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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

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Build-A-Bear

Part Two

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: This one was gonna be super short but I felt bad so it’s super long instead lol. I originally planned on posting shorter chapters more frequently so it might be closer to 3-4 days between parts now that I’m posting longer chapters. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m going to keep the limit pretty small. And if you want, you can buy me a coffee! ❣️

(Part One)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

About an hour later, a light knock on the lab door drew your eyes from your work to Bucky as he walked in. Peter’s eyes darted up but immediately looked back down when he realized the visitor was for you.

“Hey Bucky,” you smiled. He smiled back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So… you wanted to see my arm?” he said, more as a question than a reminder.

“Yeah, if you could sit right here, that’d be perfect.”

He did as you asked and took a seat on a lab chair, letting you lean across the lab table toward him so you could fiddle with his prosthetic arm. You quickly grabbed your magnifying glasses, flipping the magnifiers up so you could examine him at face value first.

After a few minutes of looking at the outer plating and sensory receptors, you pulled away.

“Can you feel with this arm?” you asked.

“I can feel pressure but I can’t actually feel with it.” You gave him a confused look, only sort of piecing together what he meant. As he fumbled over his words to explain again, you put your glasses to the side, running around to Bucky’s side again to stand in front of him.

“Okay, this might be weird but it’ll really help me. Hold your hands out, palms up.” He did as you said. “I’m going to do the same thing to both arms and then I want you to show me, using just your right arm, how it felt on each one, okay?”

Bucky nodded and watched as your fingertips gently glided over his forearms, leaving goosebumps in your wake. The second time, you brushed your palms against his skin, as if you were brushing away crumbs. The final time, you scratched your nails down his right arm, making him take in a sharp breath as he watched the skin of his arm turn a pale pink. His left arm, however, kept catching your fingernails between the plates so you resorted to scratching across instead of down.

“Okay, now show me.” You flipped both of your arms over, palm up.

Using just his flesh arm on your right arm, he grazed his fingertips over your skin, admittedly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t even consider how weak that touch usually makes you, especially from someone who looks like that. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him attractive before you even graduated college. You and your roommates were guilty of many nights of fuck-marry-fight with the Avengers as your victims.

When your gaze moved up to meet his, he brushed his hand over your arm, then delicately scratched his nails down your arm.

If it hadn’t been for the slight hum of machinery across the room, you’re sure Bucky would’ve heard your heart beating out of your chest.

Dad would literally kill me if he knew the thoughts going through my head right now, you thought.

“Okay,” you started, pausing briefly to clear your throat. “What about what your left arm feels?”

This one made him furrow his brows, either in concentration or confusion. He pushed his fingertips against your skin harder than before and moved them down your arm. He used more pressure again with the second movement, then went back to heavy fingertip pressure for the scratches.

“Hm,” you said simply, letting your arms drop to your sides again. “So you feel the weight of the touch but not the sensation that comes with it?” The confusion in his eyes made you rephrase. “So this on your right arm —“ you ran your fingers down his flesh arm again, “gives you goosebumps, but this on your metal arm —“ you repeated on the left, “is just a weight, no shiverbugs?”

“Shiverbugs?” he repeated with a barely noticeable smile.

“Goosebumps! Sorry. Shiverbugs is something my grandma used to say. Sometimes I slip into the family slang,” you chuckled. Bucky’s smile grew a bit at the sound of your laugh.

“Yeah, I only feel that on the right arm. No shiverbugs with the left.”

You jokingly scrunched your nose at him before returning to your previous seat. He stood there as you scribbled down notes on how he feels things and your immediate thoughts on how to make it more real for him.

“Is there anything you want done to your arm?”

Bucky seemed slightly taken aback at the question, but quickly steeled his expression. “I know Tony wanted to make it quieter,” he said.

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned your elbows on the table between you. You could tell he was still pretty reserved, either because you were new and he didn’t feel comfortable around you, or because he didn’t feel comfortable in the tower as a whole yet.

“I know what Tony wants,” you said gently. “What do you want?”

