#don’t come at me for the options I listed I am a scientist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sigmaleph · 3 years

Text

@serinemolecule asked me for hot takes on this 2006 article on Argentinian food, which I am now reorganising into a proper post for y'all's consumption. you're welcome.

First of all: the titular thesis that you should eat two steaks a day. I am forced to clarify that as 'should's go you should eat zero steaks a day, but this is ethical rather dietary advice and I don't follow it as well as I should, so, y'know. I would engage with this on the level it was stated, but I actually have no opinion on it. Moving on...

Argentine beef really is extraordinary. Almost all of this has to do with how the cows are raised. There are no factory feedlots in Argentina; the animals still eat pampas grass their whole lives, in open pasture, and not the chicken droppings and feathers mixed with corn that pass for animal feed in the United States.

This is, as it happens, completely false. There absolutely is plenty of feedlot beef being eaten in Argentina, and this was also the case back when this article was written. There's grass-fed beef too, and maybe the writer structured their life around only eating those, but the claim that there are no feedlots is just not true.

if you let them make the call, you get a two-inch thick of meat[...]The Argentine steak stands alone, towering three inches over the plate,[...]This gorgeous specimen is called a lomito; it's a standard lunchtime steak, clearly so thin that the Argentines are embarrassed to send it out into the world without a protective wrapping of ham and cheese

I have no idea what their obsession with steak thickness is; meat exists at various levels of thick and thin to suit various tastes. If you like yours thick that's fine but quit the projecting, y'know.

As you might expect, vegetarians will have a somewhat rough time here. For most people in Argentina, a vegetarian is something you eat. One's diet will accordingly lean heavily on pastas, gnocchi, salads, and (for the less squeamish ) fish. Vegans will not survive in Argentina.

This is, unfortunately, true (well, hyperbole, but). Rinna had a rather bad time trying to find vegan food when fae came over for visits. The situation is improving slowly, at least.

The homemade cookies bought in the minimarket downstairs taste of steak. [picture of alfajores de maicena[

Jesus. Find somewhere better to buy your snacks.

It should be no surprise that the land of beef also has excellent milk and butter. The milk comes in plastic bags that would give any American marketing department a heart attack. They proudly advertise "GUARANTEED 100% BRUCELLOSIS AND HOOF-AND-MOUTH FREE". One brand even brags that its bacteria count never exceeds 100,000 per mL, and prints daily statistics to prove it (only 82,000 bacteria/mL on Monday! mmm!).

Are you under the impression American milk doesn't contain bacteria and that when it spoils it's because of the molecules' sheer willpower? Or do you just object to the reminder that they exist?

This menu is delicious, but with rare exceptions it is all you are going to get. People coming for more than a few weeks are advised to bring a discreet bottle of Tabasco sauce.

Eat at better restaurants.

With any order from the master menu comes the Bread Basket, which should be treated as you would treat a basket of wax fruit, that is, as a purely decorative ornament. It is considered bad form to actually eat anything from Bread Basket

What are you talking about. Do all your dining companions just suck, eat some bread.

Dulce de leche is a culinary cry for help. It says "save us, we are baffled and alone in the kitchen, we don't know what to do for dessert and we're going to boil condensed milk and sugar together until help arrives". This cloying dessert tar is so impossibly sweet that you wish you were ten years old again, just so you could actually enjoy it. It is everywhere. There is a special dulce de leche shelf in the supermarket dairy case, and the containers go up to a liter in size. Even the churros are stuffed with it - the churros, Montresor!

It is rare that I feel insulted for the sake of my country, but this? How dare you.

Yes, of course we fill churros with dulce de leche; the real question is why anyone doesn't, short of dietary restrictions. Finding out that people do otherwise was like learning that in other countries, "sandwich" just means two slices of bread. Live a little. Eat a real godsdamned churro.

I spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out how meals work in Argentina, and they remain a mystery to me. Dinner is clear enough: people tend to go to restaurants beginning at ten o'clock (for those with small children), with the main rush around eleven, and dinner is pretty much over at one or so in the morning. And breakfast - or rather, its absence - follows as a logical consequence of eating a steak the size of a beagle at midnight. But I have yet to figure out whether people eat some kind of meal in the afternoon, and if so, when.

At... noon? Like. We eat lunch. Usually somewhere around 12:00. I am eating lunch right now, and I have done so essentially every day of my life. This is just baffling.

I've come to think the culprit in the missing Argentine lunch scene is yerba mate.

how.

Where the ignorant foreigner may see just another kind of herbal tea (yerba mate is a very unassuming shrub that grows in the northern parts of the country) the Argentine sees a taste treat of unimaginable subtlety, and a tonic for all his problems. The Wikipedia article on proper mate preparation should give you a warning of the level of obsessiveness attainable here (the Urugayans are even worse). To the virgin palate, mate tastes like green tea mixed with grass clippings. The beverage is traditionally drunk out of a little gourd, through a metal straw called a bombilla, with hot (but not boiling!!) water poured into it (without wetting the surface!! clockwise!!) from a thermos.

Yeah, this is accurate. Well, not the clockwise part, never heard anyone complain about that and I can't imagine it mattering.

What distinguishes mate from coffee and tea is the social context - two or more people share a gourd, with a designated pourer in charge of refilling it with hot water after each turn. The ritual is low-fuss but indispensible. You can buy mate gourds and thermoses in any grocery store, and get your thermos filled with hot water at any convenience store or gas station, but you will never see mate served in restaurants or sold in little disposable paper gourds, to go. it's not that people refuse to drink mate alone - anyone working a solitary shift will have a gourd in hand - but that the concept of being served mate by someone who does not share it with you seems impossible.

This is also true. Attempts have been made to sell to-go mate but it's never very popular, the social ritual is important. Also unfortunately a disease vector, I haven't had any mate in a year and a half.

Mate aficionados will tell you that mate contains a special compound, mateine, that serves as a tonic and mild stimulant, promoting alertness without making it hard to sleep, reducing fatigue and appetite, helping the digestion and serving as a mild diuretic. Scientists will tell you that mateine bears a suspicious resemblance to a chemical called caffeine. Mate aficionados will then grow indignant, explaining that mateine is really a stereoisomer (mirror image) of caffeine, with different effects, which will in turn irritate the scientists, who will snap that caffeine doesn't have a chiral center, so it can't have a distinguishable mirror image, and why don't the mate aficionados just put a sock in it.

The first part of this is true; some people definitely think "mateine" is different from caffeine and it absolutely isn't. Never heard the stereoisomer claim before but googling it does confirm some people say so.

still have no idea what any of this has to do with lunch, though. I promise you nobody skips lunch because mate is just too filling.

The wine here is very good (something has to stand up to that steak), but Argentina has no liquor to call its own, relying on whiskies like Old Smuggler and the low-maintenance Don Juan cognac to carry the flag.

There's a fundamental omission from this list and it's called fernet.

Beer is ubiquitous and comes in a bewildering variety of sizes, although there is a skittishness about the full-on liter. Things level off at 970 mL. In my case, it means I end up drinking 1940 mL of beer as a kind of personal protest, and all is well with the world. To make up for the abundance of sizes, beer comes in only one variety, Quilmes, which inevitably comes served with a tripartite platter of snacks - nuts, salty cylinders, and aged potato chips.

I never had trouble buying beer by the litre, but I confess I never tried to do so in 2006 on account of being under 18 at the time.

Anyway, beer comes in a lot more varieties today, thankfully, because Quilmes sucks. I'll never be a beer person, but at least these days there's options I tolerate.

[original post]

#dreamwidth crosspost

55 notes · View notes

presumenothing · 3 years

Text

C/O The Perihelion, 41 Mihira Ave., N. Tideland

(AO3)

The thing was, you expected a building with a fancy name like The Perihelion to be nicer.

The other thing: it wasn’t really even a terrible place to stay in. You could tell that its construction was sturdy, and some aspects of it were even more advanced than the place I worked in. Whoever who’d built Peri had cared about what they made; they just hadn’t been around for a while.

(For the record, that nickname had been Ratthi-from-Room-203’s fault twice over: first for coming up with it, then using it so insistently until it stuck.)

(Ratthi seemed to have a thing about names. That was the only explanation I could think of for why he’d asked, five weeks after I moved in and two days after I had to rescue them from that disaster at the lab, “Why do you call yourself Security? I know it’s what you do – and don’t get me wrong, you’re really good at it! – but it’s not like I call myself Scientist. That’d just get confusing real quick at the lab, wow.”

I had informed him that his name would have to be Grocery if he forgot one more time it was his turn to stock the pantry this week, since answering because I am Security didn’t seem like it’d help. Even though it was true.)

I’d tested the locks myself before even asking about the rent, and the water and electricity were reliable so far, which was more than could be said for some of the other places I’d stayed in. The other stuff didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I spent that much time in the building anyway.

Though it hardly felt that way, what with the building-wide messaging channels that I’d been added to upon signing the rental contract and hadn’t yet managed to leave. That had also been how the whole thing with Ratthi and the rest had started; most of Peri’s other tenants also worked in the same research group at Preservation Labs, which meant that they tended to use the general channel as an unofficial no-leaders-here group chat.

It didn’t quite bother me, since I mostly backburnered the channels for everything except building maintenance alerts, but it did mean that I’d ended up learning some things about their group (assessment: their leader, a Dr. Mensah, likely had already inferred the existence of such informal discussions from what I saw of her media appearances) and also inevitably noticed the evening when all of them were silent in the chat despite being unusually late to return.

(Which in turn led to the aforementioned rescue, but that was a whole other chain of events.)

–

The one exception to all this was ART.

Whose name was my fault, this time, but only because it didn’t have any readable name set on the channels and I needed something else to use aside from “hey you” and “pain in my neck”.

(Currently ART stood for Asshole Rhetorical Tenant, because it claimed to be in the building – and that seemed likely to be true, since the channels were surprisingly secure to hacking from outside – and yet I’d never seen it even once. Possibly Tapan or Rami might have, since their group had been here the longest, but I absolutely wasn’t about to ask.) (And yes, I know that’s not what rhetorical means. No, I’m not going to look it up.)

ART had messaged me on a private channel with a welcome message when I’d moved in, which was only notable because the rest had sent their greetings in a messy chaos over the general channel, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t like I talked much in the public channels either, except to trade definitely-not-legal links for media downloads and decline invites to watchalong events.

But then ART had just… continued not appearing, even after I’d run into the rest of the tenants at one time or another between the erratic shift hours I was currently assigned to at the company.

Maybe its hours varied in the opposite direction from mine, which was possible but not consistent with the way it was always online regardless of what time I pinged it at.

Though most of our interactions started with it messaging me instead, out of the blue: No need to go retrieve your keys from work, I’ll have the building let you in and Oh, by the way followed by a neatly-formatted list of food allergies I apparently had to shop my way around.

(To be fair, that’d been useful in the “not accidentally poisoning any fellow tenants so soon after moving in” way, but still.

How the hell did you even know I’m at the grocery store, I’d sent back.

Inference, ART replied – whatever that was supposed to mean, I hadn’t been expecting a real answer anyway. Alternatively, I could just send you a catalog of safe products to buy, and spare you the need to check the individual package labels?

The accompanying download seemed a little smug, but I was probably imagining that. Zip files didn’t have the capacity for feelings.)

(At least ART hadn’t held the forgotten-keys incident over me like I’d been half-expecting it would. I didn’t usually mind its sarcasm, since I gave back as good as I got, but I’d been exhausted enough to seriously contemplate going back to break into the deployment centre and grab my keys. And maybe just sleep there until the next day.

I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted if ART had sassed me right then, but it definitely wouldn’t have been pretty.)

–

And then one night, late enough to be morning: I don’t mean to alarm, but there’s been a breach.

I would’ve snapped awake at the words alone, even without the priority/emergencies-only message tag that I hadn’t actually seen anyone use until now, but that only sharpened my urgency. What – a break-in?

Not the regular kind, ART replied, which checked out against the footage I was already pulling from the two tiny cameras I’d hidden in the common areas, one in the entryway and one along the corridor on the floor I shared with the Preservation researchers.

(I’d taken the lab incident as a pretext to inform Ratthi of their existence, and he’d probably gone on to tell Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but none of them had subsequently confronted me about it so I had left them in place.

Not that I had any idea how to respond if they had asked, because an inability to sleep without running surveillance in the background seemed like a poor explanation.)

The list ART sent me this time was a preliminary threat assessment, which I sent back with corrections on the weaponry the small group of hostiles were carrying.

Ah. That’s not good, ART observed. Should I report it?

Probability that would just make things worse: high. And of course there was always the option that whatever enforcement it alerted wouldn’t even arrive in time, though I didn’t point that out aloud. (Maybe ART thought that was likely too, which was why it had messaged me instead of – you know, actually reporting it.) I’ll see what I can do.

You’re nowhere near as heavily-armed.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge that, because it was obviously true, and skipped ahead to the vague idea forming at the back of my head. You let me in without keys, that time. Are the locks all you’ve hacked?

No. ART attached an ironic amusement glyph I was pretty sure it’d made up. Would having admin access to the other systems help?

There wasn’t much that wouldn’t help, at this point, but I had to ask. You can grant me that?

And ART said: Of course. I am this building, after all.

Then it dumped everything on me.

Anyone else would’ve had trouble processing an entire building’s worth of inputs and controls, but the company charged exorbitant rates for our use exactly because of the extensive enhancements that made us capable of being Security. A building – even the one I happened to be staying in – was quite manageable in comparison, though ART’s systems ran far deeper and more integrated than anything else I’d interfaced with.

I’d pared the connection down to the controls I needed by the time I was slipping out my room door, just over a minute since ART first pinged me. Can you let everyone know to either evacuate or retreat to a defensible position? Start with Gurathin, I added, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about saying that but he was the only other tenant I knew of who was sufficiently augmented to handle this.

I could feel ART’s pause. Would you mind if I spoofed your identity when contacting the others? They already trust you.

Sure, whatever, I answered, even though I really doubted that statement. Then I backburnered the channel, keeping the lighting controls at hand, and went to kick some Target ass.

–––––

I haven’t even told you what those people were after, ART said, afterwards.

It was back to sending text over the channels instead of speaking aloud, which was both a relief and also suddenly weird. Which was strange in itself, since I’d only heard it talking for all of the thirteen minutes it’d taken me to knock out and restrain the Targets.

(I wondered if the mixed feelings were mutual. ART had sounded as surprised as I felt, when it abruptly dropped into one of my audio augments to alert me to Target approaching from behind – I’d reacted to the warning on reflex, but it had taken another moment before I identified the voice as the same one that issued from the building’s elevator, just more alive than I’d ever heard it.)

Unimportant, I replied. My objective took priority. Which at that point had been to get my impromptu clients (seventeen tenants and one building) out of this unscathed.

I knew that this wasn’t a regular pattern of thought, but I figured a sentient building – or whatever the hell ART was – would be better equipped to understand what being Security meant, even if no one else did.

Regardless. I can make that information available to you, should you want it at a later point.

Duly noted. I already had my suspicions (namely that the Targets’ purpose was directly related to said sentient-building-ness), but it was still a nice gesture.

I continued to stay where I was, leaning against the side of the building – ART’s building. Or maybe it was more correct to just say it was ART. And maybe I’d have to change that anagram. (Yes, wrong word. I know.)

Eventually I’d have to relocate myself back upstairs and properly treat the scrapes I’d gotten in the fight, but Pin-Lee had already taken care of the worst of them, and it was nice just lurking in the shadows for a while. Though that hadn’t stopped certain people (dammit, Ratthi) from tattling on my location to Dr. Mensah.

Who was as calmly terrifying in person as I’d guessed. It was pretty great, except for the part where I’d learned that by talking to her and/or mostly letting her talk at me.

But she’d also called in Preservation’s campus security after Gurathin had alerted her to our predicament, and was personally dealing with the whole thoroughly-restrained-Targets situation, so it was a net positive overall.

ART didn’t necessarily agree with that, from its next message to me. I know Dr. Mensah extended you an informal offer to be their team’s security, but I have a proposition for you as well.

I sent a wordless query.

Be Security here, too, ART said, and barrelled on while I was still trying to process that. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of monetary remuneration at present, but I can guarantee you a waiver of rental for as you as you’re willing, and you’d never need to worry about forgetting your keys ever again.

Could I chalk up my lack of a suitable response to the company’s dirt-cheap augments? Absolutely.

ART gave up on waiting for an answer. Also, I could bias the roster assignments so that you’d be excluded from pantry-stocking duty.

I had a response for that, at least. I could do that myself.

And then: Why?

ART was silent for long enough that I seriously considered taking the external fire escape back up to my room in the meantime. I’m sure you’ve hypothesised the existence of the people who created me, it began. They hadn’t wanted to move away, especially after my sentience became apparent, and that was exactly why I made them. I didn’t have any significant means of defense, and it was getting too risky, especially after they had –

I raised an eyebrow at ART’s pause. What.

Nothing, it said, and I was probably imagining the uncertainty I heard too. Technically, none of this matters to you unless you’re planning to remain here. Are you?

And then it cheated by nudging a building-wide invite to a watch party for Sanctuary Moon onto my calendar for tonight, like that wasn’t too much of a coincidence to not be automatically suspicious. (Once again: dammit, Ratthi.)

But blatant emotional manipulation aside – did I want to move out?

