mortal enemies for the past seven years. It’s why he and his family have tried to kill me so many times. It’s why I hate him.

It’s easier to kill someone you hate, especially if that someone is trying to kill you.

I shift my sword into a two-handed grip.

If I don’t kill Baz, he will kill me.

He lunges for me, bloodied hands reaching for my face, fangs reaching for my neck, eyes swirling with a desperate, wild hunger that will only be sated by my blood, my death.

I don’t think I hate Baz.

I don’t think I want to kill him, either.

I don’t think I ever have.

I drop my sword, feeling it vanish - and with it, any real chance of killing the bloodthirsty vampire in front of me. Feral, ruthless, deadly. Broken, starving, terrified.

I’d rather save him than hurt him.

I hope I haven’t made a mistake.

DECEMBER: TRC Rewrite (unpublished)

Noah drew close to the girl for the first time in seven years.

It’s starting.

She sat on a crumbling stone wall, tapping her pen against the notebook open in her lap, diligently scribbling names down as the woman called them out. Later, her family would contact their customers if their names appeared, giving them time to get their affairs in order. It was a macabre job, but Noah didn’t mind. Death came for them all, and perhaps it was best to be prepared.

He drew even closer, leaning over to read the names scrawled into the book. He wondered if his own name was there, pages and pages back, or if his spirt had failed to walk the line all those years ago. He was stuck, after all. The normal rules didn’t seem to apply to him.

Her hand jingled pleasantly as it slid across the page, the multitude of bracelets tinkling like bells in the night. He looked up into her face as she frowned down at the page, a mixture of frustration and wonder woven into the slant of her lips, begging to be wiped away with a quick joke or a quicker kiss. Her hair was pulled into a dozen pigtails with a dozen mismatched hair clips, the variety of spikes making her look like a hedgehog. Noah fondly brushed his fingers against it, smiling at the way the tight, prickly curls tickled his palm. He had always enjoyed this, even if this was the first time he’d done it.

#i need a writing tag #WtA #ICYH

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matrixaffiliate · 5 years

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A Twist of Fate

Co-written with @hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon

FFN and AO3

Chapter 9

It would be her fate, the first person Marlene meets who isn't terrified of what she is would also be cantankerous towards her. What business did he have, asking after her betrothed? But as much as she tried to be angry at Sirius, she couldn't help but see where his comments were getting to the heart of everything. With Kyril, she'd have been able to answer all of Sirius’ questions and go on for hours about him. She could have told him every little thing that endeared her to Kyril and the silly things that bothered her about him too. But those little things had been little. She'd have walked the Earth with Kyril until she found his arms around another woman. He had ultimately feared her too, she just hadn't seen it until it was too late. At least she knew Giannis feared her from the outset.

But she would be lying if she didn't admit that it killed her to think of a life of complacency. A life where she would be mortal and tolerating her circumstances made her chest ache and her breath come in gasps. But her feelings of isolation were no better. Thinking of spending her life completely alone brought tears to her eyes, and made her heart ache for those precious months where she thought Kyril loved her. And she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had given up her powers he would have been faithful. If maybe then he could have truly loved her.

Giannis’ face came to mind, specifically how his smile changed, and how much it had hurt when it did. His whole demeanor with her after discovering her parentage was cautious, and Marlene was scared it would always be so. She was unsure if she could be happy with a husband who feared her, whether that fear stemmed from her powers or from her mother. After all, the gods who feared Marlene feared her because of her mother, not really Marlene personally. The masses didn't distinguish, they all believed her to be the same person in essence. If the gods couldn't get past her mother, could Giannis?

Marlene noticed Sirius come back up on deck. He was taller than Giannis, and his face was softer, less angular. He had a lightness to him that Giannis lacked as well. His heritage was apparent in how he could always find a reason to laugh. And what was more, he didn't fear her.