He frowned at this, turning his eyes to the floor as he thought. After a beat, he finally said, “I just want it to feel real again.”

And you could’ve cried right then and there. You knew the story of the Winter Soldier. You had heard what Bucky had been through. You couldn’t imagine going through anything close to what he experienced, and you’d be damned if you let him down.

But you couldn’t cry in front of him on your first day, so you smiled at him softly.

“That’s not an easy feat but I’ll do what I can, Barnes.”

He smiled briefly before frowning again. That frown seemed to be his default expression.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

“Not right now. Thanks for helping me out,” you replied. He just nodded before walking out. Your eyes stayed on the door for an extra couple seconds before you spun around on your seat and scurried across the room to plop down next to Peter, who was packing his stuff to head home for the day.

“Hey, Boy Wonder, question.” Peter looked at you with raised eyebrows. Nicknaming ran in the family. “Want to use that biomolecular engineering and help me with something?”

•••

Nearly every day when you stopped in the kitchen for lunch, you’d run into Bucky. Sometimes he’d be with Sam, sometimes Steve, sometimes on his own. But almost every single day, he’d be in the common room chatting or the kitchen eating. For the first couple weeks, he was a little tense when you were around. You’d hear him and Sam bickering as you approached, just to see him quiet down once you entered the room. It was a bit disheartening at first, but when it was just the two of you, he always engaged.

You’d called him into the lab a couple times to look over his arm again, but you always felt bad taking him away from whatever training or cases he was working on. The digital renderings were always there, and you spent plenty of time digging into those and running simulations of the different ways you could muffle the wiring. And it’s a good thing you ran the simulations, because a couple of them would’ve fried his whole arm and then some.

Peter was a great help too. When he wasn’t working on his own projects, he’d poke his nose into your work and throw out recommendations. Robotics may have been your specialty, but the kid knew his stuff. He’s the only reason you finally figured out the perfect combo to quiet Bucky’s arm without knocking him out.

Nearly four weeks after your first day — and a week after Peter went back to campus, leaving you alone in the lab — you cornered Bucky in the communal kitchen again and turned on your classic Stark charm.

“Hey Bucky,” you said sweetly, leaning over the counter across from him while he tossed fruit into a blender.

“Hey [Y/N].”

You’d grown a bit more comfortable with each other, mainly from when you two were left alone. He still was a bit quieter with one of his friends around, but he was growing more talkative in general. You felt comfortable tossing nicknames at him; he felt comfortable saying “hey” instead of “hi” and once gave you your own nickname. Since you called him Bucky Bear a time or two, he called you Build A Bear. He almost looked panicked when it slipped, but your initial shock was quickly followed by giggles, easing the tension in his shoulders. But the feeling that name sent to your stomach felt more like bats than butterflies. He even joked with you now.

“So I’ve been looking at the blueprints we have for your arm and I was wondering — I know this is a lot to ask — could I maybe spend some more time digging around in your arm?” You flashed him a hopeful smile, even propping your chin on your hand to look cuter.

Before he answered, he put the lid on the blender and started it, staring at you blankly as the sound filled the entire room. You just sat there, continuing to smile at him. And the more you fluttered your lashes while he let the blender run, the more you could see his frown-y facade start to crack.

He finally broke into a smile when he shut the machine off.

“You don’t have to ask, [Y/N]. I mainly train in the mornings so my afternoons are free. As long as I’m here, you can call me in whenever.”

You jumped up and ran around the counter, giving him an unexpected hug, made obvious by the way he tensed up. You elected to ignore it.

“You’re the best, Bucky Bear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, gently pulling away from you to pour his smoothie into two glasses. “I just have one stipulation.” You looked up at him expectantly. “Take the rest of this? I, uh, I made a bit too much.”

With a laugh, you grabbed the nearly full glass and led him down the halls to your lab. Since Peter was only coming back one weekend a month, you had kind of taken over the lab, adding some color to make your workspace a little less drab. Your guilty pleasures playlist — aka your favorite middle school dance songs — played quietly over the speakers as you directed Bucky to sit down.