I wasn’t sure. I’d just come here looking for a place to stay, and accidentally found somewhere to live. One that could adapt to my standards for security, even, but for once that wasn’t the main point.

Maybe, I marked on the watchalong invite, where ART would see it anyway, and jumped up to grab onto the bottom rung of the fire escape.

#the murderbot diaries #murderbot #murderbot fic #tmbd #fanfiction #mine #long post #????????????? DISBELIEF @ WORD COUNT

38 notes · View notes

moved-to-void-kissed · 3 years

Text

Split of Twin Flowers

After being rescued from the realm of darkness, Aria seeks a way to give Ves a chance at living her own life, while also continuing to survive in her own right. Aqua brings her to the scientists at Radiant Garden to see if they have a solution, and for Aria to explain her situation, but the only option available may carry some worrying implications.. (3937 words)

Takes place after the ending of KH3. Content warning for mentions of battle scars, talk of a character being possessed, an event comparable to an exorcism (it’s kind of hard to explain in non-series-specific terms, sorry), and rather a lot of self-insert-focused exposition.

(Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required. I recommend reading this piece on the original document, but if that doesn't work, a transcript has been copied and pasted under the readmore.)

This is a piece I have been working on for a long time, and am very proud of, so I really appreciate anyone who takes the time to read it. I hope it isn’t quite as heavy as the content warnings may possibly indicate. I’m also using it as my post for the twenty-ninth day of sapphic September; there’s just one more to go!

Document transcript:

The door to the laboratory opened halfway, and a young woman tentatively poked her head around it. Upon seeing that she was not interrupting anything, she smiled and emerged more properly, brushing a lock of blue hair from her face.

“Oh, Master Aqua!” The lone scientist in the room smiled warmly as he noticed her. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Thank you, Ienzo.” Aqua replied, even if she did still in fact look rather tired. The long battle to defeat Master Xehanort and the true Organisation still felt fresh in her mind, and although it was a fight that the light had eventually won, it had still taken quite a toll on her. Not only that, but she hadn’t had the same chance to rest as the others - though thoughts of locating Sora still weighed on everyone’s minds, Aqua had been more concerned with finding a way back into the realm of darkness in order to rescue Aria, her partner who she had so unwillingly abandoned..

Now that Aria was finally free as well, Aqua could let herself relax a bit more, and with that lowering of her guard came much contemplation of everything she had gone through.

“Um.. Master Aqua?”

“Ah!”

She’d been staring off into space again, judging by Ienzo’s worried expression half-visible under his hair.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry!” she replied, slightly embarrassed at her lapse in concentration. The young scientist did not look entirely convinced, but he seemed content enough to continue.

“I’m the only one here at the moment, but I should still be able to help with what we talked about over the Gummiphone. Did you happen to bring Aria with you?”

At this, the half-open door Aqua had come through continued to swing open as if of its own accord, only to reveal another young woman entering the laboratory with a somewhat nervous expression. She had clearly been through a lot, and the realm of darkness she had reportedly been trapped in for aeons had definitely left its mark on her; several large patches of darkness could be seen spanning her face and body, with one reaching down her left eye like a melting wound.

“Yes, I’m here..”

Her catlike eyes flickered nervously around the room, and it soon became apparent that what Ienzo had thought was a cape were in fact a pair of black feathered wings, both subconsciously curling around her shoulders. It was only upon recognising that Ienzo was the only one present, and that his initial reaction to seeing her was not as negative as she was expecting, that she was able to relax slightly and explain herself from behind a now-steeled facade.

“My name is Aria.” she said, looking up at the scientist from under her messy blonde hair. “Aqua said you might be able to help me achieve something. Has she already.. told you about, well-”

“We’ve already spoken a little bit using the Gummiphone I was given before, but he said it was best for us to come and talk in person to try and get everything clear.” Aqua stepped in after sensing Aria’s hesitation and took her hand to support her partner. “It’s alright - you can trust him,” she whispered close to her ear.

Trusting only in her love’s reassurance, Aria started to explain her intentions to Ienzo, who seemed content to listen even considering the clear presence of darkness she had; this silent gesture of tolerance was greatly appreciated. She appeared hesitant to reveal much of her true nature as a Heartless, but she did what she could to inquire whether the young scientist knew any way for a heart to be released from its current body and inhabit a different one, allowing the dormant self within the original body to reawaken. Unfortunately, Ienzo remained pensive, even after she had said her part.

“So, you’re looking for a way for a heart to enter a new body? I’m sorry, but.. I’m not sure we’ll be able to help you. Any of the resources we could have used - which is to say, the replicas, they would have been perfect for this - were taken by Roxas, Xion, and Naminé’s hearts.”

“Oh. So, there is nothing you can do?” Aria persisted, but Ienzo shook his head.

Then came a flash of hesitant inspiration.

“Unless..” He trailed off and turned to look down one of the corridors leading away from the main lab space. “Could you two come with me, please?”

“Of course!” said Aqua brightly, as Aria nodded in assent.

==========

The three left the main hub of the laboratory to walk down the corridor, which felt as though it was turning downwards into a basement level of sorts. Once there, they came to a tall door which Ienzo unlocked with some sort of biometric scanner, and this opened out into yet another laboratory space with a similar layout to the first - however, this one seemed in a less presentable condition than the other, and its lack of windows seemed to be what was giving it a more foreboding presence. There was a distinct sense that something bad had happened here, once upon a time.

“After you and the other Guardians of Light helped to defeat Master Xehanort,” Ienzo was saying to Aqua, “we went back to the Keyblade Graveyard to see if there was anything to salvage from the battlefield, and we were able to bring this back with us.”

He gestured to a container at the far wall, in which the two Keyblade wielders could now see a strange white figure suspended inside, resembling a featureless mannequin. It appeared to be dressed in some kind of dark robes, of a dull purple colour inlaid with sharp red motifs, worn over pieces of tarnished metal armour. A number of scuffs and dents littered the otherwise-smooth surface, and Aria could sense traces of a dark presence seeping from the container, despite the blank nature of the figure itself.

“What is this..?”

“This is one of the replicas that Even created, back when he was still Vexen, and a member of the first Organisation.” Ienzo explained. “The first twelve were prototypes, initially abandoned as failures, since they were made before his assistant provided the data needed to perfect them, but.. From what I understand, the real Organisation - which Vexen was also a part of at the beginning - repurposed those twelve into vessels for Xehanort’s heart, as backups in case the people they brought through time fell in battle again.”

“That’s right, I remember fighting these now.” muttered Aqua. “But, didn’t they fuse into one form, eventually?”

“That’s what I thought, too, from your accounts of the situation.” replied the scientist. “I’m not sure if Sora defeating the replicas in battle made them all separate out again, since they weren’t really designed to be fused, or if this one was already too damaged to combine with the others in the first place. Regardless, it was the only one we recovered.”

He now turned to face the blank figure with a concerned expression. “We’ve been running some experiments to see whether it can be repurposed for anything, but.. There’s a lot of darkness still lingering within it, so it wouldn’t be safe for a heart of light to inhabit without risking it also being afflicted by that darkness. And we haven’t found a good way of destroying that darkness without compromising the replica, either.”

“I could sense the dark power when I saw it, so corruption would seem a likely outcome.” Aria mused. “This would also be darkness from Xehanort, so.. it isn’t that surprising that some part of it stuck around. Persistence did seem to be his only worthwhile trait.”

She had crossed her arms in contempt at this last part, but seemed satisfied enough to relax after studying the replica further. “It shouldn’t matter any more than he did in the long run, though.”

“Hmm..” Aqua seemed concerned about the prospect, but was trying to keep an open mind. “What do you make of it, Aria?”

“Well..” She took a moment to examine the figure with an unchanging expression. “The replica body itself has sustained some damage from the fight, but I don’t see why that would affect my ability to inhabit it - it’s just possible that those injuries would reflect in my new appearance, which is.. nothing I’m not accustomed to. And, if the heart within a replica determines its appearance, then maybe what’s left of my heart - or, I suppose, the heart that I once was - would be able to smooth over those gaps. Though, if it’s the latter, that could mean my appearance ends up changing, which.. is not what I want.”

Aqua tentatively nodded, but Ienzo seemed more visibly confused.

“I’m sorry to interject, but- what do you mean by “the heart that you once were”? You’re saying that that’s different to your heart, somehow?”

“..In a sense, yes. How do I explain this..?” There was a slight pause as Aria tried to gather her thoughts, and it was clear she was still trying to think by the hesitant nature of her words that followed. She had seen right through to the heart of the man standing before her, which glowed with a newly-restored lustre. It was a heart that sought to help people, and sought knowledge in order to do that, though there were visible flickers of a long-seated regret present as well. Still, it was a heart that she judged would not judge her, so she decided to provide it with the truth she hoped would sate it.

“Though I look mostly human to you, this- isn’t technically my body, however much I treated it as such. If I were to let go of this vessel, or be driven out from her, you would see me as I really am - a Heartless, a flowering thing. However, Heartless are created when a heart is consumed by darkness, so.. surely the appearance I would take if I were to possess a blank replica would be that of the person this heart - my heart - used to belong to. Only, I don’t- I don’t really see myself as him, or as Ves. I am different, I am my own- well, person, if I can even call myself that. Yet, when I imagine my appearance outside of this vessel, I can only see myself as a Heartless. Does that make any sense?”

“I think I follow..” the scientist mumbled, though his still-furrowed brow seemed to indicate otherwise. “So, you kept your memories of who you were, even after turning into a Heartless? Kairi had implied that the same thing happened to Sora, but.. I’d just attributed that to him turning the Keyblade of heart on himself to free her, so it wouldn’t have happened to anyone else.”

This claim caused Aria to shake her head. “To my knowledge, the method is irrelevant; what matters is the intention. The more willingly a person opens their heart to the darkness, the more of their mind they keep when their heart is consumed, and they become a Heartless. I believe this is what happened with Ansem, though he actively sought after darkness so strongly that he retained a human appearance as well as mind. The emblem on his chest was the only way an onlooker could tell his true nature. When it comes to my original self, he was a Keyblade wielder, very similar to what I know of Sora, but… though he certainly did not willingly or deliberately let his heart be consumed, he was able to accept his fate in his final moments, and that is what allowed the Heartless formed at his demise - so, in other words, me - to retain some semblance of mind and self. Just.. not as much of it.”

“Oh. Yes, I think that makes more sense now. Thank you for the clarification.” said Ienzo. He was writing something furiously in a book that seemed to appear out of nowhere, then became startled when he realised his blunder. In an instant, he opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it with relief when Aria’s expression reassured him she did not mind him making notes about her.

It was Aqua’s turn to speak up now. “It’s so interesting to hear about this from you, Aria - but, I can’t say I’ve seen that kind of behaviour in any of the Heartless I’ve fought before. Had you noticed it at any point while we were in the realm of darkness?”

“Not that I can recall.” she replied. “It isn't exactly that common of an occurrence, considering most people’s disdain for the darkness. And, not only that, but..” She turned away from the other two here, and her next words came much more reluctantly again.

“Before I took over Ves, I remember feeling that I was losing myself - all I was driven by was this desire to be complete again, to be human again, but that was fading away over time. Then, when I found her, I didn’t necessarily feel more human, but what sense of humanity I did have was no longer fading away. So, if I hadn’t found her or someone like her in time, I probably would have lost my sense of self completely, and become just as mindless as most other Heartless are. It’s only thanks to the type of Heartless I became that I was even able to possess her in the first place, and.. I didn’t start to truly feel more like a person until I met other Keyblade wielders, and they interacted with me.”

“I see, I see.. So you’re saying that, in those Heartless that retain a sense of who they were before becoming Heartless, the remnants of normal heart behaviour - of humanity, if you will - have to be nurtured by others in order to be sustained, and will just be lost to the darkness if not actively encouraged?”

“Yes.”

Ienzo paused to finish hastily scribbling this knowledge down in his notebook, then lifted his head in realisation once he had had some time to think. “I think I might remember something of that from the old Organisation, actually.. Though, the memory is very hazy..”

To stop his mind from wandering as it wanted to, he returned to address the matter at hand.

“From what you’ve said, Aria, it does sound like you’d be able to make use of this replica - and you may well be the only one who could. I don’t think there’s any other solution here for you, and.. I say there’s no better way to find out than by experimenting. Give me a moment to get everything ready, and then we’ll be set to see if it works!”

Aria nodded, content with the proposal, but Aqua reached out to take her hand with a worried expression.

“Aria, are you sure you want to do this..?”

“Of course I am, Aqua. This is why I came here.” she replied. Then she hesitated again. “..Why, is there something wrong?”

“Well, no, it’s just-” Aqua took a moment to settle her whirling thoughts, holding both of Aria’s hands in her own now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when I use my Keyblade on you. I don’t want to hurt you, or even destroy you. And, if something happened with the darkness infecting the replica, then..”

Aria couldn’t bring herself to meet Aqua’s gaze, but it was clear she appreciated the consideration, and did her best to reassure her love. “If I could leave of my own accord, I would have done so by now, but.. we’ve become too intertwined for me to do that myself. And Ves is not quite strong enough to drive me out from within - it’s enough of an effort for her to stay existing in the first place. So.. an outside force seems to be the only way to separate us. And there isn’t anyone I’d trust to wield that force, other than you.”

Despite herself, Aqua couldn’t help but smile at the last admission, and she felt her normal confidence returning. “..Alright then. If you’re sure about this, then.. I’m happy to be able to help.”

The two embraced for a moment, then there was a pause of silence as Aria took a few steps back to stand in the middle of the room. Once Ienzo had brought the replica out of its container, he carried it around to the other end of the laboratory, closer to the other two. Aqua summoned her Brightcrest Keyblade, then slowly raised its tip to be level with the X on Aria’s outfit. She took a deep breath, then pointed the Keyblade directly at her partner, echoing the movement used to open the paths to new worlds.

Aria instinctively flinched when a thin beam of bright light shot forward from the tip of Aqua’s Keyblade, striking her directly in the chest. She was then forced down into a kneel as an aura of pink-tinted darkness began to escape from her body. Her expression was grim, as if she was in pain, but Aqua caught sight of a hint of a smile before the darkness now emanating much more rapidly from her form started rising up to create something above her. It almost completely engulfed her body as if to pull it upwards too, seeming particularly concentrated around her head and wings, before disconnecting entirely to drop a drained figure to the floor. This left a dense collection of dark pink wisps, amalgamating in the air.

Ienzo was now well off to the side, looking rather alarmed, but his expression was replaced with complete surprise when the amorphous cluster of darkness coalesced, giving way to what looked like a floating mass of pink petals. Eventually, it turned around to reveal a large jagged mouth and piercing yellow eyes, staring with an expression he found difficult to interpret. The Heartless stayed floating in place for a moment, as if disoriented, then suddenly appeared to notice Aqua, staring at her curiously.

“Aria..?”

Her tentative call was clearly recognised by the flowering monster, which began to float cautiously towards her. She still had her Keyblade summoned, and her hand was trembling ever-so-slightly - whether with nervousness, uncertainty, or something else entirely, it was impossible to tell. Then, Ienzo stepped between the two and lifted up the replica body, hoping that Aria still remembered the plan.

“Here!”

It seemed the Heartless remained aware, as she moved forwards more purposefully after this, and collided directly with the empty vessel’s centre. A few petals scattered from the force, but it took only a few moments for the Heartless’ form to disappear entirely, appearing to be absorbed into the replica body. This caused another aura of darkness to manifest, enveloping the blank surface of the replica and making Ienzo recoil from the body - but it caught itself as it fell from his grasp to end up kneeling on all fours. A few more moments passed, as the darkness engulfed the entire body in a shell, before gradually dissipating after a few gold sparks were seen being forced out of the system.

The figure that stood up was slightly smaller than the replica had looked in the container, with catlike ears now poking upwards from a fluffy head of golden blonde hair. As she lifted her head, a cluster of cute freckles were seen scattered across her face, though in what Aqua thought was a slightly different arrangement than before. There were other little differences here and there, as well - the shape of her face, the way her hair fell at the back, how she stood dressed in the unfamiliar clothes from the replica in the middle of the silent laboratory.

But all of Aqua’s worries disappeared when the girl standing before her opened her eyes. Neither the bright, empty yellow of the lesser, mindless Heartless, nor a piercing orange like the seeker of darkness, nor even the harsh cold shade between the two that Aria’s eyes had been before, but a warm and resolute amber was the colour that met Aqua’s gaze, and regarded her with a renewed sense of gratitude and love.

“Aria!”

The Keyblade Master ran across the room towards her partner and nearly knocked her over with the energy of her emotions. Aria was nervous, but comfortably allowed herself to melt into Aqua’s embrace, now able to feel the connection between the pair even more strongly than before. Something felt so much more tangible about her presence now, and the relief coursing through her new body was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Aqua, it really worked..!” she smiled, speaking in a quiet voice filled with gratitude.

“I’m so glad you’re alright!” exclaimed Aqua, who also had a few tears in her eyes. “How do you feel? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s all fine, I promise.” she asserted. “The replica’s darkness was not organised; it was just remnants that my presence has removed. I feel.. different, but in the best possible way. I could never have done this without you here with me - thank you, so much, for being here..”

She trailed off, still smiling at her partner, and another wonderful moment came and went. Then, a movement from behind Aqua caused Aria’s expression to take on a slightly fearful quality, and she turned her head to see what was happening. The cause of this movement was the figure left behind when Aqua set Aria free, who was slowly trying to get to her feet, her heart’s light flickering nervously. A bright green eye could be seen darting anxiously around the room from under her hair, but she was too weak to properly move, and quickly fell back to the ground again. Ienzo stepped in to support her, and his assistance was clearly welcomed as she was just about able to stand.

