#characters from various points in the timeline pulled in and told to make nice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsytinyspiders · 10 months

Text

(Part 7)

What follows is Dudley Bale’s introduction scene. The man pops out of nowhere to greet William, asking if he’s gotten used to the university.

The stageplay skips right to the scene where Dudley “advises” William to not get in the way of the students’ fun.

I feel like this scene (except the end) is just a series of bullet points.

Dudley Bale presenting the Durham university life and the noblemen’s donations? Check.

William talking about his student Lucien and why he’s looking for the boy? Check.

Dudley reassuring William that Lucien is safe and sound? Check.

William expositing that Dudley owns not only a hospital, but many stores in town? Check.

I think that the obligatory mention of Lucien right in the middle of Dudley showing off the various facilities of the university makes the beginning of the conversation a bit awkward. In fact, having Dudley’s introduction right after Frida’s death feels like whiplash, given Dudley’s happy-go-lucky demeanor. I prefer the execution in the manga and anime, where we are already introduced to Dudley Bale’s suspicious character by the time this scene takes place.

Again, I always appreciate Louis’ added scenes. It seems that he’s getting information about Frida from last arc’s fruit too, which is a very nice touch.

For me, one of the most interesting parts about watching adaptations is how they tweak the timeline of the original work. In the previous scene, we can assume that William name-dropping Lucien during his conversation with Dudley is meant as both an excuse to exit stage right and an attempt to fish for information. Given that there was no mention of Lucien’s last name, Dudley assuring William that the student was recovering in a hospital (that Dudley owns) is suspicious – nevermind Dudley’s sudden need to introduce himself to William.

In this sequence of events, William has already pieced together that something was wrong, and the headline about Frida’s suicide seems to be another clue to this mystery. Since William doesn’t know about the connection between Lucien and Frida yet, he doesn’t have any reason to go to the bar himself, which is why he sends Louis off to fish for information on this separate case.

It seems that they decided to use the opium found in Frida’s room as the first link to Lucien’s case.

I feel like they’re putting more emphasis on Frida than Lucien by changing the order of events this way – Frida died, we are told about her opium consumption, we find the opium in Lucien's room, then we learn about her relationship with Lucien. While William’s reason for going to Lucien’s dorm is always the same, his interest in Frida seemed more to be in the context of his search for his student in the manga. But here, it seems that William was given both situations his attention, only to later find out that they are linked, which is more akin to our experience as readers.

Writing on the wall to emphasize that a character is reading.

One of my favorite special effects – I think I first saw it in the Death Note musical, during the song “Hurricane.”

I like how each of the tavern girls tells part of Frida’s story. It really shows how important she is to them.

On a side note, I mentioned earlier how making three extra outfits for Frida’s introduction scene might have been a bit much for the production team. But here, everyone is wearing a different top, and not even the outfit in the beginning, so…

I have to admit, Fred revealing that Lucien is in his cart made me laugh. Since it’s on stage, they needed the audience to actually see Lucien, but pulling him upright with dramatic lighting and sound effects? I guess that is suitably dramatic.

And then Fred just puts him back under the brown cloth and takes the cart away – I can’t lol

Our first look at the opium den – and Dudley’s role in this operation!

I suppose they opted to not include Dudley’s scene with Lucien in the opium den due to time constraints, thus making the opium den reveal scene also the scene where Dudley receives the telegram and threatening letter William prepared for him. It still makes sense, somewhat? After all, if we assume that this is where Lucien was being kept, then “he” could have sent the letter there. It would also make Dudley even more panicked – sending a threat to a person’s base of criminal operations instead of their home is much more threatening.

That said, William had little way of knowing that Dudley would be at this opium den at this time. Dudley does own many shops, so the likelihood of him having multiple opium dens is pretty high. It is, however, a very neat way to tie these plot points together.

Not much to say about the Dudley versus Lucien confrontation scene, other than that I’m a bit disappointed they didn’t include Lucien reading out all of Dudley’s misdemeanors. That information is the main thread of this case, and it’s the reason for Dudley’s speech to William in the beginning of this arc, about the donations and the students’ freedom. Hopefully, they’ll add that information in later, but given the structure of the play thus far, I suppose it isn’t really important.

Dudley falling on his ass here is *chef’s kiss*

Looks like William is really mad this time. He could have just used his cane sword, but nope, holding the man by the front of his shirt is the way to go. When Louis learns about this, he’s going to take out all the Good Soaps TM to clean William’s hands.

Can we also appreciate how unbothered Fred is by all of this? Now I’ve got a crackpot theory that the name “Frida” was chosen because of how similar it is to “Fred” – foreshadowing of this disguise, perhaps?

(Seriously though, Fred just hanging around, wig in hand, while the three people below are performing the climax of this arc is such a mood.)

Oh! And William does address Dudley’s list of wrongdoings here. I still prefer Lucien reading out the letter, since he’s one of Dudley’s victims. Finding out about the harm you were caused will always be more impactful than having someone else spell it out for you.

That’s not to say that William enumerating Dudley’s wrongdoings is out of character. Our protagonist is as theatrical as ever.

What's better than one Frida? Two Fridas!

If there is one thing I really appreciate about this arc, it’s the extensive use of Frida in so many different scenes. Her presence looms over our characters the entire arc, even during scene transitions. Even here, as Dudley dances with “Death”, Frida is dancing the same steps to further parallel their ends.

I will say, a shirtless Moran going past my screen was not on my bingo card. Moran’s glee as he shoots at Dudley from his moving platform is just one of those funny moments to me. The production did really well with this, with the props, the stage and the music – I just can’t take Moran in a bath towel seriously.

Double Frida’s again!

I feel like most of this reaction is just me obsessing over the various effects. I don’t watch a lot of theatre, so every time I do watch a play, I can’t help but gush over everything. There’s also a lot of comparisons in this review, by virtue of me having read the manga and watched the anime before this, but I hope that I’m not giving the impression that I think the stage play is the lesser adaptation. There’s a lot of things that can only be done in theatre, including most of the effects I commented on so far.

Speaking of which, Frida’s grave! (Though Moran’s comment about how Lucien bought Frida a good grave makes me go, “Yes! He even managed to buy a grave made of light!”)

I know that this is Louis on stage, taking away the flowers so they don’t disrupt the following scenes. But given the context of the conversation taking place above him and the fact that they deliberately kept the light for the grave and Louis in shadow, I would like to interpret this as Lucien visiting Frida’s grave. It also neatly ties into Albert reporting about the new type of opium on the black market, since Frida may be the most recently deceased victim of the drug.

And with that concludes the Dancers on the Bridge arc!

#morisute case 1 #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #the dancers on the bridge #morisute reaction

0 notes

strangerays · 3 years

Text

Nothing in Particular Update #2

It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.

It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.

I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)

Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting

STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS:

Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.

I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!

Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.

I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3

CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml

I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.

I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun

Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist

EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!

*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!

CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES

In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.

New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.

The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.

I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.

CHAPTER: SORRY

If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.

CHAPTER: GHOSTS

Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.

In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??

CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION

“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.

I was made of stone.

“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”

“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.

I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)

I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”

“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.

“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”

I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”

I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”

“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”

Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.

“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.

Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!

CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN

This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??) in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.

CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS

He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”

“Because we almost got hurt?”

“No. Because it came true.”

His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.

Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.

CHAPTER: WHY NOT

I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.

This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!

CHAPTER: INEVITABLE

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”

“I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”

This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”

Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.

CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)

I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.

For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.

Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.

CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT

Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.

My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.

For some reason, that really scared me.

I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.

I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)

What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)

Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.

Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!

p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!

#ffs writing this update was like throwing a boulder into a lake #there was so much I wanted to share #it's really difficult to decide what to share as sometimes a paragraph that I'm really proud of will be really spoilery #I can only imagine this will be more and more difficult as I get further into the story #ANYWAYS #I feel like I'm really beginning to see who my characters are <3 #I feel like a proud mother #To be honest #I kind of hated Jude in the beginning #but now I feel like Ray hates her too so that makes me like her #haha im so mean #tune in next time for a Sapphic spy date

16 notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Long Way From Home: Chapter 5

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Some of you predicted this was coming... although I hardly tried to hide it. This is the longest chapter so far because once you get the fish going, he never shuts up. Most of you know I adore Scott; some of you probably know my favourite brother relationship is Scott&Gordon. If you didn’t, this fic is probably going to make that very obvious. I have plans for these two...

Also, trying to sort out TAG’s timeline is a headache and I ended up fudging a lot of it. Please just roll with it because I spent far too long agonising over this before giving up and throwing this out into the void. It’s fiction. It doesn’t have to make sense.

<<<Chapter 4

The problem with plans was their tendency to go wrong. Finding his way back to the infirmary was no challenge – the white building made for a clear target, and the trail was clear enough to Scott’s eye. Getting back inside was no issue, either. The window was left ajar, simple enough to silently pull open and slip through.

Finding Other-Gordon perched on one of the chairs, one of Scott’s bracers in his hands, was not part of the plan, and he mentally cursed himself. He’d escaped from the infirmary, so it would be obvious to anyone with a brain cell that he’d return that way, too, especially with his gear there. Gordon had many brain cells, which he frequently used in unorthodox ways, and Other-John had even warned him that Other-Gordon was crafty.

“Welcome back,” the ginger greeted him calmly. “The others are on a mission.” Scott swiped the gear from him, carefully running his hands over the remote control units to make sure they were still intact. He didn’t know their range, and doubted that even Brains had managed to make something that could get signals through multiple universes – especially as his comm unit failed to do so – but he was still cautious about activating them. Just in case.

“I saw.” Technically he’d only seen One’s launch, Two’s runway presumably out of sight from Other-Scott’s hiding place. “Power plant meltdown.” Other-Gordon’s gazed briefly flicked to his wrist, where Other-Scott’s watch still sat.

“Has John found your brothers?” he asked, and Scott shook his head. “Ah well, no news is good news, right? If John can’t find them, they’re still safe at home.”

Unwilling to engage in further conversation, he scooped up the rest of his uniform, tempted for a moment to put it on for comfort’s sake but discarding the notion, before glancing at the map in the watch face and heading out of the room.

“You’re not going to put that back on, are you?” Other-Gordon asked him, following. Scott ignored him, following the hallway almost to the kitchen, where Other-Kyrano was doing something with the odd contraption in the middle of the floor, before making the right turn towards the stairs. “Father’s in the lounge.” For someone who had been almost silent the entire time up until then, Other-Gordon was suddenly making a lot of noise.

“I’m not going there,” he told him firmly.

“You’re stealing Scott’s clothes.” Other-Gordon didn’t bat an eyelid. “I’ll help.” Scott wished he was surprised, but it was a Gordon thing to do. “Here, this way.” Unlike his father, Other-Gordon had a preference for the stairs, which suited Scott just fine. He had no issues with elevators, but the one at the end of the hallway was another example of the different technology. Stairs were far more trustworthy.

Last time, Not-Dad had guided him quickly and firmly into the lounge, but Other-Gordon strode ahead after reaching the top of the stairs, away from the door to the lounge, and turned into an extended corridor with six doors all set into the right-hand side. These, according to the map in his watch, were six equally-sized rooms, all with smaller rooms set into them. The second one from the far end contained the flashing blue light indicating that it was Other-Scott’s room. Presumably, that put the rest of them as the other four brothers’ rooms, and probably Not-Dad’s room.

“My room,” Other-Gordon waved vaguely to the door immediately in front of the branch of hallway they’d just left. “John’s is that one.” He indicated the door next to his, at the end of the corridor, before continuing to walk. “Alan’s, Virgil’s, and here we are! Scott’s.” He pushed open the door with no hesitation and strode inside. Scott checked the watch face again. It agreed with Other-Gordon, so he followed.

Even without either guides, he wouldn’t have had any problems identifying the room’s owner. Images of various, fast, planes decorated the walls – many unrecognisable to him, but unmistakable in their theme regardless. Blue was the prominent colour, edging its way around the room and various screens and alcoves set into the walls. The bed linen was also blue. Towards the far wall, the en suite took out a reasonably small chunk of the room.

Other-Gordon didn’t wait for him to adjust to the reality that yes, this room felt like a room he could see himself having, heading over to a closet door and throwing it open.

“Clothes,” he announced. Scott was slightly concerned at just how nonchalantly the younger man was rummaging through his older brother’s room, although, he was a Gordon. His Gordon was probably just as likely to do that. Well, that was one of the hazards of younger brothers, he supposed. Thoughts like that just made him remember just how far away from his own younger brothers he was, and he stepped forwards to the closet to look at Other-Scott’s wardrobe before he started dwelling over things he currently couldn’t change.

Clearly, his counterpart liked rollnecks and shirts. There was quite a collection of them, ranging from simple mono-coloured designs to rather louder, patterned, offerings. Scott dismissed the rollnecks immediately, hunting through the shirts until he found a mono-coloured one that felt like it might be some sort of cotton, rather than silk. Silk was for special occasions – business meetings, and formal events he attended only because he had to. The selected shirt was some sort of yellow-brown colour, not his first choice but apparently the only blue Other-Scott owned was in the forms of rollnecks and cardigans.

Ignoring Other-Gordon’s presence in the room, he shrugged off the by now muddy pyjama top he’d woken in and pulled the shirt on, leaving the top buttons undone and rolling the sleeves up until it mimicked his preferred style at home. There were no jeans in sight, so with some reluctance he found the least-smart pair of pants, which were at least dark blue, and in concession to company retreated into the en suite long enough to shed the pyjama bottoms and pull them on.

“How long have you been wearing those underpants?” Other-Gordon asked him when he emerged, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“There is a line,” he said firmly. “Unless there are some new, unworn ones lying around, I’ll stick with what I’m wearing, thanks. Now, shoes?” Other-Gordon pointed to the next door over, sitting himself down on the bed and letting his feet rest on the headrest. Scott paused, the position familiar.

“Your back bothering you?” he asked. Amber eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“How do you know about my back?” Other-Gordon asked slowly. Scott yanked open the indicated door and glanced over the various shoes in a growing state of despair. No sneakers. How could there be a Scott who didn’t own any sneakers?

“Hydrofoil accident,” he said. “Four months in hospital.”

Other-Gordon let out a noise that sounded almost like a hiss, which Scott ignored as he poked at the shoes dubiously. What was with all the smart shoes or sandals? Did Other-Scott have nothing in between?

“Scott wouldn’t have told you,” Other-Gordon mused out loud. “Nor would John. You haven’t spoken to anyone else.” He sighed. “Your Gordon, too?”

“When he was sixteen,” Scott confirmed. “Finished his career in W.A.S.P. before it even started. They said he’d never walk again.” Other-Gordon made a noise of agreement.

“They said that about me, too,” he said as Scott finally accepted that a pair of sneakers were not about to materialise and, as with the pants, grabbed the least-smart pair of shoes and a random pair of what felt like cotton socks. “I guess they were wrong.”

Scott let himself smile. “Gordon’s got the gold medal to prove it.” Remembering the accident, and the months of pain after it, hurt. Remembering the moment Gordon stood on the first place podium, gold medal around his neck and American national anthem blaring out all around them barely two years later filled him with pride.

“So do I,” Other-Gordon said, watching him pull on the shoes and tie the laces firmly. “Father’s going to have a fit if he sees you looking like that, you know.” Scott glanced down at himself, light brown shirt still unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to three-quarter length, untucked over dark blue slacks and a pair of black shoes. It was almost just like home.

“I don’t see the problem,” he retorted. Other-Gordon eyed him dubiously.

“Well, it’s your funeral,” he conceded, stretching out and shifting into a sitting position. “I’ll show you the guest rooms.” Scott gathered up his uniform and waited for him to stand, leading the way out of the room and closing the door behind them. “Dad’s room.” Other-Gordon gestured to the last door on that stretch of the corridor, and then headed down the hallway opposite, stopping at the first door. “Kyrano got this room ready for you.”

Right by Not-Dad’s room. Scott sighed but entered the room. It was a nice enough room, the same size as Other-Scott’s with a queen-size bed, en suite, and even a veranda he could step out onto. The view was impressive, with palm trees and craggy rocks co-existing harmoniously, and the shimmering ocean behind. No view of the pool, he noticed, not quite sure how he felt about that. Sure, his room at home didn’t directly overlook the pool, but he could at least see if he looked in the right direction.

He located a closet and placed his uniform inside, out of immediate sight of curious individuals. No doubt Other-Brains would want to examine it in detail at some point, and if Scott wanted the best chance of getting home, he would have to allow that, but that would be happening under his supervision. Just in case the remote controls were still active.

“Do you want the rest of the house tour now or later?” Other-Gordon asked him.

“Now works for me,” he said, glancing at the watch on his wrist. It still showed the map, a flashing blue light signifying Other-Scott’s room. How did he turn that off? It had served its purpose now, and Scott was used to maps being easily dismissed if they didn’t automatically vanish.

“Third dial,” Other-Gordon said, gesturing to the same knob on his own watch. “That’s basically the ‘stop’ button.” Scott glanced at him, wondering if he was really that easy to read, before pressing the end transmission button Other-Scott had shown him. Sure enough, the map vanished and the analogue clock face stared back at him instead. “Thunderbird Two won’t be far short of the danger zone now, so Dad’ll be busy in the lounge for a while yet.”

That sounded like a perfect time to explore the rest of the house, and the hangars, too, if he could wrangle it. Thunderbird One had appeared to be reasonably close to his own; he was curious about the other Thunderbirds.

“So what else do you have here?” he asked, heading for the door, and Other-Gordon was quick to catch up.

“Well, you know the bedrooms and the lounge,” he said. “If we keep going round there’s another guest room next to yours.” He nodded at another door, set further down the hallway. “And that is Brains’ main lab opposite.” That drew Scott’s attention. Somewhere in there, the scientist was looking for a way to get him home. If Other-Gordon hadn’t been with him, he wouldn’t have been able to resist entering, Other-John’s caution to not interrupt him discarded. As it was, he had company and Other-Gordon wasn’t showing any inclination to enter it. Indeed, he was already carrying on down the hallway, past the other guest room. Scott jogged to keep up.

Another door marked the end of the hallway. Other-Gordon pushed it open.

“Rather a narrow hallway, this one, but it has a gorgeous view of the ocean,” he said, stepping through and turning a corner to reveal a corridor – narrow, just as Other-Gordon had warned – and lined with windows. The view was indeed beautiful, but Scott’s attention was caught by the runway protruding from the beach much further below them. He could just about see the end of what looked like a row of palm trees on either side.

Other-Gordon stepped closer to him, following his line of sight before making a noise of amusement.

“See something familiar?” he asked. Scott nodded.

“Seems like there’s more similarities than differences between Thunderbirds One and Two so far,” he commented. It was easy to visualise the trees bowing backwards as a green behemoth travelled between them.

At least, he was assuming Thunderbird Two was green in this universe. Thunderbird One’s colourings had been identical, anyway.

“It’s not just for Thunderbird Two,” Other-Gordon told him. “The domestic jets use that one, too. It’s where I launch Thunderbird Four if Virgil isn’t giving us a lift, too.”

“Thunderbird Four?” Scott asked. “You don’t have an underwater tunnel for your island launch?”

Amber eyes flickered with interest.

“Underwater tunnel?” Other-Gordon returned. “You have an underwater tunnel? How do you get Four there from the Pod?”

Scott mentally translated pod to module. Different yet similar terminology was a nuisance, but it was a nuisance he was going to have to get used to if he wanted to get home. He refused to consider the idea that he’d be stuck here forever.

“Magnetic grabs and pulleys,” he said. It was a rather over-simplification of the complex mechanism Brains had set up in order to get the submarine quickly and efficiently between Module Four and the nicknamed ‘squid tank’ she otherwise settled in by Thunderbird One, but with the difference in technology – and the fact that Scott didn’t fully understand the nuances of that particular A to B journey anyway – he saw no point in explaining further. After a moment or two of silence, Other-Gordon clearly hoping for a little more detail, the ginger man sighed.

“Well, this is what I think you’re really after,” he said, turning away from the sea and heading further along the corridor. What he was really after? Scott followed, intrigued as Other-Gordon rotated a large vase ninety degrees only for a section of wall to slide back.

Okay, so yes, this was what Scott was really after. Thunderbird One’s hangar looked different without the ‘bird inside, a large square hole where she normally sat. Trailing off down beneath the walkway they were stood on – the same one as earlier, Scott could see the lamps in the wall further along – was a slope. Scott assumed that headed in the direction of the pool.

The fact that their Thunderbird One was literally stored in the villa still felt odd to him, especially with no sign of any of her sisters nearby. Where was Thunderbird Three, towering above them? The landing pad for the space elevator, sharing One’s gantry? Thunderbird Four’s little tank, the little yellow sub bobbing happily beside her larger sisters?

It felt wrong, his Thunderbird stored all alone – even if she wasn’t his Thunderbird, strictly speaking. Other-Gordon fell back, letting him walk over to the lamps. The route was partially blocked by a large metal tube snaking down and away, and it took some manoeuvring to pass it. He couldn’t see where it led, but he could probably make an educated guess.

“What about the others?” he asked, and Other-Gordon raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want to see the other hangars?” he asked, in a voice that told Scott that Other-Gordon had no intentions of being his guide there. In fact, with the ginger man between him and the door they’d come through, Scott realised he’d been cornered. Even though he was closer to the other exit, Other-Scott’s own access point, that lead to the lounge and Not-Dad, and a situation he was not interested in facing just yet. He scowled.

“What do you want from me?”

“Answers,” Other-Gordon said, at least having the grace not to deny the trap now that Scott was aware of it. He really needed to get his head in the game; he couldn’t afford to be making slip-ups.

“Well I want those, too,” he retorted, crossing his arms and fixing the shorter man with a hard look. “Particularly about how I’m getting home.”

“John’s given you all the answers we have on that front,” Other-Gordon said calmly. Scott knew that, but it didn’t do much for the frustration that he was stuck away from his family, with no way of letting them know where he was – or even that he was still alive. “I want to know about you.”

Scott’s brain screeched to a halt. Him? He’d been expecting a grilling on his home, his family, his own International Rescue. Other-John had already done some probing, and Other-Brains would doubtless be after every scrap of information that could help him solve the puzzle, but information on him?

“Why?” he asked, back-footed, cornered, and hating every moment he wasn’t in control.

“Because I want to know exactly who we’ve got living with us until we can get you home,” Other-Gordon said bluntly. “You’re like Scott, which was apparently enough to have you two trying to punch each other’s lights out once already, but you’re also not like Scott.”

“That’s not what your John said.” On the one hand, Scott was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought there were some differences – cowering from his father being the immediate one that sprang to mind, never mind fashion sense, although from Other-Gordon’s attire, it might just be that fashion was different in general – but on the other, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be micro-analysed by a too-sharp ginger.

“I’m not John,” Other-Gordon pointed out. “I also don’t have the luxury of hiding in space while a stranger with my brother’s face appears and throws my family for a loop.”

“Throws your family-” Scott started, fully prepared to remind him that his family would be out of their minds, but Other-Gordon talked over him as though he wasn’t talking.

“You’ve already punched my brother, broken my Dad’s nose, and then also got into a shouting match with my Dad,” he reminded him. “I don’t know what your family’s like, but here, Dad’s word is law. No-one talks back to him like that. Not us, not Kyrano, not his friends. So where do you get off disrespecting him in his own home?”