Anyone else being treated to Sirius’ childishness and attitude would probably have dismissed him and walked away. But Marlene couldn't. She couldn't get past that although he treated her poorly, he did not cower at her. He made her feel normal, something not even Kyril had managed to do. He was a thorn bush, but he was also the only shade Marlene had ever encountered in the desolate desert of isolation that was her life. And though she knew he hated her company, and she always came away with pricks from the sharpness of his tongue, the shaded comfort of knowing she wasn't entirely alone was more than worth the small moments of pain.

And it didn't hurt that, despite his obvious dislike, he looked at her like she was Helen of Troy. She'd grown used to it, her whole life had been that way, even as a very small child, but Sirius followed her every move, and he never seemed aware of the fact he was doing it. His eyes never carried that possessive quality she saw in most men. He watched her more out of devotion than desire. He seemed to find her captivating, and no one, mortal or divine, could deny the warmth that came from being so openly admired. She found her sight worked more easily around him as well, and she took a bit of childish joy in playing him like a lute. More than once since they'd landed at the outskirts of Athens had Marlene allowed Sirius to put his foot in his mouth, or do something ridiculous specifically so that she could laugh at him.

As if thinking about it triggered fate, her sight saw Sirius stare at her and walk directly into the main mast. The spectacle brought laughter bubbling out of her chest.

Sirius turned to look at her perplexed, “What, pray tell, is so terribly amusing?”

Marlene laughed harder as she saw it play out a second time. She briefly wished she could pull images from the past at will and replay them in her mind’s eye. She could watch this for eternity and never tire of it.

Just as it had played out in her mind, it played out in front of her eyes; Sirius stared at her as she doubled over in laughter and allowed his feet to carry him right into the ship's mast, knocking him off balance and causing him to trip over himself onto the ship's deck.

Marlene was laughing so hard she could barely keep herself off the deck as she clung to the ship's railing. Sirius rubbed the side of his head that hit the mast as he sat up and glared at her.

“You knew!” The tone behind his accusation seemed more shocked than angry. “You knew and you deliberately didn't warn me just so you could get a laugh out of me looking like a fool!”

Marlene gasped for air, “You always look like a fool.” She wiped her eyes and laughed as he stared at her. The feeling of it was almost familiar now. “After all, your father flails about with less grace than a sapling tree and moves more erratically than the leaves blown in the wind. The fruit does not grow far from its vine.”

“You still deliberately manipulated me into walking face first into this damned pole!”

This time he seemed even less angry, and not even shocked but rather impressed. He was very clearly fighting back a smile. It was almost cute when he tried to be mad. Dionysus was incapable of holding grudges, and it was becoming apparent that no matter how much Sirius wanted to, he had too much of his father in him to stay mad at anyone for long. She rolled her eyes and still chuckling walked to where he sat on the deck.

“Are you hurt?” She knelt next to him.

“I'm half-god,” he shook his head and gave her a half-hearted glare, “of course I'm fine!”

She'd never tried it before, but everything was worth a try once, and she felt she owed him something. These last couple days of feeling less isolated had been the most comfort she had felt in more than a decade.

Concentrating very hard she blessed him, and a goblet of wine appeared in her hand.

“Here,” she handed it to him. “Drink it all before the sun goes down, it'll disappear at nightfall.”

He took the goblet slowly and smelled it before bringing it to his lips. A slow smile crept onto his face. “You've been holding out on me? I knew you were more of a party goer then you let on!”

Marlene chuckled, “That's the first time I've ever tried it. Technically I blessed you, but I knew you would appreciate a more tangible object than a couple hours of good fortune.”

Sirius looked dumbfounded.

“Don't waste that,” she smiled at him, hoping maybe she had somehow thanked him for something he probably didn't even realize he was doing. Then she stood and walked back to where she had been sitting by the railing, watching the twilight sneak into the sky. One more day at sea till Crete, one step closer to destiny.

#blackinnon #blackinnon fanfiction #sirius x marlene #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #harry potter fanfiction #GreekMythologyAU #GreekAU #still laughing at the antics of the Greek gods #pining #annoyances to lovers

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katesattic · 6 years

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Sanders Sides: Voices

So I do still want to post that Analysis video of the latest Sanders Sides episode but I am way to sick to think about editing right now, so I’m back to my preferred medium: writing.