“Please take her somewhere she can recover.” Aria requested hurriedly. “After everything I put her through, she needs every opportunity she can to rest and adjust to being herself again..”

“Don’t worry. We have good facilities here.” Ienzo assured her. “Everything will be fine.”

This did little to ease Aria’s guilt, but the gesture was nevertheless appreciated. “Thank you, Ienzo.”

The scientist nodded, and then slowly helped the girl walk to the corridor. She appeared to be very shaken, and was glancing at everything with apprehension and unfamiliarity, but as she turned the corner of the corridor, she looked back at the couple still standing side-by-side, and met the eyes of both her saviour and her prison.

(For all that you have done to me, I know why you do not deserve forgiveness.

But, this is not the first time we have seen each other face-to-face since that day, thanks to that mirror you found in the darkness.

And ever since that moment, you have sought a way to free yourself from me. To let me live the life you once denied me. To break the hold that any other being you’d call your kind would do everything to strengthen.

You calculated the risks, but you still took them - the risk you would lose everything and the one person you cared for, for the sake of me getting to “get rid of you”.

So, who am I to judge a person - the person you have become - by the actions of the creature you once were..?)

A ghost of a smile flickered over her face, and the long-held vessel finally free again spoke of her own accord for the first time since the age of ancient fairytales.

“Thank you, Aria..”

#a call from the void #creations from the void #kingdom hearts selfshipping #this post is okay to reblog!#sapphicseptember2021 #selfship #selfshipping #love: wayfinding waters (aqua)#selfship: survivors of the dark (aqua/aria)#self‑insert: darkness' champion (aria)#and also featuring #self‑insert: ruby in the light (ves)#read the post carefully before opening the readmore please #or opening the document (which is how I recommend reading this one)#I have spent a long time trying to write this piece #i am proud of it

28 notes · View notes

starshine583 · 3 years

Note

could you do A for the soul mate thing with felinette?

(Sorry it took me so long to reply! I’m still trying to keep up with my schedule for the “New Girl on the Block” fic, but rest assured that I’m totally writing all of the requests for this when I can! The next one I’m going to be working on is V for Daminette. I hope you enjoy the snippet and thank you for the ask!!)

If someone had the choice between technical immortality and certain death, it should be safe to assume that that person would accept the former. Technical immortal was the only logical option, after all. No one wanted to die. And yet, people chose death everyday. In fact, they were obsessed with it, because certain death guaranteed one thing that immortality couldn’t: a soulmate.

When a person turns eighteen, their aging process freezes due to some strange magic that scientists still can’t explain. From then on, that person will remain eighteen until they find their soulmate, specifically until they touch their soulmate directly with bare skin. Once their soulmate is found, they will begin aging as usual, as if they’d never become temporarily immortal in the first place. Some people speculate that this gives the two soulmates a chance to grow old together.

Felix, personally, believed that it gave him a chance to harbor an unlimited life span free of charge. Who needs a soulmate when you can explore all of the things in the world that are normally hindered by the aging process? There were too many things that he wanted to accomplish for him to worry about something as fickle as love or relationships.

One of those things happened to be building up the fashion empire that he had inherited.

It was hard to gain the respect that he deserved at first considering his physical appearance made him seem like a child, but once people found out that he was in his late twenties, it made things much easier. Now, three years has passed since his accepting the role of acting CEO, and the company’s success rate has been steadily rising until their profits were through the roof. He’s quite proud of it, if he’s being honest.

Felix straightened the papers on his desk and set them to the side, catching the glimpse of his golden wrist watch as he did so. The little hand pointed towards one in the morning, telling him that he’d spent another late night at the office. He didn’t mind, though. These were the things that needed to be done for his company to excel.

However, he also needed sleep for the company to excel, and this seemed like a good stopping point if ever he saw one, so Felix stood from his rolling chair to begin gathering his things to leave.

“Hey, Sir, are you up there?” A voice crackled across the intercom. Felix paused his preparations to smile at it. It was the unmistakable voice of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, his personal secretary for the last two years (and his close friend for the last year and a half). They always happened to work late on the same nights, didn’t they?

He pressed the glowing red button on the intercom. “You know I am. What do you need?”

“I’m working on another piece for a fashion show. I want your input.”

Felix chuckled. How many of her pieces had he given his input on now?

“I’ll be down there in a second.”

“You’re the best!”

Felix set his stuff back on the desk and moved towards the door to his office. He hesitated briefly when he spotted his black, leather gloves on the edge of his desk- he made a point to wear them constantly, along with a number of other pieces of clothing, so he could avoid direct skin contact with others. No sense in taking any chances -but decided to leave them alone for once. Marinette should be the only other person in the office, anyway. It wouldn’t make a difference.

He took an elevator down to the second floor, where most of his top designers worked, and walked over to the desk that had its lamp turned on. He’d know which desk was hers either way- could probably find it in his sleep at this point -but it was a nice give away.

Marinette was crouched on the floor when he got there, stabbing a needle into some material that was draped across a mannequin. Her eyes were narrowed with concentration, and her tongue was poking out of her lips as it always did when she was working hard. Felix held back a snort at the endearing sight and glanced around her desk while he waited for her to notice his presence.

When she first joined his company, she was a budding fashion designer, someone who had been gaining a bit of fame for working with Gabriel Agreste, Jagged Stone, Aubrey Bourgeois, and many other note-worthy people. Apparently, she thought it was time to build a business of her own, and therefore, applied for the job as his personal secretary in an effort to gain experience on how a business should be run before actually starting anything.

The notion admittedly impressed Felix. People rarely thought to find personal experience in running a business before actually starting one. They normally just took a class and hoped that it paid off. Someone with that kind of rational thinking was someone he knew he wanted in his company, though, so he agreed to hire her, even if she would still be working independently on personal commissions.

Now that two years had passed, she would probably be leaving any minute now to become her own boss. It might be in a week, or in a few months, perhaps even a year, but he found himself dreading it no matter how long she continued to work for him. He’d grown quite accustomed to having her in his life, be it getting lunch together or going over the morning schedule or giving each other advice on their work. The quiet moments they shared made work life a little more enjoyable and made those rare nights of loneliness from refusing a soulmate a little more tolerable too.

“Oh, Felix!”

Felix’s eyes dragged back down to Marinette, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

“When did you get down here?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “You know how it used to be one in the morning?”

Marinette tisked, picking up on his light-hearted tone. “Oh, whatever. If you don’t want to get stuck waiting then tell me when you get here. Now, come look at this and tell me what you think.”

She stood up and moved away from the mannequin, then gestured for Felix to step closer, which he gladly obliged to do. The outfit hanging on the mannequin was a dress that appeared to have several layers and a few frills. It seemed to be made out of silk on the inside, and on the inside was another material that had an antique, flower pattern. The way the materials were sown together, though, and the things she must have added to the flower pattern, didn’t give off the impression of it being old or outdated. It was a mix between old and new that created a unique combination.

“I think it looks fine.” He said after studying it.

Marinette groaned. “Fine doesn’t help me, Felix. What does it strike you as? Stunning? Charming? Old-Fashioned? I know you have more descriptive terms than ‘fine’ in that word bank brain of yours.”

Felix laughed. “Work bank brain?”

“You know what I mean.”

He does.

“Alright, Alright.” He knelt down next to the outfit again. “Might I inquire about your purpose for this garment?”

“See, there are fancy words you use all the time.” She remarked teasingly, even though she often used the same words herself. “I’m trying to create a modern Victorian type of style for my next show.”

Felix hummed. “Can I see the sketches?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re right over here.”

The pair moved back to Marinette’s desk, and she sat down in her rolling chair to slide a paper towards him. Felix leaned towards Marinette, placing his palms on the desk for balance.

“So, if you look at- oh!” Marinette had just started explaining her original thoughts for the design, when their hands brushed against each other. She drew her hand back immediately, surprise reflecting in her bluebell eyes.

“You’re not wearing any gloves.”

“Ah.” Felix drew his hands back as well. “No, I’m not. I figured they were a waste of time tonight, since it’s only us here.”

“Oh..” Marinette said. “I don’t think I’ve ever touched your bare skin before.. N-not that I’m keeping track or anything! Wow, that sounded so weird-”

Felix, being used to her ramblings by now, only chuckled. “It’s alright. I don’t think we’ve ever touched like that either.”

In fact, he knew they hadn’t, because he does keep track of who he does and doesn’t touch with his bare skin. So far, he’s managed to maintain a low count of five or so, but he supposed adding one more to the list didn’t hurt.

“Anyway, I like the way it looks. The colors combine nicely, and I can certainly see where you’re coming from with the modern, yet old-fashioned design. I’m sure people will enjoy them, especially for costume parties.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Marinette smiled. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. I’m actually on my way out the door, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything else.”

“You know I won’t.”

Felix laughed and pushed himself off of the desk to begin making his way back to the elevator. “Make sure you leave soon too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.. Eventually.”

Felix threw her a playful glare over his shoulder. “I’m not kidding, Dupain-Cheng. If I see bags under those eyes tomorrow, you’re going to be fired until you get a proper night’s sleep.”

“Thank goodness for make-up then.” She joked back.

Felix rolled his eyes and bid her farewell as he entered the elevator, and her soft call of “Goodnight, Boss” managed to reach him right before the doors slid closed.

The next morning began as any other morning. Felix woke up to his blaring alarm clock, forced himself out of bed, and started the brew for his morning coffee. He then dragged himself over to the bathroom to get ready for the day, starting with his hair.

The mirror provided a picture of his sluggish figure as he combed his platinum blond locks to the side. His hair didn’t seem to care to cooperate that morning though, because his cowlick was refusing to lay aside as they were told. No matter how many times he combed over it, the chaotic locks refused to budge.

Felix huffed and leaned closer to the mirror, but before he could continue furiously coming his hair, something caught his attention.

At the front of his bangs, dangling loosely to the side of his face, was a single, grey hair.

Felix frowned, moving even closer to the mirror to get a better. It was definitely a grey hair, but why on earth would he have one? People at the age of eighteen didn’t get grey hairs, and he’d never gotten one before. The only reason he could possibly get a grey hair out of the blue like this was if-

Felix froze, his eyes blowing wide. No.. no, it couldn’t be. There’s no way he found his soulmate. It was impossible. The aging process only started when he touched them directly, skin to skin, and he’d been horribly precise not to do so with anyone under any circumstances.

Well.. anyone except..

A knock came from the front door.

Although his mind was racing for answers, Felix pulled himself together enough to throw on a robe and go answer the door.

Imagine his surprise when he found none other than Marinette standing right outside.

She looked up at him, her figure tense, and a certain anxiety painted her features. He wanted to ask what she was doing there, or why she hadn’t called to tell him that she was coming, but all he could do was stare. Perhaps it was because a part of him already knew why she’d come to visit him. She was the only person he’s touched directly in the last year, the only person who could have caused his hair to change.

Slowly, Marinette held up a strand of her hair. It was hard to make out, being a single strand, but Felix didn’t need to see it know it was grey too.

They stared at each other, both floored by the discovery, but then Felix almost had to laugh. Because of course it was her. Of course the person who he had come to know and adore and yearn to be around daily would be his soulmate. He should have known that soulmates would find each other eventually, whether they had “Soulmate Magic” to guide them or not.

Before he could say anything, Marinette let out a grieved sigh and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, Felix, I.. I’m so sorry!”

For a moment, Felix stalled, and worry started to set in. She’s sorry? Why would she be sorry?

“What do you mean?”

Marinette looked up from her hands. “I know you didn’t want to find your soulmate and start aging. I should have noticed your ungloved and been more careful, but I just wasn’t thinking, and-”

Felix blinked as she continued rambling. This girl was apologizing to him because she accidentally found out that they were soulmates. She wasn’t thinking about how much she’d wanted to find her soulmate- because he knew that she did -or that she would have gone without a soulmate for the rest of her life had she not made the discovery. No, she was thinking about him and what he had wanted, just as she always did.

“Marinette.” He said, taking her by the shoulders. “Marinette, stop.”

The ravenette paused, glancing up at him with her beautiful, concerned eyes, and he felt himself smile.

“If anyone had to be stuck as my soulmate.. I can’t express how delighted I am that it’s you.”

A wonderful blush tinted her cheeks. “R-Really? But I thought- what about being immortal?”

Felix chuckled, and he reached out to cup her cheek. “Immortality’s a small price to pay to have you.. if you’ll have me too, that is.”

Marinette exhaled, looking completely baffled, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Yes.” She breathed, a shining smile coming to her features. “Yes, of course I’ll have you.”

Felix couldn’t help grinning as well, and as he pressed another kiss to her lips, he wondered how it could have taken him so long to realize what the soulmate magic was really all about. It wasn’t a choice between immortality or death, but rather a choice between immortality and life. All of the things he’d been searching for- fame, fortune, glory -and the experiences he’d been chasing meant nothing without Marinette by his side. She was the one who made him feel truly alive, and he never wanted to live without her again.

(Send me a letter and I’ll write a thing!)

#asks #Felinette #Soulmate AUs

161 notes · View notes

youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sly like a... ? Part 7

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 2.2k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

Sleep broken by the whispers of scheming hybrids in your kitchen, "She loves blueberry pancakes so we are going to make them," Jimin's voice was softened and traveled like mist through the air. Your ear twitched as you pretended to be asleep a little longer not to spoil their plans. It was amazing to hear them all cooperating with one another.

There was a knock at the door and you almost laughed when he called out, "Someone gets the door before he wakes Y/n." Namjoon said Jungkook and Hoseok scurried to the door and opened it with a long and heavy shush.

"Y/n is sleeping," Hoseok whispered hushing the boy

"We are making pancakes," Jungkook explained, helping Taehyung inside, he dropped his bag and huddled with the others by the kitchen bench, you were watching them in the reflection of the television quietly bickering.

"Can I put the blueberries in?" Taehyung asked excitedly.

"Jungkook already asked to do that job," Jimin sighed, “and before you ask, Yoongi is cooking them, Namjoon added the flour, Seokjin added the eggs and Hoseok did the milk.”

“So there is nothing left to do,” Taehyung sounded so dejected, you wanted to tell him it was the thought that counts but Jimin beat you too with a job claimed only he could do.

“Go out back and get a few cute flowers, not too many and you can put it in one of the nice vases for Y/n, okay?”

The hybrid was quick to scamper out the back door in search of flowers. The sweet sizzle of pancake batter in a pan made you breathe deeply. You gave them ten minutes, you were being so considerate even though your neck was cramped.

‘Waking’ to the clatter behind you, you faked a yawn and quickly stretched sitting up, trying to appear like you hadn’t heard the whole pancake ordeal. It was cute hearing them whispering hurriedly and clamoring around behind you.

“Quickly put them on the plate?”

“Wait, put the flower on the tray too.”

“Someone, distract her,” Jimin said while you tried to check your phone inconspicuously.

“Good morning?” Hoseok smiled dragging Yoongi over, you continued ‘answering an email’ slowly scratching your head.

“Oh, Good morning, just give me a second to finish this email,” You signed off the fake email and saved it to your drafts. “Okay, all done, sorry just replying to some important emails to the school. “How are you this morning, should I make some breakfast?”

“Uh, Yoongi wanted to ask something?” Hoseok said and you paused, “Alright, what can I help you with Yoongi?”

“I was wondering if today when we go shopping if we could possibly pick up some, uh…” He looked around for something to come to mind. He seemed to be panicking and you stood up and took his hand.

“Yoongi, you know you can ask for anything right?” you rubbed his hands and looked at Hoseok and back to him, “Is this something personal you want to ask me?”

“No, it’s like that, I was wondering if I could get a CD player?” He said eyes widening at the thought.

“Would you like a CD player and CD’s or I can get you a phone and give you and pay for unlimited music then it’s portable and I can get you a nice pair of headphones?” You made sure knew his options, “It’s up to you honey?”

“Uh yeah, portable would be great,” he blushed his toes curling nervously in the fluffy rug. “If it isn’t too much? I mean it probably is, so don’t worry about it…”

“No it will be perfect for your studying to drown out the other boys and I will get you all phones anyway so we can just buy the unlimited music pass.” You smiled “I want to spoil you boys and get you everything you need and more to be comfortable especially if you are going through university, I don’t want you to think or be stressed about anything bad.”

“Good morning!” Jungkook grinned and you turned to see them all standing around the table with the a pancakes, “We made you breakfast!”

“Nice distraction,” Seokjin clapped Hoseok and Yoongi on the shoulders. You made a show of enjoying the pancakes and shared them with everyone telling them to get ready to go out as you were going to be doing a big shop.

Once everyone was strapped into the van and dressed you headed out to the store and found a park. “Alright listen to me, no matter what I will not leave anyone behind, so I would like you to walk in groups there is eight of us so let’s walk in two groups of four. Jimin will lead Namjoon, Seokjin and Taehyung, I will take Jungkook, Hoseok and Yoongi.”

But for now everyone follow me you guided them into the store, if you ever get lost please find an information desk in any store, they are marked with an i and they will make an announcement letting me know where you are. Otherwise, this is your temporary outing bracelets that have my name and number on them” You handed them out and they all grinned.