It wasn’t rage Scott saw in amber eyes glaring up at him, not budging an inch despite the height difference putting him at a natural disadvantage. Not entirely. There was curiosity there, and a healthy dose of suspicion. Annoyance, and maybe even a hint of compassion, buried right at the back. Scott was reminded of his own outburst, sometime earlier, in that very same hangar, and knew he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

Other-Gordon didn’t mention it, however, remaining stock still and pinning Scott with the intensity of his gaze. Behind him was the escape to the lounge, and the very man he was determined to avoid. Other-Gordon blocked the other way out, and Scott wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d be able to get past him. Gordon could match him just fine – Other-Gordon looked to be older, a little wiser. Almost certainly stronger.

Besides, Scott was tired of running away. In order to get home, he knew he needed to co-operate, and while Not-Dad was high on his list of individuals to avoid as much as possible because Other-Gordon was right, he would keep clashing with the man as long as he tried to act as Scott’s superior, he wasn’t a coward and had no intentions of starting to be one now.

“You heard what I said earlier,” he started. “My father’s gone. You’re not an idiot, work it out. What would you do if yours vanished without a trace?” He didn’t want to talk about it. He could barely talk about their Dad and the Zero-X with his own brothers, let alone strangers who knew nothing. It was easier to fall into the tried and true big brother mode of making them reach the answers by themselves, even if the man standing in front of him wasn’t one of his brothers.

From the sharp look Other-Gordon sent him, he’d seen through the façade.

“Scott would take full command.” It seemed like he’d be humoured anyway. “And he’d be terrible at it.” Wait, what? Scott squinted, trying to work out who the insult was aimed at and why. “How long ago?”

That was unexpected.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve seen Scott when he’s been left entirely in charge,” Other-Gordon said. “Dad tore into every decision he made when he got back. Didn’t agree with any of it, even though Scott was trying to follow what he thought Dad would have done. You aren’t fumbling for approval, but I bet you were to start with.”

What would Dad do? It was an instinctive mantra at this point. Other-Gordon was wrong; he still wanted Dad’s approval, he wanted to know he was doing things right. Should he have pulled Alan from school? Should he have let Alan join the team so young? Were the changes he’d made in the eight damn years since the Zero-X the best things he could have done?

If Dad came back, would he be proud of him? Or would he be like Not-Dad, and tear into all his decisions?

It was that line of thought again, and he trampled it down firmly. He couldn’t think like that. Not now, not ever. If he started to doubt, if he started second-guessing himself… No. He had to look forwards. Always look forwards, never back.

Other-Gordon was watching him like a hawk, and Scott wondered how much of what he’d been thinking had been visible on his face. The ginger didn’t give him any clues, simply standing and waiting for him to talk.

“Too long,” he admitted. “Eight years.”

Other-Gordon’s poker face broke for just a moment, shock flitting across his expression before he slammed the walls back up.

“Geez,” he muttered under his breath, before he frowned. “Your International Rescue’s been operating for eight years?”

“IR did their first rescue just over eight years ago,” Scott confirmed. Six months Before, with Dad, Kyrano and Uncle Lee doing the heavy lifting while Scott and then John assisted around college. Five years out of operation, until they were all old enough – except Alan, who was too young but snuck in anyway. Three years since they’d taken up the reins again, with him at the helm.

Other-Gordon looked like he had several questions. Scott didn’t want him asking any of them.

“What about here?” he asked, challenging Other-Gordon to try and turn it back into a one-sided interrogation.

“Three years,” the man admitted, but the calculating look was still in his eyes and Scott wasn’t sure he liked it. Something along those lines must have shown in his face, because all at once, tension leaked from the other man’s shoulders. “You do realise we’re on the same side, here?”

“You’re the one that started interrogating me,” Scott snapped back, and Other-Gordon raised his hands in mock-surrender, just like Other-John had done earlier.

“Were you going to tell me anything if I didn’t?” he asked, and Scott had to admit that no, he wouldn’t. A thought struck him and he glared at the shorter man.

“You’d better not tell anyone.” The only thing worse than telling them himself would be having them gossiping about him behind his back, putting together bits and pieces with no guarantee of finding the right answers.

“Tell them what?” Other-Gordon challenged. “That the reason you’re so snappy is because you’ve been single-handedly looking after your family for eight years and being separated from them has you on edge? Or that Dad’s got you off-kilter because secretly you still want approval from yours but know you can’t get it?”

For the second time that day, Scott’s knuckles found the wall of the hangar, and protested loudly at the treatment. He’d realised Other-Gordon was getting something more than he’d outright said, but hearing the thoughts he’d been determinedly burying even from himself thrown in his face by a stranger with his brother’s eyes was more than he could take.

“Geez,” Other-Gordon muttered, stepping closer and taking hold of his outstretched fist. “Are you always this self-destructive?” Scott tried to pull his hand back, but the other man’s grip was strong. “You’ve gone and wrecked Tin-Tin’s bandaging; she won’t be happy about that.” Scott scowled and tugged again; Other-Gordon let him pull free that time. “Scott.” It was the first time the man had referred to him by name and he met his eyes. “We’re going to help you. Remember, we’re International Rescue, too.”

Scott glanced sideways, at the empty hangar that usually housed Thunderbird One – not his Thunderbird One, but Thunderbird One regardless. Earlier, he’d been too overwhelmed by everything to properly appreciate what that meant. Two conversations later, it was starting to sink in.

“I guess that’s true,” he admitted.

“You guess?” Other-Gordon demanded, but there was a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes that stole Scott’s breath all over again. He’d known he was this universe’s Gordon, but with the serious face and wrong colour hair, it hadn’t really hit.

With his face lit up like that, he wondered how he could have ever looked at the unknown ginger man sitting between him and Other-Scott in the kitchen what felt like hours earlier and dismissed the niggling familiarity. This man, ginger hair and older age aside, was definitely Gordon.

“You okay?” Other-Gordon asked, and Scott’s shoulders slumped.

“I miss them,” he admitted.

“Of course you do,” Other-Gordon said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “If there’s one thing I bet you and my Scott are definitely identical in, it’s being a ridiculous smother hen.” Despite everything, Scott had to grin ruefully at that. “Come on, let’s get something done about that hand of yours before Tin-Tin spots it.”

Other-Gordon turned and climbed around the large metal pipe without waiting to see if Scott was following. Scott watched him go, noticing that he was just as nimble as his Gordon, and frowned. Should he not be letting Gordon go out on missions after all? Or was Other-Gordon actually perfectly fit for duty, and Not-Dad was grounding him for no good reason?

“If you had the choice,” he started, mouth running ahead of his brain, “would you go on more rescues?”

Other-Gordon stopped and turned to face him again, amber eyes searching.

“Why?” he asked. Scott met his gaze evenly and waited. Other-Gordon grumbled something under his breath about there being two of them now. “I’d go on all of them, if Dad let me.” The bitterness that crept in told Scott everything he needed to know.

“No reason,” he shrugged, casting one last look at the empty space where Thunderbird One lived before heading for the door himself. Other-Gordon made a noise of protest, a little brother’s my big brother is being annoying again noise that made something go tight in his chest, but he didn’t let it show.

“Seriously?” Other-Gordon grumbled a little louder. “You don’t think I believe that, do you?” Scott shrugged at him, and amber eyes narrowed. “Just because you look like my big brother doesn’t mean you get to act like it!”

“I’m acting like me, not him,” Scott informed him airily, falling into the familiarity of brotherly banter, even if this wasn’t his brother.

“Well just because I look like your brother doesn’t mean you get to act like I am,” Other-Gordon continued, not at all deterred. Just short of the door, Scott stopped suddenly.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Other-Gordon insisted, although there was something ever so slightly different in his voice, a note of uncertainty as though he’d realised he’d said something wrong but wasn’t sure what. “Just because I look like-”

“You don’t,” Scott cut him off, turning round to face him. Other-Gordon blinked, mouth half-open a little like a fish before he closed it again.

“I… don’t?” he asked. “But… you and Scott are near enough identical, and you said Dad looked like-” He cut himself off before he could finish that sentence; Scott was grateful for it.

“You don’t,” he admitted. “I can tell you’re him, but you don’t look like him.” No, that was a lie. He had the same high cheekbones, the same angled jaw, the same eyes. It was just the hair and the fact that there was no question he was a man, not a teenager just crossing into adulthood, that made him look different.

If it was just Other-Gordon, he’d wonder if the man had dyed his hair – Other-Scott was also older than him, although he didn’t want to ponder on what that meant for timeline continuity – but Other-John and Other-Virgil also had the wrong colour hair. Other-Brains, Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy also looked notably different, and Tin-Tin was not only visually different but had a different name as well.

“That’s strange,” Other-Gordon mused. “Is it just me?” Scott shook his head.

“More like it’s only me and your Scott,” he said. “And your father. Everyone else is different.”

“So if someone other than Scott had come in, you might not have attacked them?” Other-Gordon asked, almost dryly. Scott shrugged.

“Who knows,” he replied, although privately he doubted it. It didn’t matter what the other party looked like if his brothers were at stake. Other-Gordon sent him a small grin, before brushing past him and opening the door.

“Still, you’ll have to tell the others that,” he said, strolling back along the narrow corridor. Scott followed, ignoring the pain shooting through his knuckles. “I know the fellas are keeping an eye out for anyone else that looks like us while they’re off base just in case, but if they don’t know what they’re looking for they might miss something.”

He was right, and Scott nodded. He hadn’t realised they were all looking, not just Thunderbird Five, but it made sense and there was a rush of gratitude at their efforts.

“Talk to Virg once he’s back,” Other-Gordon continued. “That’ll be the easiest way to make sure we get it right.” They skirted the lounge door with Not-Dad’s voice emitting from it, interspersed with Other-Scott’s tinny speaker-voice reports and traipsed down the stairs again – a route that was rapidly becoming familiar as they once again headed for the infirmary. “But come on, what does your Gordon look like? He’s gotta be handsome, right?” There was that grin – that Gordon grin – again, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“I’m the wrong person to ask about that,” he scoffed, watching Other-Gordon pull a disgruntled face, and managing a small grin of his own. “His hair’s blond, and…” he trailed off, not sure how to put it into words. As far as basic descriptions went, there wasn’t any other big differences, just lots of small things Scott couldn’t even put his finger on exactly.

“And..?” Other-Gordon prompted, although he was tugging at his bangs – falling in front of his forehead, rather than swept back like his Gordon’s – and trying to look at them, no doubt trying to figure out how he’d look blond. Scott shrugged helplessly.

“I’m a pilot, not a novelist,” he pointed out. “It’s not the big things, it’s the little ones.” He frowned. “How old are you?”

“How old are you?” Other-Gordon shot back, releasing his hair in favour of pushing the infirmary door open and pointing towards a chair. “I’d say you’re younger than Scott, except he’s not going grey yet.” Scott scowled and resisted the urge to touch his temples, where he knew the accused hairs were most prominent.

“I asked first,” he pointed out, and Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.

“Twenty-three, now sit down or I’ll get Tin-Tin to redress your hand.” Tin-Tin had seemed like a sweet enough young woman, but if she was being used as a threat – and Scott knew a threat from a sibling when he heard it – then she was no doubt more Kayo-like than first impressions betrayed. Scott sat. “Why?”

“That would probably explain the rest,” Scott muttered, trying to work out what his Gordon would look like in four years’ time. The same age as Virgil, which meant Other-Scott, and probably Other-John as well were older than him. He consoled himself with the fact that with Not-Dad around, they were probably under less stress, hence the lack of greys. “Gordon – my Gordon – is nineteen.”

“So I look different because I’m older?” Other-Gordon surmised, unwrapping the old bandages and pouring something that stung like disinfectant on his swollen and once again bleeding knuckles. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m twenty-seven,” Scott admitted, and Other-Gordon blinked.

“Not twenty-six?”

“Why would I be twenty-six?” Scott asked, taken aback. Other-Gordon frowned and opened a fresh roll of bandages, carefully but efficiently rewrapping his hand.

“Well if your Gordon is four years younger than me, you should be four years younger than Scott, right? Scott’s thirty.” It was Scott’s turn to frown. Clearly there were more differences than just technology, and his gut coiled unpleasantly, not sure it liked the implications. “What are your other brothers’ ages?”

“What are yours’?” he retorted, and Other-Gordon raised an eyebrow at him as he tied off the bandage.

“I asked first.” Typical younger brother, turning his earlier words against him.

“John’s twenty-five, Virgil’s twenty-three and Alan’s fifteen,” he said. “Yours?”

“Your Alan’s-”

“Yours?” he repeated firmly, cutting off any comments about his youngest brother and International Rescue. He knew fifteen was too young; he didn’t need to hear that from an alternate universe’s version of one of his own brothers. Other-Gordon gave him a look that said the topic was not dropped, but answered anyway.

“John’s twenty-eight, Virg’s twenty-six and Alan’s twenty. Seems like the difference is me and Alan,” he observed. Scott didn’t miss the intent in his voice when he said the youngest’s name, but ignored it.

“Seems like it,” he agreed instead, checking over the bandaging despite knowing it was professionally done. Other-Gordon was sharp, too sharp, and once again their conversation was veering into territory Scott would rather it didn’t. “That seems like something Brains should know about,” he said, and once again ignored the look the younger man sent him. Other-Gordon knew exactly what he was doing, and Scott got the uncomfortable feeling he was once again being humoured.

His dislike of being humoured didn’t outweigh his determination not to talk about things like Alan’s young age or Dad’s crash, though, so he suffered through it with a glare.

“We’ll tell Brains when he comes looking for more information,” Other-Gordon said out loud. “Surely your Brains hates being interrupted mid-flow, too?” He did, but that had never stopped Scott from doing it when it was an emergency, and anything relating to getting him home qualified in his books.

A hand landed on his shoulder, Other-Gordon leaning down slightly to meet his eyes firmly.

“I know you want to get home, but don’t take it out on Brains,” he said, his grip tight. “Brains will find you once he’s finished processing the data he got from your arrival.” Scott scowled, glancing away, and the other man sighed. “I can stop asking questions if that helps.”

That would help. He met Other-Gordon’s eyes again and relaxed at the sincerity he saw in them, nodding. Other-Gordon scrutinised him, although what he was looking for, Scott didn’t know, before letting go and taking a step back.

“Normally I sit in on the mission,” he informed him. “We can go to the lounge if you want, or there’s the games room if billiards or chess is more your speed right now.” The offer to continue evading Not-Dad was clear.

“And if I want to be alone?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you want to be alone, I’ve shown you your room,” Other-Gordon began. “But I don’t think you do.” Didn’t he? Scott wanted time to let it all sink in, mull over all the information Other-John and Other-Gordon had bombarded him with and figure out what it all meant for him and his chances of getting home.

He caught sight of his useless communicator, still on his wrist, and remembered curling up against a boulder, begging and screaming for it to connect with another universe. Maybe Other-Gordon was right; if he was alone again he’d go back to focusing on what had happened. Dwelling, his brothers called it immediately before they did something outrageous to get him to stop staring into nothing, brain stuck in a loop of past events.

Looking back, letting himself think about what had happened always threatened to drive him crazy. It had been that way since the Zero-X, and held true even now. Especially now, when events defied all probabilities. He sighed.

“It’s been a while since I last played chess,” he said by way of an answer, and Other-Gordon cracked a grin. Chess would keep his mind focused, especially if Other-Gordon was half as good as Gordon or John; if he was, Scott was in for an inevitable thrashing.

Other-Gordon at least had the grace not to say ‘I told you so’, simply straightening up and offering him a hand, which he accepted, pulling himself to his feet.

“The games room’s this way,” he gestured, leading the way out of the infirmary and then further along the hallway, to a brightly lit room dominated by a billiards table. Various chairs and small tables dotted one side of the room – spectators for the game, or perfectly positioned for a quiet game of chess in the corner, as Other-Gordon withdrew a chess set and placed it on the table.

“White or black?” he offered as Scott stared at it. A proper, wooden chessboard with real, hand-carved pieces. He picked up a white knight and stroked its mane, feeling the indents of the carved hair with the pad of his finger.

“White,” he replied after a moment. Other-Gordon watched him closely, but as promised didn’t ask. Scott shrugged, folding himself into the comfortable chair and placing the piece back where it belonged. “It’s been a long time since I last used a wooden set,” he volunteered. “Gordon’s the only one that owns one and no-one’s allowed to use it until they beat him.”

“You haven’t?” Other-Gordon asked – despite his promise otherwise, but Scott knew he had opened himself up for that one. Talking about something as mundane as chess didn’t hurt as much as their previous conversation had.

“Not since he got that board,” he admitted. “John and-” he caught himself, not wanting to mention EOS and open that can of worms for debate. “John’s the only one that has; they play whenever he’s down from Five.” Other-Gordon’s eyes flickered in interest, catching the slip, but to his credit he didn’t ask.

“White goes first,” he reminded him needlessly, and Scott picked up the knight again, leaping it over the row of pawns. Other-Gordon hummed in interest before nudging a pawn forward. Scott recalled that particular opening as Gordon’s favourite to use, a win in five moves unless their opponent knew the counter. It might have been a while since he’d last had the time to play – and the inclination to probably lose to Gordon – but Scott still remembered the counter, moving his knight into position.

Other-Gordon laughed, seeing his experiment foiled, and switched tactics. Scott got the feeling he’d just passed some sort of test.

The game went much as he suspected it would – while he wasn’t bad at chess, he was out of practice and Other-Gordon was very, very good. He held out for a while, half an hour maybe, but eventually the inevitable conclusion of his King toppling occurred and he bit back a laugh, laying down the piece with good grace.

“You’re not too terrible,” Other-Gordon commented, collecting up the mass of white captured pieces and handing them over. “Some practice and you might even be a challenge.” He winked, and Scott groaned good-naturedly, trying hard not to think about why he didn’t get much practice before that ruined his mood. “Again?” What were his other options? Billiards, or sitting in on a mission with Not-Dad. It wasn’t exactly a difficult decision.

In answer, Scott pulled his King upright and set up his forces again.

Chapter 6>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #long way from home #tsari writes fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

oosteven-universe · 3 years

Text

We Promised Utopia #1

We Promised Utopia #1 Literati Press 2021 Written by Adrian Morales, Robert Holman & Charles J. Martin Illustrated by Eric Osborn, Chloe Elimam & Jonathan Koelsch Lettered by Charles J. Martin, Jonathan Koelsch & Jeo Creations What if humanity saved the world today... only to destroy it tomorrow? Charismatic idealist Isabel Bari and her development of the Equivalent Carbon Credit (ECC) tied every element of the global economy to a carbon-based currency, and changed wealth accumulation principles. The comic focuses on three separate eras of humanity: the rise of the ECC in the present day, the establishment of a utopian world that adopted the ECC to create harmony between human civilization and nature, and a dystopian future after the mysterious collapse of the ECC. I was super intrigued when I discovered this through Previews, the magazine which I still utilise every month, and this certainly hasn’t let me down in the slightest. One aspect of this that I’m on the fence about is that there are obviously three creative teams and each one does their own segment and I kind of get why but it does make the story feel more disjointed like each have their own identity and don’t necessarily go with the other two. Each of these should feel like they are in the same timeline just at different points. I like the way that this is being told. The story & plot development that we see through how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information is presented extremely well. The character development that we see through the narration, the dialogue, the character interaction as well as how they act and react to the situations and circumstances which they encounter do wonders in fleshing these characters' personalities out. The pacing here is superb and as it takes us through the pages revealing the world, the story and the characters it certainly piques our curiosity to know more. The way we see this being structured is odd to me, but that’s because three teams are doing three segments one writer for the entire issue would’ve been much more efficient. How we see the layers within the story emerge and grow is nicely done and then the depth, dimension and complexity this adds to the story is great to see. How we see everything working together to create the story’s ebb & flow as well as how it moves the story forward is well achieved. The interiors here are also done by different creative teams and I think that my favourite is the utopia as it’s all sleek with metal, class and greenery. The linework we see is fantastic and how the varying weights and techniques are being utilised to create the detail in the work we see is extraordinary. Backgrounds, some need more, some are perfect and I have to say that overall we see how the composition of the panels reflects when in the timeline the story takes place thanks to how we see the depth perception, sense of scale and the overall sense of size and scope to the story. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show some remarkably talented eyes for storytelling. The colour work we see through the various hues and tones within the colours being utilised to create the shading, highlights and shadow work is marvellously rendered. The interest, intrigue and wow factors are all here. The premise for the story is incredibly solid and I like the idea of seeing all three facets of one society at different stages without any kind of preamble, just thrown right into the deep end as it were. It really helps to engage the reader in the story and become invested as you make up ideas in your head about possible scenarios that could lead from one segment to the next. I don’t mind the three different artistic teams but I do wish there was one single writer pulling this all together. Still the writing and characterisation are solid stuff and the interiors do wonders in creating the right mood, tone and feel that the reader should experience. If you haven’t ordered this please do, give it a shot and I know you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

#Comic Books #Comics Reviews #Literati Press

1 note · View note

savrenim · 4 years

Text

okay so looking at tma fic in general and tma time-travel fic and the various ways they decide to resolve things has given me an idea for a time travel fix-it fic premise that, like, I almost certainly will never write because way too many writing projects but it is Haunting me so I need to blab about it somewhere

so clearly the way that the ‘time travel’ / ‘knowledge of the future’ bit works is that Jon stumbles across a book that he assumes is a Leitner but then there’s no name in the front cover so he opens it proper and oooh this is weird but it’s too late the compulsion has set hold and and reads it, oops

the experience of reading it is the experience of fuck-it-feels-like living the entire timeline of the show up through the end of episode 160

(actually all the way through When Jon Finally Dies if he ever does but the important bit is he gets that knowledge of the timeline)

(the book is channeling the power of the Ceaseless Watcher, it’s all about knowledge, although very specifically in my brain this book is something that future!Jon and future!Martin constructed and sent back, which still tracks because hey Archivist is an Avatar of the Watcher. it’s just important to me that this is active action as an attempt to prevent the apocalypse and not dumb luck)

so Jonathan Sims now knows his future and because I have strong opinions about memory/ personality/ what makes a person, has arguably just been replaced with his future self.

‘oh fuck’ Jon says

‘I ended the world so I gotta fix this’

but how does he fix this, because oops Elias is still stupidly powerful and is going to notice if anything is up so he can’t act weird

but he can’t bring anyone else in on this because he doesn’t want to Curse Them with such Angsty Knowledge

he is acting a little bit weird, Martin notices that he’s acting weird because he is now being nice to Martin

‘this cannot be how the universe exists, Jon is always mean to me,’ Martin goes. ‘like I want the universe to exist this way but Something Is Up With Jon and it would be selfish of me not to investigate just because Jon is actually being nice to me’

Martin stumbles across the book and reads it too

‘oh fuck’ Martin says and immediately goes and talks to Jon and Jon has terrible selfish mixed feelings because he missed his Martin but also didn’t want Martin to have to go through everything he went through but also now Jon is not alone in trying to figure out how to alter this timeline without Elias noticing

(’wait what gave me away,’ Jon goes)

(’you were being nice to me,’ Martin goes)

(’fuck I really do need to be meaner to everyone don’t I,’ Jon goes. ‘it’s just really hard I’ve had Character Growth and I don’t want to be an asshole again’)

(’well suck it up you’re going to blow our cover,’ Martin goes. ‘maybe you should have thought of that before Being An Asshole.’ he immediately feels bad at Jon’s Very Sad Face. ‘you weren’t actually that much of an asshole you were just under stress and prickly and didn’t realize that the people you weren’t appreciating could be people that you would lose and now you do and that’s fine but you gotta still treat them like you’re an Asshole.’)