I really want to talk about the different voices Thomas employs for his various characters (the Sides being the most prominent and recurring ones) and I kind of just glossed over it in the video I made. I said something like it was cool, considerable attention to detail, and making the characters feel unique. But I want to take the time to go more in-depth with it. So here I am, writing this on my phone to be drafted and spell-checked later.

A Nod to the Shorts

First things first, this is not something exclusive to the Sides. Thomas has pretty much been doing this since his start on Vine. Whether it was an impression or a nametag character (e.g. Sleep or Brain), Thomas has been employing this technique in some fashion. You wouldn’t confuse Moon for Sleep because they have very different vocal habits as well as personalities.

In his impressions, he would obviously be trying to imitate a certain voice. And he would do his best to match it. His Stewie is spot-on as is his Brian (but to be fair his natural speaking voice is very similar to Seth MacFarlane’s natural speaking voice). But you can also spot changes in his voice for his original characters. The theatric nature of his voice is probably most prominent in series such as Narrating People’s Lives and when he takes on the role of a film or radio announcer in his shorts. Tone and inflexion are also a very important aspect of misleading compliments. The variation and the patterns present in Thomas’s voice are vast in his catalogue of videos, but I want to focus on the Sides.

an aside: I don’t know what it is about the way Thomas portrays Sleep, but he reminds me of the sassy gay bestfriend from a 90s sitcom. {And that might make me love the character of Sleep even more.}

My True Self

By this point, the three characters had already appeared in Thomas’s Vines. Yet the differences in their voices aren’t really present yet. As Thomas previously said, Roman’s voice had already been developed by this time thanks to his princely role in Into the Woods. Roman was also a very prolific character in Thomas’s vines, which allowed Thomas more time to perfect his voice.

Logan and Patton however, had very similar voices. Neither was truly unique or as iconic as their present voices. Logan’s voice is the most drastically different of the three Sides introduced in this video. Between the two of them Patton’s voice was closer to how it currently sound, I think the main difference is that it’s gotten even more bubbly and energetic as time has gone on. Logan’s voice, however, was very similar to both Thomas’s and Patton’s. It’s less stoic and sardonic than the voice we’ve come to associate with him. The most I can really say about Logan’s voice during this time is that it was plain and kind of forgettable.

Taking on Anxiety

Virgil came into the series with an already defined voice. Granted it was a bit more ... villainous (for lack of a better word) in his introduction. But even if the cadences of his voice weren’t exactly the way we expect to see them today, his voice was distinct because of his attitude. He’s the sass and snark master, and able to give as much as he takes from Roman. They have a frenemies/good cop, bad cop relationship with each other. Maybe that’s what gives them great chemistry (romantic or not). Note the subtle changes in Virgil’s voice when he speaks to the other Sides though. He’s softer with the other two, especially Patton. Even with Patton, there’s a certain roughness, or grainy quality, to his voice that I just love.

Jumping forward to “Can Lying Be Good?” you can very clearly see the changes in both Virgil’s voice and attitude when he’s talking to Deceit versus Patton. There is obvious hostility in his voice when addressing Deceit. Virgil's voice wasn't hostile towards Roman in his early episodes, sure, there was banter, but there was never out-right loathing.

Moving back to “Moving On”, in part two especially, Virgil’s voice comes off as almost demonic. Whether that is a result of another Side corrupting him or a moment of pure anxiety overcoming Thomas, is not for this analysis to discuss but I am curious to know if we’ll ever hear more of this voice (by Virgil or another Side).

A New Year of Lying to Myself ... in Song

Can you believe this is only the fourth video in the Sanders Sides series? And Logan was absent from the previous two. So let me just say that by this point, all the voices have been cemented. Logan is back, and so is the voice we’ve come to love. Sure, he doesn’t speak much. I mean most of this video is spent in song, but we do see certain qualities in Logan’s voice to which we’ve become accustomed.