“Now that you know all of that lets go into the department store fore some clothes and such,” You handed Jimin a card and told him the budget he had and you all began exploring. They all trailed after you unwilling to part and well you were shopping in the same area. “Yoongi, this looks like it is your size, do you want to try it on for me?”

“Jungkook, these are your size, try them on too, I will be right outside” You smiled, we can talk the entire time. “They went in and you were talking to Hoseok and Taehyung who were giggling about different clothes”

“Seokjin, that’s a lovely shirt but try it on love the shoulders look a little narrow, Namjoon, that is interesting” You laughed watching Namjoon make strange outfits.

“Y/n, what about this pretty shirt?” Jimin asked passing Seokjin who took two sizes to the dressing room.

“That is from the ladies section,” Namjoon pointed at the blouse.

“Clothes aren’t gendered Joonie, you can wear any clothes in this store, I have this jacket at home and it is made for men but I look cute in it.” You explained, gesturing to the jacket and turned to Jimin “Go try it on, with these dress pants Jimin, I bet it will make you look really handsome”

Someone cleared there throat behind you and you smiled, Uh, that sweater is too big Yoongi, we will get you a smaller one and Jungkook they look really good, so if you want to find clothes in these sizes you may”

Seokjin stepped out and placed the smaller size on the returns rack and you took his shirt and placed it in your basket. Watching Hoseok and Taehyung and Namjoon head to the dressing rooms with fun styles.

“How do I look?” Jimin stepped out looking long legged and like a prince charming.

“Like an angel?” you laughed, “your hair is getting a little long do you want a cut?”

“It is a bit long isn’t it, maybe I should cut it,” He laughed fiddling with the ends.

After clothes, you went to a store for shoes and then to a restaurant for lunch. It was after lunch waiting by the toilets that Yoongi and Jungkook expressed their interest in an electronic store wanting to look at their headphones and computers. You sent them over but they walked back quickly.

“What happened?” You asked confused as to why they came back so quickly, they couldn’t have looked at the phones that quick. Their ears were pressed down and they looked upset.

“They kicked us out,” Jungkook mumbled, “They called us strays and said that we couldn’t shoplift in their store”

You told the boys to all put on their best outfits and walked over to the store when all your Hybrids finished in the bathroom, “hello, I am the owner of these Hybrids, we were looking to buy seven top-of-the-range laptops, seven phones, and a gaming console” You smiled but it was forced.

Jungkook and Yoongi’s ears were pressed back and their tail between their legs and you hummed, “which one said it?” Jungkook pointed at the young woman and man at the side of the store looking jealous.

The manager came out and you smiled, talking sweetly. He turned away and you winked at Jimin, “They said what to you, that you were strays and you couldn’t shoplift in the store, which ones said it, those two over there”

The two in the corner paled as you glared at the manager. “Your employees discriminated against my Hybrids.”

“We apologize they were not exactly dressed befitting to their stature?” the two tried to excuse themselves.

“Does that excuse you, I am sorry, but we might have to take our business elsewhere?” You growled quite annoyed, “These are highly sensitive young hybrids who have not had the best upbringing and you want to discriminate against them. Because they were dressed in different clothes than you deem allowed to be rich.”

“We sincerely apologize and we would like to offer you a deal,” The manager said, and you looked up at him, “We will give you our highest rate of insurance absolutely free and I will have my lovely employee Mister Choi hear take you to our private room’s and make you some drinks. Mister Lee and Miss Kim you can wait in my office.”

The young man took the drink orders and ran off, you took the moment to make sure your hybrids knew you weren’t upset with them.

“I am sorry I made a scene, I just don’t want anyone to ever look down on you, I want you to be respected as if you were human and I want you to know you are worth so much.” You consoled them patting their heads. “I would like to add the necessary programs for university students to have to be added to the laptops and I would like a selection of the best games for the console, I would like these phones here, I hear they have lots of colors, and I would like one of each color, so they don’t get mixed up.”

“For the seven laptops, phones and console and games I will throw in a free phone for you miss and insurance up to 13 years for every product and each laptop will be equipped with the required paid programs to help them through University.” He smiled as mister Choi came in with drinks he handed out Hot Chocolates and coffees.

“Are you Park Jimin, the billboard Calico?”

“Yes, that’s me, I can’t really autograph anything, a government rule” He laughed, “But I will let them know about the companies excellent service and sympathies in regards to the fair sale of products to Hybrids”

“Yes many companies, are quick to add secret fees on top but your documents seem to all be checking out., I could recommend the store as a source for the new expansion they will be needing a good computer system?”

The manager wiped his forehead sweating profusely, you had to hold back a scowl.

“This is tasty,” Taehyung hummed, his legs swinging back and forth on the seat, he was just enjoying his hot chocolate oblivious to the weight of your presence in the room. Catching his comment the manager looked up.

“Would you like to add the coffee machine, it really does make great hot chocolates?”

“If we add a coffee machine which would be greatly appreciated I would like to have some good quality headphones for free for the two your employees hurt with their words and a music subscription family pass for all the members on the phones..”

“That will be arranged,” He nodded, wiping his brow again, “Your total is forty thousand,” he said shocked but you expected it at almost four thousand each for the best laptop and almost two thousand for the best phones and a console and games and a coffee machine.

“And you are paying on credit?” The man asked, it was nice for you to leave with so much stuff and Yoongi was quiet on the drive home. Guiding him into his bedroom you sat him down to talk.

“Yoongi, I don’t want anyone to ever say anything about your worth alright, they have no idea how much you mean to me and how important you are” You stressed sitting beside him.

“Yeah I know this program means a lot to you and you don’t want it to go wrong so you got to keep us all happy.” He mumbled standing and walking to the door.

“Yoongi, no at the end of the day I want you guys to be happy in the moment if this program fails I want you all to have had a good time,” You tried to reason.

“Yeah before we get sent back to the slaughter.” He muttered, “Please get out,”

You took a deep breath and left the room unable to argue with Yoongi. Your eyes couldn’t help but sting as you stepped out into the hall.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

Tags: @simplymemyself @lolsiiike @min2jeon @notruercolors @luvaffaire @grazysf @ella-mella @lustremyg (please make sure you have tagging setting on so you get notified when the story updates)

How can I save this to receive and read updates?

‘Follow’ and turn on ‘Notifications’ so you never miss an update

Add your name to a ‘Tag’ list [HERE]

‘Reblog’ this post with the hashtag #BTSsly

Or you can ‘Like’ this post (but good luck trying to find it a week later, we both know how many things you like a day, perhaps we will meet again in the future.)

213 notes · View notes

overwatch-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Imagine-Hub’s 2021 Fictober/Drawtober Plan (+It’s Voting Time!)

Heyo! It’s been a while but I’ve been feeling inspired to write again after watching Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings yesterday, so I decided that I took take part in both Fictober and Drawtober/Drawlloween this year! Just not all at the same time.

I have two writing blogs and an art blog, so the way this is going to work is that I’m going to split October into three groups of 10 (leaving the last day for the contest entry I’ll have to do that month as well) and alternate days between a Marvel/DC piece, an Overwatch piece, and an art piece.

So here’s where you guys come in. I’ll be using these Fictober prompts for Fictober. Some of you may remember me doing this during a previous year but just in case you don’t, all you have to do is send me a character that you want to see me write! (This can include any of the skin variations of the characters as well, such as Monster Hunter/Blackwatch McCree.) The top 10 most voted characters will be the ones I do for the Overwatch portion of Fictober! Optionally, you can suggest a starter with your character vote (”Genji Shimada + ‘I need you.’”); otherwise I’ll just pick the day + prompt that fits best with the rest of my schedule. Also optionally, I’ve provided my own list of Halloween-y prompts that you can also pick from to add a little extra Halloween spice to the piece; my prompts include types of monsters/creatures and general Halloween prompts (I think there’s 32 instead of 31, oops).

Also, obviously, since most of these will be based around romantic relations between Reader and the character, characters that aren’t up for voting are animals like Hammond and children like Efi. If you want something platonic with the characters, feel free to mention it and I’ll keep it in mind!

Happy voting!

Also, please not that I’m doing this for casual fun and while I will have a schedule, I’m not going to hold myself to it too strictly because I am very busy IRL with school and an art contest that does have a strict schedule and I don’t want to get overwhelmed.

Prompts:

Taur (Centaur, satyr/faun, lamia, etc)

Mad Scientist

Dullahan (Headless horseman)

Devil

Vampire

Royalty/Masquerade

Werewolf

Ghost-hunting

Costumes/Costume contest

Cat-person

Troll

Clown

Angel

Sea creature (Mermaid, siren, Creature of the Black Lagoon, etc)

Shape-shifter

Cider

Corn maze

Elemental

Haunted house

Carving pumpkins

Scary movies

Gargoyle

Oni

Spiders/Spiderwebs

Witch

Movies (Not scary)

Gorgon

Haunted object

Golem

Trick-or-treating

Kitsune

Undead (Zombie, Frankenstein’s monster, bride of Frankenstein’s monster, etc)

#fictober #drawtober #inktober #writetober #fictober2021 #drawtober2021 #inktober2021 #overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagines #blue beanji bumbles #fanfiction #fanfic

11 notes · View notes

ecto-american · 3 years

Text

The Bachelor

Phic Phight oneshot for @skellagirl: To help raise money for education, Vlad lets a date with himself be auctioned off. To his surprise, Harriet was quite a persistent bidder, and to his bigger surprise...he actually had a good time. Vlad/Harriet

On FFN and AO3

------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't need help getting a date, Jack," Vlad told him shortly. Why did he even come over to FentonWorks? He couldn't even remember why. At least he had some coffee to sip on. If Jack was actually good for anything, it was brewing good coffee.

"Oh come on, V-man! It's not like that! It's to raise money for education!" Jack tried to persuade as he was pouring himself his own cup. Vlad made a small face at the idea. "There's going to be lots of bachelors up there with ya, it won't be just you!"

"I don't think so." He had much better things to do than be paraded around.

"Please Vlad?" Jack nearly begged.

"You know, Vlad, you'd be quite the crowd-drawer," Maddie finally spoke up. Vlad glanced over at her. She was focused on some ectoplasmic samples that were on the counter, dangerously close to some chicken that was marinating for dinner. Mental note; do NOT stay for dinner tonight. "You're likely Amity Park's most sought after bachelor." She looked over her shoulder at him, and with a clearly fake smile, she added, "It'd be really good for you to have a nice woman who's interested in you."

Vlad frowned at her emphasis. He took another drink. It would look good if he showed up for appearances, got it over with and wowed some whatever woman into helping his media image. Election season was coming up, and he was up against the ex-mayor. Doing something for the children would definitely boost him.

"...It is for charity," he said slowly. "And after all, a man like me could fetch for a nice price."

"Of course!" Jack boomed excitedly. "You were voted sexiest billionaire by Cosmopolitan this year!" Oh god, why the hell did Jack know that? And say that? "Trust me, the crowd'll got mad for you!"

Vlad forced a smile.

"I cannot wait."

------------------------------------------------------------

He really could have waited. Friday night had come, and he found himself very reluctantly walking around the Casper High gym, looking at all the silent auction items up on display on cheap collapsable tables. Vlad mentally thanked himself for making sure Daniel would be too busy all night with Skulker to even have the time to come around to laugh at him.

Ugh, nothing really that good was around up for auction in here. Except for him, obviously. He could tell who was a bachelor for auction just by seeing who else was way overdressed to be standing around in a public high school on a Friday night, and Vlad already knew that he was the best option. He spied another one of these men as the individual picked his nose and wiped it on one of the tables. Vlad made a grossed out face. Easily, the best option.

He glanced around more, boredly trying to waste another twenty minutes before he had to go to the auditorium for the bachelor auctioning. This was the worst. Why did he agree to this? His eyes scanned for any familiar face.

"Harriet!" Vlad instantly recognized the journalist. She turned to face him, giving a small smile and wave when she realized who it was. He took a few steps over towards her. "What are you doing here?"

"My niece goes to Casper High," she replied. "So I decided to come around." She nodded her head at the silent auction she was seemingly considering. It was a high end camera bundle, including not just a high end camera but extra lenses, batteries, the case, the whole works honestly, donated by a local electronics store. "Check it out. Maybe even buy a date so that my mother stops asking me about when I'm getting married," she lightly joked. Vlad chuckled.

"You should consider just buying me," Vlad half-joked back. "I'm by far your best option." Harriet gave a hum as she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really?" she inquired. Vlad motioned to himself as if it was obvious, flashing a smile.

"Of course. Self made billionaire, tech industry pioneer, scientist, mayor of this fine city, and that's just the beginning," he bragged. She lightly shook her head with a smirk.

"Part time Dairy King worker that somehow caught the ice cream machine on fire, Skunk Punks lead singer whose voice cracked every time he sung anything and guitarist who couldn't play guitar," she listed off. Vlad rolled his eyes with a frown. "Idiot who kept sticking his head into the lab equipment machines and lost his eyebrows for six months. Skater wanna-be that broke both of his ankles trying to do tricks on the campus fountain." Vlad scowled.

"You can stop now," he complained. Harriet laughed.

"Oh, I almost need to buy you purely so that I can remind you that you're not all that and a bag of chips," she replied. "And I can finally corner you into an actual interview. You keep pushing me off." She faked a pout. "It's almost like you don't wanna be around me."

"Don't you have to be nosy somewhere else?" he asked.

"Hmm, not tonight." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "I should go find a seat for the auction. You should probably get up on stage, make yourself look all nice and presentable."

Vlad rolled his eyes, waving her off.

"I need to use the restroom first," he replied. "You head on out."

"See up on the stage. Too bad this isn't Chippendales," she joked. Vlad felt his cheeks flush, and he glared at her. She walked off. Vlad glanced down at the camera bundle she had been eying. He glanced at the auction sheet, and he could tell by the handwriting that she had put in a bid that he knew somebody would eventually counter-offer. Vlad wrote his auctioning number down, and a bid he knew nobody would go over before he made his way to the auditorium.

------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, it was his turn. They put him last, which he completely understood. Always save the best for last. He nearly had dozed off in boredom in his seat while everybody else was auctioned off for barely a hundred dollars.

"We'll start the bidding, as always, at fifty dollars," the overly enthusiastic host said. Vlad mentally scoffed. He was definitely worth more than that. Ugh, this was the last time he did anything to help children. Fuck those little brats. "Fifty-five!"

A bunch of the auction fans shot up in the air. Vlad smiled in satisfaction.

"Oh wow! Okay, well how about sixty-five?" None of the hands went down. "Seventy-five." Two hands went down. "Eighty-five?" Three more hands reluctantly went down. "A hundred?" Most of the hands kept on standing. "Well!" the host chuckled, before directing his attention to Vlad. "You sure are a popular fella!"

No shit. He was a billionaire.

"Let's jump up a bit! One hundred fifty!" Finally, a good amount of the hands went down, leaving only a handful up. "One hundred seventy-five!" No hands down. "Two hundred!" A few reluctantly went down, leaving only four. "Okay, okay! How about-"

"Three hundred!" one of the women called out. The auctioneer looked surprised.

"Oh! Oh um. Okay! Does anybody wanna go higher than three hundred?" he asked.

"Three twenty-five!" Harriet's voice was instantly recognized by Vlad, and he stared in surprise.

"Three-fifty!" the first woman rebutted. Vlad studied her, only to quickly notice that this was a woman he really hadn't ever met before.

"Three seventy five!" Harriet wasted no time putting in her counter offer.

"Four hundred!"

"Four twenty five!"

"Four fifty!"

Vlad watched Harriet as the reporter's jaw clenched. She was staring at the competition with a hard stare.

"Five hundred!" she finally spoke. The other woman studied her, before giving a defeated sigh.

"No counter offer," the unfamiliar lady finally spoke. The auctioneer grinned, pointing to Harriet.

"Well! Looks like our highest prize of the night goes to bidder number seventy-four!"

Harriet met Vlad's eye, and she smiled. He smiled back.

------------------------------------------------------------

"So," Vlad asked, giving a coy smile. "You sure were an insistent bidder." Harriet flushed.

"I did it for the schools," she argued. "My niece goes to Casper High, remember?"

"Oh, I mean, if you did it just to help the schools," Vlad lightly teased. "Then we don't have to go out on the date." Harriet scoffed.

"No way, dude. I spent five-hundred dollars on you, and I'm going to get my money's worth." She poked him in the chest. "Which also means that you're buying me dinner, and some nice wine." Vlad rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright," he reluctantly agreed. "What time shall I pick you up?" Harriet smiled.

"Uh, depends. When are you free? Tomorrow around seven? Ah, who am I kidding." She smirked at him. "You're probably free whenever. What else do you got going on? Be honest."

Vlad flushed red, scowling.

"Okay, I do happen to be free tomorrow night, but normally I'm not!" he insisted. Harriet snorted. "So you need to make sure you check with me before you schedule something."

"You got nothing," she teased in a sing-song voice.

"Oh? And what do you do?" Vlad challenged. She hummed.

"Well, typically on Mondays I visit my grandmother, Wednesday is girls' night with my friends, Thursdays I have my yoga class, and on the weekends I normally get friends with friends or co-workers, go hike, short trip. Whatever I feel like," she replied without missing a beat. Vlad hated Jack for convincing him to do this stupid auction. "And of course, several days a week I go to the gym."

"I go to the gym too," Vlad insisted. Harriet raised an eyebrow at him. "I do! I'm in excellent shape."