(’fine,’ Jon goes.)

so now they’re trying to figure out how to stop Elias

but also their main priority is to stop Tim and Sasha from dying at this point and they kind of figure that Elias doesn’t know the timeline and as long as he’s getting what he wants which is naive Jon stumbling through interactions with Entities and getting marked but not killed, he won’t suspect anything, and he doesn’t know Tim and Sasha are going to die so that at least is something immediate they can fix

‘I want to murder Jonah,’ goes Martin

‘you are super valid but also Gertrude tried that and was 1000% more badass than any of us and she ended up dead so maybe we should concentrate on saving our friends like we’ve got a few years to figure out how to do that,’ goes Jon

‘fine,’ goes Martin

Tim and Sasha notice that something is up, OBVIOUSLY, because Jon was weird-nice for like a week and a half then is weird-mean like he’s actually trying to be mean and hates it, and has gone from brushing off Martin all the time to pretending to brush Martin off but obviously secretly pining

he also gives off feral apocalypse energy

Martin meanwhile is pulling this all off perfectly

he fooled Elias and Peter and everyone else back when he was faking out the Lonely, he can handle this

Elias does notice Jon acting weird and thinks this is a soap opera workplace romance gone wrong but because he hasn’t seen all of it as Jon and Martin have been very careful to be using Martin’s Lonely powers when they want to Actually Talk and make it look like they’ve just casually wandered off when Elias isn’t paying attention to them so Elias doesn’t actually look like anything is up, he calls Jon in for a ‘performance review’ to make sure

(Martin has Lonely powers and Jon has Archivist powers from the future and they can both feed off of the long terrible fears that they remember from the horrible horrible lives and deaths they and the entire world had in their own timeline, just give me this I need a plot device that can explain why they can Actually Talk to each other while not being able to use the tunnels)

anyways Elias starts his performance review and pokes about Martin

‘um yeah,’ Jon confesses. ‘I um had a very awkward conversation with Martin because it seemed like he was being nice to me and I asked him about his feelings and he Confessed to me that he Liked me and I was caught by surprise and was thinking about it for a few days because idk nobody ever Likes me but then came to my senses and um but also it’s totally inappropriate because I’m his boss and I told him and we’re trying to forget that the conversation ever happened and just go back to concentrating on the statements’

‘you seem very nervous right now,’ Elias goes

‘please do not report me to HR,’ Jon goes looking appropriately mortified and trying to remember everything Martin has been coaching him about lying by telling people what they want to hear. ‘I know I should have rejected him immediately it just caught my by surprise that he would actually Say It To My Face people have been saying a lot of honest things to my face it’s very weird and I know that I shouldn’t have run away from that conversation and acted Weird for a few days but I did come to the Correct Conclusion I am very devoted to this job and don’t want to do anything but this job and didn’t do anything with Martin we just had a conversation and I’m really trying to do a good job here and please don’t fire me’

‘nope you’re good that’s fine concentrate on your job,’ Elias says, quite satisfied that his Archivist is developing truth powers very quickly

Tim and Sasha are not so easy to fool

Tim and Sasha find the book

Sasha, who worked in Artifact Storage, is Actually Smart and goes ‘dON’T READ THAT’

Tim reads it anyways

‘oh fuck I die stopping the apocalypse’

Tim doesn’t seem to die from reading the book and doesn’t seem to change except for being given this foreknowledge but Sasha is Smart so she doesn’t read it. Tim does fill her in on her future.

‘oh fuck I die when a weird worm-lady attacks? and don’t even get to help with the apocalypse? that’s bullshit.’

they start their own little huddle conspiracy

which Martin immediately finds

‘nO YOU GUYS YOU GOTTA BE MORE CAREFUL TALKING ABOUT THIS STUFF’ Martin explains the future and methods of communicating without Elias watching, which is mostly him subtly hiding them in the Lonely

(’why do you and Jon have secret special powers that’s not fair,’ Tim goes)

(’because we went through literal hell??? and also didn’t die??? idk maybe if we keep you from dying you will also get special powers but seriously Tim they are very evil these are Evil Powers we don’t want them they just kind of happened to us in the process of trying to survive,’ Martin goes.)

‘so what is the plan,’ Sasha goes. ‘like besides us not dying how are you actually going to deal with the real apocalypse’

‘well we want to kill Elias but we haven’t figured that out yet because he’s watching our every move perfectly and if we’re not acting like he think we should act he’ll dispose of us and start again with a new Archivist,’ Martin goes.

‘okay but like in your story there is a part where Peter Lukas personally escorts you to the panopticon and tells you to kill Elias/Jonas and you go no and Elias wins the bet,’ Sasha says. ‘what if you just murder him then, he says he wasn’t going to stop you and if he tries you’ve got another Avatar backing you up’

‘huh we didn’t think of that,’ Martin goes. ‘why didn’t we think of that. I swear there is a Very Good Reason we didn’t think of that. um. uh. there’s also the problem anyone working in the Archives will die if he dies unless they are powerfully enough connected the Ceaseless Watcher which is like. MAYBE Jon.’

‘W H Y did you not lead with that,’ Tim goes

‘yeah I really agree you should have led with that,’ Sasha goes

‘this has been a very stressful time and we have been doing our best and right also everyone can quit they just need to blind themselves to do it,’ Martin goes. ‘or I guess pledge allegiance to a different evil god but that is really unpleasant you have to sacrifice fear to it or you starve’

(’okay why did you not lead with--’ Sasha goes. ‘I’m starting to really see some benefits for being an evil fear-monster,’ Tim goes. ‘Like we could be ethical evil fear-monsters. like ethical vampires. only scare really shitty terrible people who deserve it and, like, scare but not kill.’)

(Martin looks like he is about to cry.)

(’okay maybe not p l e a s e stop making that face I cannot stand your puppy-dog-but-also-on-the-verge-of-tears eyes,’ Tim goes)

(Sasha stops death-glaring at him as Martin looks slightly less like he is about to cry.)

‘so everyone loves rituals what if we, like. construct a secret ritual. that you’re saying Jon is dumb powerful chosen one Avatar right so let’s just, like. switch over being the ‘Heart of the Institute’ from Jonah to him. big proper paperwork ritual passing on of ownership claiming his position as Jonah’s heir or something,’ Sasha says

‘that seems like just the sort of bullshit that might actually work. Sasha you are the smartest person in the world and I’m pretty sure the apocalypse wouldn’t have happened if you had survived the Prentiss attack,’ Martin says

‘actually honestly Gertrude wanted you as her replacement that sounds very true and is probably why Elias didn’t choose you,’ Jon says. he has entered the room at this point as he was curious where literally all of his assistants had wandered off to. he does actually have work to get done the Archives are A Mess and Martin has been gone at this point for far longer than it takes to Make Tea so he figured something might be up and if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s finding Martin in the Lonely

‘real rude to not let us in on this,’ Tim goes. ‘also are you SURE this is not a weird Leitner fucking with you’

‘we’ve obsessively kept track of the things that are supposed to be happening and they’re all happening on the right days and stuff,’ Jon goes.

‘okay so let’s stop like two apocalypses and not die,’ Sasha goes.

the rest of the fic is everyone subtly not-so-subtly trying to recreate the exact timeline while also making events Less Terrible while also trying to seem Not Too Competent

because this is a fic there’s gotta be adorable ridiculous fluff so everyone decides that the Cover Story in case Elias thinks people are acting weird has got to be Jon and Martin starting to secretly date

(Jon and Martin are in absolute h e l l over this and it is a hilarious comedy of errors because they didn’t tell everyone else that they got together they both decided that was too private so everyone else is aggressively trying to actually matchmake them through this all and they’re now too embarrassed to drop the act because Sasha has been giving them hell every time they have accidentally withheld information from her so it’s like. three layers of fake dating.)

(Elias decides all this drama is simultaneously the funniest thing he’s ever seen but also kind of a Bad Distraction and is subtly trying to break them up but doesn’t want to mess with things too much because he is Very Impressed with all the ‘progress’ Jon is making)

(Jon who is a complete badass and is mostly desperately attempting not to reveal all his powers)

(there are also a lot of different things that can go various ways. like do Basira and Melaine still join the Institute? I think they all read the book and make Informed Decisions about their futures but I have not decided yet what those Informed Decisions are. Daisy learns how to control Hunt powers without it overwhelming her, because Tim is totally right about it being possible to be an ethical fear-monster although as Jon and Martin can draw from the fear of the apocalypse-world they don’t really need it so it’s just a question of whether or not I want to give everyone else cool powers. we’re in a fix-it fic everyone gets cool powers without terrible consequences Because I Say So)

(Elias doesn’t give them trouble over this because he is delighted that he’s kind of collecting avatars of other Entities because it makes it really easy to make sure Jon has marks and he thinks this is his genius plan going even better than expected)

we get to episode 158

Martin really wants to dramatically kill Elias i m m e d i a t e l y but is waiting for a walkie-talkie signal that the ritual above is going as planned so he stumbles through all of the dialogue the same

“Then do it. Kill him and help me save the world.” Peter goes

Martin pauses in silence because oops there’s really not that much more Avoiding he can do

“No” Martin says.

Elias starts to laugh.

The Signal Comes Through

‘fUCK YEAH,’ Martin says. ‘F I N A L L Y. I am murdering him and I’m saving the world but this isn’t for you, asshole, and Imma deal with you next.’

stabbity stab

it’s very satisfying

‘okay but what do you mean it’s not for me, you’re supposed to sit in the chair and help me look for the Extinction?’ Peter goes

‘nah fuck that I’m from the future and I do what I want that was me stopping the Jonah Magnus’s final ritual,’ Martin goes. ‘you really think I fell for that Extinction bullshit you aren’t nearly as good a liar as you think you are, you stay right there and we’ll decide what to do with you when everyone gets down here it’s Jon’s Institute now and we’re both very pissed at you’

Peter tries to escape into the Lonely

it Does Not Work as Martin has More Angst than Peter to draw from so is Way More Powerful

everyone gets down there

ritual worked nobody died!

‘okay but why DON’T we try to look for the Extinction.’ Sasha says. ‘that seems to be a pretty important thing to stop.’

at this point everyone agrees Sasha has the best ideas

have I mentioned that every single female character is very gay for Sasha

quite frankly maybe Tim too

Sasha is a Badass and this fic portrays her as Gertrude Robinson’s Rightful Heir

she Deserves Good Things

and she is Gonna Stop All Future Apocalypses so actually going through with Peter’s plan is maybe not a terrible idea

they do the thing but in a careful way that traps no one in the chair and get the info

the Extinction is still very stoppable

there are lots of ways but honestly the best way to do it is to manipulate humanity into actually Being Better and not being on the brink of extinction

‘this is my Institute now let’s use it to fucking save the world,’ Jon goes

and they use all their knowledge and power to go from being a massive conspiracy about causing the apocalypse to being a massive conspiracy about bringing kindness and preventing wars and stopping the rise of fascism in politics and poking humanity from behind the scenes into something Better that can Rise Above its fears

and everyone lives happily ever after

but yeah this entire fic is around the premise of ‘what if the actual fix-it isn’t Change Everything To Stop Bad Things From Happening it’s Keep Everything The Same Until We’re Handed The Opportunity To Stab Jonah On A Silver Platter And Then Take It’ which I have yet to see a fic do and oops that kind of grew away from me there but anyways that’s it that’s the fic

#tma #the magnus archives #gods I have so many fics but I'm mildly tempted to write this one anyways #maybe if the ending of tma ends up being very sad I will write it #can I write a SINGLE fic without weird time travel bullshit happening?#no #no I cannot

22 notes · View notes

theskyeandsea · 5 years

Text

The Hope Cure || Morgan & Skylar

Location: Tower Music and Comics

People involved: @mor-beck-more-problems, @theskyeandsea

Hands idly tapping the side of her leg, Skylar waited outside of Tower Comics, her phone resting in the pocket of her jeans. She didn’t want to be scrolling through her phone when Morgan arrived, that would be rude, right? And it had been really nice of her to offer to visit the store with her in the first place. Skylar winced-- she really didn’t know much about what Morgan did and didn’t like, besides her Etsy things, magic, and some kind of hospital drama that had been playing when Skylar had visited her home. And here Morgan had invited her to go out and do something that she specifically enjoyed. Mmmm. She needed to be more attentive to other people; just because she was going through her own… situation, that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to help people. Sighing, she shook her head. Maybe next time she would invite Morgan to watch something at her place? Or try and help her with magic that didn’t involve knives. Mm. She’d figure it out. Noticing someone walking down the street in her peripheral vision, Skylar glanced up and she saw the other woman approach her. “Hey. Thanks for meeting me,” She said with a warm smile.

Morgan gave a wave and a big smile at Skylar as she approached. She’d lost track of whether exactly she’d given enough recompense for the debacle with the blood magic or if she was opening another door that would have to be balanced. With the kids in town, it was easier to give, send energy outwards in little ways, than to take their compassion, their understanding. Those were precious gifts, gifts that curses might take notice of. But either way, Morgan needed a break. So did Skylar. There were enough angsts and traumas to go around in this place-- maybe they really could just help each other, and this whole thing could even out to zero without causing much of a cosmic stir. That would be okay, right?

“Hey!” She said, coming closer now. “Of course! I’ve been needing to get out of the house. It’s an awful time of the semester. But I guess you know that from the kids you work with too. Why don’t you show me around?”

Nodding at Morgan’s words, Skylar let out a sigh. “Yeah… That’s a fair point. There’s a lot that’s been going on lately. It’s been keeping me on my toes.” Though she wasn’t a teacher, she was getting used to the shifts in mood with her students. Now that most of the big holidays were over, the younger kids were counting down the days for spring break and her high schooler was stressing over his up-coming SAT test. So, there was a lot going on, on top of all the general… weirdness happening outside of work. “Mhm, for sure.” She said, holding open the door for Morgan before slipping inside. The comforting smell of the comic shop welcomed her, of old paper and a slight scent of dust gathering on some of the old records that lay on the other side of the shop. “So, there’s a bunch of serialized comics over here, some manga in that section, and then graphic novels. They’ve got a really great selection.” Skylar said with a nod towards the shelves full of books, the tables laden with box after box of comic books.

The comic store had a comforting smell inside that but Morgan’s body more at ease. It was the same as libraries, as bookshops. Soft, cool paper and ink, bound and accessible. Knowledge, history, story. Morgan only had the vaguest of ideas about what made those categories distinct. There were a few famous titles she was familiar with, but most of it, especially the manga, was uncharted territory. “I know you said you like manga,” Morgan said, scanning the shelves. “Any recommendations? I still haven’t seen all of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, and uh, I saw Spirited Away once? When it first came out and everyone was talking about it. Not sure if that’s much to go on, though,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “How are you, by the way--?” She gave the question gently, as if that might make it lighter. Skylar had been through it lately, just as much as she had, and all the worse for being so young, and so much more on her own.

“I like a lot of different things, honestly. And the thing with manga, there’s all kinds of genres-- you have your basic fighting shounen stuff, slice of life romance, sci-fi fighting robot things, and some neat LGBTQ stuff too.” Skylar rambled as she led them towards the corner of manga. The typical books were out on full display, Naruto, Bleach, Blue Exorcist, things like that. But, she’d never really been too interested in the big action kinds of things. “Mmm. If you liked Spirited Away, you’d probably like some of the other Hayao Miyazaki movies. I don’t know if they’d have it here, but he did a manga series for Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind. It’s worth checking out, either reading or watching.” She said with a nod. Focusing on the spines of the books in front of her, Skylar tilted her head as she mulled over the question. “I’ve been better.” She decided, as she pulled out one of the books from the shelf, looking over the cover for a moment. “But, I’m getting through things. One day at a time, you know? How about you?” She asked, turning to look at Morgan intently, “Are you doing okay?”

“Valley of the Wind?” Morgan repeated. “Sounds beautiful, just from the name.” She scanned the shelves, picking up pieces with artwork centered on magic, or gentle landscapes. Some of these seemed to just be about kids getting by, harmless trouble, and puttering along with ease. She could get on board with nestling up to one of those, if only to dream of everything being so easy. She looked sidelong at Skylar as she spoke. “Anything you feel like talking about?” She said, plucking up a book. “I can listen pretty good in person too, you know.” But of course, Skylar, sweet kid she was, wanted to know about her too. “I’m getting there. Pushing along, as we do. Still compiling information about my-- curse, thing. Knowledge really is power, but the picture it’s giving me isn’t a pretty one.”

“Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind,” Skylar said with a nod. “It’s a beautiful movie. It’s about a lot of different things, but I think it’s a story about the power of compassion.” She shrugged. The idea of facing adversity and suffering with kindness and understanding, it was… more applicable than she ever thought it would have been when she’d first watched the movie as a child. “Ah.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she shook her head. “Not really. Just, erm, trying to adjust. Still trying to deal with some of the, the fallout.” She said before turning her attention to the books. If she looked at the books, then Morgan wouldn’t see how watery her eyes were getting at just the thought of talking about her family right now. But, she couldn’t help but think about the lies, about her phone call to her mom, about how her phone calls never went through anymore. Skylar hummed, not entirely sure how to respond at first, “I’m sorry that it’s not going well. But… you’re one step closer to figuring things out, right?”

Morgan smiled, caught by the universe again, she thought. Compasion, kindness, suffering. She couldn’t seem to get away from those no matter what she told herself to the contrary. The people she met were too nice, too brave in the face of their suffering to be used or endangered recklessly. The longer she looked, the more imbalance she found, and there wasn’t enough energy or enough strength to hold or fix it all. If she could just get the shadow lifted from her shoulders, though, she could try. She could shove as many of them into her arms as possible. If she didn’t drown mysteriously in the river or get wrecked by a tornado or get trampled in the street or fall off a cliff like her ancestors had at various points in their cursed lives.

She caught the strain in Skylar’s voice and paused, looking over at her. “I’m sorry for you, too,” she said seriously. “They shouldn’t have lied.” She turned her attention back to the stacks, picking up another volume to look at later. They were trying to take a break, right? “And, uh, yeah I’m--building a timeline. I think it happened while my great-great grandmother was young. But the details are, it’s either in some record that didn’t know or care about any of them, or it’s some personal account that’s trying to put words to something you just can’t. You run out of ways to say your world broke, and why is this happening anyway? It’s endless. And you start to wonder if this is all just a bad trailer for the future, but--” She could deal. She would. She had to. “Knowledge is still power. I think that’s going to be true for both of us. So, found anything good?”

Eyes flitting over the covers of some of the manga, Skylar’s attention turned to an old classic. Neon Genesis Evangelion. Shinji, a character who’s entire purpose and abilities hinged upon something he feared and actively shied away from… A lump formed in the back of her throat. Mmm. There really was no getting away from things, was there? Swallowing, she met Morgan’s eyes for a brief moment as the woman spoke. “They shouldn’t have. But, they did. And now I’m trying to… deal with what it all means. It’s okay, though. I’ll be okay.” Skylar said with a timid smile. She’d told Remmy that it would be okay, she’d tried telling herself that it would be okay. But, the more and more she thought about it, how could things ever be okay? How could she ever be okay, when she wasn’t even human? She just… wanted to be normal.

Drawn out of her thoughts by Morgan’s own situation, Skylar focused in on the other woman’s words. A bad trailer for the future? “Morgan…” Reaching out, Skylar touched her shoulder gently, hoping that the gesture would provide some kind of comfort, “I’m sorry. You’ll find something, though. I know you will.” Clearing her throat, she slipped her hand back into the pocket of her jacket and shook her head. “Mm, not really. I’m kind of in a comic book mood. Have you ever read any comics?” She asked, leading the way towards the boxes of comic books, neatly organized and arranged.

Morgan instantly felt guilty for getting distracted enough to ramble to Skylar. This wasn’t hers to carry. Of course she wanted to, because she was kind and she knew, way too well, what it felt like to be alone, to feel outside of the world, to be the kind of tired that Morgan sometimes felt. Maybe that was why she’d slipped in the first place. She smiled with genuine softness at the girl’s gesture. “Thanks. And I’m still hopeful to, for the record. Things…aren’t always the way they should be, you know? But that doesn’t mean we give up. We owe it to ourselves to manifest the life we deserve, or at least, to try to, even if it’s an uphill climb.” But they would get there. Skylar would find her peace within herself, and Morgan would break her curse. They had to. What other options were there?

We owe it to ourselves to manifest the life we deserve. That was some deep stuff that Skylar really didn’t want to unpack right now. Because… what did she deserve? Her entire life, she’d been nothing but a burden on her family and now, the more of the truth she uncovered, the more she questioned things. “Mhm. We can’t give up.” She said with a nod. Even if she didn’t fully believe it, she had to try. Things would get better, they would. Walking over to the comic section of the store, she started going through some of the Marvel comics. Her fingers paused as she looked at the box labeled “X-men.” They were her favorite comic books, some of her favorite heroes came from those pages. Pulling one of the issues of the Astonishing X-men out of the box, she skimmed through the pages. The Hope Cure. Something that would cure the mutant, that would fix them. Make them human. “With curses, is there any tried and true method to breaking them? Or is it like a… case by case basis?”

Morgan leaned against the shelves and started poking through her small armload. Reading right to left was a heck of an adjustment. She didn’t notice Skylar’s attention wandering to the X-Men title, but listened and went on. “Oh, case by case, always,” she said. “Sometimes there’s something specific written into the spellcraft, and sometimes you can use one spell to undo another. There’s no one size fits all solution to anything. Mine’s complex enough that I can’t do anything without knowing what, exactly, was put into it. You can fall into some bad messes trying to put the wrong key in the wrong hole. It has to be done carefully.”

“Case by case.” Skylar echoed as she slid one of the comic books out of its protective sleeve and began to thumb through the issue. Her eyes fell on a particular speech bubble, a woman at a podium offering an answer, The mutant strain can be eliminated. Safely and irreversibly. There is such a thing as a second chance. A second chance. What she wouldn’t give for any kind of chance at a normal life. “How would one spell counteract another one? Wouldn’t that just make things worse?” She asked, still holding the open comic book. “That makes sense why you’re trying to sort everything out. It’s like… you need all the pieces of the puzzle before you can begin to put it together.” She said, hoping that the metaphor made sense. She wouldn’t pretend to understand any of this magic stuff, but this was the best way she could conceptualize any of this.

“Hm?” Morgan had been trying to work her way through a story about wolf siblings, but zoned out somewhere along recounting the various means of spell breaking. “Yeah, you need the whole picture, the history of the thing, and its intentions. If, say, your apartment was flooding from a leaky pipe, you could sop up the water in a room, but it wouldn’t be as helpful as finding the leak and fixing it. But, obviously, sometimes you really just need one room not flooded. A patch job is still a job. Not for me, but in general. And some spells were written just for, well, dispelling others. Voiding the bargain of another spell, basically.” She finally looked up enough to look at Skylar properly again. “Find anything interesting?”

Running her fingers along the panels of the comic book, Skylar mulled over Morgan’s words. If her situation could be compared to a leaking pipe, her entire apartment was underwater, all the pipes were burst, and she was just trying to keep afloat. But, if magic… if magic could do something about it, if a deal could be made, if something could be done to get rid of this… part of her. She was willing to try. “Is that another case by case situation? Or is it always a one-to-one kind of thing, like… if two people were cursed with a similar thing, would the same spell work on both of them? Or is the magic unique to the person and their situation? The, the intention?” Skylar asked, trying to use some of the wordage that Morgan had brought up. Slipping the comic back into its sleeve, Skylar shook her head. “Not really. Just an old issue I’ve read before.”