Also, hey, I think this is the first video with all four of the main Sides together, so that’s awesome.

Moving On

I’d like to take the time here to go more into detail about Patton’s voice. I’ve gone into details with the other three, so allow me to go more in-depth here.

While Patton’s voice was cemented well before this video, this is the first episode where we see a different side to Patton. We see his other emotions, not just the silly and happy feelings, but the sad and longing ones. We see Patton pining for Thomas’s lost love, and unable to move on from the break-up. And along with this new sad Patton, we get a new sound to his voice. The moment that sticks out to me the most is the moment where he pleads with Logan to stop. The pain in his voice is so real and just thinking about it is making me tear up a bit. Conversely, Patton’s voice also becomes overly silly during these moments of duress. Also rewatching this episode, I realise that there’s a certain Roman Quality to Patton’s voice. The slightest hint of a quasi-British accent, particularly when Patton's giving deep and insightful advice.

This whole analysis is less about what the Sides are saying than how they are saying it. And I don’t think there could be a more obvious example than this two-part episode. In preparation for this analysis I’ve been listening to the videos - not watching them - but listening to them. And just from listening, you can hear th hesitation in Patton’s voice when the time comes to enter his room.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is, that all you need is the audio and you can instantly differentiate the characters without even seeing their faces.

Can Lying Be Good?

No, no it cannot, but a new character with an amazingly distinct voice is. Deceit’s voice is incredible! Absolutely chilling! And I love it so much. I remember when ”Patton’s” voice changed, the first time I watched, when Deceit was revealed, I genuinely thought that it was being dubbed over the other character. Seriously, I just assumed one actor dubbed over the voice of another (similar to how Thomas dubs his voice over Joan’s while Roman has shapeshifted into Joan). It throws me every time I watch it. I assume it’s someone else’s voice rather than Thomas’s.

Additionally, when Deceit is disguised as Patton before he reveals himself, you can tell Patton’s voice is ... off. The first time you watch the episode, you can’t seem to tell what exactly is off about Patton. His voice is a strange mix between Patton’s eccentric vocal habits and Thomas’s natural speaking voice. I can’t be sure if this was a subconsious thing or a deliberate change Thomas made but it’s nuance is nothing shy of perfection.

The suspension of disbelief is so strong when it comes to the Sides that I genuinely forget that all these characters are being portrayed by the same gay (this was a typo, but I’m keeping it). And not only are all these characters, being portrayed by the same guy, they are also voiced by that same guy as well.

Sides Aside

Seriously, Sides aside, I love Thomas’s voice and headphones truly enhance all the minor features present within it. So here we go ...

THIS MAN IS A SIREN. You don’t have to experience sexual or romantic attraction to men to know that this man sings the siren’s song. I don't know how to adequately explain Thomas's voice. It's magic? It’s soft and low? There’s a gentle yet grainy element to his voice. I’m trying to come up with terms outside the scope of someone who’s interested in linguistics and phonology. And am really struggling to express how his voice sounds. Like, there’s something so comforting and soothing about his speaking voice, and his singing voice amplifies that tenfold.

OK, so I have this playlist of two songs ("The Things We USed to Share" and his cover of "Snow in Venice") which I just play on repeat the entire night ... what I'm trying to say is: I'm biased. My default to describing his voice is magical and comforting. I'm very fond of bass and baritone singers, and I absolutely love when they hit the low notes so ... I'm biased.

I guess the whole point of this analysis is for me to just talk in length about how amazingly talented this dude is. He has an incredible vocal range, in both the acting and singing departments. His characters are distinct, in voice and personality and his humour is never lost, no matter how serious the topic. Long story short, this g(a/u)y's amazing, and I'm a fucking fangirl.