Getting into his arm wasn’t the easiest task. You had to pry off the opening of each individual outer plate, then unscrew — yes, with a screwdriver — the covering on the inner plates to actually see the wiring inside. Fortunately, Bucky brought his phone with him so he could occupy himself and let you focus. You were a bit surprised at how easily he understood modern technology, but he wasn’t quite the old man Steve was when it came to the changing times.

After spending a solid 10 minutes leaning over the lab table to open Bucky’s arm, you poked around inside for a while, jotting down notes as you went. Shuri had sent Tony quite a few notes for you to reference, but seeing everything firsthand and taking your own notes always helped.

Unfortunately, Bucky had two removable sections in his arm: one on his forearm, one in his bicep.

“Scale of one to ten, how comfy does the table look?” you asked.

Bucky looked up from his phone and gave you a confused look. “Uh, maybe a two? Why?”

“Well, Buckaroo, I need to get to the top plate too so you’ll have to either hold your arm up for me to get to it or lie down somewhere.”

He glanced back down at the table, then looked at you in confusion as he voiced his own suggestion. “What about the couch in the common room?”

You tapped your nose and pointed at him with a smile, gathering your supplies and the rest of Bucky’s arm. He led the way, lying flat on the couch and raising his left arm over his head.

“Is it okay if I play more music out here?” you asked as you unloaded everything.

“Sure. I should probably catch up on modern music anyway,” he said with a soft smile. You had Friday play your guilty pleasures playlist again while you got to work on opening up the top of Bucky’s arm.

You’d been poking around for almost 20 minutes when the silence was broken.

“Music nowadays is so sexual,” Bucky said suddenly.

“Hm. What makes you say that?” you asked, only half paying attention as you drew up more stream-of-consciousness notes on the coffee table beside you.

“This song.” You paused and immediately recognized the beat for “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent.

“Oh come on, as if you didn’t have any inappropriate songs in the ‘40s,” you scoffed.

“Of course we did but it was never this blatant! We were more subtle back then,” Bucky defended.

“Bro,” you deadpan. “If you think ‘Candy Shop’ is obvious, you have way more catching up to do. Friday, play ‘WAP’ by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.”

You watched Bucky react as the song started. Even the initial “there’s some whores in this house” made his eyes go wide. At “wet ass pussy make that pull out game weak,” he turned to you, beet red in the face.

“What kind of music do you listen to?!”

“This is a popular song!” you laughed. “We have some obviously sexual songs that aren’t quite as… vulgar too. Friday, play ‘T-Shirt’ by Thomas Rhett.”

Bucky eyed you cautiously this time, not quite sure if you were actually playing a more censored song. He visibly relaxed when he heard the first lyrics, “Get off of work and we meet down at our spot. We got a patio with a view of a parking lot.”

“See, this is already so much better.”

“Don’t act so innocent,” you smirked, rolling your eyes at him.

“That sounds like an accusation,” Bucky laughed.

“Oh, it is.”

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up to face you directly, one leg landing on each side of your body sitting on the floor. His posture combined with his playful conversation had you wondering where this confidence came from. Because you definitely liked it.

“Come on,” you scoffed. “You can’t convince me a face like that,” you pointed directly at him to emphasize your point, “wasn’t making panties drop left and right back in the day.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself, leaning back on the couch, yet made no move to deny your accusation.

“Who would’ve known my sweet little Bucky Bear was a player?” you joked.

“Oh, like you’re not the same way, Build A Bear.”

“Excuse me?!” you squealed. “I’ll have you know I’m a good little Christian girl and I’m saving myself for marriage,” you said with a grin, maneuvering from sitting on your butt to kneeling and clasping your hands together like you were praying.

“You’re a lot of things, [Y/N]. A good liar is not one of those things,” Bucky smirked.

Your mouth fell agape. You liked this confident, playful side of him. You’d only seen glimpses until now.

“What’s your number?” you asked, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Uhh… My phone number?”

“No, your sexual body count,” you laughed, making sure to clarify; former assassins probably have a different interpretation of ‘body count.’ “How many people have you slept with?”