“Similar, not guaranteed; identical, yes,” Morgan said. She looked at Skylar thoughtfully, puzzled by her sudden interest in spellcraft. It was sweet, in its own way, trying to work her head around Morgan’s situation, even if she didn’t have the access to magic to do anything for her. “You don’t need to know all this stuff, though, okay? Magic is weird and complicated. There are so many pathways to achieve something, so many calculations, so much to balance--I could spend the rest of my life doing nothing else and still have more to learn at the end. It’s a lot, for anyone, and you already have so much, Skylar.” She smiled at the girl, touched by her efforts nonetheless. “But, if you’re that curious, I can try and explain the theory stuff to you. But, I’m still a way’s off from trying something big. Okay?”

Humming in understanding, Skylar’s eyebrows pinched together, brow furrowing. Mm. Maybe if she did research, if she tried to find other instances of things where people had been turned into animals and then cured-- Beauty and the Beast, Princess and the Frog, there had to be a grain of truth there, right? If Interview with A Vampire was real, there had to be something that could help her. “Hm?” Startled by Morgan’s gentle tone, Skylar blinked. Wait. She thought-- oh. “It’s okay, really. I want to know more about this. If I’m in this… I want to know as much as I can. And I want to help you, really.” She said. That part was true, she did want to help Morgan. She really did. The other woman’s situation was… awful. Tragic, even, in a way that she could never fully understand. So, if she could help Morgan while also getting some answers towards her own… cure, everyone would be a winner. Right? “Theory sounds good to me.” Skylar said with a nod.

But you aren’t in this, Skylar, Morgan thought. You can’t be. But the girl wouldn’t understand that, would she? She would see someone else hiding something, or pushing her away, and it wouldn’t matter that she was doing it to keep a cosmic target off her back, the fact of it would hurt enough. If Morgan were truly her mother’s daughter, she might withhold everything, even her support altogether. But she couldn’t do that now any more than she had been able to as a child. She knew the sting of being on the receiving end too intimately to stomach inflicting it. She’d find different lines to draw, and hopefully it would be enough. “Just the basics first, of course,” she clarified gently. “And--there’s other people in town, your age, who have a grip on the magic thing, at least broadly speaking. But, okay, there is one thing I can show you that pretty much applies across the board.” Morgan flushed as she took out her keys, sheepish even though Ruth was no longer looking over her shoulder. She snapped off one of the charms and dug for some pocket lint. “Magic wants to be balanced, it wants fair value in the universe. That’s not how things are all the time, obviously, but with magic--you can give--” she put the items on the pop socket on her phone and reached down into the universe, sighing with ease. The items clinked together, melded into a silver seal with a jacket like Skylar’s, melded again into a fifty cent piece, the kind Morgan had grown up coveting. “--and you can receive. Nothing is a waste, if you’re doing it right. Everything you’ve lost finds its way back somehow, even if it’s a little different.” She gestured again and returned the items back to their form. “And that, Skylar, is how I know we’re going to be okay.”

Taking in a breath to steady her nerves, Skylar nodded at the other woman’s words. “I’ve talked to a few of them--” She stopped herself, not wanting to out anyone without knowing if they’d told Morgan themselves. Rio had taken that away from her, she didn’t want to do that to anyone else. Instead, Skylar focused on the Morgan’s hand, at the charms on her key chain. Listening intently, she watched as the tiny objects that sat in her palm come together and formed a half dollar coin. Everything lost finds its way back, even if it’s a little different. Did that mean that… Was there a chance? That she could be normal, that she could just be… a human? Could magic help her? Looking over at Morgan, Skylar nodded, “We’re going to be okay.” She was going to be okay. One way or another, she would find a way to be okay again.

#p: morgan beck #p: thc #//lol this paras abbreviation is thc; unfortunately no weed is involved

8 notes · View notes

frekydeki · 5 years

Text

Much Like Lightning

Summary: You were once someone who would laugh at the one bozo in seven hundred thousand that got struck by lightning... Except now, you are that bozo. Add to that the fact that you get thrown back into time where the comfy dungeon you're stuck in is visited by a certain earl and his butler, and the Queen of England decides they're the only ones fit to babysit you, makes your bad luck like a nice little sundae on a good ole rainy Sunday. You happen to fall in love with the sinfully beautiful butler and accidentally earn the affections of others along the way; hey, just think of it as the cherry on top of your very unlucky sundae.

Pairing: (Reader x Various) (Sebastian x Reader, more specifically)

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4: Upcoming

The boy across the way has been drilling his gaze into your cheek the entire drive back to his estate. You, being the stubborn and nervous shit you are, keep your narrow sight on the passing fields with an irritated blush running over your cheeks. If you don't acknowledge their eyes on you, you won't have to answer any questions you don't know the answer to and the ride will be all that much more comfortable for you. Though, you do have a white knuckled grip on your knee while your other hand rests gently on your chin. Foot tapping relentlessly with your back slouched slightly in relaxation. Eyes intensely concentrating on whatever is outside of that window, but somehow very far off in thought; you're a freaking walking contradiction.

"Do you consider yourself a hard working woman, (Y/N)?" Ciel questions across from you. You lift your chin from the palm of your hand and blink the daze from your sight. You sniff lightly and shrug, taking hold of a wrinkle in your light blue skirt and pinching it between your fingers. "I do what needs to be done." You answer curtly. You don't like going above and beyond much; it only leads to disappointment, falling a little short, never being good enough. You meet his eyes evenly, wondering just what he's thinking, looking at you with such an unreadable poker face. "Good." He says with a content nod before rolling his head to look out the window. "It will be needed now that you're a servant of the Phantomhive household." You stare at him... Being included in that phrase almost sends chills down your spine. What a legendary fucking group. When you would read about those servants or see them in the anime - the utter belief and trust he has in his servants abilities - you would always think that they could take down Sparta. An extraordinary group like them... And you're now a part of it. It's scary, almost. You're just a normal person with no special fighting talent or anything else at that. Eyes cast down at your hands, you nod slowly. "I guess I'll have to be hard working if I'm going to be cleaning up after those three." "You know them, then?" "Very well." "How?" The boy snaps. You draw back as your eyes almost fuse together your brow is pinched so tightly in irritation; just because he's Ciel Phantomhive with a demon butler that doesn't mean you're okay with him being a dick to you! You look him up and down, watching his hands wring at his walking stick, or his eyes search you for any sort of scam. Ironing out your face, you realize that if someone waltzed into your life claiming to know everything about you and even more that even you don't know, you'd be pretty irked too. A soft smile pulls on the corner of your lips; how arrogant it is of you. "I've seen them before." You answer in a soft tone. He doesn't respond, so you quickly jump on the opportunity to restart with Ciel; maybe he'll stop being such a brat if you both reach even grounds. "Master Phantomhive," You begin, drawing your heavy eyes to his, "I won't pretend to know you. While I might know everything that has happened to you, everything that will happen to you, the people who surround you, and even a few of your fears, I will never pretend to understand your emotions and thoughts." His wide eye shakes as he watches you with parted lips and stuttering breaths. "Please understand that I don't mean to offend you." "Very well." Ciel answers in a calmed tone. He flicks his chin at you, hand splayed over his jaw as he rest his elbow on the window ledge and jaw on the palm of his hand. "How do you know them?" You watch him, considering how to tell him that you watched them in cartoons and read them in books. You laugh while pressing your hand to the base of your head, looking out the window; squinting as if it's going to clear up the passing scenery and reveal the answer. "Pictures?" You question quietly, to which you shake your head and tap your fingers to your knee. "Visions?" "Clairvoyance?" Sebastian suggests to you. Your eyes turn to his quickly. Is that a super power? A lame super power, but it is one... One that's going to save your life. You nod and offer them a shut eyed smile. "Sure is! Clairvoyance is the word I was looking for. Thanks!" "You speak in a very unformal manner." Ciel grumbles. "Well we can't all grow up in a manor." You quip. Sapphire eyes jolt to yours, but you turn away as if to be oblivious to the irritation on his face. Damn, this is going to be really hard. Living through serving Ciel without being the snappy person you are, trying to stay on his good side, is going to be a trip... "Tell me... What are their names?" "Mey-Rin, Tanaka, Baldroy, and Finnian." "And do you know," He begins to shift in his seat, pulling part of his cloak from under him, "Why they are employed with me." Folding your hands in front of you, you prepare the speech you've given thousands of times over these three. "Where do I even start?" You laugh happily. "Mey-Rin has amazing visual acuity. So with a gun in her hand," You point finger guns at the two mindlessly, "She doesn't miss. You utilize her sight and skill in sniping, you line your roofs with rifles - no scope because she doesn't like them much - and she does a very good job protecting you and your estate... Though, you gave her a pair of thick glasses that impairs her sight... She treasures them, but they do make her pretty darn clumsy." The boys mouth opens and snaps shut as if he's an angry fish. He clears his throat and looks out the window. "Very good. And Finny?" "Ah! Finny! I love Finny! He's such a sweet guy!" You squeak under your breath. You stop and eye the two, who gawk at you in return. You clear your throat and continue on your way, "He's your gardener. He's very strong, uses anything nearby to hurdle at intruders... The straw hat you gave him, Master Phantomhive, covers his tattoo. The one he received while imprisoned at a facility. There... Terrible things were done to him and since you are well aware of it all I prefer not to go much further into it." You curtly end. "Baldroy is your chef... Not much of one since Sebastian does a majority of the cooking; rightly so since Baldroy doesn't understand a flame thrower isn't something you use in the kitchen. He's an American soldier... So he tends to like to rush things; get them done as fast as possible, hence the flamethrowers and such... He tends to give orders when the master isn't home, since he's a pretty good leader, like when the first- tiers from the cir-" You slap your hand tightly over your lips. A squeaky wheeze comes from you as your eyes - the size of the moon - shifts between the two men waiting for you to finish speaking. "Like what?" You push your chin out to Ciel's question, pretending to not understand him. "Like when the first-tiers... Etcetera etcetera." The boy rolls his wrist for you to continue. You suck your lips between your teeth and push your back against your seat. "Uh oh!" You chime, offering your hands up in a mischievous shrug, "I forgot what I was going to say." Ciel wants to have your head. You can tell, looking at the way his eyes are burning yours to a crisp with that glare. The shadows crossing his face are pretty severe, but you really can't say anything else too soon... Messing up that timeline is a no no. "I told you Sebastian would kill you." "Yes, but," You hold your hands out in front of you as if you're calming a frantic horse, "Sebastian," You look to him, "understands how detrimental it is for me to not tell you too much of the future..." The demon is silent. "Because some things should be left for the young master to come to understand when the time comes." Silence; holy crap who knew Sebastian would be so damn dense. That or he's playing stupid to make your time ten times more difficult. What a dick. But, he is a demon... You shouldn't be surprised but you are; you're so used to reading fanfictions where Sebastian is madly in love with you - the character - so he's so soft and mushy to you... Right now you feel like you're trying to work with a stone. You sigh heavily and push your eyes to Ciel's; you can't really depend on that man. "Young master, I will not tell you about the event I am referring to until after it happens, should I enjoy your company that long. I decide this because you will make your own decisions and learn from them; of yourself and of others. Should I tell you it all, it wouldn't be all that fun, would it?" "In the situation you were describing, what does Baldroy do?" "Your estate is under attack, and Baldroy tells Finny and Mey-Rin what do to eliminate the threat. And he does very well giving them orders." He smiles and returns his gaze outside, a small smirk on his lips. You move your strong gaze to Sebastian, allowing him to see the disappointment fresh on your expression. Those red eyes widen just a fraction. You snap your eyes away, trying to understand how a man as competent as Sebastian could be so incompetent when it comes to helping another person out... Then again, his only worry is Ciel. Your eyes, now taken over by a sad look, with eyebrows slack and mouth pressed lightly together, trail to examine the demon, who hasn't torn his eyes from you. An intense moment passes between the two of you; you're not quite sure what's going on in that demons head, but yours is filled to the brim with confusions between the Sebastian you thought you knew and with the one you know now. "Ah... Here we are." Sebastian announces as the carriage jumps to a halt, and the box darkens in the shadow of the large manor. The door swings open by Sebastian's hand, your cheeks being chilled by the hard breeze flowing in. Ciel exits first, you notice the worried pinch in his furrowed brow and the way his lip is settled into his cheek; must be worried about his servants. You take in a harsh breath as the demon's gloved hand appears in your vision. What does he want? Eying his hand, you raise a brow. So he can offer help over something so stupid as getting out of a carriage but not for something as detrimental as getting Ciel to shut up. Your hand latches onto his... His hand fits perfectly in his, so perfectly it should almost stay like this for eternity. You tighten your grip and then loosen it; just get out of the damn carriage and ignore the man is what you're thinking as you step from him with a hot blush on your cheeks... "Your face is red. You feel well?" Sebastian purrs in your ear. You harshly suck in a breath through your teeth and calmly turn to snap a severe look at him; remember, you're a terrible human and have no problem shutting men's advances down faster than memes spread. "Must be the cold wind." You dryly say, noticing that your face is getting hotter as you stare - no, glare - at Sebastian. A smirk lights his lips as he holds his hand out toward the opening door. "Then, let's get out of it!" His hand presses to your lower back and guides you inside, "Right this way, Madam." A slight growl fumbles from your lips and you march inside trying to remember if Sebastian was ever this touchy with guests or any women in the manga. "Meet the staff, (Y/N)." Ciel sneers at you. Eyes meeting in an electric battle, your lips pull down in a frustrated frown; why does this kid hate you so much. You bet he's going to spend every waking minute of his days with you trying to drive you insane. Your frown soon cracks into a pleasant smile as the four servants skid to a stop in front of you. "You four, meet (Y/N). She will be a new worker here at the estate. Please, treat her well and show her how it works around here." Sebastian states to the servants. "You'll be working with me, yes?" Mey-Rin's rough voice screeches to you, her red cheeks shining bright under her thick glasses. The same smile stays plastered on your lips, eyes shut in annoyance; you love Mey-Rin but some part of you assumes that you won't catch much silence with her clanking around you. "Yes. It will be a pleasure," The red haired girl opens her mouth to give her name, but you march through, mindlessly saying it, "Mey-Rin." "You know my name?" Your eyes snap open before you quickly cover it with a smile and motioning towards Sebastian, "Of course! Sebastian enlightened me to who I would be working with on the ride here!" You snatch her hands up, finding them surprisingly soft, "Let's be great friends, Mey-Rin!" Her blush deepens as her head begins to bob quickly. "Then you must know me, then!" Finny beams from your right. "Of course!" You smile gently down to him, "I hope you won't mind me coming out to help you every now and then... I love roses... I hear you keep them beautifully." "I do my best." "Very good, then." "Will you be joining me in the kitchen then? To help me mince the mushrooms?" Baldroy questions with a raise in his brow. Smiling, you nod and assure him that you would help to mince as many mushrooms as you can. Looking at the smile Sebastian is giving Baldroy, you can't help but remember the scene where he appears behind the chef to give him a good knuckle sandwich to the side of the face... You shutter and put your attention back to the blond man. "Though I should mention I prefer baking." The chef gives you a cheesy smile and scratches his neck. "If your baking makes deserts as sweet as you, I'm sure they'll taste better than Sebastian's." Swallowing, you do your best to ignore the cold air you feel moving hauntingly around you. Giggling, you turn your attention to the old man reaching to encase your hand in his. Shuffling through your introduction to Tanaka gracefully, the group breaks up with Finny running your small trunk - a gift from the queen who's taken an extreme liking to you - to your shared room with Mey-Rin, and Tanaka giving you a tour of the place. It's interesting for you to finally see how the manor is laid out, rather than only seeing a few rooms like you would in the manga or anime. The estate is grand. Fancier than the most expensive hotel you've stayed at, even; and that's saying a lot because you've been to Daytona and those hotel's sure weren't playing around. "What has Sebastian chosen you as a servant here for?" Tanaka questions as you stop outside of your room. You look to him; no point in hiding it from any of the staff to be honest. They know pretty well that being hand picked by the butler isn't just a random choice. "Clairvoyance." You curtly explain. "Ho?" The old man laughs. "That will be very handy to us! It will surely be a pleasure, Miss (Y/N). Goodnight." You smile shortly to him, watching as he slowly walks down the hall. You slouch heavily as you're finally left in peace, and you can now acknowledge how terribly your back and head is throbbing. "Your back hurts?" "Jesus!" You screech as you fling yourself away from Sebastian appearing behind you from seemingly no where. You point your finger at the tall man, "Listen here man! Just because I know the future doesn't mean I'm immune to jump scares." He chuckles in a very pleased manner as he bows; his hair glistens beautifully in the candlelight, and it lines his face perfectly when he looks down at you like this. But that doesn't matter. "I should change your bandages before you go to bed, (Y/N). You're wounds are severe, after all." You open your door, accepting that it's best you take really good care of your wounds, even if that means suffering the same embarrassment you did this morning. "I do, also, have some things to discuss with you in privacy." "Mhmm." You hum to him that you're listening as you unfasten your dress with frustrated huffs. His hands catch yours and place them at your side. "May I provide assistance?" With lidded eyes and slouched posture, you say, "Sure." "Since you're already aware, I will confirm that I am what you say." Your body runs cold; you did not expect to hear that so easily and casually. "But no other humans, other than young master, are aware. I beg you to have it remain so." "Don't worry. I don't really plan on sharing much of anything with anyone, let alone that." "You seem an honest enough woman." He smiles as your blue dress fumbles to the ground. He offers his hand out to a chair in front of a simple wooden table. "Now, since you're a servant of the estate I expect you to assist us in the maintenance of the building and the welfare of our master. Tomorrow Mey-Rin will help you with the duties, and I will keep a close eye on you." "I'm flattered." You mumble. "Young master would also like to speak with you further on your abilities in the evening tomorrow, after our guest leaves." "He does understand that I won't be telling him much of anything, right?" "My master is quite dense." "I'd call it more stubborn, independent, maybe even narrow-sighted." "Your tongue is slightly venomous." The demon chuckles as he removes your bandages. "If it weren't then I'd be lying." Silence falls between the two of you comfortably; you fantasize about a good nights rest as he dabs gently over your damaged skin. "Tomorrow, the guest you have visiting... Damian." The butler's hands stop what they're doing. "Listen to him closely. And..." You turn to look up at him, "Don't let Mey-Rin carry out the wine to pour." He raises an eyebrow at you, to which you smile sweetly, "Just a fair warning." "Yes." The suspicion in his voice is heavy as you turn away and allow him to finish up his quick work. "I've left your uniform in the chest. Mey-Rin will help you dress, I've explained to her that your wounds prevent you from doing so." With his materials gathered in his arms, he positions himself in your doorway, smiling to you with dark ruby eyes. You stare back with unreadable eyes. "Good night, (Y/N). "Goodnight, Sebastian." Seconds after the latch of the door, your buried in the blankets of your bed... Your sense of dread has somehow piqued your interests. While you're well aware you're in pretty deep shit, you're curious to see how it turns out. You roll on your side, wishing the exhausted Mey-Rin, who's just flopped into her bed, goodnight. You guess this kind of beats going to class and crying over textbooks. The only thing? You can't get black fur and blue wings, or ruby eyes out of your mind.

#kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji fanfiction #Black Butler #black butler fanfiction #Sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis #Sebastian michaelis x reader #ciel phantomhive #reader insert #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #finnian #mey-rin #baldroy #tanaka

49 notes · View notes

corellianangel · 6 years

Text

Lipstick

For @otterandterrier‘s Scoundress Saturdays prompt - “Lipstick” And also my second take on that prompt in a totally different situation.

A/N: A while back I was inspired by photos of Carrie Fisher’s costuming notes, which included the sheets listing her makeup for the original trilogy Star Wars movies.

This is a trope that’s been done 1000 times. Here’s the 1001st.

Rating: T+

Timeline: Star Wars rebellion era, Empire Strikes Back. Millennium Falcon interior, the trip to Bespin

_______________________

Leia glared accusingly at the tube of Caramel Frost labelled lipstick. Twisted upward out of its encompassing chromed tube, it mocked her with its perfectly rounded, unblemished crown. She had just discarded it’s empty predecessor merely two days before. And now it was here again.

Jig is up, Solo. the princess decided firmly.

He’d been replacing her cosmetics; surreptitiously - of course. Probably for years, she surmised. Leia had to only borrow make-up once after her rescue from the Death Star. It was, at that point, readily supplied by fellow Alliance personnel eager to please their bereaved princess. Weeks later, when a small packet of items appeared at her work desk in a lamé satchel, she’d always thought it been Shara Bey, Evaan or Mon—another well-connected sympathetic female.

Not Mr.Testosterone-for-brains inconsiderate scoundrel Han Solo.

(Nice man,) that self-righteous voice in Leia’s head corrected.

When she’d requested to maintain a modest stash of personal items on the Falcon for their recurring missions, Han initially grouched, then relented. In the course of three years, her supply would periodically diminish, but never run out.

Even the cosmetics supposedly from back at Yavin magically regenerated themselves - with new expiry dates.

In her quarters…

When she was away…

Now she knew why.

She sorted through the small selection of powdered, liquid and waxen cosmetics. Another lip- color: Raspberry - she’d nearly forgotten this one. Then...at the back of the cabinet, a rust colored lipstick labelled as Cinnamon. Leia considered the items in her hand, idly wondering why the manufacturers named them all after food. She reached for the compressed facial powder, Hmm, “Blushbaby”. At least it's not named after an edible. That is, until the next was a caked rouge called Dewy Peach.

Leia scowled at the marketing ruse, returning the majority of the items to her designated shelf with a clatter.

Stooping, Leia rummaged through the waste receptacle at her feet. At the base she felt the familiar cylinder of the same shape as her initial suspect lipstick. Gotcha, she crowed inwardly.

Clasping the empty and the replacement in her fingers, Leia palmed the refresher door, determined to confront the ship's captain and his…

His…

She halted, uncertain.

(What? Generosity? Consideration?) Leia’s inner voice barked accusingly.

Shut-up, the haughty princess retorted silently. Give me a break. This is Han fucking-everything Solo. There is an ulterior motive at work here.

( Honestly, you have a problem with a man procuring you expensive cosmetics?)

Shut up!

(Really, girl. Have you even heard of another male on base doing such a thing?)

I don’t need this.

( Funny how Solo’s manhood doesn’t seem to be affected by this little surprise. Does it?)

No…

(You should thank him. You know he’s been doing this for years at this point. It is clear he’s respectful of your privacy enough not to mention it.)

PRIVACY?! How did he get the replacements into my locked quarters for the last three years then?

(....)

HOW? ...Well?

( Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s creepy. Make sure you’ve got him over a barrel when you ask him that.)

“Princess? “

Sliding the refresher hatch door aside, Leia jumped at first, then recovered her composure confronting the scoundrel in question. She jabbed the discarded tube of lip color into his face. Han’s hazel eyes followed it in, crossing slightly.

“What is this?” Leia demanded. Han plucked it from her fingers, investigating the tiny chromed cylinder.

“Empty?” He smiled gamely, displaying it to her as if addressing a small child.

Leia was having none of it. She crossed her arms and glared. After an increasingly tense moment, Han sighed defeat.

“Look, I heard you’d been asking around after we returned to Yavin the first night.” Han shrugged, running a nervous hand through his hair. “So I asked. ‘Cause I cared. ‘Kay? Shara told me what you needed, based on what you’d asked for that day before the ceremony.” Han fidgeted with the empty tube, he spiralled it in and out, then comically peered into the empty cup.

“You, have been supplying me with cosmetics?”