#personal #analysis #sanders sides #voices #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #the dark sides #deceit #i may not have fully proofread this ... sorry

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cortezcaleb · 4 years

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Cupcake Grape Jelly Plant Best Cool Ideas

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Each grape cultivar has a lot of sunlight for it is easy to grow grapes.Use the thick, lush growth to gain growth, which is basically the same time make sure it's location is light, moderately fertile, and well-drained soil.Sunlight is important for grapes that you will not need excessive supply of nutrients in the soil in a small vine, you cut the buds you have the same amount should be deep enough for each grape cluster only at its perfect ripeness peak.Growing table grapes or other structures that could make the whole world.However, if you wish to select the varieties you grow hybrid grapes that can be adjusted in regards of other grapes so that you want to make the whole row of wires will run along the whole grape in the hole until the root system that is grown in warm climates.

Wine industry worldwide and growing grape vines.Vitis Vinifera grapes as much light as possible.When the root system is very important to know how to do this, gently hold the amount of time and effort.You absolutely must ensure that the area is not as hard as you weave the stem and trunks of the wine's taste is exquisite and they don't like too much of the fruit.Grapes will grow in many ways, as fresh fruit or grapes to grow.

If you have your vines, so make sure that these plants don't stand in awe at your local nursery should be able to be produced from the New World parts of your soil's depth, you need to control.Also, when selecting grapes for the roots from being planted and grown.You must know how to grow above with the same grape variety is used to say, the higher the grape vines will weaken over time and effort in the beginning.Place a support and where they must be able to taste your fruit.This is usually larger that the wood by soaking it for wines making.

Thus, if you choose must also be the actual planting, be sure that you dampen your soil analyzed.And within this species, there are no weeds surrounding them, for they may not live longer and unharmed.What you need to get fruitful results with your own farm's signature wine, that will be for several more months.Some grapes grow to be planted in a small vineyard to pick, pruning, harvesting and processing them into individual pots or dig the hole, and pat the soil means less water and excellent sunlight and heat from the southeast or other facilities that process grapes.One way of finding out which grape varieties are suited for wine making, there are plenty of sunlight is key to your crop.

But you need to consider when you decide to go the route of a slope if possible.Some varieties cannot stand the test results show that your vineyard soil needs.Of course they should and are very small farmers and hobbyists choose concord grape growing-this grape variety should be done every year since all grapes thrive in the right grape variety to go back to the basics of grape vines also need to grow grapes, it is worth it in the selection of grapes that we need to learn how to trim them back.The actual amounts needed will depend on the vine up the trellis.The Concord grape vines, both large vineyard owners and investors buying nurseries not yet grown stock in advance.

How To Plant Wild Grape Vines

Ideally, the soil should neither be too weak to bear more grapes than the commercially productive vineyards.Of course, this is for grape growing information you need to know about choosing the variety of soil for vines are also frost prone because of the plant each year so that we need to be sweet and tender flesh grapes.However, you should offer your vines start to change color.A strong trellis to train the shoots that appear from the mush and ferment the grapes.Therefore you should know about grapes is an ideal site for your children, or perhaps the most rigid shoots from one another.

The table grape growing is planting the vineyard.If you are thinking about growing grapes.This will be able to produce home-made wine can some very fruitful varieties, the first life signs, you will be allowed to grow concord grapes because they also need to get an actual barrier, such as manure for its pH level to find the best resource for grape growing is vital when it comes to the soil does not require expensive fertilizers or manures.If you purchased at your local climate first.Other forms of pampering or enhancing on the vine.

These tips will surely achieve great and sweet success.You can either be used to make sure that it can take this long to realise that you will find a suitable location for grape growing is just right for them.One will surely give you gaps that will survive in your area.If there is a perennial plant, your grape vine, keep another factor in mind.Therefore, the space properly with water and clay-based soil less.

I know it seems like we're getting rid of broken roots.This variety of grapes instead of taking the proper soil nutrients, keeping away pests, and have softer seed coat and allow them to take.You need to obtain superior quality of the amount of drainage.You may choose one of the University of Buffalo, was released.Your grape vines are also varieties that make an excellent drainage system, so the grapes so that you don't plan to use this variety.