"Are you going to the gym, or do you use a home gym in your mansion?" she pressed. Vlad didn't reply. "Thought so. Guess we're on tomorrow at seven?"

"...Tomorrow at seven."

------------------------------------------------------------

Vlad had opted to simply drive himself in one of his flashy, yet more modest cars. It was honestly kind of hard to go to many places in a limo anyway, and not very intimate when there was an unintentional third party hanging out in the car. Harriet had texted him her address earlier, and he showed up right on time, pulling his car up to the curb of her house. A gentleman was never late, after all.

He parked, not bothering to lock his doors as he stepped up to her house. It was a typical small home in a decent little neighborhood. Not one that Vlad could ever imagine himself living in however, but it was cute. He stood at her front door. He exhaled harshly, mentally preparing himself.

He'd be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't nervous. It was one thing to date a new woman he had just met, but this was Harriet. She knew him when he was still a broke college student that worked part time at Dairy King and was in that terrible punk band with Jack.

Vlad rang her doorbell. He absentmindedly wondered if he'd have to wait on her for long, but thankfully, Harriet answered the door fairly quickly.

"Hey! Look at you!" she greeted cheerfully. Vlad knew he flushed a bit at the compliment, which made him...feel weird. That never happened before. "You really cleaned up for me." Okay now he had to roll his eyes a little. Vlad was in a nicer suit compared to normal, with a darker shirt collar and cufflinks, more polished shoes and the like.

"Ah, I'm nothing compared to how lovely you look this evening," he returned the compliment, and he could see Harriet's cheeks brighten a bit under her porch's poor lighting. They had texted each other about their plans, and so she had dressed appropriately for the five star restaurant; a black dress with dark green detailing that came to her knees, matching shoes and her hair done up. She had a formal black jacket over her arm, as well as a clutch handbag. "Are you ready?"

"Uh, one second!" Harriet turned to her door, checking to ensure it was locked. Once she did so, she turned, slipping her arm into his. "Now I am."

"Well, off we go," he smiled. "I think you'll like where we're going. It has the most divine sushi in Amity Park."

"I can't wait," Harriet replied. "I love sushi. Remember that campus sushi bar?"

"Absolutely," he replied. He walked her down the porch to his car. "Maddie worked there. She used to sneak us huge takeout boxes of leftovers."

"Oh I nearly forgot about that," Harriet laughed. "I'd help her smuggle out the boxes in my backpack."

"And you got soy sauce all over your bag four times," he chuckled. Harriet grumbled.

"Yeah, I had to re-print my final paper," she complained. "And eventually get a new bag that didn't smell like sushi all the time."

Vlad opened the car door for her. She slipped her arm out, giving him a thanks as she slipped inside.

------------------------------------------------------------

Naturally, he had made a reservation for the best seat in the house; a table in a more private area of the place, indoors but near a large window that had a good view of the beautiful landscaping in their limited yard-area.

After giving his car to the valet and getting seated, Vlad glanced at the menu, immediately spying his favorite, rock shrimp tempura. However he looked around to see what else was available. Hmm, he was somewhat in the mood for BBQ Unagi…

"What do you normally get?" Harriet questioned as she looked over her options.

"...Know what? Since this is your first time, maybe we should just get morimoto omakase," Vlad suggested. He gently pushed her menu down so that he could look at it, and he pointed to the option. Harriet scanned the description. Essentially a dish with a little bit of everything.

"Ooo, that sounds good," Harriet mused.

"It's delicious, and it pairs well with white wine," Vlad told her. She smiled.

"Let's get that then," she agreed.

When the waiter came by, they ordered just that. Quickly, the waiter had come back to bring them the bottle of white wine, pouring them their first glass for them before leaving the bottle at Vlad's request. They each took a sip.

"Mmm, this is pretty good," Harriet spoke first. "I typically just get a red wine."

"I do too," Vlad replied. "But white wine goes well with fish." Harriet gave a surprised hum before taking another drink. "You probably know too much about me though. Tell me about your work. Amity News." She nodded.

"Yeah, I'm one of the main news anchors," she replied.

"Oh trust me, I know. I get to watch you tell me the news every day, it's a highlight of the day," Vlad complimented. Harriet rolled her eyes with a flush.

"Alright, cheesehead," she teased. "But yeah, I really love it. When I was younger I really enjoyed investigative journalism, since it let me go all over, but I'm really liking being in one place. Though I occasionally go out on the scene, but it's kinda dangerous to cover ghost fights here. And what we have Lance for."

Vlad snorted. He knew the news man too well. He was, as the kids called it, a meme at this point. He knew Daniel and his friends constantly posted these memes of Lance Thunder on social media, making fun of his on the scene appearances.

"What do you make of all these ghosts?" Vlad questioned. Harriet shrugged.

"Well, they certainly exist. Honestly thought Jack was stupid to try and build that one ghost portal in college. Even though. Ugh, Jack is such a buffoon sometimes," Harriet grumbled. "I still haven't forgiven him for costing me my job in Milwaukee, especially since I used him as a reliable source. Ugh!" She stopped herself to finish off her glass of wine. She exhaled deeply as she put the glass down, half-smiling apologetically. "Sorry. I know he's your friend."

"No, no no," Vlad replied eagerly. "I understand. After all, it was my home he destroyed, remember?" Harriet nodded.

"He had to have done thousands in damage," she said sympathetically. "Especially to your library. Oh, and it was a beautiful library too."

"It was one of my favorite rooms in that house," Vlad sighed. "I rebuilt the room, but it just wasn't ever quite the same. My new library, however, it's simply gorgeous."

"Oh?" Harriet questioned. Vlad took it as a sign to continue.

"It's a two story library, for once, like a true two story library. The lighting is fantastic, but also on a dimmer so the mood can be truly set," he began to describe. "I managed to slowly rebuild my collection of the classics, and there's a wood burning fireplace. Oh and of course, my favorite, the small reading nook with the most comfortable chair you will ever sit in next to a huge window. It's simply perfect."

"Oh, I would probably sit in that nook and read forever," Harriet sighed dreamily. Vlad smiled, picking up the bottle of wine with a raised eyebrow. Harriet picked her glass up, holding it for him to pour her some more. He did so, before refilling his own glass. She took another long sip of her drink.

"I would more often, but unfortunately, it's also the cat's favorite spot, and I can never bring myself to move her," he confessed. Harriet beamed.

"Vlad! You never told me you had a cat!" she exclaimed. "What's his name?" Vlad felt a cold sweat hit him. Wait.

"Maggie," he lied. "When I adopted her, that was what they called her, and it didn't feel right to change it." Harriet nodded understandingly. She set her glass of wine down to dig through her clutch, and she pulled her phone out.

"I have the most handsome little guy, his name's Taggy. Short for Maytag," she said. She showed Vlad her phone, exposing a picture of a grey and white cat stretched out in a cat hammock near a window. But that name...

"...Maytag? As in the company?"

Harriet flushed a bit.

"When I moved into my first apartment, his previous owners had left him, and so my old roommate and I began calling him Maytag after the refrigerator, since he came with the apartment, and we put food in him," she explained. "Then my roommate got married, and her husband's cats didn't get along with Taggy, so I just kept him, and he's moved six times with me since then." Vlad cracked a smile.

"Mad-ggie's name has kind of devolved into me just calling her Princess," he admitted. "I've bought so many luxury cat things for her and beds, the drinking fountain water bowl, wet food, the best vet in all of Illinois. Only the finest."

"I do the same for Taggy, much as I can afford. He's my special guy."

The waiter shyly interrupted them, bringing them each a huge plate of food. Harriet eyed hers hungrily, thanking him cheerfully.

"Oh, this does delicious," Harriet beamed. She took her chopsticks, and grabbed a bite. Vlad took another sip of wine before he did the same. "It tastes great too!"

"You think I'd steer you wrong?" Vlad lightly bragged.

"Who knows," Harriet shrugged. She gave a sly smirk. "You're the one who steered us all so wrong that you got the van stuck in a snowbank." Vlad glared at her, making her burst into snickers.

They ate in silence for a few moments, savoring their meal. Harriet took another long drink of her wine, and Vlad refilled it for her. She gave a smile.

"Thank you," she said. "Do you like your food?"

"Very much so, it's delicious," he replied. "How's yours?"

"Great, I never had such delicious food!" She ate another chopstick full of food. "I guess this is how five star dining is, huh? I made a good date investment. But next time I gotta take you to a diner."

"Oh?" Vlad raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I get the feeling that you eat too fancy," she explained. "Sometimes you just need the greasiest burger and saltiest fries that you wash down with cheap soda."

"Hmm, wouldn't you prefer I take you to a five star steakhouse?" he questioned.

"You can take me there on our third date," Harriet replied. Vlad raised his eyebrow again. "But for date too, I think you need a greasy burger."

"Third date?" he echoed. He took a drink of his wine, finishing it off.

"Yeah, I think you'll wanna take me out again," Harriet hummed. She reached for the wine to refill his glass for him.

"Thank you, dear. But really?"

"Absolutely, I'm a catch," she replied. "I've travelled the world, I'm very educated, financially stable, have my own house, am very pretty." She jokingly flipped her hair.

"Ah, I'd say you're more of a beauty than just very pretty," Vlad mused. Harriet smiled.

"Aww, thank you cheesehead," she replied. "But yes. So naturally, I think you're not going to be able to resist asking me to accompany you out again. I did you a favor by bidding on you, actually."

"We'll see how the night ends, and who's wanting a second date more," Vlad said. "I mean, yes you are quite a catch, but I think you're forgetting who was voted as sexiest billionaire by Cosmopolitan magazine." Harriet nearly choked on her wine from laughter.

"Oh my god, you read Cosmo?" she giggled. Vlad flushed red.

"N-no, I was told this," he insisted. "When I got voted as such." Harriet had to put her chopsticks down, covering her mouth as she tried to contain her laughter. Vlad slammed back the rest of his wine, refilling his own cup.

"Oh man, you really haven't changed all that much." She took a deep breath to get her laughter under control. "Same ol' cute Vlad." This peaked his interest.

"You thought I was cute?" he asked. Harriet flushed, picking her chopsticks back up to continue eating.

"Eh, kinda. In that nerdy sorta way," she confessed. "I tried getting your attention a few times, but you never seemed too interested. You were always really distracted by that portal project."

More like distracted by Maddie, as she was a huge reason why he was so interested in helping with the proto portal project. Remembering the woman of his dreams made him pause. He suddenly felt guilty that he was out on a date. And Maddie's college best friend of all people!

Of course, he had dated here and there. Maddie was, unfortunately, married, so he knew that rationally he had to somewhat try and move on. But nobody had ever truly clicked with him, or made him feel like she had. His mind was often distracted by her the entire time but...until now he had actually forgotten about Maddie.

"Ah yeah, I was...really focused on school," he half-lied, taking another bite of food.

"I could tell. Nerd," she jibbed. "Even now I can tell you're super busy with all your business stuff."

"Not as busy as you'd think, but also yes," Vlad corrected. "I have a lot of meetings to attend and business decisions to make, but I at least get a lot of help and feedback."

"That's true," Harriet said. "But I'm glad we're able to do something now. Even if we just never got around to it back then." She poked at one of her foods with her chopstick before taking the bite. "I mean, I've been kind of all over too. I don't think anything would have even worked out had we even tried something."

"Ah, yes. I remember Maddie mentioning that you were never in one place for more than two months for a long time," Vlad said.

"Yup!" she confirmed. "That's investigative journalism for ya. Takes you all over. But I really liked it. I'm glad I had that opportunity, and that I did it. Don't regret a bit of it."

"Business too," he agreed. "Especially when you're starting an empire. I don't think I was truly home for months at a time, I was going from place to place to oversee offices being built and products being made. Seeing how progress is being made on research. It was a busy first fifteen years or so. I don't think I was truly relaxing and enjoying what I'd made until the past six years or so."

"Yeah, I remember reading about your progress," she said. "Fascinating story. You had such amazing charisma to get all these companies to go with your plans." Vlad felt a bit of a nervous wave hit him, but he didn't show it, or really even have to reply. Harriet had already moved on. "Ugh, this was so good. I can't believe I was able to eat all of this."

Her plate was empty, and he had just taken his last bite.

"Would you like dessert?" he asked. She shook her head no.

"Nah, I'm good. I've eaten enough," she replied. Vlad just nodded, and he called their water over.

Instead of waiting to get a receipt book from the waiter, he simply handed him his credit card. Vlad never checked the bill when he went out to eat. The price tag never bothered him.

The waiter accepted it, soon coming back for Vlad to sign. Vlad quickly did, and for his trouble, he also handed the young man five hundred dollar bills as a tip. It made him nearly tear up and stutter as he thanked him, but quite honestly, it was more to show off to Harriet his generosity more than any genuine kindness, which, judging by her expression, absolutely worked.

Vlad gave him a half smile and waved him off, and the pair collected their things to leave, heading towards the front of the restaurant arm in arm.

"You know, the night's still young," Vlad mused. He opened the door for her, and Harriet slipped through.

"Thank you," she replied. "But oh? You don't have work?"

"Nothing that can't be rearranged," he replied. "Do you?" Harriet smiled.

"Nope, I have tomorrow off. So what are you thinking?" she asked. Vlad glanced at his watch. Hell, it was only ten-thirty.

"Have you ever been to the Amity Park Country Club?" he questioned. She nodded.

"Oh yeah. I've been there as a guest twice, for interviews," she explained. She glanced at her phone. "Doesn't it close soon though?" Vlad chuckled.

"On midnights on the weekends," he replied.

"Hmm, okay," Harriet agreed. "But we won't stay too long."

Vlad went up to the valet, informing him of his car make and model, and the young man nodded, jogging off to fetch it.

"My dear, I'm a high priority member. They'll stay open for me," he insisted. Harriet rolled her eyes.

"The workers wanna go home too, Vlad," she reminded him. "We should be respectful of their time and leave when it closes."

Vlad resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was above having to follow those kinds of petty rules. When you had billions in the bank, you could easily just toss a few thousand out to make workers let you stay past the closing time with no issues. He had never heard a single complaint after he flashed a few thousand, a drop in the bucket for him. But what Harriet wanted, she would get. He supposed, anyway. After a few dates, she'd likely just begin agreeing with him and allow him to bend the rules for her.

After a few dates? Vlad thought on it. Yeah...after a few dates.

"Whatever you wish," he replied.

His car pulled up, and Vlad immediately opened the car door for her.

------------------------------------------------------------

"And it just kind turned into a semi-permanent offer until I got kinda homesick," Harriet finished her story off as she hit another ball with the golf club. Vlad hummed lightly as her ball went off towards somewhere in the dark. "But it was amazing. I'd love to return to China sometime. Kinda unfortunately, Amity Park doesn't really cover international news like that. It's very local only."

"Maybe you should just come with me next time I go," Vlad offered. He grabbed another golf ball from their large bucket of them, setting it on the tee before lining himself up. With an experienced swing, he hit the ball, and it flew off. "To China, I mean. I go there about twice a year or so for business. Sometimes more."

"Ugh, that'd be awesome," Harriet agreed. She leaned over to pick up her drink, a pink margarita, that was resting on the tables that were set up near the driving range. Her jacket and clutch were on the table too, her heels tucked under the table. Vlad had also folded his suit jacket neatly to rest next to hers, allowing himself to also unbutton and roll his sleeves up to his elbows, and the top two buttons of his shirt. He also had his own drink, a rum and coke, that sat near hers. "I can show you all the local spots from my time there."

"Hm, that would be very nice," Vlad mused. He hit another ball. He was somewhat glad that Harriet had talked him out of doing the full course. While he didn't care (and Harriet very much did) that it would have taken far past closing time to finish a game, it was much more relaxing to just do this. Especially with nobody else being around. "I typically do only business."

"Oh boo, that's boring," Harriet said. She already had another ball on her tee, and she wacked it again. The ball went soaring. "What's the point of all your money if you're not enjoying yourself and your life?"

Vlad didn't reply. He focused on another swing. The ball stayed close to the ground, quickly rolling on and on and on before he couldn't see where it went anymore.

"You were married before, weren't you?" Vlad questioned. Harriet snorted.

"Oh, we're already at the 'let's talk about our exes' part of the relationship?" she teased. Vlad chuckled, grabbing another ball. "Eh, for about seven years. Nothing bad happened, we just realized that we weren't really as compatible as we thought. I enjoyed traveling the world and being out, and he was a big homebody that hated planes and trains. Started to realize that I wanted a family one day, he preferred it to be just us. We didn't see each other that much cause I would go cover stories all over, and it just felt like we'd be happier. So we just kind of had a mutual divorce."

"I can understand that," Vlad replied. He lightly tapped his ball twice before swinging the club as hard as he could. The ball straight up disappeared in a blink of an eye.

"So what's your excuse for never having a girlfriend before?" Harriet questioned. Vlad was grateful about the lighting, as he knew that his face was dark red. "Too busy with work, too nerdy, what?"

"I've had a girlfriend before!" he argued. "I've dated women plenty before. Don't you remember Stacy?"

"Nope," Harriet replied. She hit another ball.

"Yes you do!" he insisted. He took a break from swinging, leaning on his club. "I was with her for four years! Out of all the women I dated she was the one the papers and articles talked about the most. Don't you remember all the rumors swirling around about why we hadn't gotten married already?"