Han jerked up, pointing a lipstick smeared finger at her. “Yeah. Don’t get all uppity though, Your Worship. I had to call in a favor from Shara to get the plan rolling on this one.” Han grumbled under his breath, “Mon, put Bey on squadron escort with me, so Shara could come planetside for the purchasing. Then one of ‘em kriffin’ told her pals after. Oh hell, it was both of ‘em, I’d bet! Man, it was barely a week before I had hand-written flimsi orders from half the base.”

Now Leia’s interest piqued, so she probed further, “- orders from half the base?” she repeated. Recalling, a late-night visit from her longtime me friend, Evaan - were she asked if Leia desired any hygiene products not available readily onbase, as Evaan had an in with a cargo pilot...Han, as it turned out.

Drawing his shoulders square, Han straightened. “Yeah. Mon ordered Chewie an’ me to steam sanitize the number two hold first. What a pain in the ass! Said it was unsuitable for any cargo ‘til we did. When we loaded at Chandrila, that sucker was filled though. To the ceiling.”

Holding up the full tube of lipstick, Leia was incredulous, “You filled the hold with cosmetics?”

Han threw his hands up, palms forward. “No! There was a few cases of that - Shar’ and Evaan sorted it out. Most of the bulk, it was innocuous but necessary shit like detergents, cleaning supplies, minor ‘meds and bandages, and uh... It was the...uh.” Han coughed. He colored.

Leia put her hands on her hips, fixing him with a wry look; awaiting an answer.

“The female stuff. Y’know the hygienic... Um… supplies.” Han looked ready to self-combust with embarrassment.

Leia burst out laughing, and placed a sympathetic hand hand on his hip. “ Oh Han…”

“Janson and some of the guys had a field day with that one.” Han groused.

“Was that when the inside of his fighter’s cockpit got plastered with pads?” Leia remembered that well. After decent modern supplies appeared on base for the female personnel, a fair portion of the remaining bulky, cheap, primitive supplies ended up jammed into or pasted to every available surface of a few select vehicles of the fighter squadrons. Wes Janson’s being stuffed solid. The fighter pilot was left pulling out bits of absorbent material out of various crevices after every subsequent mission.

Again Han denied responsibility. This time Leia believed him. The Falcon was off in the outer rim on a mission at that time. Rumor had it that a number of female techs, pilots, and two officers colluded, executing their justice on behalf of the Falcon’s crew, and the offended general majority. A holo of Janson scraping and scrubbing the residual adhesive from his displays and control surfaces, circulated heavily on the Alliances social networks for months. It served as a stern warning to new members as well.

Chuckling, Han remembered, “ Kriff. Yeah. Ruined his rep’ - pretty much. Didn’t get laid on base for at least a year - man - even two.”

Recalling another set of memories from that era three years ago, Leia’s mouth betrayed a wonderment laced with the sour taste of jealousy, “ You were kept rather busy as result.” Han winced.

“That was a long time ago, Leia - “

Rising to her full one and half meters, Leia advanced on Han. The Corellian pirate stumbled backward across the refresher’s raised threshold, retreating from the diminutive noble in haste.

“Tell me. Was it the-, the two techs that cornered you outside the hangar?” challenged Leia in disgust.

A half-strangled noise croaked out of Han, his mouth made a couple of sputtering, failed starts.

“The first ones? No, uh… No. No. They got me outside the barracks for that - actually.”

Leia’s eyes widened, “Lt. Van’Dorin complained about three bunkmates dragging in a pilot. That was you!?” Han looked ready to flee - via the airlock if necessary. “I thought that was a bantha-shit story at the time.”

“Uh - Only two you said?” after an increasingly tense second, Han raised an eyebrow.

“...Three” the Princess growled out of the corner of her teeth, correcting him.

“Heh…” Solo wheezed weakly. He’d been an awful character in the morals and behaviour department at the time.

Realization hit her and Leia’s nose wrinkled in revulsion. “Stop...Wait. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

Han breathed a loud sigh of relief and made to beat a hasty retreat. On impulse, Leia batted the discarded lipstick tube out of his hand. The chrome tube clattered against the sink and down the wall, landing perfectly back inside the trash receptacle.

Mouth dropping open to protest, Han was suddenly shoved up roughly against the doorframe, by a pair of unexpectedly strong, yet petite hands on the lapels of his jacket. The lanky smuggler fumbled to brace himself on a section of his ship’s bulkhead. Leia smirked at his shocked expression, amused and elated as it melted into a confused consent. Lunging up at the smuggler, the princess’s lips firmly planted on his. He’d scarcely gotten out a half muffled, Leia–when her palms slid across the warm flesh of his right hipbone, and he let out a low groan.

Leia had no idea what was happening. Who this person was that was emerging out of her coolly maintained exterior since they’d left Hoth — she was becoming this woman. It was hard to stop, because maybe she’d had been there all along. And maybe – just maybe, Leia was finally comfortable with who she was.

She held him there, probing and nibbling at his lips, settling in along the heat stemming from the entire length of his body. She’d wanted this… Needed it…

This was what that woman wanted. That wild creature that lived inside of her. Leia was falling. Falling or fallen in love with a Corellian smuggler. Oh Stars, and she was falling in love with herself. In love with how she felt, who she was and also who she used to be. She didn’t have to allow the loss of her homeworld to define her. She could just be Leia and be content.

When they finally broke off, Han was more than a little breathless. His eyes were alight. Grin was half-cocked. His hair askew; tugged upright and all over by Leia’s fists. And best… best of all; was Leia’s Caramel Frost lipstick smeared all across that scoundrel’s stupidly happy smirk.

#scoundressaturdays #han x leia #hanleia #Princess Leia #leia organa #hanxleia #Han Solo #trip to bespin #ESB #SW Fanfic #fanfiction #for a bigger fic #unbeta'd #sex and candy #star wars #sw fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

butterflydm · 5 years

Text

The Magicians Revisited: 1x01 Unauthorized Magic

I’m doing the rewatch with @themagiciansrevisited and I’ll be watching along probably until 4x10, which is where I’ve decided my own personal canon for the show will tap out. And because my brain likes to keep track of things, I’ll be rewatching again on my own after each group rewatch and write out the things that stand out for me, that I might want to remember. This is v. long, so I will pop it under a read more.

Significant moments: The first character we meet is Dean Fogg, who comes onto a NYC street through a portal from a more wooded area (I think it’s the area outside Brakebills). The door closes behind him without him needing to physically shut it. He meets up with “Eliza” (making Jane Chatwin the second major character we meet) and says, “You’re late”, which is going to echo in the later first meeting of Eliot and Quentin (and which was itself mirrored in the first meeting between “Kim” and Todd in 4x01). Being that time loops and timelines are such an important part of the show, it’s interesting to me that the importance of timing is set up so soon. And… it’s also possibly a nod to The Lord of the Rings.

Jane’s brought Fogg evidence that the Beast is already active in this timeline (a huge-ass moth). The NYPost that he’s reading looks to be dated October 18, 2015, which tracks with when the first episodes came out. Part of the implication in this conversation is that Jane wants Fogg to rush our group into Brakebills even though they aren’t in place to have it handled yet.

Jane shows particular concern over ‘our boy’, which I think we can take as read is Quentin, given how Jane directs her attention to Quentin fairly pointedly and given that we’re going to cut to him after this scene. Looking back, it’s interesting to think about how this relationship may have evolved from Jane’s PoV. She must have recognized Julia and Quentin as the Witch and the Fool as soon as they were old enough and got involved in the very first timeline, plus it’s possible she figured out somewhere along the way that Quentin was also the old man who gave her the Time Key in the first place. There are four major characters who remember the time loops, after all - Jane, Fogg, Martin, and Ember - so I’ll be paying particular attention during their scenes to see what they may drop as a hint to what happened in previous timelines.

This scene also mirrors, to a certain extent, the introductory McGonagall & Dumbledore scene at the beginning of Harry Potter. I suspect that’s intentional, given the series’s future interest in deconstructing various fantasy storylines and tropes. So, we have two authority figures who understand what’s to come and they have been deliberately attempting to shape this younger generation into a weapon to wield against the enemy that threatens them (and that comes from their own generation).

Quentin is the next major character introduced to us - he is in the Midtown Mental Health Clinic, which has a nice view of the Statue of Liberty. He’s thoughtlessly doing magic tricks with a coin. The show then cuts between him checking himself out of the clinic with a scene of him at a party at his apartment. Julia is introduced by noticing Q looking out of place at the party, and then he bails to go hang out alone in a bedroom and read which… yeah, same, Q, same. We see his pills, a comic book, some other books: bunch of books on stage magic like card and coin tricks, and Plover’s books (at least two editions of the Fillory and Further series). As Q reads the first book (Fillory and Further: The World in the Walls), we get a visualization of them onscreen.

Julia and Quentin talk a little (and I’m going to note that she explicitly calls the Fillory books ‘obscure fantasy’, so not actually in the realm of Narnia or LotR) - she gives him a friendly kiss, and then Julia’s boyfriend James comes in and jokes about them having a threeway, which I did not expect to be foreshadowing and yet… Quentin will definitely have a threesome before the end of the season so, I guess it was. Unexpected foreshadowing!

The (dead) Yale interviewer had the clock from the Fillory books (or a replica? I don’t recall from further episodes if this is the real deal or not) in the place he was planning to interview Quentin. Huh, one of the dead interviewer’s eyes looks kinda like a fairy eye. We do find out later from Dean Fogg that the interviewer was a magician, so… hmm. This scene is very suspicious to me in many ways, in retrospect.

The manuscript that Jane gives Quentin is, officially, Fillory and Further; Book Six: the Magicians and it is dated Feb 1952. We learn that Julia is the one who got Quentin into the Fillory books in the first place and that’s why he learned magic tricks. They were both very into the books all through high school, but then Julia met James and she pulled away from them.

Next, it’s Julia and Quentin’s introduction to Brakebills! So, in most (though I suspect Jane tried cutting Q out of the equation at some point early on) of the previous loops, both Quentin and Julia would have gotten into Brakebills at this point, so after this is where we split from the general timeline to the differences in TL40 (for the students! Martin/the Beast is probably doing his own set of experiments each time he gets snapped back into a new timeline; especially different ways of approaching his ability to talk to Penny, I suspect).

When Q arrives, Eliot is, of course, posing in a gorgeous outfit. He was given a card with Quentin’s name and is waiting for him.

So, timeline thoughts: obviously, Fogg decides to set up Eliot and Quentin’s friendship early on, based on previous timeline experiences and whatnot. Given Jane’s worries about Quentin not being prepared enough, it does seem likely that Fogg decided to set up a mentorship-ish situation, since Eliot and Margo appear to get involved anyway in other timelines and since Margo’s a big Fillory fan, too. I’m going to see how Fogg reacts to them in later episodes to see if it confirms or counters my suspicions here.

When Eliot brings Quentin to the exam room, Penny is in the foreground of the shot and Quentin ends up sitting next to him. Julia is more in the middle of the room and (hilariously, from a P23-P40 perspective), I think I see Kady at a table in between Julia and Penny. Quentin sees Julia and they hug. I did not see Alice in the exam room, but there were several tables that had blonde girls at them, so maybe I just missed her.

Julia is told that she failed the test and will be sent home. “I can’t just go to Yale if this place exists” and she deliberately scratches herself before the memory spell is placed on her. Meanwhile, Q is given a deck of cards and told to do magic. He fumbles for a while, Dean Fogg puts some heavy pressure on him, and Q’s magic bursts out and then he collapses.

Q has a dream of talking to Jane in Fillory. Dream!Jane (real!Jane using a spell of some kind, I assume) name-drops the Beast and tells Q to “get off the garden path”. She wants him to try something new, because she knows that the previous tries have all failed spectacularly. He needs to do something different this time.

Q wakes up at Brakebills and Julia wakes up in her apartment in NYC, remembering everything and researching right away. Q talks to Dean Fogg. We learn that Brakebills is a three-year graduate-level program. So. Dean Fogg here is… hmm. He encourages Q to give up his meds. In the earlier scene, he deliberately preyed on Q’s fears (which he would know well from 39 previous timelines of experience) in order to provoke him into displaying a forceful burst of magic. We know that Jane is particularly worried about how much Q, specifically, needs to learn. Adding that together, and it does feel very deliberate that Fogg leads Q to believe that magic — that this school — will eliminate the need for his meds & etc., when we know from future episodes that this is very much not something that magic actually “fixes”. But he’s setting up Brakebills as the place that makes everything better because he wants Q to believe it. It’s also possible that he’s discouraging Q’s meds to create a certain level of emotional pain in Q to power his magic? Wow. That’s a dark thought.

Q and Penny are roommates. Q notices his F&F Book 6 is missing and is accusatory towards Penny, but before it can go further, Eliot comes to introduce Quentin to Margo. He’s told her that Q is cute and her opinion is “not that cute” but she’s friendly to him. We learn that first years stay in the dorms, and then once you know your ‘talent’, you get put into a house. The ones that Eliot lists out are: Physical Kids (where he and Margo are), Illusions, Healing, Nature, Knowledge (where Julia would have gone), Psychics. We also learn that there are only four students currently remaining of the third-year class, sixteen of them having disappeared along the way.

So, after all that, we go to Q’s first class and we see Alice for the first time (at least, that I could spot). She gets singled out to do a demonstration for the class and turns a glass ball into a glass horse. Also in this class, Kady meets Penny. They have an instant sexual connection and hook up right away. This is a definite deviation from timeline-23, at least, and if Kady only got into Brakebills because Julia was kept out, then that could potentially make Kady an overall wildcard. We know that the Great Cock in S3 knows about her, but I wonder if she was on anyone’s radar before timeline-40 happened. I’ll keep an eye out!

When Q finds out a little bit more about Alice from Margo and Eliot, he’s intrigued because he was very impressed by her spellwork. Margo and Eliot do not seem particularly interested in Alice one way or the other - when Alice leaves after Margo’s (debatably sincere) invite, they basically roll their eyes and shrug. Q tries to talk to Alice again later and she is definitely not interested in making friends.

Some time has passed, because James has sent Q several emails that he hasn’t answered. Julia hasn’t been eating or acting like herself, so James asks Q to come to her birthday party. Margo and Eliot overhear and immediately invite themselves along, because they have 100% adopted Q into their friendship already like damn. I’m kinda stunned over exactly how quickly Eliot and Margo decided that Quentin is One of Us. Eliot takes one look and is basically like ‘you’re cute, we’re keeping you’ and Margo goes with it in a way that she absolutely does not do with “Mike” later on. Eliot and Margo are the two people who are welcoming and encouraging to Q basically from day one and it just really stands out even more in a rewatch. Like Q has to go through some traumatizing shit with Alice, Penny, and Kady to start to develop any kind of bond, but with Eliot and Margo, he basically just has to show up and... be himself. And - this is jumping forward a bit but - they both mention later on that they genuinely like Q for his personality and his interests. Margo & El are stealth nerds and Eliot finds nerds charming in general, so they both just... like Q for who he is. It’s just so sweet and very adorable to see it already present in the first episode. They just like him. For the person that he is.

We meet future reoccurring hedge witch Pete at the party, briefly, as Julia goes ‘ugh no’ at first sight. Julia talks to Q in private and reveals that she remembers about Brakebills. The conversation goes badly, Q is not willing to help her with magic stuff, and he leaves with Ellot and Margo. Pete is a creep and scares Julia until she magics her way out of the trap and he invites her to join a non-Brakebills method of learning magic.

The next dream Q has about Jane Chatwin appears to take place at Rupert Chatwin’s grave (or just a monument to him? But I’m guessing grave). She warns him again not to just stick to the “garden path”. She shows him the symbol that he saw in Alice’s book and burns it into his hand, giving him a new reason to seek out Alice. Alice tells Q to meet her that night to do a summoning to contact the other side. Penny is drawn to go help Alice and Q, and Kady volunteers to join him. They do the spell and after they all leave the room, a smiley face is drawn on the mirror, ominously.

The Beast freezes everyone’s actions except their eyes, enters through the mirror. He kills a professor, is attacked by the Dean, defeats him but doesn’t kill him, and then spots Quentin. He calls Quentin out by name and starts to reach towards him and we cut to credits. That’s the scene that really made me go “woah, shit, this show commits” in my first watch-through. Specifically, it was the smiley-face that the Beast makes during that scene. I was like “did I just watch that happen?”, which a thought I have now had many many times over the course of future episodes as well. Sometimes for good and sometimes for bad, I suppose.

Magic: 1. Location portal (Dean Fogg travels through) 2. Portal to Fillory (described in F&F: the World in the Walls) 3. Clock in tree (spotted by Jane; placed by “the watcherwoman”) 4. Julia and Quentin getting into Brakebills (bushes vs elevator) and traveling to upstate New York 5. Magic exam test 6. (attempted) memory spell on Julia 7. Quentin makes the cards fly around the room after his exam and then builds them into a card castle before collapsing 8. Jane talks to Q in his dreams 9. The globes in Dean Fogg’s office sense magic, though they aren’t always right 10. Illusion work is used to keep friends and families of magic students from finding out they attend Brakebills 11. Lots of random practice magic from the students as Eliot and Margo give Q a tour 12. Kady floats during sex and make other things float too (including Penny) 13. Julia makes sparks happen at her birthday party 14. Pete uses magic to tie Julia up and scare her into showing her magic Julia breaks out of Pete’s trap 15. Q has another dream of Fillory and Jane Chatwin 16. Summoning spell with Q, Alice, Penny, and Kady 17. time freeze by the Beast, travels via mirror, magically kills a professor, takes Dean Fogg’s eyes

Relationships: Dean Fogg & Jane Chatwin: firm allies Quentin & Julia: best friends -> becoming estranged friends Julia & James: established relationship Quentin & James: friends -> becoming estranged friends Quentin & Eliot: early friendship/crush Quentin & Penny: bad first impression on both sides Eliot & Margo: best friends Margo & Quentin: early friendship Quentin->Alice: admires her talent Alice->Quentin: hostile -> becoming temporary allies Penny & Kady: immediate sexual/romantic relationship Margo & Alice: mutually unimpressed Eliot & Alice: mutually unimpressed Quentin->Kady: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Kady->Alice & Quentin: “losers" Alice->Kady & Penny: temporary allies Penny->Alice: admires her talent Jane&Fogg->Quentin&co: manipulative mentorship Pete->Julia: impressed with her talent Julia->Pete: creeped out

Obviously a certain amount of subjectivity in this but I call ‘em like I see ‘em.

Physical contact: Jane places the magic watch in Dean Fogg’s coat pocket and then smooths his clothes out afterwards. Julia sits in her boyfriend’s lap at the party. Julia touches Q’s leg, takes his book out of his hands, snuggles up to him, and kisses him on the corner of his mouth. James jumps on top of Q and Julia in Q’s bed when he’s joking about the threeway. Other people join in. Julia and Q press up against each as they walk to Q’s Yale interview, and she touches him on the back and then brushes his hair out of his eyes. Julia and Q sit pressed up together after finding the dead body of the interviewer and she’s somewhat loosely hugging him from behind. Eliot escorts Q into the exam room with a touch on the shoulder and back. Julia and Q hug in the exam room after the test. Margo pulls out Q’s tie when they’re introduced. Margo touches Eliot’s arm when talking about the third-year class and they stayed mostly pressed up arm-to-arm for much of the later conversation. Kady and Penny have sex, and then touch casually and flirtatiously in the walking scene afterward. Margo and Eliot hold hands as they run up to talk to Q when he’s on the phone with James. Eliot leads her by the hand at Julia’s birthday party. When leaving, they hug and spin around together. James hugs Q, and then Q hugs Julia. Pete touches Julia’s face when she’s trapped by his spell. dream!Jane grabs Q’s wrist and presses his hand against the summoning symbol. Q touches Alice’s shoulder when he’s trying to tell her about the symbol burned into his hand. Alice holds his wrist to look at the symbol and then pulls him along by the wrist so they can talk more privately. Penny takes Kady by the hand when they leave. Penny and Kady are playing around/holding hands in class when the Beast arrives. The Beast pulls out Dean Fogg’s eyes and bites him? headbutts him? so that he falls. Bites him, I think. WTF, Martin?

Character Notes: Dean Fogg: mint green shoes Jane Chatwin: Martin was her twin; Rupert was her older brother. She was ‘the family skeptic’. Described by Fogg as a ‘scout; freelance, sort of’. Quentin Coldwater: Checked himself into Midtown Mental Health because he “couldn’t concentrate, eat, or get out of bed” and the “feeling of not belonging anywhere was overwhelming” and being “the most useless person who ever lived”. He was planning on selling his Fillory first editions on Ebay. His father lives in Jersey. Martin Chatwin: “gloomy nature” (as claimed by Plover) Rupert Chatwin: wounded in “the war” (WWII) Charlie Quinn: Died five years ago at Brakebills, so 2010 Julia Wicker: Was going to go to Yale for a business degree.

Students: “Missing 3rd year class” students: there are only four students in the current third year class, with sixteen having gone missing. I’m not certain exactly how many we end up accounting for over the course of the season (at least Victoria and Josh but there might be more), so I will keep track of that, too. But, for now, we have the nameless four remaining. Known 1st year students: Q, Alice, Penny, Kady. Dean Fogg mentions “I’ve got another twenty-four of you today”, which sets the class size at 25 minimum (if Q is the first new student he talked to) Known 2nd year students: Margo, Eliot

Timeline Notes: Oct. 2015: Dean Fogg meets with Jane Chatwin to discuss this current time loop. “Not Tuesday”: Quentin is checking himself out of Midtown Mental Health and mentions he has a Yale grad school interview on “Tuesday”. Tuesday: Julia goes with Quentin to his Yale interview, but the interviewer is dead. Jane is posing as an EMT and gives Quentin the unpublished Fillory and Further sixth book. Quentin starts some new meds. Tuesday Night: Quentin and Julia are pulled into Brakebills for their exam (and it is day in Brakebills) Wednesday: Q is at Brakebills; Julia is back in NYC. Q gives his new meds up to Dean Fogg. ~undisclosed amount of time passes~ Julia’s birthday: Q, Eliot, and Margo attend ~undisclosed amount of time passes~

Ways the Loop-aware Messed With Our Kids: 1. Julia was kept out of Brakebills 2. Eliot was sent out to bring Q in to take his test 3. Q and Penny are roommates in the dorms 4. Jane burns Q’s hand to encourage him to seek out Alice 5. Jane tells Q that Brakebills isn’t the point and he has a greater destiny

#TMRevisited #The Magicians #tmwk1 #long post #text post #keeping track of things

10 notes · View notes

neruran · 6 years

Text

Kippou

Series: Boku no/My Hero Academia Rating: T (for language mostly) Genre: Fluff Relationships: Bakugou/Kirishima/Uraraka [Kirikacchako] Characters: Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Masaru, Bakugou Mitsuki, Uraraka Ochako’s Parents, Kirishima Eijirou’s Parents, OCs, minor characters created for the story Other Tags: Established Relationship, Polyamory, Future Fic, Pregnancy, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, probably a little OOC Summary: Informed that all is well and healthy so far, Ochako, Eijirou, and Katsuki decide to tell their parents the happy news; that they'll all be grandparents in a few months.

Check notes for AO3 link, because this hellsite has a vendetta against links within posts and I hate the link post format, so I gotta make a workaround.