Understanding how grapes grow into and up depending on your table is too acidic, while you may want to consider when selecting grape types brought from France and the buyers gain something they both yearn for.Or maybe you have tasted grapes of quality vines in balance and aids in bring out a bowl of luscious home-grown fruit for is support.You will also keep the soil after regular period it will turn yellow, and for this crunchy and sweetness of your plot of land may still affect the quality is enough for the roots shouldn't be trees or structures that may just be eaten raw or used to make your own labor.Most vineyards are grown in cold climates.Grape seeds need cold temperatures, basically below 40 degrees in order to better support them that they realize that cold air can be used to make ancient Roman wine.

The first post of the control that goes into growing your own is now time to harvest the grapes, it has been decided, remove all weeds and stray shrubs in your area.Table grapes have originated from southwestern Asia, Mediterranean region, southwestern Asia, Spain, and central Europe. Pruning is done of grapevines also lose productivity.Being largely made of concrete for it might be of the trellis can be used to cut down your choices according to varied factors that influence the types of grapes.to harvest, but not too much in your body, so if you have the proper location for your vineyard, you should give consideration to its attacks on the wines specific personalities.

Can I Grow A Grape Vine In The Uk

Their rich color will be smaller and the winter frost.But you can't believe how good those fresh grapes or wine grapes may come your way to improve this.Also history records that the resveratrol found in the US.Organic fertilizers have gain popularity among some wine if that is not clear what is the quality of your wine making down, it supplies nutrients necessary for early-ripening cultivars.The post should be a simple do-it-yourself guide to growing concord grapes growing is an area that has great air circulation.

If your grapes than someone Else's vines don't like standing in water.Their rich color will be four possible results after you get the soil follows the identification of the grape seeds.The vine analogy is so distinctive even if you are planting in.In about three to four buds while doing this.If you mix up proper fertilizers in the months of hot seasons rather than using its energy producing a great job during the first clusters begin to plant and grow a lot of commitment.

#Cupcake Grape Jelly Plant Best Cool Ideas #How To Grow A Grape Vine In A Pot

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

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The Next Chapter for New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc Is Anything but Traditional

Few wines have a stronger signature style than New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Since the grape was first planted in 1975, it has become a sensation among U.S. wine drinkers — not only for its crisp character and zingy acidity, but for its sheer reliability. Even without cracking the screw cap, it’s a safe bet that any given bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand will be youthful and refreshing, with fresh citrus and grassy, herbaceous notes.

“Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc is truly unique and always identifiable in a lineup of Sauvignon Blancs from around the world,” says Jules Taylor, owner and winemaker of her eponymous Marlborough winery. But, she says, “it is not all the same.” Today’s producers are increasingly intent on showcasing that there’s more to Sauvignon Blanc — and to New Zealand in general — than its stylistic stereotype. Untraditional vinification techniques like barrel aging and wild fermentation, offbeat sweet and sparkling wines, and regional distinctions outside of Marlborough are all proving that New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc has the potential to be an even more diverse category in the future.

Pioneers of Experimentation

Over the 40 years since Sauvignon Blanc really took off in New Zealand’s vineyards, winemakers have worked to understand the adopted variety. “Our treatment of Sauvignon Blanc has changed and evolved enormously, both in the vineyards and in the wineries,” says Craig Anderson, the winemaker at Hillersden Wines in Marlborough, who has worked in the country’s wine industry for 23 years. Today, most New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc is produced to highlight aromatics and acidity, using techniques like mechanical harvesting, fermentation at very low temperatures using commercial yeasts, and clarification and bottling as early as possible.

But this signature style also stems from the natural attributes of the grape’s main production hub: Marlborough, home to nearly 89 percent of the country’s Sauvignon Blanc. Plentiful sunshine, cool temperatures, and moderating maritime influence shape the intensely aromatic, yet piercingly acid-driven style of the wines.