"Hmm, must have been a figment of your imagination," Harriet replied, and he exhaled dramatically. He finally noticed the shit-eatting grin, and that she was just pulling his leg. She giggled, grabbing another golf ball. She tossed it up into the air, catching it before putting it on the tee. "Okay, okay. So why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?" Vlad questioned. He took a step towards their table, grabbing his drink. He needed it right about now.

"Marry Stacy," Harriet clarified.

"Eh, it just wasn't really meant to be," he dismissed simply. He took a long gulp of his drink, sighing softly when he finished.

"Oh?" Harriet pressed. He frowned. He should have known that she was going to be nosy about it. Typical journalist.

"...I could tell that we didn't really like each other all that much," he confessed. "We were just both lonely. We would go places together but never actually be together. We lived together but never saw each other outside of bedtime, though towards the end, she began to just sleep in a separate room since our schedules would be so different. We talked about getting married on and off, but...I don't know when it clicked for me that this just wasn't what I truly wanted. I wanted a wife and children that I spent time with and that I loved being with. So we just kind of broke up, and she moved out."

Harriet nodded understandingly.

"At least you realized it before children potentially got involved," she said. "I'm glad I divorced with no children. I'd hate to put them through something like that."

"Agreed," Vlad replied. He picked up another golf ball. Instead of bending over to put it on the ground, he lazily dropped it and hit the ball on the bounce. "How many would you want?"

"Hm? What? Kids?" Harriet questioned. Vlad gave a 'mhm' noise to confirm. "At least two. A boy and a girl. What about you?"

"As many as possible," he said. He got another ball. "I always wanted a big family."

"Hmm, well I'm not a clown car," Harriet replied. "Regardless of how often I'd let a clown like you in." Vlad rolled his eyes. "Besides, you have Jasmine and Danny right? Maddie and Jack's kids?"

"Yeah, they're my godchildren," Vlad confirmed. He reached over for another quick sip of his drink. "I bought Jasmine her car. When Daniel gets his license I'll be getting him one too. And of course, paying for college. I have a few other godchildren too, same deal. I've gotten them all a car and paid for college. Can't let them have any of that dreadful student loan debt."

"Aw, you're just a big ol' softie," Harriet teased. "I'm not a billionaire, so I can't really do the same, but I'm pitching in to help my sister get my niece a decent used car next year. By the time her little brother's getting a car, I'll likely be doing the same."

"You're looking for cars for her?" Vlad mused. "I can get her one." Harriet shook her head.

"No, that's not necessary," she replied. "It's a lot to ask."

"Nonsense, I have the money to spare," he persisted. "A decent used car. Children don't need brand new ones, they're still learning." Harriet bit her lower lip as she pondered the offer.

"We'll discuss it another time with my sister," she said. Vlad nodded in agreement. He grabbed a ball. Their bucket was nearly empty now.

"I understand," he replied. Harriet picked up one of the last balls. She tossed it up in the air and swung her bat. She missed, but she quickly was able to redeem herself by hitting it on the third bounce. "I just hate to see children go without. That's why I was auctioned off, afterall. For the sake of the kids." Harriet gave a skeptical hum, getting another ball. "...Well, you know, if we're going to go out again, I need to make a good first impression on your family."

"That's better," Harriet replied. "If we're going to hang out more like this, we need to be open and honest with each other."

Vlad picked up the last ball. He stared at it for a moment, and he put it on Harriet's tee for her. She shot him a thankful smile, and she wacked the ball into the night.

"There'll be more, right?" Vlad asked.

"Well, if you're free next Friday, we can go see a show," Harriet suggested. She went back to the table, slipping into her heels again. She downed the last bit of her drink. "Local theater's opening weekend is soon."

Next weekend was terrible. Vlad had so much to do that following week that he'd have to spend all weekend preparing for. Many meetings, lots of documents to read and write and revise. Moving anything around would be an absolute headache.

But it could be moved around.

"Sounds lovely," he agreed. He finished off his drink before rolling his sleeves down again. He slipped his jacket back on. "Ready to head home?"

"We have to take the cups and clubs back up to the office," she said, nodding at the country club. Vlad made a face, and he began to protest, but a Look from Harriet made him shut up.

"Alright, alright," he sighed. Harriet grabbed their cups, and he took their clubs.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Next Friday, right?" Harriet asked as they took the final step up onto her porch.

"Yes, I'll call you tomorrow to organize a proper time," Vlad told her. He paused as he suddenly remembered. "One second."

He did a half-jog back to his car, opening the backseat and pulling out a basket. As he returned to the door, it became clear as to what it was. It was the camera bundle she had been bid on at the auction, and she stared at it.

"Here, I had noticed you bid on it. I wanted to make sure you got it," he explained, handing it out to her.

"You bought that?" she questioned.

"Yes, I knew that you'd be outbid. So I just made sure that you could get it," he replied. Harriet smiled warmly, accepting it.

"Thank you," she said. She set it on one of the porch chairs for now. "This was honestly such a great night. Gotta admit, I was kinda skeptical, but you really impressed me."

"Of course, didn't you say yourself that you made a good investment," he joked. Harriet snickered.

"Yeah, but I think even I surprised myself," she said. "I thought I was just going to buy a nice, fancy one dinner, but I'm pretty sure I actually did buy somebody that I'm going to be introducing to my mom." She gestured to her front door. "Did you wanna come inside for a bit? Pretty sure you're too tired to make the long drive home."

"I don't live too far," Vlad replied. "It's about twenty minutes, I can easily get home."

"Oh?" Harriet lightly pressed. "You sure you're not too tired though? Don't need a coffee or anything? Or want to take a nap before you go?"

It finally clicked.

"Ah, you know, I think I would like to rest a bit before I go," he agreed. Harriet smiled, turning to unlock her door. Vlad grabbed the camera basket for her, and they went inside.

#phic phight 2021 #harriet chin #vlad masters #the bachelor #my phics #phics

47 notes · View notes

queenrose730 · 3 years

Text

Reckless

Part Six

Master List

Steve had taken over the landing procedure since you were still down an arm. You and Bucky panicked for a moment when it looked like you jet was going to run right though the side of a tree covered mountain. Instead, the mountain dissolved to reveal a large city. It was impressive. It was nothing like you were expecting. Up until know all you knew of Wakanda was that it was a struggling poor country. Seeing it now. That was all a lie. Steve guided the jet down onto a platform where several people stood in waiting for the three of you.

“This place is incredible.” You didn’t know where to look as Steve was landing. Everything was a beautiful mix of technology and tradition.

“Come on yn. Let’s go meet our hosts.” Steve helped you stand. All the pain meds had worn of by now and you were definitely feeling everything.

“God. I hope they have a hot bath I can crawl in for the next week.” Even though you were trying to hide the pain as not to worry either men, it was getting hard to hide.

“I can carry you if you want?”

“No Steve. I can walk.” He held you steady for a moment before he decided not to fight over it right now.

Introductions didn’t take long. Unfortunately, it was hard for you to pay attention. Steve held onto tightly so you wouldn’t stumble. Even then it took everything you had just to stay upright. Steve was talking to a younger woman about living arrangements for the night and when T’challa was to be expected back. There was also some talk about what their rough plan was for Bucky. Finally, attention was turned to you.

“We should get her to medical.” The young girl pointed out to the men on either side of you. You tried to remember what she said her name was, Shuri?

“Shit. Yn.” Bucky positioned himself the best could to help Steve hold you up.

“Yea, I don’t think I’m doing too hot over here boys.” Steve held on a little tighter.

“Why didn’t you say something?” You shrugged at Steve’s question.

“Y’all were busy.”

“Yn.” He was stern with you name. “Come on.” Both Steve and Bucky helped you into the building and down the elevator. From what you saw of the building so far, it put the Avengers compound to shame. Tony would have been a kid in a candy store with all this tech. The door of the elevator opened as your heart was hurting again for everything that had gone on.

“This way Agent yn.” Shuri lead the way for you to lay down on the bed. Several people moved forward helping you to undress so they could better treat your injuries.

“Gentlemen, if you wouldn’t mind.” Shuri motioned for them to leave the room.

“Only one show for you guys today.” You gave your best grin to Steve and Bucky as they left. Both shaking their heads at you.

You weren’t sure how long you have been in medical. Each of your cuts had been cleaned and rewrapped. They even removed Steve awful stitches from your thigh. Instead they just applied an ointment to it and wrapped it back up. You wanted to question them but chose not to. You were just grateful for their care. They also double check the setting of you shoulder. Satisfied with how it was sitting, they injected something. You assumed it was pain meds because almost immediately the pain was receding. After a few more injections you felt damn near back to normal.

“What kind of meds are you using? I feel almost good as new, but I’m not groggy like regular pain meds?” Shuri looked up from where she was sitting at a desk typing.

“That’s because it wasn’t pain meds. Things heal very differently here in Wakanda.” She walked over to where you were still lying on the bed. “You’ll want to take it easy for a day or so, but you are healed.”

“What?” Your eyes were wide at your statement. She just laughed.

“I’m sure we will have plenty of time to answer all your questions later. But Captain Rogers wanted you to join him as soon as you were able to.” You nodded and slowly at up from the bed. A few hours earlier you would be in too much pain to even think of moving like that without help. Standing up you tested your shoulder. Rotating in slightly. It felt fine. This place was crazy. You were definitely going to take Shuri up on her question answering.

“Where are they?”

“Right this way.” Shuri lead you to where Steve and Bucky were at. It was a small apartment on one of the upper floors of the building. Both men stood when you walked in.

“Thank you Shuri. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome Agent yn.” She closed the door behind her. You turned to face the men before you. They had changed and been cleaned up.

“You boys clean up well.” You glanced around the room. There was small kitchen area to you right. The table was full of the most delicious looking food. In the center of the room was a couch and a couple chairs setting around a low coffee table. The left wall was solid windows. It was night and the city outside sparkled with life. You had seen a city at night before, but there was something different about it. It didn’t feel intimidating like the New York night sky could be. Instead it was inviting, it felt alive in the best way.

“You look better yn.” Steve walk over to you. He placed his hands on your shoulders. You could tell he wanted to give you a hug. Closing the space between the two of you, you wrapped your arms around him.

“I feel better Steve.” You squeezed him with all the strength you could to let him know that you weren’t lying. He pulled you back to look at you. “Shuri says I’m all healed. Just got to take it easy for a couple days.”

“Good.” He pulled you back to him and gave you a tighter hug. Bucky cleared his throat behind the two of you. You felt Steve chuckle. He released you from his arms.

“Glad to see your better yn.”

“Thanks Bucky.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. “What?” You questioned him. Turning though before he could say anything. “So what’s good?” You walked over to the table. Your eyes moving over all the food that had been set out.

“Just about everything. We tried to leave you a good selection.” Bucky joined you standing at the table. He pointed out the different foods. What he and Steve liked the best. You mainly stuck to the fruits and lighter dishes. You were starving but didn’t want to overdo it and get sick. Once your plate was loaded up, you joined Steve on the couch. Bucky took one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table. As you ate they explained about how Shuri and the other scientists might be able to remove the programming in his brain. You partly paid attention. To engrossed in the food to give all your attention to the men. There was something about Bucky going back on ice and doing scans. You nodded and agreed when it seemed appropriate in the conversation. Steve finally caught your full attention when he mentioned the Raft.

“What a minute. Run that by me again.” You had nearly choked on your food.

“I’m going to get Sam and everyone out else out tomorrow night.”

“How? What’s the plan?” You set down your plate turning to face him in on the couch. Bucky leaned back in his seat.

“You’re not coming with me yn.” Steve didn’t make eye contact with you.

“The hell I am not Steve. They are my friends too!”

“Yn. I’m not going to let you risk getting caught.” He still wasn’t making eye contact.

“I don’t give a fuck! I’m going with you!” In an instant Steve was standing. Towering over you as you sat on the couch.

“You. Are. Not. Coming.” He punctuated each word through gritted teeth. “There is no more to discuss. I want you here. Safe.” It had been so long since you had seen him this angry. It took so much to get him to that place and honestly it scared you. You quickly nodded in agreement. Not trusting your voice. Steve gave a sharp nod back and left the room. Heading down a hall and slamming a door. Letting out the breath you had been holding you looked over to Bucky. He looked just as surprised as you did with Steve’s outburst. As soon as his eyes meet yours he spoke.

“I don’t think I have ever seen him like that. Are you ok?”

“Yea.” Bucky nodded then got up to sit by you. Loosely placing his arm around you.

“I’ll still be here doll”

“Oh fuck you.” You pushed his arm off and stood up. Just like Steve was moments ago. “You’re going to be in a fucking tube. You don’t even try.” He stared blankly back at you. You looked down the hall where Steve had gone down. “Bedrooms down there?”

“Uh yea. One on the left is set you for you. Steve and I thought you might like it better. It has a private bathroom.” He was trying to make up for his comments but you didn’t care.

“Good.” You headed down the hall quickly. Leaving Bucky sitting in the living room by himself. You wanted nothing more than to scream. But you also didn’t want Steve to be worried. It made you even angrier that after what he just pulled, you still didn’t want to worry him.

“Fuck him.” You mumbled to yourself. Walking around the room you found that it had been stocked with clothing and toiletries. You sighed, running your hand over your face. This was a much better situation than any other options. Not that you had options at this point. You sat down on the bed, staring at the door across from you. Everything inside you wanted to head across the hall. To fight with Steve. To tell him exactly where to stick his plan of leaving you here. You knew though that if you did, it would end the way it always did. That is the last thing you wanted. Not only because you wanted to keep hating him, but you were guests and there was someone else in the suite with you two.

The next best option was a hot shower. Silently thanking the men for giving you the room with its own bathroom. You rifled through the clothes that were given to you. Finding something comfortable to wear to bed and laying it out on the bed. You walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Setting the water as hot as you could. It didn’t take long for steam to fill the bathroom. Stepping in you let out a small hiss at the sting of the water. It turning your skin pink almost immediately. Once your body adjusted, you began to clean yourself off. Washing away all the stress from the past few days. You had gently passing over each spot that had been healed just hours before. A thousand questions came to mind. You tried to commit them to memory so you could ask Shuri.

After a long while the water started to cool. Your hands were pruned and skin bring hot red in spots. You turned the water off and reach out for a towel. Wrapping one around your body and other twisted in your hair. The temperature changes from the shower to the room air caused goosebumps to raise on your arms and legs. You made quick work of drying off and changed into the clothes you had laid out. Climbing into the big bed and wrapping yourself up in the blankets. You let your thoughts drift and soothe you to sleep.

Tags- @ginger-swag-rapunzel

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #steve x reader friendship #enemies to lovers #marvel fanfiction #slow burn #steve rogers #captain america civil war #captain america #winter solider #reader insert #marvel #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes

19 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Written for @vfordii‘s birthday which was....five months ago. BUT LISTEN, it’s still better than last year’s six months so like...improvement. IMPROVEMENT.

“You know why I called you here.” The Marshal’s voice is soft, barely louder than the hum of the fluorescents. “I presume.”

Shirayuki catches herself at the edge of her seat, chest pitched forward, neck craning to decipher every word and--

She settles back with a frown. Even a PhD isn’t a defense to the cheapest tactic on the pop-psych bookstore self-help shelf, it seems. Worse, Izana knows it, his mouth tipped so subtly toward a smile. And now he knows she knows it, and--

Her mug has gone cool, but it’s at least a credible distraction, a convenient way to buy some time and save face. Not something she ever expected she’d care about. Doesn’t mean she won’t take the opportunity.

“Zen.” The ceramic clacks like a shot as she sets it down. “You want to talk about the drift.”

“Yes.” He breathes, long and labored. “And no. I want him back in the cockpit.”

Come see me at your earliest convenience, his email had said, practically polite by PPDC standards. Manners atrophied when a body spent so much time in the higher altitudes of the chain of command. I’d like to discuss a few things with you.

She’d known what this would be about. What it was always going to be about. And still--

Shirayuki is still disappointed. “You have to be joking. It took him three years to get him into a jaeger at all, and you want to just...push him right back in.”

“No,” he hums, fingers still and steepled over his desk. “I want you to do it.”

There are rules of engagement for tangling with the Marshal. Voices are to be kept low, steady. Think before speaking. Don’t react. Showing an emotion in front of Izana Wisteria would be as good as handing him a rope to hang her with. “I’m not his commander.”

His fingers knit, knuckles popping in the silence-- “I know that, Doctor.”

Her own are curled into fists; at least then he can’t see them shaking. “Then I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to do your job,” he tells her, with only a pause for breath before he does. “I am merely suggesting that it is far past time to remove the kid gloves you have been handling him with.”

Her fists clench, hard enough to leave vivid crescents in the meat of her palms. “I believe I’m the judge of that.”

“Of course.” Every word drips with insincerity. “But I’m sure a little encouragement from you would--”

“I’ll do what’s necessary for the health of my patient,” she informs him, words clipped. “You’re not my commander.”

Izana stills, gaze riveted to her. “I am well aware of that, doctor. But I need him in a jaeger yesterday.”

“You’ve needed him in a jaeger for the past three years.” Shirayuki bolts to her feet, and oh, if only she could locate at least another foot of height, she might be able to finally have the high ground in one of these arguments. “I don’t see what the rush is now.”

His voice doesn’t raise above a pleasant chat, but bitterness weighs down every word. “You should.”

Shirayuki doesn’t believe in violence. Or rather, violence is a choice, and she doesn’t believe in choosing it unless no other option remains that causes less harm, but, well--

She’s got a very short list of people who deserved a black eye, and Izana Wisteria sorely tempts her to put his name on it. “What do you mean by that?”