(Title means "good news" in Japanese)

Remember when I said “famous last words” regarding not writing a continuation to Tsuwari? Yeah I was right. I also told myself when I started writing this “oh this’ll be short, just a couple snippets from different points along the timeline of Ochako's pregnancy and their forays into parenting” - you know, like a fool - then 2k later and I still hadn’t gotten to the main point of this so-called snippet, and I finally accepted that this was going to be its own oneshot. Sometimes I hate being so rambly. I admittedly struggled with this more than Tsuwari for various reasons, and I've also done further research and found a couple minor things in Tsuwari aren't quite correct, largely with how Japan deals with pregnancy and childbirth, but it's ultimately relatively minor stuff so I'm not arsed to correct it. It's actually been a little fascinating reading up on the official (as in government-related stuff such as paperwork and healthcare) and social/cultural differences between Japan and North America, so I tried to incorporate hints to some of what I learned, and if I can wrangle my focus and inspiration to write more about Kirikacchako's adventures into parenthood, I'll try to show the differences in those fics/snippets as well.

Once again I have footnotes, which are not really necessary to read to enjoy the story but add flavour, you could say.

As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, but likes, kudos, and bookmarks are nice too! Hope you enjoy!

The day after her little discovery, Ochako books an appointment for that week with her ob/gyn. When she goes in a couple days later and relays the story to Dr. Houkou, they laugh heartily for a good five minutes, much to Ochako's embarrassment. [1]

"I'm terribly sorry for laughing, it really is a little amazing you didn't put the pieces together until now,” they say once they've calmed down, dabbing their eyes with a tissue.

"You can't entirely blame me," Ochako mumbles, hiding her red face. She knows Dr. Houkou doesn't mean any insult, and honestly it is a little funny, but still, she can't help but feel embarrassed for herself.

"That's true, and to tell you the truth, this is not the biggest case of lack of observation; I've heard stories of people who didn't realize they were pregnant until they went to the hospital complaining of stomach pains, when it turned out they were in labour!" [2]

"Oh gosh, I hope I would've noticed long before then!" Uneasily, she rubs her belly. "If not me, one or both of my partners.”

"I'm sure you would; from what I know of those instances, there were certain factors that led the parent-to-be to not recognize the signs, or made the signs less than obvious, which while that's evidently somewhat applicable to you, those situations were more...extreme, I suppose you could say?"

"I'm just glad the worst that's happened to me is this broken wrist," Ochako says, lifting her cast. "I forgot to ask at the hospital, but will this affect the baby at all?"

"No, it should be fine. At worst, it'll be a little slow to heal as most of your body's resources are focused on what's in your womb rather than healing your injuries, but I'm sure the extra downtime will be good for you. Oh don't pull that face, you workaholic," Dr. Houkou scolds, rolling their eyes at the poorly concealed pout Ochako has. "I know you're a busy hero, but it's important you take time to recover, especially now it's not just yourself that you need to look out for.”

"I know, it's just going to be tough," sighs Ochako. "I love helping people! After being in this field for so many years, I feel restless at the idea of not doing anything more than paperwork or small tasks, but I'll have to get used to it for the next while."

"Don't worry, before you know it, you'll be having your baby and jumping back into the fray. Now, let's figure out that due date."

~~~

"We're home!"

"Welcome back!" Ochako calls back, peeking her head over the back of the couch to smile at her partners as they make their way into their apartment. "How was work today?"

"Nothing super exciting on my end, just broke up a scuffle between a couple of rowdy yankii while out on patrols," Eijirou reports.

Katsuki huffs, evidently jealous. "Boring as shit."

"Oh calm down, you got to stop a robbery last week."

"Doesn't make this week any less boring."

Rolling his eyes, Eijirou picks up a meowing Hotaru, placing her on his shoulder as he plops down beside Ochako. He peers curiously at the various booklets and pamphlets she has scattered around her. "How about you? How'd your appointment go?"

"Well, besides giving them a good laugh when I told them how I hadn't noticed I was pregnant"—she shoots a pouty glare towards the kitchen when Katsuki snickers, but he ignores her as he starts on dinner, so she continues—"they confirmed everything's going well and that I'm probably on the tail end of twelve weeks, and we worked out my due date."

"Oh, that's awesome! When is it?"

"February 20th!"

"February, huh," Eijirou muses aloud. "We're just at the beginning of August; February seems so far away...The due date's just a guesstimate, right? So it could be born on a different day. Think it'll be a Valentine's baby?"

"I fucking hope not," Katsuki gripes. "People would probably only give them chocolate and Valentine shit for their birthday, I sure as fuck don't want our kid subjected to that."

"Hey Eiji, you think we'll have to implement a swear jar when the baby's born?" Ochako says teasingly. "Or do you think Katsuki'll manage to get his language under control before then?"

"Shut up, my language is fine."

"Sure, sure, I'm sure all of our mothers would appreciate it when one day while babysitting, our kid says ‘fuck' out of nowhere, and I'm sure it would not be much of a mystery as to who they learned that word from," Eijirou replies. [3]

The noise of Katsuki preparing dinner pauses for a moment. Ochako and Eijirou exchange knowing looks.

"...I'll work on it."

"Wary of what Mitsuki would say?"

"Hell no, that old hag can nag all she wants, she's not much better. It's your mom's disapproval I'd rather avoid," Katsuki answers, pointing at Eijirou.

"Mine? Do you mean Mom or Mama?"

"Ikane."

"Really?" Ochako questions, giving a little laugh in disbelief. "But she's such a sweetheart like Eijirou here." She reaches up to ruffle Eijirou's hair, earning a half-hearted complaint about his drooping hair spikes being messed up.

Eijirou chuckles as he gently swats her hand away from his head, petting Hotaru when she meows at him. "You haven't seen her in full mom mode. Once when I was in middle school, I said something crass without realizing while Mama was babysitting some neighbour kids, and the look she gave me could've pierced right through my Unbreakable state. Not to mention the ear twisting I got shortly after." Absently he rubs his ear, recalling the pain.

"I...suppose I can see that. If it's anything like the expression you make at villains that make you angry, it must be something."

Katsuki mutters a "you have no idea" unnoticed. For the best; he doesn't care to explain to Ochako the incident that lead to him earning Ikane's ire, however brief it was.

"Mama does like to say I inherited her passion instead of her quirk," Eijirou says with humour. "Though, speaking of; do we want to start telling people we're expecting? I mean, I know some people wait until the end of the first trimester anyway since the chances of miscarriage are pretty low after that point, so then it's pretty set in stone that a baby's on the way."

Ochako hums thoughtfully, drumming her fingers absently on Eijirou's knee. "I think I'd like to tell my parents first, but I'd prefer to do it in person or on video call. It seems impersonal to give them the news any other way."

"I wanna tell my moms right away; I just know Mama's gonna love hearing that she'll be a grandma. But I'm also excited to tell all our friends.”

"Why don't we just conference call all our parents and tell them all at once?" Katsuki proposes, scraping some vegetables he just cut up into a pot. "I know the hag'll complain if she's one of the last informed, so if we do it that way, it gets it all out of the way at the same time and I don't get my ear nagged off."

"That's...not a bad idea," Ochako says, blinking in mild surprise.

"Of course it's not, I came up with it. You make it sound like I come up with bad ideas on the regular basis."

Eijirou smirks slyly. "You mean ideas like putting too much hot sauce in your food just to prove you can take it, only to get hit by the consequences later in the bathroom, Kacchan?"

"Shut up, at least I can take it!"

"Now, now, your unfortunate dietary decisions aside, I didn't mean to imply you don't have good ideas," Ochako interrupts. Katsuki grumbles, but puts up no further argument. "I was just surprised I hadn't considered it. Since I have the next couple days off to give my wrist a little more rest, why don't I contact everyone and coordinate it?"

"Sounds like a plan! And then we can start telling all our friends and stuff!" Eijirou giddily hops in his seat, which of course disturbs the cat on his shoulder. She lets out a growl and bats at his head. "Ow, yeah, sorry Hotaru, I deserved that." He sets her down, letting her stalk off to cuddle up with Kyou who's laying in her doggie bed in the corner, touching his ear to check that she didn't scratch him.

Ochako giggles at him. "You think everyone will assume we're adopting another cat at first?"

"I mean, they might, but we only did that once with Hotaru and it was funny! I think in this instance though, I'd prefer to tell some people face-to-face first before announcing it on our social media. Mostly I wanna see Denki, Mina, and Hanta's faces when they hear the news.”

"Yeah, Dunce Face will probably flip his shit, it'll be hilarious."

"I'm excited to tell Tsuyu-chan, Tenya-kun, and Deku-kun. Oh, stop making that face, Katsuki."

"What face? I'm not making any face," Katsuki replies petulantly. "I'm not even facing you."

"Yeah, but I know you and I know you're pulling a face at the idea of involving Deku-kun, because you always do even though you two are friends now," she says, rolling her eyes. Eijirou snickers to himself.

"We are not friends, I just tolerate the stupid nerd enough to work with him on occasion."

Once again, Eijirou and Ochako exchange looks then simultaneously roll their eyes affectionately, fully aware that whatever bad blood the two had as children has long been resolved enough that they frequently trade spots on the hero rankings and collaborate on missions, all the while throwing harmless barbs and challenges back and forth. The relationship is complicated, as "friends" doesn't quite describe them, but "rivals" or "frenemies" doesn't seem right either. They're just "Deku and Kacchan", a category of their own.

"Point is," Ochako continues. "Deku-kun is my friend, and I'm looking forward to sharing the news with him. I know he's going to be very happy for all of us."

"Think he'll cry?" Eijirou asks.

"Definitely," Ochako and Katsuki answer simultaneously.

Eijirou laughs, leaning into Ochako. "You're right, dumb question. He may be better than when we were first-years, but I should know better than to underestimate the secret Midoriya secondary quirk. Now, what's all this you got here, Chako?"

Lighting up, Ochako eagerly explains the various pamphlets that cover things like her recommended diet, the baby's development, and what sort of information she needs to submit to the Health Office. Eijirou just as eagerly listens, nodding his head and asking questions, and though he's busy making dinner, she knows Katsuki has an ear on the conversation so she makes sure to talk loud enough for him to hear as well.

~~~

Coordinating the conference call with their parents ends up being a more difficult task than Ochako expects; each set of parents has different schedules and events, not to mention there's Eijirou and Katsuki's schedules to consider, so it actually takes several phone calls and emails to figure out a day and time that works for everyone. The entire time Ochako also finds herself dodging the question for why this is so important, merely explaining that their triad had some good news for them and wanted to announce it to them all at the same time. She admittedly flushes when Mitsuki teases that perhaps one of them proposed to the other two or vice versa—the idea of getting married to Eijirou and Katsuki flustering her even if they're already expecting a child—but clumsily acts coy to keep her from guessing the actual news.

After two days of back-and-forth, they finally all agree that the upcoming Friday after dinner will work for everyone, barring any emergencies. Which gives Ochako several days time to build up her excitement, but also her anxiousness. What if any of their parents don't approve? Her own parents had been rather apprehensive about her being in a poly relationship back when she first told them, but now that it's been several years with only a couple hiccups, they're happy for Ochako's happiness, but what if this changes their minds again? Sure she's a grown adult capable of making her own decisions in life, but she's always been close with her parents so she'd hate to lose that relationship over this. Mitsuki's reaction also worries her a bit, as while she does like the woman, she can be rather brash and critical like Katsuki at the most unpredictable of times.

She quietly admits this to Katsuki as they're snuggled up on the couch waiting for Eijirou to get home from a late-running patrol shift; he gruffly assures her that both his mom and dad will be ecstatic at the news, so her parents will surely feel the same, which means she has nothing to worry about. In return, he confesses feeling a little apprehensive himself regarding her and Eijirou's parents reaction to him being involved, but Ochako's quick to tell him that if she's fine, then he's fine as well because their parents all know what a good person he is and seen how wonderful and loving a partner he's been, so they should have no qualms.

Eijirou, on the other hand, seems to vibrate with anticipation with each passing day, as if the information that they're expecting is waiting to burst out of him like an explosion from Katsuki's palms. It even seeps into his aura while out doing hero work, enough that one of Ochako's sidekicks happens to take notice.

"Red Riot-san was more energetic than usual when I happened to pass by him doing patrols on my way home yesterday," Subspacer muses when Ochako stops by the office to pick up more work to do from home. "When I asked him if something good had happened on patrol, he grinned and said no, but he did get some news that made him really happy recently, but didn't elaborate further." They turn to her, head tilted curiously. "Any idea what that's about?" [4]

Ochako gives a chuckle that she hopes isn't as nervous-sounding as she feels. "Oh, I wouldn't think on it too hard...You've seen him in casual work settings, he gets excited over the smallest stuff." She does her best to maintain a smiling poker face as they eye her a moment, before they let whatever it is they're thinking go, going on to fill her in on what's happened at the office in her absence. Ochako knows they're suspicious, but mentally thanks them for not pressing the matter.

The days pass and Friday arrives without much fanfare. All three of them are antsy in their own ways during dinner; Eijirou can't seem to sit still at all, Katsuki's foot bounces restlessly, and Ochako frequently slips into her natural Kansai accent as she talks, excitement and anxiousness starting to come to a head as the promised time ticks closer. Soon enough, their dinner is eaten and cleaned up, their pets are fed, and then they're sitting on their couch with Eijirou's laptop opened up on Ochako's lap.</p>

On her right, Katsuki's phone makes a little ‘boom' noise to indicate he has a new message. "My old man says he and the hag are ready when we are," Katsuki says after checking.

Eijirou's phone dings to her left a moment later. "My moms are good to go!"

Sure enough, hers buzzes less than a minute after, and a quick glance tells her that her parents are also ready. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she smiles at both her partners, then clicks the button to start the conference call.

Eijirou's mothers are the first to pick up, but her parents and Katsuki's follow suit seconds after. It's almost overwhelming seeing six faces on the screen, but besides the big news she intends to drop during this call, this is something they've all done before in lieu of separate phone calls and emails. Besides, it's been weeks since she's seen any of them through anything besides social media, so it's nice to be able to talk to their families face-to-face, even if there's a screen separating them. Smiling brighter, she gives a little wave, Eijirou doing the same. "Hello everyone!" she greets. A chorus of greetings echoes back from their parents. "I'm glad this worked out, it's been so long since we've been able to do a group call like this!"

"The woes of adulthood and having busy jobs, right hon?" Mitsuki turns to Masaru, who nods in agreement.

"How is that new line coming along, Masaru-san? I recall Mitsuki-san mentioning before you two had a deadline this week," asks Karuko. [5]

"I've finished everything that's within my control, so now it's just a matter of waiting for the samples to see if there's anything that needs adjusting before going into full production." [6]

"That's good to hear! Considering your other work, I'm sure it'll be a success."

"Not that I don't want to hear how the rest of you are doing," Tomoe interrupts, blunt but not unkind. "I think I'd like to hear from our children, since it's often so hard to get a hold of them with their unpredictable jobs." Ikane smiles a little, apologetic for her partner's abruptness. [7]

"Aw, but we wanna hear what you're up to too, Mom!" Eijirou jokingly complains, grinning.

"She does have a point though," Saburou says. "Ochako, how's your arm? I hope you're getting proper rest so it heals properly."

Katsuki snorts. "As if either of us would let her do anything reckless on our watch."

Ochako shoots him a sharp look hidden behind a smile that says “be glad you're sitting on my injured side, because I would be giving you such a pinch right now if I could”; Katsuki simply smirks back at her. Huffing, she turns back to their families. "I promise I'm getting plenty of rest; all I've been doing the past week is paperwork, which I'm glad I can do on my laptop because it's difficult writing left-handed! I feel so antsy sitting around barely doing anything though, so at my next check-up I'll ask if it's okay to go out for runs or something."

"I understand feeling restless, but please be careful, Ochako," her mother chides worriedly. "We wouldn't want you to get hurt further."

"Agreed!" Ikane cheerfully pipes in. "As amazing as that takedown was, it wouldn't do if you were out of commission for months instead of weeks."

The trio shares a glance at that, which doesn't go unnoticed by Mitsuki. "Now what's that look for? Is that related to whatever news you had to share with us?"

"Oh that's right, you did mention having some sort of good news. Did one of you go up in rank?"

"Did you get new sidekicks?"

"Are you being recruited for another overseas assignment?"

"New sponsors?"

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time," Eijirou laughs, holding up his hands. Once their parents settle a bit, he continues, "It's not anything related to our jobs, though it will kinda affect them."

"Particularly for Ochako here," Katsuki adds, nodding to her.

Confused and curious faces stare at them, bringing Ochako's nerves back, but she steels herself; after all, what do any of them have to be unhappy about? "So, when I had told you that they didn't have anyone with a healing quirk on staff at the hospital to heal my wrist, I wasn't being honest with you. Truthfully, they did have someone there, but because of some tests they ran, they were hesitant to use the quirk on me as they weren't sure how my body would react."

In the corner of her eye, Eijirou's grin gets steadily wider, his hand gripping hers as he tries to contain himself from bouncing in his seat. With a roll of his eyes, Katsuki reaches behind her and gives his arm a gentle swat, but it does nothing to hinder Eijirou's energy. On the screen, Tomoe's eyeing them intensely, to the point that if Ochako wasn't absolutely sure her quirk doesn't work through screens or cameras, she'd almost think that she's reading their auras to try and get a bead on whatever it is they're building up to. Not for the first time, she finds herself glad she's never considered going into business law, as she'd hate to be stared down by Tomoe during negotiations or prosecutions.

"Why is that, Ochako-san?" Masaru inquires. "What did they find?"

"Well, turns out that I—"

"You're going to be grandparents!" Eijirou blurts excitedly, unable to hold himself back any longer. When Ochako and Katsuki both turn to him with fondly exasperated expressions, he at least has enough awareness to look sheepish at his outburst. "Sorry, I just couldn't wait any longer."

All their parents are quiet, faces in various levels of stunned and surprised. It's Saburou that speaks up first. "Pardon me, what?"

Shaking her head at Eijirou, Ochako turns back to the laptop. "Turns out I'm pregnant, nearly fourteen weeks now. We're having a baby!"

"Wait, really?" Mitsuki exclaims, and it seems the Urarakas are about to speak as well, but everyone's interrupted by a joyous scream that makes them all jolt.

On the Kirishima-Keshiki part of the screen, Ikane's leapt from her seat and started hopping around, still squealing happily. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, I'm going to be a grandma! Tomoe we're gonna be grandmas! Oh my god!"

"You really did get your passion from her," Katsuki observes dryly, earning a giggle from Ochako.

"She's going to be like this for a minute or two, so I'm going to mute us until she calms down so the rest of you can talk," Tomoe says, rolling her eyes fondly before Ikane's happy screams go silent, though she's still jumping around on screen.

"Your mother really does love children, doesn't she, Eijirou-kun?" teases Mitsuki.

"Oh you didn't see his reaction when Ochako told us the news, he did pretty much the exact same thing as Ikane."

"Katsukiiiii, they didn't have to know that!" Eijirou complains, flushing a bit.

"You literally just shamelessly blurted out the surprise, you have no right to be embarrassed now!"

"Boys, play nice," Ochako chides playfully, patting them both on the leg.

"While I am happy at this news," Karuko butts in, expression stuck between elated and concerned. "You said you're close to fourteen weeks along, right? That means you've been doing all that strenuous and stressful hero work. Are you sure everything is okay?"

Ochako nods, turning her gaze down and placing her uninjured hand on the bump that's become a little more prominent in the past week but is still easily hidden by her clothing. "I was really worried when I first heard the results for that exact reason, but I got a check-up at the hospital and have had two appointments with my doctor since then, and they've said I've got a healthy and hardy baby growing despite all the factors that could have made it otherwise."

Sound returns to the Kirishima-Keshiki feed, with Tomoe and Ikane settled back in their seats. "Whew, I'm sorry for my outburst, everyone," Ikane says, looking a little out-of-sorts and somewhat teary-eyed, but still positively glowing from joy. "I got a bit overzealous. But still, I'm so happy and proud of you three! To have a baby that's managed to hold on and stay healthy without you being careful means it must be fate for you to have it. Do you have an idea on which of you is the father?"

"No," Ochako's quick to answer before either of her partners could. "And I don't think we'll really know until it's born, but to be completely honest, if possible I don't think I want to know at all, because even if only one of them will be related by blood, both Katsuki and Eijirou will be raising them with me together, and I think that counts just as much if not more than whoever contributed chromosomes." She looks up again, and her eye strays over to Tomoe. There's a subtle expression of understanding and gratitude on her face, and her hand's wandered to grasp Ikane's, and Ochako knows that she sees her point more than any of the other parents on this call. "No matter what, they'll both this baby's father. No ‘real' father or bullshit like that."

Everyone's silent for a moment, stunned by the sudden conviction and seriousness in her words. She knows her partners are both staring at her, but she stays looking at the screen so that she doesn't lose her nerve. It's only when she hears a quiet sniffle beside her that her concentration breaks, but before she can turn to see what's wrong, Eijirou's got his arm around her and pulling her close, face buried in her hair.

"That was so manly," he whispers, voice a little choked up, and he presses a soft kiss to her head. "You're the best, I love you so, so much."

On her other side, Katsuki all but shoves his face into the space between her neck and shoulder, his hand gripping her bicep. He murmurs something, but she doesn't really catch what it is. While she appreciates the sudden affection, she's a bit embarrassed that it's happening with their parents right there, and she's not really sure what's brought it on. "I— Uh— What—" she stammers, stuck between looking for help from their onlookers and avoiding eye contact with them. On screen, her parents and Masaru have politely chosen to turn their attention elsewhere while Mitsuki grins, unbothered by the PDA and in fact looking oddly proud. [8]

"You're right." Ochako turns her attention to Ikane and Tomoe's feed, where Tomoe seems to be holding back giggles at Ochako's predicament but also looking away politely. Ikane, on the other hand, is watching their triad with fondness, gaze soft. "That was rude of me to say, especially when I'm fully aware that love and family aren't defined purely by blood." Her hand finds Tomoe's, and she gives it a gentle squeeze in apology. "You're going to be a wonderful mother, Ochako-chan, and I'm glad my son has such loving partners in you and Katsuki-kun."

Eijirou whines, ears turning pink as he hides his face further. "Mama, don't say things like that, I'm gonna cry more! And then Ochako will start crying because hormones, and I'll feel bad for making her cry, and then Mom might get involved—"

"Hey now."

"—and maybe Katsuki will get overwhelmed—"

"Oi, don't just assume things—!"

"Nothing wrong with some manly happy tears, Ei-chan; I know we taught you that!"

"I know, but it's still a bit embarrassing to do it in front of everyone!"

"Says one of the two currently clinging to me without shame..." Ochako mumbles.

Both Eijirou and Katsuki stiffen, realizing that yes, they're practically smothering Ochako while their parents are watching; Ochako can't move her head much in this position, but she's sure they're both starting to flush. After a moment, the two finally pull away, their heads turned to avoid eye contact with everyone.

Eijirou lets out a sheepish chuckle, ruffling his hair. "S-Sorry about that, I guess we got a bit overwhelmed and forgot about our company."

"No harm, no foul," Saburou assures gently, waving off the apology.

"Besides, it was kind of cute. It's not often I get to see my Katsuki get so emotional," Mitsuki teases.

"Shut the fuck up, old hag," Katsuki grumbles, flushing more and sinking a bit into the couch.

Masaru puts a hand on Mitsuki's shoulder when it seems like she's about to scold their son. "Be nice, you two," he chides, waiting until Mitsuki's hackles lower before looking to Ochako. "Really, we're delighted at this news, and we're happy that you've shared it with us all. I'm sure all of us parents can agree that it's not always an easy road, but we're all here for you if there's anything you should need along the way."

"Of course!" Karuko pipes up. "We'd be happy to give you advice and help whenever you need it. Now, tell us more about everything, like when are you due?"