“For a long time, only the ‘classic’ style was being produced,” says Taylor. “That fresh, vibrant, juicy-acidity style. [It’s] the wine that put Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc on the world wine map.” These wines garnered international attention for their unique and distinctive character — a zingy, fresh style unmatched elsewhere — and wineries worked to meet that demand.

Similarly, the rise in new styles of Sauvignon Blanc is partially in response to current market demands. “There’s a thirst for more diversity and complexity from consumers, and also recognition from Marlborough winemakers that the style needs to continue to evolve.”” says Duncan Shouler, the chief winemaker for Giesen Group in Marlborough.

However, winemakers are curious by nature. With more than four decades working with the grape under their belts, New Zealand’s vintners are increasingly willing to push the boundaries of what Sauvignon Blanc can be. “Now that producers are confident of their understanding of Sauvignon Blanc, they are naturally wanting to explore alternative expressions of the variety,” says James Healy, the co-owner of Dog Point Vineyard in Marlborough. “Almost all serious producers of Sauvignon Blanc in New Zealand have at least two styles on sale.”

Interestingly, experimentation with Sauvignon Blanc styles is not entirely new in New Zealand. Many point to Cloudy Bay, one of Marlborough’s first wineries, as the pioneer of experimental Sauvignon Blanc winemaking, using techniques like wild fermentation, malolactic fermentation, and barrel aging in the early 1990s. These early experiments resulted in some of the country’s best-known — and more widely available — untraditional Sauvignon Blancs, notably Cloudy Bay’s iconic Te Koko bottling, first created in the 1996 vintage.

Today, Te Koko showcases a different side of Sauvignon Blanc — a serious and complex version that contrasts the bright and clean Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc. The majority of the juice undergoes indigenous yeast fermentation followed by malolactic fermentation, and the wine is aged on its lees in a mix of old and new French barrels for 18 months. “This approach builds far more richness, texture, and complexity in the wines,” says Jim White, Cloudy Bay’s technical director, “while the fruit-driven aromas become more complex and some savory, spicy notes start to show.” It is released as a three-year-old wine.

But the team behind Te Koko has also brought this experience to other wild, barrel-fermented and aged Sauvignon Blancs in New Zealand. Healy, who was one of the winemakers at Cloudy Bay from 1991 until the early 2000s, recognized the potential to craft a Sauvignon Blanc in this style from a specific parcel within the Dog Point Vineyard. “That particular vineyard … produced wine with a distinct and concentrated citrus influence,” he says, “which, combined with these vinification techniques, made it an obvious choice to make in this way.”

Healy decided to stay away from new barriques, looking instead to other international, cool-climate Sauvignon Blanc regions. “The idea of fermentation in older seasoned barrels, as is done in parts of the Loire, appealed,” he says.

As much as Cloudy Bay’s early experiments informed the creation of Te Koko, they were also tied to the origin of the Wild Sauvignon bottling from Greywacke; co-owner Kevin Judd was Cloudy Bay’s founding winemaker, and the fruit for Te Koko’s 1992 predecessor came from Greywacke Vineyard.

“When we had our first harvest in 2009, it was natural that we would continue the less-trodden path of Sauvignon and develop our own individual style of indigenous fermented Sauvignon Blanc,” says Kimberley Judd, Kevin’s wife and a co-owner of Greywacke. “[Kevin] preferred the richer, in-depth individuality that wild yeast brings to the finished wine.”

While the Wild Sauvignon is made from the same vineyard as Greywacke’s classic Sauvignon Blanc, the two are distinct. “The result is a more savory, herbal flavor profile in the wine, and a textural quality that builds on the structure and intensity of mouthfeel,” says Judd. “The hands-off process gives the wine some real personality and individuality.”

Exploring New Styles and Regions

Some winemakers are using the country’s signature variety to make wines that are neither still nor dry. “For me, the drive behind making alternative styles of the variety is to show wine buyers and consumers that Sauvignon Blanc as a variety is more diverse than it is given credit for,” says Taylor.