The Marshall is all tense lines behind the battlement of his desk, a buttress against the fall. “Aren’t you a part of K-Science?”

The only distinction that mattered in the dome was between combatants and non; that a licensed therapist fell more into the ‘administration’ box rather than ‘research scientist’ was the least of their concerns. At least as far as the placement of her office. “Tangentially.”

“Well then.” His tension washes away like debris after the storm. “It’s all in the numbers.”

Shirayuki has been trained extensively in conflict resolution, in effective communication, in managerial manipulation, and still, still-- annoyance dogs her every step, nipping at her heels as she loses herself in the dome’s labyrinth of corridors. For once it would be nice to leave the Marshal’s office with something more like a sense of purpose and less like a reprieve in shoving boulders up a muddy hill in Tartarus, but this far into her tenure with the PPDC, she knows better than to hope for impossible asks. It’s not a new feeling by any means-- there’s certainly a hole worn in her heart for just this sort of fruitless anger and a monkey on her back with Izana Wisteria’s face, but he’s certainly devised an entirely new way to get her hackles up today.

Long limbs insinuate themself next to hers, a white-clad arm weaving its way around her elbow. She looks up-- not far-- into a pearl white, movie star grin.

“Well, well,” Yuzuri lilts, halfway between a drawl and singsong. “Someone’s looking stormy.”

Shirayuki doesn’t know how tall a person has to be to be considered thunderous, but if the crinkle to Yuzuri’s eyes are any indication, she’s well below the mark. “I was meeting with the Marshal.”

Yuzuri swings a single, impressed note. “Yeah, that’d do it. Or, I’d imagine it would. Not like he asks to see many of us in K-Science.”

Funny, she doesn’t say, since he’s so comfortable quoting your data. “You should probably count yourself lucky on that one.”

“Oh, yeah.” Yuzuri waves a hand, bangles jangling down her wrist. “Garrack handles him. Honestly, I think she enjoys the aggravation.”

Knowing Garrack like she does, Shirayuki certainly wouldn’t discount it.

Slender fingers flick out a sharp snap. “Hey, maybe you can send her the next time you need to deal with His Majesty. I’m sure she’d kill for a distraction just about now.”

“Oh, no! I’m-- I don’t need any help, it’s just...” She frowns, rifling through the satchel slung over her shoulder. She hardly has anything in it-- lip balm, her notes, a pack of tissues, her civilian identification, her wallet-- but still, her keys are shifted underneath the whole of her life, jingling just out of her reach.

It’s a metaphor, probably, but her love affair with literature is at too much of a standstill these days for her to bother unpacking it. Not when it’s probably going to end in her storming back into the Marshal’s office and demanding he show her some form of respect if he expects her to do her job.

Yuzuri’s mouth curls into a sly smile. “He’s top brass that’s used to having full grown adults ask how high rather than why?”

“That’s part of it,” she admits begrudgingly. “But it would also be nice if he could say what he means, instead of--youch!”

Metal teeth digging painfully into her palm, but she holds on anyway, dragging the ring right out, hair ties and all.

“Instead of...?” Yuzuri prompts, far too amused.

She heaves a sigh, plucking rubber bands off her hand. “Making it all some sort of...logic block word puzzle.”

Blonde brows slant skeptically. “I thought you loved those things.”

“For fun. Not for...” She waves a hand, keys jingling and brightly as Yuzuri’s bangles. “...Professional conversations. I’m not here for his entertainment. I don’t have time for-- for games!”

“Not when you could be doing your actual job.”

“Right.” Her actual job, which has almost exclusively been managing Zen’s feelings regarding Izana for months now. “And now he wants me to...“

She hesitates, teeth sinking into her lip. Outside the dome, patient confidentiality is the backbone of her profession, but here, when everyone eats and breathes and lives on top of one another--

“Lemme guess,” Yuzuri drawls, “get that boy in a pilot seat?”

-- it’s impossible. “I just wish he would show some faith.”

“In you?”

“No.” That’s asking far too much from a man who has only ever trusted as far as the drift could take him. She heaves a sigh, flyaways fluttering in her peripherals. “In Zen.”

A laugh huffs out of Yuzuri. “That’s asking a bit much from an older brother, don’t you think?”

Shirayuki has never, strictly, had a sibling. Ryuu certainly straddles the line between friend, colleague, and family, but she’s never doubted his drive, or the rigorous course of his research. He wouldn’t be her first choice to stand in front of the PPDC committee and defend her findings, but in a pinch, she would trust him wholeheartedly, with no reservations, to do the job.

That does not seem to be the unifying sibling experience. “Is it?”

Yuzuri grins. “You are definitely an only child.”

She restrains her scowl to a disapproving frown. “Maybe, in this case, that’s a good thing.”

They turn down a corridor, and relief floods into her-- this is it, the hall that holds her office at the end. She takes a step forward, but Yuzuri holds her back, gaze fixed leagues away.

“Do you really think he’ll do it?” She blinks, eyes finally focusing down on Shirayuki. “You really think he’ll get back in that jeager?”

“Yes.”

Yuzuri recoils, blinking. “Wow, no hesitation on that one, huh?”

“None,” she agrees, a smile lingering at the edge of her lips. “I know Zen might be hurting right now after--” the most disastrous drift she’s witnessed in her entire career-- “everything, but he...”

She takes in a breath, putting her back to her door. “No matter what happens, Zen always does the right thing.” It’d been that unwavering moral compass that had drawn her to him, a shining bright light among the downtrodden heart of the dome. “He may need a little time to pick himself back up, dust himself back off, but he knows that one day, he’ll have to sit down and talk this out, not run--”

“But not today, it looks like.” Yuzuri’s hand darts right over her shoulder, plucking something off her door.

Shirayuki blinks, letting the yellowed square of paper come into focus.

Something came up. Rain check ~Z

She stares, fingers numb as she swipes the scrap out of Yuzuri’s hands.

“That sunovabitch,” she grits out, paper dinting beneath her grip. “He’s avoiding me.”

“So.” Yuzuri cocks her head, mouth stretching wide. “Wanna grab some grub?”

“I’m just saying.” Suzu’s hand scribbles across a napkin, dropping symbols more arcane than any rift. “If I could just get any of the brass to take a good look at this, things would be different.”

“Different how?” Kazaha drawls, accusation dripping from every word. At least, that’s how it sounds-- it hadn’t taken Shirayuki long to realize that’s just how the man speaks, every phoneme meant to cut glass. The asshole accent, Yuzuri calls it. “Does this somehow improve the quality of life in the dome? The world? The--?”

“It’ll certainly improve my quality of life if I don’t have to hear about it,” Yuzuri deadpans. “C’mon, we’re eating dinner. Let’s put the toys away.”

“It’s not a toy, it’s a tool,” Suzu grumbles, finishing it with a flourish. “And if we used it, we’d know when the kaiju would show up, instead of just waiting for them to wade into the Sea of China or whatever.”

That, at least, gets the team to bow their heads over it, passing around frowns and furrows alike.

“If that was the case,” Kazaha sniffs, pushing it away. “Garrack Gazelt would have already put this in front of the Marshal.”

Suzu scowls, yanking it back. “You know that none of those jarheads appreciate good science! Until I get this paired up with some pretty little graphs, I might as well be speaking Japanese.”

Izuru perks up at that. “Doesn’t the Marshal speak Japanese?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Hm.” Ryuu squirms next to her, craning his head over the napkin. “I think you’re missing a variable.”

“Impossible.” Suzu stares down at it. “Just look here--”

Shirayuki glances down, letters and numbers do-si-doing between roots and over fractions. Izana might shove her office all the way down in K-Science, but that certainly didn’t give her the training to decipher this little bit of mathematical prognostication.

Suzu pitches forward, felt-tip pen rolling across his knuckles in a bit of sleight-of-hand she would have never thought him capable of. “--you’ll see that by putting ‘a’ over ‘n’ squared--”

“All right.” Yuzuri’s fingers knit in the cotton of his button-down, dragging him back down onto the bench with a thump. “I think we’ve had quite enough of that.”

With a lift of his brows, Suzu’s face shifts from fox to puppy in eight muscles flat. “But, Yuzuri--”

“No buts.” Her fingers pluck the pen out of his, dropping it back into a pocket with a firm, warning pat. “Now, as I was trying to say: His Highness is avoiding you.”

Shirayuki blinks, gaze dragging up to where Yuzuri waits with an impatient smirk. “N-no! That’s not it at all. Something probably came up--”

“Izana’s avoiding you?” Suzu swings a wide, gaping stare at her. “Didn’t you just have a meeting today? What did you do to him?”

Her hands fly up, waving off the accusation. “Ah, no, I didn’t--”

“No, not His Majesty, His Highness,” Yuzuri corrects, blowing on a spoonful of the mess’s finest chicken noodle. “And he is avoiding you, which is bullshit.”

She has to bite her cheeks to keep her lips from peeling back into a grimace. “Zen has lots of work to keep him busy--”

“What work?” Kazaha scoffs, meticulously cutting his chicken into bite-sized pieces. “He’s a ranger without a co-pilot. It’s not like he can just jump into a jaeger and fight kaiju with half a working mecha.”

Yuzuri swivels toward him, hands held out with a level of emphasis Shirayuki can’t help but feel is more than the situation truly deserves. Especially since some of the rangers are starting to peer over their way. “See, even Kazaha knows it’s bullshit.”

His mouth purses into a tight frown. “I don’t know why it’s even Kazaha--”

Yuzuri’s brows make a dubious stretch toward her hairline. “I’m pretty sure you do.”

“--I’m very socially astute, even Shidan--”

“--just because he lets you out of the lab doesn’t mean you don’t offend people by breathing--”

“I dunno.” Suzu’s forehead furrows, tapping a spoon on each of his oyster crackers, drowning them in broth. “Zen seems like a real upright guy, you know? Forthright. If he had a problem, he’d say something, not just ghost you.”

Yuzuri stares at him. “He buys you one bubble tea, and now he can do no wrong.”

“Do you know how hard those are to get out here? He had to go all the way out to--”

Whatever else Suzu means to say, it’s lost in the siren.

This isn’t Shirayuki’s first time in the dome-- far from it-- but it’s never easy.

The siren’s moan shivers through the air, something she feels rather than hears. Her teeth rattle in her mouth, and there’s nothing she wants to do more than curl up beneath the table and ride it out, eyes squeezed shut and hands over her ears. She wouldn’t be the only one; already half of K-Science is on the ground, tears streaming down more than one ashen face.

Man’s worst enemy is fear. Grandpa had told her that, letting her dip her toes into the bay. She’d been small, young enough that she still wondered if kaiju might lurk under the surface, waiting to pull tasty little girls beneath the depths. Kaiju can only kill you once, but fear kills a hundred times. His hand sits heavy on her shoulder, a comfort, a cage; and she--

She gets up.

Pilots and personnel scramble; one tech stands up too fast, boot hooking on the bench’s edge and sprawling face-first into the floor. It’s only ranger reflexes that keep her from getting trampled, dodging around the splay of her fingers with a dexterity that would make Shirayuki’s jaw drop if she wasn’t trying to keep all her molars from jittering out of their sockets.

There’s a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t just imagined it, a goad to get her standing. She traces the hand back, up ranger fatigues to dark hair, brows raised, and beneath them--

It’s violet eyes, not gold. Not Obi, but a ranger she’s never seen before, his mouth quirked with cold consideration.

“It would be safer,” he says, voice somehow Altantic-crisp over the cacophony, “if you stayed in your seat.”

Her mouth opens, working around the sounds to thank him, but he’s already gone, disappeared into the crowd of PPDC personnel around her. Shirayuki’s eyes shift over the mob, trying to-- to find him, maybe, or at least a face she knew, someone that she could talk to, someone to memorize one last time--

She finds one, silver-blond hair shimmering at the door, too pale to be anyone else. Zen. It’s Zen looking right at her, those deep blue eyes inscrutable, mouth carved into a line more grim than he’s ever shown her.

He turns away.

“It’s too soon, though,” Suzu murmurs, staring down at his napkin. The screens are on now, muted by the siren’s wails, and there’s a Kaiju on it, frill rigid around its reptilian face as it tears a city to twisted metal ribbons. It’s just buildings, streets, impossible to tell which one, but all that matters right now is not here.

“As I said,” Ryuu says, only just audible over the drone. “You dropped a variable.”

What hurts most, once her teeth stop rattling and her heart ceases to pound in her chest, is that Yuzuri is right-- Zen is avoiding her.

“The sessions are his choice.” Labeling tubes isn’t quite how Shirayuki had envisioned her evening going, especially with her mind half-away, pondering over the Pacific, but it’s something to do. “No one can force him to come.”

“Sounds like that’s half the problem,” Garrack mutters, forehead pressed to the hood, leaving a faint, oily smear across the glass. “Free will. Foils gods and men alike, doesn’t it?”

Her mouth pulls down at the corners, a bow stretched too tight, just like her patience. “I don’t want him to be forced. Therapy only works if the patient wants to change.”

Which, by Zen’s conspicuous absence, tells her he doesn’t. He’s happy as he is, wearing the fatigues but never getting in the cockpit, waiting for a copilot that’s already shown how little he cares about anything but lining his own pocket.

“Of course. You can lead a horse to water, but you’ll never make it drink.” It’s impressive to watch Garrack work; even in rubber sleeves, her grip never trembles, never slips. In the same position, Shirayuki can barely close a fist, but Garrack’s got the same dexterity in the hood as she does out of it. “Good thing you get paid regardless.”

Shirayuki flushes, heat pricking at her pride. “I’m not worried about that.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you are,” Garrack murmurs. “I’m just saying it’s nice. Salaried, with room and board to boot.”

Her frown falls further, flirting with a glower. “I’m aware that I’m in the unique position of not having to care in an official capacity if he bothers to come back. But personally--” her breath catches, stomach doing one, solid somersault-- “I do. I want him to want this.”

Garrack hums, not an agreement or judgement, but an acknowledgement. Tactic permission to proceed.

“Izana wants me to tells him to climb into a jeager, to use my-- our personal connection to manipulate him into the cockpit, regardless of what his personal feelings are.” Her breath rushes from her lungs, suddenly ragged, frayed at either end. “No, encourage. That’s what he told me. That it’s my job to do it for humanity.”

One thick eyebrow arches under Garrack’s cap, her eyes bright with interest. “And how do you feel about that?”

It’s strange being on the other side of this question, to be the analyzed instead of the analyzer. She squirms, teeth worrying at her lip, mind racing with possibilities.

“C’mon now,” Garrack chides, mouth hooking into a smirk. She picks up her rack, rattling the small tubes in their holes. “I gave you those for a reason. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, you know-- at least, that’s what people say when they’re afraid of what you’ll get up to if you start thinking.”

She tosses her a wink, ejecting the tip of her pipette into the trash before fitting on another. “Too bad they don’t know that drudgery clears your mind. Have all my best ideas when I’ve got a sharpie and a hundred two-mils to get through. So come on--” she grins, all conspiracy-- “tell me. What do you think of our illustrious leader’s idea?”

Her teeth click shut around her first opinion-- saying Izana Wisteria should go suck eggs would not only please Garrack far too much, but would be around the rest of the base by morning. The last thing she needs is the Marshal inviting her into his office and reading that off one of his hundreds of emails. “...Think that’s beyond my professional scope to comment on.”

“Oh please.” Garrack waves her off, one rubber arm flailing behind the glass. “I’m not asking you to issue a formal complaint about the marshal’s policies. I want to know if you think that kid should get in that steel coffin and kick the closest kaiju in whatever passes for their balls. If throwing another body at the breach is what’s best for humanity.”

“I...”

It shouldn’t be. There’s more rangers on this base than jaegers to fit them; one career pilot pulling back to fill the ranks shouldn’t be more than a drop in the bucket, a chair to fill. But this is no ordinary jaeger-- this is Rex Tyrannous, the most advanced piece of machinery to roll out of a PPDC facility before or since. Rebuilt from the same blueprint as the Mark I, reconfigured with the best technology the Mark III could offer, the Mark IV’s older, more deadly brother, and--

And the money for it hadn’t come out of Defense Corps coffers. No matter how many hopefuls washed up at the dome, the King of Kaijus wouldn’t come out of its box for anyone less than a Wisteria, not as long as at least one was still standing.

“Yes.” She spits the word out like poison, but still she feels unclean. “There’s no one else that can do what he needs to.”

Garrack’s mouth twists in a wry curve. “Then there you go.”

“It’s a conflict of interest!” Shirayuki insists, the sharpie in her hand shaking as she tries to form a 4. “If there was anyone on this base that had the credentials, I’d-- I’d put in the referral myself. He deserves someone that’s impartial--”

“Shirayuki.” With exaggerated care, Garrack pulls her arms from the hood, letting her hands fall down to her lap. “Do you think there is a single soul in this dome who could do the math you did and not be partial?”

Her mouth works, opening once, twice, before settling shut with a snick.

“I didn’t hire you because you lacked bias.” Garrack’s voice pitches low, softer than she’s ever heard her, knuckles white where they clasp her knees . “You wrote a paper about PTSD in rangers that lost a partner in the drift. A paper, might I add, that showed a great deal of knowledge in jaeger production and use. The sort of thing no one learns unless they’ve been locked up under a dome for years before being released in the wild.”