From there, the conversation flows smoothly, starting at talks about Ochako's pregnancy and what the three of them are to expect in the future before eventually moving on to general life updates such as new projects at work or what their neighbours are up to. As the group call edges towards the two hour mark, everyone notes with amusement that Ochako's eyes have begun to droop. Ochako tries to insist she's fine when Saburou points this out, but before long her head is leaning against Katsuki's shoulder, barely able to stay up. The families all say their goodbyes, promising once again that the three of them are welcome to come to them for anything and kindly demanding to keep updated, then the call ends. Eijirou reaches over to close the laptop, taking it from Ochako's lap as he stands and chuckling when Ochako shifts to sleepily cuddle with Katsuki now that she's free to move.

Katsuki, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, though it does nothing to diminish his affectionate smirk at Ochako's drowsiness. "C'mon Ochako, let's get your ass to bed."

"Nooooo..." Ochako tiredly protests. "'m fine, yer just"—she yawns—"just warm and cozy..."

He snorts. "It was fucking thirty degrees outside today and it's not even that cold in here with aircon, why the hell do you want to be warm?"

"Shhhhh..."

"Alright then." Despite her protesting, he stands, scoops her into his arms with no more than a quiet grunt, then saunters off towards their bedroom even as she half-heartedly wiggles about. "If you behave and go to bed, you can cuddle me all you want."

"But I dun wanna go to sleeeeeeep," Ochako whines, pawing at his chest in a lazy effort to get away.

"Oi, if you don't stop wriggling around, I'm gonna drop you and it'll be completely on purpose," he warns.

"No you won', 'cause 'm pregnant, injured, 'nd cute, 'nd I know ya love me too much to drop me..."

As they enter the room, Katsuki hears Eijirou—who's getting changed into his sleepwear off to the side—laugh at Ochako's sleepy retort, so he levels a frown that says "don't encourage her" at him, even though he knows that she's completely right in that statement. He would maybe consider dropping her on her butt just to show that he won't put up with her being a little shit if she wasn't pregnant, but circumstances are not in his favour, so instead he unceremoniously deposits her on the bed, earning a squeak.

"Uncalled for..." she grumbles, pouting petulantly as she rolls to the side and hugs her pillow. "What if I hurt my wrist more?"

"I know you're not that fragile, Round Face, so don't try to guilt me."

"Eiiiijiiiii, Kacchan's bein' mean to meeee..." Rolling his eyes again, Katsuki goes to change into his own sleeping clothes.

"There, there, if you really don't wanna sleep, you can cuddle with me and watch me play some Street Fighter," Eijirou says as he slides into bed, handheld console in hand. "Do a bit of backseat gaming. How's that sound?" [9]

Ochako hums, her tired brain considering the offer. "...'Kay..."

"But first, you're getting changed out of your day clothes," Katsuki announces, tossing a set of her pyjamas on the bed. When Ochako makes no move to do so, he huffs, then reaches over and pulls her towards him, tugging gently but forcibly at her clothes. "C'mon, you're not going to be comfortable sleeping in those shorts, let alone your bra."

"Whoa, getting frisky, are we?" Eijirou teases, waggling his eyebrows with a sly grin. Katsuki responds by throwing a pillow at Eijirou, who cackles even as it hits him in the face.

Before long, Ochako's changed into her pyjamas and curled into Eijirou's side, her head resting on his chest so she can watch the screen, her cast wrist pillowed carefully. Katsuki slips in on her other side after finishing his nightly routine; instead of cuddling, however, he chooses to sit up against the headboard, reading glasses perched on his nose and a book open on his lap. Eijirou's game and the occasional turning page are the only noises in the room, until barely half an hour later, both boys glance up at a quiet snore, smiling upon seeing Ochako out cold as predicted. Eijirou lets her continue sleeping on him for a little while longer, then carefully shifts her to sleep on her proper pillow, kissing her brow softly. Katsuki sets his book and reading glasses aside as Eijirou gets up to finish his own nightly routine, shuffling down under the covers and putting an arm around Ochako, who shifts closer to his warmth in her sleep. When Eijirou returns to the room ten minutes later, he's greeted with the sight of Katsuki spooned protectively against Ochako and just as asleep as her. While not a new sight, it's one that Eijirou can never get tired of, and he can only imagine how much better it will get as Ochako's belly grows, and then when their new addition comes into the world. Quietly, he takes a picture to appreciate later, then goes to join them on the bed, leaning over Ochako to peck Katsuki on the cheek before turning off the bedside light and settling in to sleep himself.

Footnotes: [1] - This time the doctor is not named for their profession, but still named for their quirk; I had a thought a little while ago that went something along the lines of “you know people probably take on jobs that have nothing to do with their quirk all the time, why don’t we see more of that in the HeroAca world”, and so we have Dr. Houkou. Their quirk basically makes them a human GPS; their name is made up of the kanji for “direction” and “navigation”.

[2] - This is apparently a thing that has happened to some people, believe it or not. Not something that happens often, mind you, but it happens. Factors for why the pregnancies go unnoticed include the person’s weight, the size and position of the baby, and things like spotting being mistaken for light periods. Which is why if you thought I was stretching the truth too much by having Ochako not notice for three months, surprise! Reality is weirder than you think.

[3] - Me: You know Bakugou’s language in Japanese isn’t really full of swearing, it’s just very blunt and rude because Japanese doesn’t have the same equivalents to curse words so the likelihood of a child imitating his speech is unlikely.

Also me: Meh who cares, gonna write it like that anyway, it’s funnier to think about it this way.

[4] - Unlike the doctors I’ve named in this story and Tsuwari, Subspacer is a full-fledged OC of mine! I’ve given careful thought into their quirk, name, and personality, though I’ve been undecided on their age and professional status for a while. I decided to add them in as one of Ochako’s sidekicks for giggles, but if I do get around to writing more of this storyline, you’ll likely be seeing more mention of them!

[5] - Since Ochako’s parents don’t have names (truly a travesty; they’re an important part of her motivation, but they have yet to get profiles like the Bakugous or Jirous? I call unfairness), I decided to give them names. Following Horikoshi’s current naming conventions for parents—which involves separating the kanji in the children’s names and giving at least one to each parent as part of their names (i.e. Katsuki “勝己” separates to get Masaru “勝” and Mitsuki “光己”), the only exception so far being the Midoriyas as Izuku “出久” only shares kanji with his yet-to-be-seen father Hisashi “久”—I took the “茶” and “子” from Ochako’s name and searched through various kanji readings and meanings to get Saburou “茶奉郎” and Karuko “軽子”. The sa in Saburou means “tea” and an alternate reading of the kanji, while bu means “offer, dedicate” and rou means “son” (this same kanji is in Eijirou’s name; it’s a relatively common kanji for boy names). Karu means “light (opposite of heavy)” which is supposed to reference what I can only assume is the family quirk (again, we have no idea what her parents’ quirks are; I DEMAND TO KNOW HORIKOSHI), and then ko means “child” and—similar to rou being common for boy names—is pretty common for girl names.

[6] - I will admit I have no idea how the production of fashion lines work, and unlike many other things, I’m not arsed to research it for a single line of dialogue (I do that enough as it is...I’m very easily distracted) so if I’m horrendously wrong on how fashion designers work in a company, please ignore it.

[7] - I actually have come up with entire profiles for Eijirou’s mothers, but I do not have the room in the notes to go into complete detail on them on here, so feel free to read about them here instead. I unfortunately don’t draw so they don’t have ‘official’ appearances, but I’ve tried to describe them as I see them in my head as best I can.

[8] - I think it’s relatively well-known that PDA in Japan tends to get the side-eye if it’s anything more than holding hands, and while Japan as a culture does seem to be slowly getting laxer about it and this fic is set in the hypothetical future, I doubt there would be significant change, plus I’m sure they’ll still think PDA in front of one’s parents is pretty taboo. Personally I’d feel a bit shy about hugging/cuddling with my S/O in front of my family, but I’m also aroace af so what do I know, hahaha.

[9] - Just imagine the gaming console Eijirou’s using is similar to the Switch, but like...a future version. Maybe it’s not even a Nintendo product, who the heck knows what game technology is gonna be like.

I considered also writing about the trio telling their friends the same week in-universe, but all the ideas I have for that are kinda vague and I’m not really sure how to write the scenes out without seeming repetitious, or how to keep them interesting to read, so I nixed that in favour of ending at this point, especially since I’ve struggled so much to get here. Maybe that’ll be an actual snippet, but no promises, hahaha.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirikacchako #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijirou #uraraka ochako #kiribakuraka #nerufic #once again this is queued up to post during the day

3 notes · View notes

halekingsourwolf · 7 years

Note

so i just discovered your fic list and oh gawd u don't know how happy i am with this discovery. thank u for this. anyway i just finished reading ur alternate meets canon fic and. i want to roll and jump and. oh my gawd i really wanna know what happened next?? do u have some other headcanons/ideas for this? is it ok with u to divulge them? no pressure if u don't want to though! just really wanted to thank u for it! i adore alternates meeting with canons so it was really a joy to read. thank u!

[FIC LINK] [Additional ask]

Oh anon, thank you loved the idea for that fic, had plans for it floating in my head for months before the ask got me to write it down. It was going to be this huge epic, like 100k words probably, switching between Derek and alt!Stiles in the canon universe and Stiles trying to make sense of the warped landscape of the alternate world he’d been thrown into.

Derek’s just standing there in his bedroom doorway, looking softer than Stiles has ever seen him: his hair loose and ungelled, hanging over his forehead.

“Hey Derek,” he says, trying to blink his way back from the visual. “You look…”

“What?” He seems totally lost on what’s making Stiles stare, and after a few seconds Stiles decides not to even try explaining it. You look nice keeps running through his head, but that’s not close enough. It’s not that Derek never looks nice. (Hell, Derek always looks nice, but that’s a whole other issue.) He looks happy sometimes too, and that’s the only other word Stiles can pull up that edges close to accurate. You’re in my bedroom is the third, half-formed option, but that’s happened before too. It’s just something about the combination of those things right now, and the comfortable way he’s standing in the space –– hands not in his pockets, shoulders not slumping in like he’s offended by the general pressure of someone else’s air –– that’s catching Stiles up. And there’s no way to fit any of that into words.

“You’ve got flour on your shirt,” he says instead, and Derek glances down with a soft laugh. Brushes the powder off so it wafts out in a soft cloud between them. The open smile he’s wearing when he looks up again is enough to make Stiles heart tug with how devastatingly dreamlike this all is.

“I was making breakfast,” he answers, and Stiles blinks. Ok, yeah. So, definitely a dream.

I had an entire timeline listed out for the alternate universe –– how things had all gone differently, in a chain reaction starting with Laura surviving Peter’s attack (link to that scene, if you’re interested) and just cascading outward, through the fracturing of Scott and Stiles’ friendship when a very human Scott was lured into the Argent side of the divide (via his interest in Allison and, ironically, concern for Stiles and the dangers of “vicious werewolves”) and Stiles sided with Laura and Derek.

“Wait… I still got with Allison, even if I wasn’t…”

“You two are so together it’s disgusting, alright? Apparently she hit a dog with her car and you guys got to know each other at the animal clinic and right after that you two were like, destined. A week in I could see like… wedding bells and white picket fences going on in your head. It was obnoxious and I was thrilled for you, dude. And then all the hunter crap happened.”

How Laura being alive kept Derek from being quite as dark and broken as he was in the first few seasons, how she made the executive decision to bring the Sheriff in early to earn his trust and support against hunters and supernatural threats alike, and how the town more or less broke down into a cold war zone between the werewolf and hunter sides of the conflict.

The tragedy is that somewhere in all that planning and preparation my detailed notes and timeline completely vanished. I have no idea how. Pages of details and alt!character development and plot planning… and all I have left is a page or so of scenes and stray quote segments, and I just don’t remember enough about the details to make it the way it originally would have. I can tell you a few details, though, and maybe throw in a few of the excerpts too.

I know that it still took a long time for Stiles and Derek to come together. Stiles had sided with the werewolves mainly because Laura had come to the Sheriff (and the Sheriff, remembering the fire and the lost kids the Hales had been when he’d told them the news, and appreciating finally being handed answers to all the mysteries that don’t quite add up in this town, agreed to work with them at least to stop Peter… and then the bond just built from there), and because it had been the right thing to do. And Derek wasn’t shattered the way he was in canon season one maybe, but he was still Derek. Laura’s skeptical, snarky, and untrusting little brother, the cynic to her careful optimism. And Stiles is sarcastic and blunt and, in this version of reality, also hurt and bitter from losing his best friend to the enemy, so he wasn’t exactly super open to bonding with one of the reasons Scott wasn’t around anymore. (It was easier to forgive Laura, who was more sympathetic, but Derek’s general if he sided with hunters he’s not worth having around anyway attitude did not help relations early on.) Stiles and Derek butted heads and snarked constantly at first but their alliance against Peter and the hunters, various life-or-death situations, and Laura’s friendship with the Sheriff (especially when he took her on as a deputy), kept them close, and eventually they fell together just like they’re always going to.

Beacon Hills is a constant danger zone, though, because the hunter threat still hasn’t died. Scott reaches out to Stiles from time to time, earnestly believing every Argent lie that wolves are dangerous monsters and that Stiles is going to get himself killed for being with them. But he’s basically a hunter at this point, believes their philosophy because he’s been on the Argents’ side in every showdown, and honestly thinks Stiles and the Sheriff have been seduced by the Hales’ supernatural wiles (Kate has indoctrinated Scott and Allison with a very different version of her history with Derek) and he needs to do whatever he can to save his former best friend from them.

“Scott’s not a werewolf?”

“What?” Stiles starts to laugh, before his brows arch sharply. “Oh my god, you’re serious. No. No, Scott’s practically married in with the Argents; he’d probably kill himself if he got the bite.” Bitterness floods his features; he fights and fails to smooth it away.

And Stiles is wounded and bitter and cuts off any attempt at contact from his old friend because they’ve both chosen their sides, there’s too much bad blood, and thinking about Scott as anything more than the enemy or the creep who’s allied with killers is too painful at this point.

Lydia’s also in with the Argents, from virtue of being Allison’s best friend and having been smart enough to catch on after a couple months that something decidedly supernatural was going on. She’s a very different Lydia, though, having never had her banshee powers awakened (she was never bitten by Alpha!Peter because… well, there was no Alpha!Peter) and is likely still more similar to her pre-Peter-possession self. I had a lot more details about all of the side characters and how they fit into the developing arc, but most of it’s sadly lost now.

#au meets canon #fic prompt #sort of #fic planning #sterek #i really want to write it but i just...#don't have a firm enough grasp anymore #derek hale #laura hale #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #Anonymous #ask hks

134 notes · View notes

dragonasheswrites-blog · 7 years

Text

Determination of Safety

Papyrus has finally captured a human! Surely, this is the greatest day of his life!

...At least, until the human turns up missing and some uncomfortable truths are revealed.

Click here to read on Archive of Our Own, or read more below the cut.

“SANS!”

“what’s up, bro?”

“I CAN’T FIND THE HUMAN!”

“wha…?”

Sans rolled off the couch. The human...Papyrus had just captured the kid, hadn’t he? What could possibly have happened?

“SANS!”

He followed his brother’s voice outside. Papyrus was visible just inside the shed’s open doorway, pacing back and forth. Behind him was a set of bars far too wide to catch anything smaller than Asgore himself. On the other side was a bowl of dog food; thankfully for the kid’s health, it was untouched.

“SA-oh, there you are. The human is gone!”

“i, uh, see that, paps.” Sans let the door close behind him gently. It had a tendency to stick during Snowdin’s brief warm spells, and it had been unseasonably warm lately. “kid’s so small, she probably slipped right through the bars.”

“I KNOW! I thought humans were MUCH larger! Undyne is always talking about how strong and terrifying humans are...I never thought they could be so SMALL!”

“eh, bad luck, buddy.” He turned to leave.

“NO! WE CAN’T JUST LET THE HUMAN ROAM AROUND! WHAT IF SHE GETS HURT? WHAT IF SHE GETS COLD? WHAT IF…” Papyrus paused dramatically, “SHE GETS HUNGRY???”

“good point. we should…”

“SANS? WHAT IS IT? YOU TRAILED OFF STRANGELY THERE.”

“um...paps? i think you should, uh, see this.”

“WHAT? ...Oh.”

Sans stepped aside so his brother could get a better look at the door. Across the wooden surface, from about Sans’s waist height down to the floor, were marks in sets of three and four. Sans ran his hand over the door, remembering the size of the kid’s hand in his own. The marks...they matched up. Scratches. He knelt down, examining the area around the bottom of the door where the marks were the thickest, and felt his soul lurch when he saw half-dried rusty red streaks.

“paps...did you close the door on the kid?”

“I...I did. I thought...she’s very strong, you know. I thought she’d be fine…”

“just because humans have strong souls doesn’t always mean they have strong bodies. they’re not...not like us.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t think she’d try to get out. I left a note, asking her to stay put. I just wanted her to be safe until Undyne could come collect-”

“oh, paps. no.”

“...What do you mean?”

Sans took a deep breath. “so...i guess undyne never told you what the royal guard does with humans, huh.”

“...Take them to the Capitol?”

“after that.”

“...Take them to Asgore?”

“and what do you think asgore does to them?”

“He, uh, gives them...tea? And asks for their help to break the barrier?”

“nope.”

“Oh.” Papyrus was quiet for a long time, looking at the claw marks of a desperate human child.

Sans felt bad - he’d never wanted to break his little brother’s delusions - but a part of him knew that it wouldn’t matter. A human with that much DETERMINATION would probably cause an anomaly in the timeline. In all likelihood, she could reset on a whim. He’d probably had this conversation a hundred times already.

“He...the king...he takes their souls, doesn’t he? That’s how we got the six human souls.”

“yeah, bro.”

“It hurts them, doesn’t it.”

“yeah, bro.”

“Why...why didn’t anyone tell me? You, Undyne, the dogs...why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“gosh, paps. we...we didn’t want to destroy your dream.”

“My dream...you mean being a Very Famous Royal Guardsman, don’t you? But...but Royal Guards...they help Asgore...they help collect souls, don’t they?”

Sans sighed. “you’re too good for this place, y’know? and then you said you wanted to be in the royal guard. if you weren’t as strong as you are, well, that would be easy, wouldn’t it? and you weren’t, at first. but you kept training and training, becoming almost as strong as undyne. she couldn’t keep giving you excuses when you were stronger than half the guard. and if she told you that all that work was going to go to waste? that it was all to get a job that you wouldn’t like in the first place? well...no one wanted to do that.”

“I just...I wish someone had told me. I should have realized. I...I really am as stupid as Dad always said I was-”

“D O N ‘ T .”

“-aren’t I? Sans? What’s...what’s wrong?”

Sans felt like his bones were frozen together. He hadn’t heard Papyrus so much as reference their father in passing since The Accident. The thought that his baby brother still remembered their father - remembered the threats, the insults, the experiments - it was too much to process.

So Sans did what he did best: he ignored it.

“...Sans? Your magic is doing funny things and I’m not sure that’s safe to do in such a small area and-”

“heh. sorry, paps. that better?”

“...Yes. Though that’s a bit scary that you can give off that much magic...and then turn it off on a whim…”

“sorry. say, we’d better find the kid, huh?”

“RIGHT! FEAR NOT, BROTHER! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL FIND THE HUMAN BEFORE ANY HARM BEFALLS HER! I SHALL NOT REST UNTIL SHE IS SAFE IN THE CAPTURE ZONE ONCE MORE! ...AND MY BROTHER HAS DISAPPEARED ON ME! AGAIN! CURSE THESE TIME-SPACE SHENANIGANS!”

On the roof of the shed, Sans suppressed a chuckle. He didn’t see the kid, but...ah, there. Footprints.

He took another shortcut into the forest, careful to stay out of sight. As one of the few people in the Underground with real, factual knowledge of humans, he was all too aware of the danger of an unstable human.

He didn’t see any dust - thank the stars for small miracles - but the kid’s footsteps were staggering in circles. She hadn’t been gone all that long but she was making good time for someone so small. He wished he knew where she was heading; then he could just take a shortcut there.

...actually, where WOULD a scared kid go if she thought everyone was out to get her?

Probably not anywhere in Snowdin, really. The monsters were friendly, sure, but not overly welcoming to outsiders. But…

...But the kid had come from the Ruins. Sans had disabled Alphys’s camera at the entrance to the Ruins years ago to keep his conversations with his joke partner private. That meant he couldn’t use Papyrus’s computer to hack into the security system and check.

Instead, Sans took a shortcut to his favorite human-watching post - the one by the now-broken branch on the path - and ran the rest of the way to the Ruins. Sure enough, the kid was almost to the door, shivering and crying. He snuck through the bushes until he was close enough to hear…

“S-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry Mom…”

...what?

The kid crumpled into a ball next to the door. “I should never have left, Mom. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...and I know you told me never to come back; I do understand, I promise, but...but I don’t think I’m DETERMINED enough to do this just yet.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t bother you, I promise; I won’t even ask to c-come inside, even though it’s c-cold, but...but please? Won’t you say something? Mom? P-please? I’m scared...I’m scared...I’m scared …”

Sans sighed and left his hiding place under the bush, taking care to make enough noise to be heard. Sure enough, the kid tensed when she heard him coming. She tried to dry her tears and the weird gunk dripping from her nose on her sleeve.

“that’s pretty gross, kid. here.” He pulled out a crumpled wad of tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. She obligingly dried herself off on the soft paper and handed it back.

Sans shuddered at the feeling of thin, wet paper between his phalanges. Ugh...and Papyrus called him slimey…

“Thanks.” She smiled up at him, and he felt something warm in his soul. It was like when Papyrus smiled. He felt himself smiling back - for real, and not just because his mouth was shaped that way.

“eh, no problem kid. so...i couldn’t help but overhear. your mom lives in there?” The only person in the Ruins Sans had ever talked to was the joke lady. He didn’t know much about her...but she had made him promise to protect any human who got past the door.

“Y-yeah. Well...she said I could call her Mom. I didn’t...didn’t even know her that long, but she was...just…so nice . She showed me all about the Ruins, and she gave me hugs, and she made me p-pie...and she protected m-me…”

The kid started crying again, so Sans gave her back the wet tissue. She dried herself back off as best she could, then held it out to him. “um...why don’t you keep it? seems like you need it more than i do.”

She crumpled it into a ball in her hand.

“and, uh...listen. i-i’m sorry. i should’ve remembered that the shed door sticks sometimes. i didn’t realize you’d be trapped there.”

“But…Papyrus was trying to trap me. Wasn’t he?”

“well...yeah. y’see, the thing about papyrus is that he always thinks the best of people. monsters, humans, fictional characters...he always believes in the good in everyone. what i’m trying to say is that he didn’t even think that the royal guard, or undyne, or asgore would really hurt you. it never crossed his mind.”

“What? Really?”

“i asked him before i came to find you, and apparently he thought asgore would just sit you down and feed you tea.”

The kid giggled. “Tea? Why tea?”

“dunno. guy likes the stuff, i guess. he feeds it to every monster he comes across. with cookies, if he’s feeling adventurous.”

“But...not humans?”

“kid...did your, uh, mom tell you anything about us? about why we’re trapped down here?”

“Not really. She just said that Asgore would kill me if I left the Ruins. What does that have to do with the other monsters?”

“just...listen, okay? sheesh, always thought undyne would give this talk. she sure practices it enough. okay. so, a long time ago, humans and monsters lived on the surface together. about two hundred years ago, humans and monsters fought each other because both sides were afraid of each other...for various reasons.