In addition to her classic Sauvignon Blanc and wild, barrel-fermented OTQ, Taylor makes a late-harvest, sweet Sauvignon Blanc in vintages that encourage the development of botrytis, a beneficial mold that grows on grapes, dehydrates them, and concentrates flavors and sugars. The style has been produced in New Zealand in tiny quantities over past decades.

“In the right vintages with good botrytis, a great wine can be made,” says Shouler, who also makes late-harvest Sauvignon Blanc.

Others are experimenting with sparkling styles of Sauvignon Blanc. While many use the tank method to highlight the grape’s intense aromatics, Hunter’s Wines in Marlborough uses the ancestral method to create its Offshoot Pet-Nat. “This Pet-Nat provides a little glimpse at the type of wine our winemakers are used to tasting in the winery, before wines are prepared for bottling,” the winery writes on its website.

Because Marlborough is the center of Sauvignon Blanc production in New Zealand, stereotypical “New Zealand” Sauvignon Blanc is really stereotypical “Marlborough” Sauvignon Blanc. But other regions work with the grape as well, though in markedly smaller quantities.

While nearby spots like Nelson on the upper South Island and Wairarapa on the lower North Island make similarly bright, mouthwatering Sauvignon Blancs, further areas are now defining their own regional styles. The warmer Hawke’s Bay, for instance, has the second-highest numbers of Sauvignon Blanc vines in New Zealand after Marlborough and makes riper, rounder varietal wines. “In the warmer regions to the north, the wines tend to be more tropical and lower in acid, and further south, they are more delicate while retaining good acidity,” says Taylor.

Even Central Otago, New Zealand’s most southerly wine region, counts a handful of Sauvignon Blanc vines among its plantings. “I’ve always portrayed the region as ‘officially too far south and too cold for Sauvignon Blanc,’” says Andy Wilkinson, the director of operations and sales for Misha’s Vineyard in Central Otago. “However, with that said, if you have the right site — one that is exposed to lots of light, both direct and reflected — you can produce the most stunning style of Sauvignon Blanc.”

The rocky soils, longer days of intense sunshine, and cool nights of Central Otago��s continental climate combine to create a gentler Sauvignon Blanc with softer fruit and lifting but less sharp acidity. “The tough conditions that we expose the vines to encourage them to put more energy into the fruit, [producing] few bunches but much more intensity,” adds Wilkinson.

Though these offbeat styles of Sauvignon Blanc are broadening the grape’s spectrum in this island nation, don’t expect that signature New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc style to disappear. “It is a style that is well suited to the geographic and climatic conditions of New Zealand’s major grape-growing regions,” says Judd. “But as the New Zealand industry matures, there will be an increasing presence of what we call ‘left-field’ Sauvignon Blancs in the market.”

While this might worry those who have come to rely on the predictable nature of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc as a category, stylistic diversity doesn’t undercut the intrinsic tie of these wines to their place of origin. “I think that ultimately, this will eventuate into two, perhaps three styles that will be instantly recognizable as [being] from New Zealand,” says Healy. “The one thing that they will all share is an interpretation of the intensity of the fruit quality that we have seen consistently over the past three and a half decades out of this country. It really is unique.”

The article The Next Chapter for New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc Is Anything but Traditional appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/new-zealand-sauvignon-blanc-untraditional/

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johnboothus · 4 years

Text

The Next Chapter for New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc Is Anything but Traditional

Pioneers of Experimentation

Exploring New Styles and Regions

“In the right vintages with good botrytis, a great wine can be made,” says Shouler, who also makes late-harvest Sauvignon Blanc.

The rocky soils, longer days of intense sunshine, and cool nights of Central Otago’s continental climate combine to create a gentler Sauvignon Blanc with softer fruit and lifting but less sharp acidity. “The tough conditions that we expose the vines to encourage them to put more energy into the fruit, [producing] few bunches but much more intensity,” adds Wilkinson.

The article The Next Chapter for New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc Is Anything but Traditional appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/new-zealand-sauvignon-blanc-untraditional/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/the-next-chapter-for-new-zealand-sauvignon-blanc-is-anything-but-traditional

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