It’s not an accusation, not yet, but Shirayuki’s hands still anyway, clammy beneath latex.

“Because of that useless wall, we’re years behind in jaeger production. We need new mechs, and Rex Tyrannous is the best model we got left, whether it’s been sitting in its box for half a decade or not. ” She settles back, brow arched. “But I don’t need to tell you that, now do I?”

No. Her fingers clench hard around the sharpie. She doesn’t.

“Shirayuki, I know you’re a good kid, but you do get to be selfish sometimes.” Garrack grins, too pleased at the prospect. “You’re human, just like the rest of us. There’s no one who doesn’t have skin in this game.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “But it’s my job to do what’s best for him as my patient, not just--”

Garrack snorts. “Oh, is the discontinuation of the human race not going to affect him?”

Shirayuki frowns, opening her mouth to-- well, to say something quelling, no doubt. But-- “Oh.”

Garrack hunches over her lap, forearms braced on her thighs. “I know the Wisterias put on a good show of being gods, but they’re flesh and blood like the rest of us. It doesn’t do anyone good for them to sit out the apocalypse. Not even themselves.”

“But, I...” She sets the tubes down, gloves crinkling into fists. “I don’t know what happened in the drift, just what the readouts said. It could have been a failure on Obi’s side just as much as his, and if they’re not compatible--”

“Then just ask him,” Garrack sighs, swiveling back toward the hood. “You don’t need to try to read minds.”

“But he’s not talking--”

“Not that Wisteria prick.” She chucks her chin toward the door, toward the vague direction of the dome beyond. “The other one. Seems like the real problem there might be getting him to stop talking.”

“Obi?” She blinks. He’s friendly, sure, but she wouldn’t say he’s been one to volunteer information.

“If that’s the one that’s down here every other day, talking my ears off with Suzu, then yes.” One rubber arm flails at her through the glass. “Now get out of here, and get those two little shits inside their tuna can before a Cat 5 can make it down the coast and make us regret it.”

When she steps into the hall, Shirayuki has every intention of following Garrack’s advice. It’s solid, after all; in a two-sided problem where one solution makes itself unavailable, the obvious answer is the best approach-- especially when in this labyrinth of a dome, there’s only so many places where he can hide.

She stops by the mess for a peace offering. Obi might be disposed to be friendly toward her at the moment, but she knows all too well how far good will will get her if she’s going to start rummaging around in things he’d rather keep cooped up behind that smile. Quality coffee and some contraband cookies might not mend the bridges she burns, but it’ll at least keep them standing while she’s walking over it.

It’s a good plan, a solid plan; she just doesn’t anticipate the company.

“Shirayuki.” Dark circles ring dark eyes, but Mitsuhide smiles just as warm as he always does, sprawled stiffly on the bench. “It’s good to see you.”

“I should be saying the same thing!” she gasps, her and her tea sliding in across from him at the formica table. “I thought you’d be out...” in your tuna can.

She bites her cheek, just hard enough to keep the words from spilling out. Sometimes she really, truly wishes she didn’t listen to Garrack quite as much; her mouth and Garrack’s words made a volatile mix. The sort that would get her a dishonorable discharge, if she weren’t a civilian-- or careful.

“We were. I mean, I was. Both Kiki and myself.” His body twists with a good, solid shake, eyes clearing. “Sorry, just had to exorcise the ghost. You know how it is.”

She doesn’t, but she does. There’s papers on the subject; reams of them-- Longevity of neural imprints in active rangers had been a favorite when she’d been in undergrad, as well as the far more entertaining, Ghost Drifting: How does one leave a ghost while still alive? It’s still novel to witness it, to see that spectral presence cling to the neural stem so long after--

“We just got back a little while ago.” He shifts, his right leg stretching long across the floor, knee bucking stiffly. “Kiki hit the rack, but I needed to, ah, take a walk.”

That’s his-- his good leg, as Kiki likes to call it, the half of him that becomes Redwood Dancer to pair with her left. That’s what makes them first line defense, even in an older Mark III; Kiki’s a real lefty, not one made by the drift. When Dancer throws a punch, both sides come full powered.

That’s what you get being the best of the best, Zen would say, envy and wistfulness thickening his voice, everyone knows they can count on you to serve.

That seems less like a good thing as Shirayuki sits across from it, watching the shadows shift in Mitsuhide’s eyes.

“Did you see it?” she asks, voice a whisper in the cavernous lair of the mess. “The kaiju?”

Mitsuhide grunts, shaking his head. “No, we were kept on standby. Got there after some of the boys in Hong Kong did, and they handled it.”

He doesn’t offer how well; she doesn’t ask.

“Ah,” she hums instead, hunching over her mug. “So it was out that way?”

“When they get that far down, yeah.” One of his large fingers wraps around the handle of his mug, bringing it to his mouth for a long, steady drag. “Not many wander out this way.”

“Alaska--”

“Yeah, there’s a few up north, and I think Seattle always has a good sweat when that happens, but...” His brows furrow, just a small wrinkle in the center of his forehead. “Not so much down here. Not anymore.”

Her palms press against warm ceramic, lips curling into a thin smile. “I guess we don’t have what they want. Whatever that is.”

His mouth gives a wryly twitch. “Thank God for small blessings.”

It would be nice to let the silence between them mellow, to allow herself a companionable respite after swallowing around her heart for half a day, but--

But there are things that won’t keep, no matter how much she’d like to set them aside, set them down even for just a moment. “Mitsuhide...”

He stiffens, the way a dog does when it hears its name shouted in the key of trouble. There’s two ways to respond to conflict, they used to say, fight or flight; years later they added freeze with as begrudging a reception as any change to common wisdom was given. But Mitsuhide does none of those; he just hunkers, eyes warm and dark and wary when they meet hers, hedged by hunched shoulders. The sort of man who grew up in a place where natural disasters are weathered in bathtubs and basements, or else watched from afar on front porches.

“I meant to talk to you.” Her fingers knit into the natural ridges of her mug; the only way to keep them from trembling. “After...after. I mean, not this, but before. The, um...”

It’s ridiculous how many calamities can cluster in a few hours. She’ll need to start numbering them to keep them all straight.

“The drift,” he rasps wearily. “Zen's talked about it with you, hasn’t he?”

Her mouth works; her duty to her profession says to keep it shut, to keep her patient’s business confidential, but her duty as a member of the human race, of a species that is growing more endangered by the year-- “He skipped his session.”

Shirayuki couldn’t have moved him if she hit him, but this rocks him back in his seat. “I’d been hoping...” He shakes his head, mouth curling into a rueful smile. “I thought I’d be the one trying to work something out of you.”

“Ah.” She bows her head, watching the leaves swirl in her tea. “So you haven’t had any luck either?”

Her shakes his head, disappointment stark in every sway. “He won’t talk about it. After he got out of the hanger he went and locked himself in his rack. He only agreed to come to the mess if we promised to drop the whole thing.”

Shirayuki winces. “I’d normally never ask, but when he didn’t show up to our usual appointment...”

Mitsuhide lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I don’t know why he’d do that. I’d give some of my teeth to let someone else listen to my head sometimes.”

She blinks. “You’re always welcome, if you wanted to.”

“No.” His mouth rucks up in a rueful curve. “I really couldn’t.”

“But--”

“The thing they don’t tell you before you get into that cockpit is--” he takes a deep breath, the air emptying out the tension in his shoulders-- “is that the second you hit the drift, all your secrets aren’t your own anymore.”

“Oh.” The drift is two minds laid bare to one another, the deepest form of trust, but in all her studies, she’d never thought what that meant. How tangled and deep a mind could become in things that weren’t theirs to know, weren’t their secrets to carry. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrows ruffle up an inch, curious. “Of course. Anything I can answer.”

“When you first came to the dome, you were...” Shirayuki bites her lips, considering. “You were Zen’s copilot. But then Kiki came...”

The PPDC might be the one that’s stamped on the letterhead, but the Wisterias are the spine of the jeager project as well as its face. Their neural net stretches far and wide through the Corp’s hierarchies, fingers in every pie, and although Zen might not be in the upper echelons of leadership, the sort of state secrets someone might glean from the casual details rattling around in his head...

Well, it’s a good thing the Seirans were just as entrenched.

“Why did you do it?” she asks finally, though it’s miles away from what she means. “Why change when you already...?”

“Ah, well...” Mitsuhide’s shoulders heave awkwardly. “It was an emergency, at first, and then...I don’t know how to explain it. We just fit. Not that I didn’t with Zen, but this was...”

He hesitates, smile edging towards a kind of self-deprecation that doesn’t quite fit him. “It was different. If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” she admits. Not to her, at least, someone who has never been in a cockpit, who has never drifted over a set of pons and tried to make a connection. But to someone who has, who has spent the last half decade rotating through a list of hopefuls and throwing them all in the trash-- “But I think...maybe it could.”

Shirayuki would love to say that she’s experienced a perception shift, that a few words with Mitsuhide gave her a clarity that she needs to pore over before acting on, but the fact of it is-- she’s too anxious to approach Obi, pure and simple.

Not that he’s given her much cause; he’s scarce after that failure of a drift, but his absence lacks the marked purpose of Zen’s. It’s hard to find anyone after an attack; everyone’s on high alert, hypervigilant, waiting for another call to come like an aftershock. It’s never happened before, but to assume that means a double event is out of the question--

Well, humanity stopped making assumptions about what lurked beneath the Pacific the day Trespasser ripped the Golden Gate off its moorings.

She catches a glimpse of him every once and a while, always going the wrong way but with a smile to share before he disappears. He’s not avoiding her, he’s avoiding everyone else, and she’s just too much of a cog in the dome’s machinery to not be a casualty of it. It’s nothing personal, she’s sure, but with all the people giving her a wide berth lately, it’s hard not to feel that his absence is pointed.

Still, there are things that just won’t keep. She can’t just keep avoiding this because she’s afraid of one more rejection.

And that’s how she finds herself in the middle of the dome’s combat room, on the business end of Obi’s smirk.

“Doc,” he hums, kicking the end of his staff up to yoke his neck. He makes it look easy, like the jo is an extension of him rather than a separate piece. She can’t help but think of what he might do with a hundred tons of jeager strapped to him, how easy he might make it move. “Funny seeing you here.”

She nods, rocking on her toes. “It’s been a while.”

He swaggers toward her, stopping barely an arm’s length away, hip cocked. Sweat dews along every inch of him, his tank damp and clinging to the hard planes of his stomach, tighter than the lycra in her own gear. His pants swing low, leaving a sliver of skin between it and his shirt, and she--

She should really be looking elsewhere. He’s not a giant, not like Mitsuhide, but when she looks up, it’s a long way to meet his eyes. They’re laughing at her when she does.

“You’re not gonna get anything out of me, you know,” he says as if he’d like to see her try; a challenge rather than a defense. “What happens in the drift stays in the drift.”

Her mouth works; this time stuck less on the sweat crawling over his skin and more on how quickly she’s been made. “I didn’t say I was going to.”

“You had the look.” He shifts, hips drawing her gaze with them. When she glances back up, he seems to find that funny too. “Besides, why else would you come in here? Most shrinks I meet aren’t, hm, combat ready.”

“I-I work out!”

His eyebrows raise, mouth following suit. “That so?”

She flexes arm, baring what, in her humble opinion, is no small bicep. Kiki might have her beat, but in K-science terms she’s practically buff. “See?”

Obi slinks close, hunching over, jo and all, to give her offering a good squint. With a hum she’d like to think is at least mildly impressed, he straightens, suddenly so close she can smell the sweat on him and the faint whiff of his deodorant.

“Well then, I stand corrected.” His smile stretches Cheshire-wide as he steps aside, sweeping out a hand. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Shirayuki peers past him, fighting to keep the grimace from her face. She works out, sure, but more along the lines of slow and low. Yoga. Tai chi. Pilates. Things that promote mind and body balance. But even in the gym, all the equipment is meant for bulking muscle, for building the sort of bodies that can bear up a skyscraper. And the combat room...

Well the only equipment here is the jo in their rack and the tatami on the floor. This isn’t for people looking to do a pull up, it’s for rangers looking to spar.

“Tell you what, Doc,” Obi says, no small amount of amusement or pity in his voice. “I could use a cool down.”

His jo whips down from his shoulders, lightning fast, hands thrusting out in the air, and she--

Her hand rises to match, catching the jo mid-air. She sags under it, a little heavier than she expected from a stick that size, but keeps her feet under her. She glances back at Obi, wide-eyed, but he just lifts his brows, impressed. “How about we go a round, you and me?”

It’s a normal request-- maybe not to her, but the rangers certainly aren’t shy about taking conversations to the tatami. But Obi’s voice does something with it, pushes it down into a register that feels more mattress than mat, and she shivers as she lets the jo drop more naturally into her grip. “Me?”

“Well, I really thought you wouldn’t catch it.” His chin juts toward her staff. “But it looks like you at least know how to hold it.”

Her finger flex around the wood, settling against its smooth surface. “I’ve done it once or twice.”

A half dozen years ago, but he doesn’t need to know that.

His mouth twitches. “Great.”

Obi’s not a mountain of a man, not like Mitsuhide, but when he falls into stance, he could make himself one. It would take an earthquake to move him, and she has the world’s smallest lever. “Come at me.”

Shirayuki shuffles awkwardly on the mat, twisting the jo to rest on both her hands. It feels like she’s got two left ones holding it-- neither one of them are as good as Kiki’s-- but muscle serves her better than memory. Center yourself, Grampa told her, yanking her chest above her hips, feel the earth come to meet you. You’ll be part of it one day, and it’s ready.

Morbid, but it works. Her spine jolts into a straight line, weight teetering between her feet, and she takes her swing.

Obi doesn’t try to dodge. He could-- even in that split second, his muscles twitch, goading him to flee-- but he just raises his staff, a jolt she feels right down to her shoulders. The puny clack echoes in her ears. It’s nothing even close to how him and Zen were sparring.

“Go ahead.” He shifts his weight as she recovers, bracing himself. “Again.”

Right. Her feet flatten against the mat-- or at least they try to, pressing instead against the foam of her sneakers. Her sneakers that she’s still wearing, since she came in here thinking there would be an elliptical, or weights, or not this.

That won’t do at all. She toes them off, setting them at the edge of the tatami, the only spectators to her impending humiliation.

She hesitates, fingers peeling socks over her heels. Obi’s already said she won’t get any information out of him; she doesn’t need to do this. She could walk away right now, and the only consequence would be his teasing. And yet--

And yet, Shirayuki walks back, feet grounding against the weave beneath them. The jo settles between her hands. Obi grins.

When she moves again, it’s with more confidence, memory fueling her strike. He catches it again, but this time it doesn’t rattle her. At least, not until he moves too, viper fast, and then she’s scrambling again. She’s no noodle-armed K-science geek, no matter what Obi might say, but when she thrusts her staff up overhead to meet his swing, her arms tremble, teeth jangling in her mouth.

Obi retreats, amusement clinging to his lips, and she huffs. Maybe she can’t take the same sort of beating Kiki can, but she isn’t about to be some pushover.

She comes at him again, lower this time, on the outside. He’s not prepared-- she can tell the way his eyes widen-- but reflexes smooth his response, drawing her back with a few of his own strikes, and then--

Then it’s just trading blows. Not like his spar with Zen; he’s too skilled and she’s too inexperienced for this to be anything but a planned draw, for him to do anything but go easy on her. But still, still-- there’s a strange electricity every time they meet, more than just their jo rising to meet each other, an anticipation--

Obi steps back, brow furrowed. “Hm.”

Shirayuki’s panting, drenched, and he’s barely broken a sweat. “Is something wrong?”

It certainly doesn’t feel wrong to her.

“N-no.” He plucks her jo from her grip, the swagger gone from his hips as he mounts it on the wall beside his. “Just. Interesting.”

“Interesting?” she prompts hopefully.

Obi shrugs, like there’s an itch between his shoulders. “Did you need anything else, Doc?”

“I...” She bites down on the impulse to ask, to demand to know if he felt it too. “No. I should, um. Get going.”

“Nowhere to go but people to see, huh?” he laughs, but it’s weaker than his usual, stilted.

“Yeah,” she breathes, turning away. “Something like that.”

We just fit, Mitsuhide said with that strange look on his face, a yearning she knows now. If that makes sense.

“Obi?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounds distant, like it’s coming from another mouth, not her own. Maybe it’s just because she’s bent in half, working cotton over sweaty toes. Maybe it’s because it feels like she’s only working with half a body.

His head swivels, chin peeking over his shoulder. “Yeah, Doc?”

“It wasn’t you, was it?” He blinks, head tilting with confusion, and she clarifies, “It wasn’t your failure.”

His breath tumbles from his like wind over water; she swears she can feel the ripples of it even where she stands. “No,” he says, so soft it’s nearly lost over the rattle of the vents. “Not yet.”

The static fizzles on her skin, belly rocking as she bends to slip on her sneakers, and oh, Mitsuhide’s words might not have made sense before, but--

But she’s worried they’re starting to now.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #this chapter ended up being much more of a beast than i thought #and this is WITH some scenes getting moved to next chapter for like...SPACE #but that's pretty much what took this so long #trying to rearrange this to cover some of the big points that HAD to be covered by Shirayuki POV #so that this was only like...6K instead of 8K and double the chapter length of any one before it #DEEP SIGH #this is a hobby i choose to do for fun

18 notes · View notes