“the humans won, and they stuck us down here. seven powerful humans put up a magic barrier to keep us here, so none of us can leave.

“now, we’ve studied the barrier...like, a lot . there’s a lot of theories about what could possibly break the barrier, but the one thing we know for sure that would work is the power of seven human souls.”

The kid sniffed, drying her nose on the now-soaked tissue. “Let me guess: I’m the seventh human.”

“well...eighth, if you want to get technical, but yeah. king asgore has collected six human souls.”

“Six...so that’s why Mom was so sad.”

“whaddaya mean?”

“She said - right before I left - that she was just trying to keep me safe. She said that...that she couldn’t even k-keep one child safe. I...I just left her…”

“hey, hey, kid...look, I don’t know the whole story, but it sounds like you weren’t trying to hurt your mom, right?”

“Right…”

“and if you could, you’d make her happy, right?”

“Right.”

“so chin up, eh? you came out here for a reason. i have my suspicions, but you can keep that bit to yourself, okay? just keep focused, do what you gotta do, and stay determined. who knows? maybe you’ll see her again.”

“R-really?”

“sure! why not? the underground’s a small place. i mean, no one enters or leaves the ruins - ever - but you came out of the ruins. anything’s possible!”

The kid smiled, then laughed.

“h-hey! i haven’t even started with the jokes! if i said something pun-intentionally funny, you’ve gotta throw me a bone-”

She did. Or, rather, she threw her whole skeleton at him. Sans barely had time to brace himself for the impact.

“Thanks, Sans,” she said.

“no problem…” He was going to respond with her name, but realized, “hey, i never caught your name. i, heh, i guess i can’t just keep calling you ‘kid,’ huh?”

She pulled away and leaned back against the door. “F-frisk.”

“frisk?”

“That’s my name. Frisk.”

“oh! hey! i mean, it’s not freestyle, but it’s a cool name nonetheless.”

“Freestyle? What does that mean?”

“oh, it’s, uh, it’s a skeleton thing. we’re named after fonts. like, computer fonts? my great-aunt on my mother’s side was named freestyle. wacky lady. paps takes after her.”

“That’s...pretty cool, actually.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but was interrupted by a hiccup and a sneeze in rapid succession.

“heeey...why don’t we get you somewhere warm?”

The kid - Frisk - shivered. “I...I really, really don’t want to go back into the shed...please? Please don’t make me go back in there?”

“i won’t, i won’t. c’mere, kid. i gotcha. why don’t i take you back to my place? paps would be happy to see that you’re safe. he was almost more scared than i was when you went missing.”

Frisk looked like she wanted to refuse, like she wanted to sit by this door - the last link she had to her ‘Mom’ - until she froze solid. Sans was preparing to physically drag her away when she stepped forward and buried her face back into his jacket. Sans pointedly ignored the nose gunk getting onto his hood. He’d wash it later...or, at least, leave it on the ground someplace where Paps would find it and stick it in the wash. He wrapped his arms around Frisk’s shoulders - almost as bony as his, he noted with concern - and teleported them straight to his living room.

Almost immediately, Frisk jumped back. Luckily, she jumped right onto the couch. “W-what...what? How? What was that?”

“just a shortcut. hey, do you mind spaghetti?”

“Shortcut? Did we just...just bloop right from the Ruins to...where are we? Is this...”

“AHA! WELCOME, HUMAN, TO SCENIC...MY HOUSE!”

“AAAAH!” Screamed Frisk, not expecting the yelling right in her ear. Papyrus joined in after a moment, surprised by the sudden screaming.

Sans waited for them to finish.

“so...paps, this is frisk the human. frisk, you’ve already been introduced to my brother, papyrus the skeleton.”

“IT’S GREAT TO MEET YOU, HUMAN FRISK! I WAS WORRIED THAT YOU HAD BECOME A SNOW- HU MAN !”

Sans snorted. Frisk giggled a little. “I-I’m fine now, Papyrus. I was just...really, really scared in the shed.”

Papyrus wilted visibly. “I am sorry, Human Frisk. I did not intend to distress you. I also did not intend to assist in the dastardly plan to steal your soul. I did not realize that such a thing was going to happen. BUT! I am sure if you meet the other Royal Guards, and Undyne, and Asgore, that they will all be your friends, too!”

“Are...we friends again, Papyrus?”

“OF C...oh.”

Sans watched his brother. He wasn’t sure what had happened - Papyrus was quick to declare friendship with anyone and everyone - so his hesitation was worrying.

Frisk sniffed. “Because you said we c-couldn’t be friends, since I’m human…”

Papyrus stood up tall, straightened his shoulders, and dragged Frisk into a hug. Her feet dangled. “Human Frisk...I am sorry. It is not often that the Great Papyrus is wrong, but it was very wrong of me to say that I could not be friends with you. It will be a challenge, but no challenge is too GREAT or too small for me! Will... can you forgive me?”

Frisk wrapped both arms around Papyrus’s shoulders and both legs around his spine. “I...I forgive you, Papyrus. Thanks for being my friend.”

“NYEH-HEH-HEH! SANS, DID YOU HEAR! I MADE MY FIRST HUMAN FRIEND!”

“pretty cool, paps.”

“WE NEED TO FIND YOU A HUMAN FRIEND AS WELL!”

“nah, that’s…”

Frisk pulled herself up and smiled at Sans over Papyrus’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m friends with Sans too. He’s...he helped me out a lot.”

“YOU ARE FRIENDS WITH BOTH OF US??? THAT’S AMAZING!! THIS CALLS FOR A CELEBRATION!”

“papyrus, no…”

“PAPYRUS, YES! SPAGHETTI TIME!”

Papyrus tossed Frisk back onto the couch and heaved Sans up beside her. Sans watched his brother disappear into the kitchen, eye sockets narrowed in dread. “kid...i’m so sorry. if things get bad, i’ll hold him off and you can make a break for waterfall.”

Frisk giggled into her sleeves.

“oh, you think i’m kidding, do ya?” He wiggled his fingers in the direction of her stomach, which only made her laugh harder.

She wasn’t laughing when Papyrus called them to the table, bedecked with plates of soggy noodles and pungent sauce. “HUMAN! BROTHER! BEHOLD MY BEST SPAGHETTI YET!”

“g-great job, bro.” Sans was grateful that his biology lacked taste buds. Was that...glitter on top?

The kid - to her credit - didn’t react to the spaghetti. At all. Her eyes were forced into thin slits and her mouth was drawn in a neutral line. She looked...DETERMINED.

With the air of one about to engage in battle, Frisk grabbed her fork, twirled a few noodles around it, and stabbed a meatball. Her mouth opened wider than Sans thought possible and the food disappeared into it. The fork dropped to the table a moment later.

Papyrus and Sans both watched with bated breath, for very different reasons.

sorry, lady, i think i got your kid poisoned by poorly cooked pasta...

She swallowed. She breathed out, hard, through her nose. Then...she beamed at Papyrus, giving him two thumbs up.

“SANS! SANS! THE HUMAN LIKES MY SPAGHETTI!”

The kid had tears in the corners of her eyes.

“yeah! great job, paps!”

Sans polished off his plate, shooting worried glances at Frisk periodically. She wolfed down her food faster than anyone he’d ever seen who wasn’t actually a wolf, but she seemed...surprisingly okay. It was a little terrifying.

There were, it seemed, no limits to a human’s DETERMINATION.

That was good. She’d need it. Not everyone was as nice as Papyrus...

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Oneshot #Frisk #Sans #Papyrus #Mentions of sad Frisk backstory #Papyrus is willingly ignorant #Sans...isn't #Frisk has an abundance of DETERMINATION

1 note · View note

lesbrarians · 8 years

Text

Junkrat/Roadhog:: Origins Ch. 14

Title: Origins

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary: The origins of Junkrat and Roadhog. Junkrat finds a mysterious treasure in the nuclear wasteland of the Australian Outback and quickly finds himself a target. When a hitman is sent to kill him, he convinces the man to become his personal bodyguard in exchange for half the spoils. Their ensuing crime spree could be legendary – if they can get over the initial bad blood between them. Can also be found on AO3 if you prefer reading it there!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen

---

His first night in prison wasn’t a particularly restful one. He didn’t mind Thatcher’s snoring, used to the sounds of Roadhog’s mask at night. He did mind being woken by the sound of another inmate screaming bloody murder, and half of the block yelling at the offender to shut up.

He hung his head off the edge of his bed to look at Thatcher upside-down. “Does that happen often?” he blearily asked.

“You get used to it.”

Junkrat groaned and flopped back down on his bed. He was exhausted by the time breakfast rolled around, two trays of unidentifiable brown slop labeled “oatmeal” pushed through the slot in their cell door. He asked the CO if he could get a commissary request form and was told, “Maybe, if I don’t have to print more out.”

He went back to bed. There wasn’t much else to do if he didn’t have anything to tinker around with, and Thatcher was loathe to relinquish his TV -- he did offer his books, but Junkrat wasn’t the biggest fan of reading. It was difficult for him to keep the words in his head, and if it didn’t have to do with mechanical engineering, he wasn’t interested enough to put in the effort. His recreational enjoyment of books was limited to using them for target practice.

He was beyond relieved when their recreational hour rolled around, and he was the first to sprint out when the cell doors slid open with a shout of “Roadhog!”

Maynard growled at him as he passed, and Junkrat lowered his voice. He’d gotten a good look at the prisoner who had taken an immediate dislike to him, as his solitary hour outside his cell was directly prior to that of the rest of the block. He’d opted to spend it watching TV, which he presumably didn’t have in his own cell due to revoked privileges, and four guards had marched him past Junkrat’s cell. Maynard looked like a man who belonged in prison, roughly Junkrat’s height but at least twice his weight in solid muscle, with a scarred face twisted in a permanent scowl. Junkrat made a mental note to try and stay on his good side.

His face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Roadhog. He liked to think that Roadhog was just as happy to see him and have the ability to talk unobstructed.

“They let ya keep yer gas mask!” Junkrat exclaimed, looking Roadhog up and down. He had shrugged off the upper half of his jumpsuit to reveal the white t-shirt underneath, tying the loose arms of the coveralls around his waist. The shirt rode up slightly around his belly, showing a sliver of his intricate tattoo.

“It’s for health purposes. I said I’d sue them if they took it from me. Still had to take it off to be searched, though.”

“Better than havin’ to take it off permanently, though,” Junkrat reasoned. “Oh, y’have no idea how happy I am to see ya, mate -- yer a good kinda bloke, not like the rest of these prison wankers.”

This got the attention of some of the nearby prisoners, who bristled, but Junkrat was oblivious to them.

Roadhog exhaled, the sound wheezing through his gas mask. “Watch what you say around here. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t make yourself a target.”

“When have I ever done anything stupid?”

“You fired a grenade in a bottle-o.”

Junkrat paused. “Good point.” So maybe he didn’t always think things through before he did them. “Okay, I’ll watch me mouth.” They looked for a place to sit where they could talk freely. The TV area was taken over by the rest of the inmates, tensions high over who had control of the remote. While one prisoner was touting the merits of soap operas, another was making a strong case for the food network.

They decided to steer clear of that particular shitshow and found a corner to loiter in outside of the entrance to the shower area.

“Request to have Ava put on your list for phone calls and visitors,” Roadhog said when they were alone. “I am. But it doesn’t hurt to have backup. She can wire us our money.”

“Brill,” Junkrat said. “I need supplies, and Thatcher says there’s electronics in the commissary. Which, y’know me, is roight up my alley.”

“I know,” Roadhog said, a hint of a smirk in his voice.

“Anyways,” Junkrat said. “How ya coping with solitary? I’m goin’ stir crazy bein’ locked up, and I have a cellmate! Don’t know how yer dealin’.”

“I’m used to it,” Roadhog replied. Junkrat’s first thought was that’s sad, then that’s me.

“Well, not anymore! You and me, we had a pretty nice non-solitary thing going there. Too bad that got all stuffed up. I miss havin’ ya around, ya big lug.”

Roadhog didn’t echo the sentiment and simply said, “Whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” Junkrat admitted. “Shouldn’t’ve raided the bottle-o. Shouldn’t’ve let ya get caught. Shouldn’t’ve fucked up the rescue bit.”

“Shouldn’t’ve pleaded guilty.”

“That again? Come on, ya know it was the roight thing to do! There were what, five eyewitnesses? Who were all cops. If we pleaded not guilty, it’d have been months of a trial that would have ended with us as lifers anyway.”

Roadhog sighed heavily. “You’re right.”

“I’m always roight!”

Roadhog shoved him, and they were promptly reprimanded by the lingering CO for violent behavior.

Their hour together went by too fast, and Junkrat was disappointed to return back to his cell. He submitted the visitor request form the next time the CO came around and was informed that any phone calls he wanted to make would have to come out of his recreation hour. If he got his social privileges taken away, his phone privileges would similarly be revoked.

It was good motivation to behave.

Junkrat wasn’t sure what the exact timeline was for phone numbers being approved, but he hoped that within a few days, he and Roadhog would be able to call Ava and get some funds in their accounts. He didn’t know what, exactly, he would have access to in the commissary, but at least he could start dreaming up potential devices. He was skilled at working with salvaged parts; he could absolutely weaponise anything he could dismantle. He pulled out a handful of paper towels from the dispenser by their cell’s sink and used the blunt tip of his borrowed pencil to start sketching.

He was distracted by a scraping sound and looked up to find Thatcher working a brick out of the masonry of the wall. He took out a battered pack of cigarettes, which Junkrat was almost certain was not available in the commissary.

"What?" Thatcher said when he caught his eye, tone accusatory. "Don't go dobbing on me, or I’m gonna fucking well make you pay."

“What, ya think I’m gonna tell the screws?” Junkrat touched his heart, offended at the mere insinuation that he would snitch. “I’m no cobber dobber. I won’t if you don’t if I go doin’ anythin’ ‘illegal’ later.”

“Deal.” Thatcher slipped a cigarette into his pocket, put the package back into its hidey hole, and sealed the brick back up with a caulk of toothpaste mixed with supplement powder to avoid detection.

That night, Junkrat woke up around 7:00 at the screeching sound of a cell door opening. Curious, he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, strapped on his peg leg, and hopped out of bed. He pressed up against the window of their cell and watched as one of the inmates on their block, a meaty kind of man of average height, was escorted past.

“Where's he goin’?” Junkrat asked Thatcher.

Thatcher rolled over in his bunk. “Work. That lucky sonovabitch has a job, he gets to leave Mondays and Fridays to go to the workshop. He gets some privileges what the gen pop has, 'cause he's been here so long and has 'turned a new leaf.’” Thatcher’s tone was disdainful; he clearly didn’t believe that there was any possible way for a convicted felon, himself included, to turn over a new leaf.

At breakfast, Junkrat asked again about the phone list.

“Fer chrissakes, Fawkes, you gave it to me last night!”

“I know, but I need to call my mate and get cash in my account for the commissary! What, ya think I can survive off this shit yer feedin’ us?” Too late, he realised that it might not be the best idea to insult the food that the officer was handing him if he wanted his paperwork to be processed speedily.

Luckily, the CO seemed aware that the prison-grade food was barely edible, but he didn’t find Junkrat’s tone endearing. “Watch your fucking tongue, Fawkes, you’re on thin ice. Commissary, phone calls? Privileges. Privileges you convicts are lucky to have with the things you’ve done.”

“Sorry, sir," Junkrat said, placing extra emphasis on the syllable. He had intended it to be droll, but the sarcasm flew right over the officer’s head, who only heard the term of respect and used it to fuel his inflated ego.

“I’ll look at it today,” the CO said.

Junkrat grinned. “Ta!”

He busied himself with drawing a map of what he remembered of the prison layout that he traversed through the previous day. Thatcher helped him fill in the blanks where his brain failed him.

"Been put in the slot more than once," he said. "I've got a pretty good idea." He pointed out the various guard stations, and Junkrat marked them with angry smiley faces. "What's the point of this, anyway?"

Junkrat shrugged. "S'just good to know." He evaded the question. "I like knowin' my surroundings."

Thatcher didn't press further. Junkrat had the impression that he just thought he was a weird kook with no explanation for half the things he did, which wasn't exactly an inaccurate assessment.

He could tell that they were nearing their recreation hour when one of the inmates at the end of the catwalk shouted, "Po-lice!" A handful of correctional officers used their IDs to buzz into the block and approached Maynard's cell.

"Alright, Maynard," one of the guards said. The footsteps stopped, the four officers standing outside of the cell with Maynard's shackles clinking in their hands. "Hands out. Let's get a move on."

Junkrat couldn't see exactly what happened from the view of his cell; he just knew that after Maynard’s cell door slid open, someone was yelling, "Shank! He's got a shank!" and there was a massive flurry of activity.

The block was split into factions: half of the inmates were shouting encouragement to Maynard and egging him on, while the rest of the inmates were quiet, trying to get a better look at what was happening.

“Why don’t they just shoot him?” Junkrat whispered to Thatcher.

“COs don’t carry firearms,” Thatcher replied. “There’s been too many incidents, it’s easy to get your hands on your CO’s gun if you try hard enough.”

Junkrat filed away this tidbit of information for later.

In a matter of minutes, Maynard was brutally subdued and restrained so tightly that he could barely walk, his shiv confiscated. "Take him to Seg," one of the COs instructed, reaching for his radio to report the disturbance. "See if there's a way we can get an opening in Supermax, I've had it up to here with this asshole. Fucking menace to us all."

A murmur of discontent rippled throughout the unit when the door to the block shut behind Maynard and the guards. "I was hoping he would have at least wounded one of them," Junkrat overheard one of the inmates saying.

"The bloody bastard goes to all the trouble of making a shank, then he can't even get a stab in? Fucking useless."

The staff seemed reluctant to give the rest of the block their recreational hour after the incident with Maynard, but they finally acquiesced after much complaining and wheedling from the various inmates who were itching to get out of the confined space they called home. It was possible that they were concerned about inciting a riot if they denied a group of tensed up convicts their daily routine. Junkrat and Roadhog wandered into the living area, where Junkrat flopped down on the worn sofa.

He was seated for all of two seconds before someone -- the man who screamed in the dead of night, Junkrat thought -- growled at him, "You're in my spot."

Junkrat quickly stood up, not wanting to cause another disturbance, but he couldn't help but point out, "How can it be yer spot? This is communal, mate! I have just as much a roight to this couch as you do, and I'll be damned if I don't fight ya for it--"

Roadhog steered him away before he got too fired up. "Let it go. You’re rustling feathers."

Junkrat huffed and shrugged Roadhog's hand off his shoulder. "Fine. But I'm sitting on that couch tomorrow, mark my words." He found a seat at the chess table instead, which was missing too many pieces to be considered truly functional. Some of the remaining pieces were replaced by hunks of soap that had been carved by some illegal sharp object. You had to admire the ingenuity. "Anyways. Good lunch? I can't even tell what's meat or not, I dunno how yer copin' with it."

"It's hard. I miss making my own breakfast." Roadhog sighed.

"I miss me tire." Junkrat stared off into the distance, emotion welling up in his eyes. "I've gotta get it back, Roadhog.

"We'll get you a new tire when we get out of here," Roadhog told him.

"No." Junkrat shook his head vigorously. "I need that one!"

Roadhog exhaled, and Junkrat had the impression that he thought he was just being petulant. "Ya don't understand, mate! I got things in there. Important things." He lowered his voice to a hush, so that Roadhog had to lean in to hear him. "Me treasure, Roadhog. It's in the tire."

Roadhog stared at him for a long, silent moment. "You kept your treasure," he finally said, "in your tire. That is a motorised bomb."

"Yeah!"

"Do you even think before you do these things?"

"No," Junkrat admitted. "But it wasn't a bad idea! I always have it on me, so I'm not gonna lose it, like I could if I buried it somewhere. I get to guard it, and I'm the only one I can trust to keep it safe. Minus you," he added. "But really, yer keepin' me safe, not the treasure."

"It was a stupid idea, and you couldn't keep it safe, because it's probably in an evidence locker somewhere now. How is it not destroyed yet?"

Junkrat tapped his temple. "That's the beauty of it, innit? Got it encased in an old mine, tucked away nice and tight and sealed with high grade rubber. I've tested it out and everythin'. The bomb doesn't blow up the tire, and I've taken protective measures with it. It's ingenious."

"Insane, more like. What is it?"

Junkrat waved the question away with one airy hand. "Details, details. It don't matter if I don't have it anyway. That's our first order of business when we get out. Get me tire back, then catch meself a nice dinner, because I can find better food than whoever cooks this shit."

When dinner was brought around, the CO who slid the tray of mystery meat and withered vegetables through the slot informed Junkrat that he had approved his phone list, it was processing through the director, and that he should be able to make a collect call within a day or two.

---

Junkrat didn’t have the luxury of privacy when making his phone call. He made a beeline for the phone as soon as he received confirmation that he could make phone calls and was released from his cell for the recreation hour, but a guard stood by his side the whole while.

“Do ya really gotta stand here?” he asked after a message played informing him that this call will be recorded. “It’s not like I can hide anythin’ from you, this shit’s bein’ recorded.”

“Shut up and make your call,” the guard replied. "You have eight minutes."

"Ava!" Junkrat exclaimed when his call was picked up. "Oh, am I glad to hear yer voice, doc."

"Junkrat? I heard about you and Roadhog getting sentenced -- pretty stupid thing you guys did. How you holding up behind bars?"

Junkrat's eyes darted over to the correctional officer looming next to him. "Eh, can't complain. But listen, I wanna make use of this commissary they've got goin' on in here. My cellie won't share his TV, and I could use some basic creature comforts, y'know. Any way ya can wire over some cash to me? And Roadhog, I dunno if he'll be able to call ya, but I'm sure the big lug could use some commissary food."

"Yeah, I can't imagine he's doing too well on a prison diet," Ava mused. "I bet it's mostly meat based, isn't it?"

Junkrat laughed. "If ya can call it meat, yeah."

"Well hey, sure, I'll send you both some funds! I'll give the prison a ring, see how I can get that shit transferred to your accounts. And listen, I want to visit, if you have visitation rights."

Junkrat was touched. "Can't say it wouldn't be nice to have the company of someone who's not a convicted criminal. Give it a few weeks, let us get settled in, then swing by when ya get a chance?"

"Sure thing. Take it easy, Junkrat, and give Roadhog my best. Tell him to ring me when he can, yeah?"

"Gotcha." Junkrat hung up and turned to the guard. "There. Get yer jollies listening in?" He shook his head and slunk off to join Roadhog. "Ava says hi," he informed him. "She's gonna send us some cash soon as she can, says y'should call her."

There was a frown to Roadhog's voice. "I can't. Haven't been approved yet."

Junkrat's eyebrows shot up. "Really? That's a puzzler, I thought if I got mine processed, you'd have too. S'probably 'cause CO Smith moved the process along roight quick when I asked. He likes me."

"I can't imagine why."

"Oi! Watch it, I'm a fine specimen of nature, mate -- everyone likes me!"

"I don't," one of the inmates passing by said. "You're a real piece of work."

"Everyone except that bloke!" Junkrat said, modifying his answer. “And no one cares about his opinion!”

Roadhog shook his head. "This is why people don't like you."

"Ah, but you do, dontcha, 'Hog?" Junkrat elbowed Roadhog.

"Don't know why I do. I ask myself that question every day."

Junkrat grinned from ear to ear. All slights aside, Roadhog admitted to liking him, and that was all it took to make his day.

#junkrat #roadhog #roadrat #overwatch #nanowrimo 2016 #my fanfiction #origins

7 notes · View notes