You knew it was a personal question but given the topic of conversation and casual tone you’d both taken on, it didn’t seem totally out of bounds.

Bucky thought for a second, slowly counting on his fingers. Your eyes watched as the slender metal digits flicked up: one, two, three... “Four.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Because that’s my body count.”

“Doll, I took plenty of dames out on the town, but I’d leave the night with a kiss and nothing else,” he said, that old school Brooklyn lilt sneaking up on him.

You sighed and shook your head, still not believing him but choosing to let it go for now.

“Give me your arm,” you said, holding your hand out. Bucky let his arm drop into your hand while you picked up a microchip with a needle-thin pair of tweezers. “This will adhere to the vibranium and essentially act like a pillow to muffle the sounds of your arm. So it’ll still make noise — I can’t just get rid of all sound — but it’ll be notably quieter.”

You tucked the chip under the inner plating of Bucky’s arm, watching as it sparked over the metal to let you both know it was working.

“Now lie back down so I can put you back together, Humpty Dumpty,” you said.

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, but leaned back on the couch with his left arm over his head. After 15 minutes of angling the plating just right so it would fit back together, you climbed off the couch, distancing yourself from Bucky for the first time in nearly four hours.

“Anything else I can help the mad scientist with today?” Bucky asked. He had moved to rest his elbows on his knees, looking up at you from his spot on the sofa.

You checked your watch to see how much time you had left in your workday. 4:15. Forty-five minutes until you can clock out for the weekend. Not quite close enough to bullshit through some dumb side project so you don’t get too invested. But there’s one thing you wanted to check out to improve the feeling in Bucky’s arm.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you asked plainly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for half a second before he slipped back into his playful demeanor. “Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

“Shut up,” you giggled. You giggled. “I just want to see how the arm is connected to your torso.”

Without pause, Bucky leaned forward, grabbed the back of his shirt, and tugged it over his head to let it fall to the floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t consider what he’d look like underneath his clothing, so it took you a second to gather your bearings again. You couldn’t help yourself. How could you not admire the slender lines of his collarbones, the thick layer of muscle covering his chest, the distinct ridges on his abdomen speckled with scars, the very tip of what you could only assume were two tantalizing depressions leading right to —

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked.

Your eyes met his, reluctantly pulling away from what you knew would be the source of your dreams tonight.

“Four, my ass,” you mumbled in fake annoyance, kneeling between his thighs again to get a better look at him. Your fingertips trailed along the smooth line of scarred skin bordering the harsh metal of his arm. It took all your willpower to focus on work instead of the heat his body was radiating being so close to each other. “Was this how, you know, they put your arm on?”

Bucky shook his head, his expression growing sullen at the indirect mention of his tormentors. “They just kind of dug away at it. The Wakandans actually cut away a bit more of my skin to allow for healthier healing.”

You could tell it was carefully done, judging by the faint discoloring and thin ridge alongside the metal, as opposed to angry red lines that protruded out like the photos Shuri sent.

“Does this area hurt?” You pressed your hand flat to the scar; Bucky had to try to reign in his heartbeat. You had leaned in close to see his arm, leaving you close enough for him to just dip his head down and —

“What’s going on here?”

Both of you whipped your heads to the side to see a very confused — and slightly annoyed — Tony standing in the entrance to the common room, clearly just passing by and stumbling on a somewhat compromising situation: his daughter on her knees between a shirtless Winter Soldier’s thighs.

Without taking your eyes off your father, you reached around on the coffee table and grabbed your notebook.

“Research! I promise!”

“Research that couldn’t happen in your designated lab?” You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but had to keep it to himself for now to avoid telling Bucky who you really were.

“I had to open the compartment in his tricep area and didn’t want to make him lie down on the lab tables for three hours.” The accusatory glare from your dad made you shrink into yourself, your voice growing quieter as you spoke. Fridays were family dinner night, and you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, still eyeing you and Bucky suspiciously. “And why did he need to be half naked for that?”

“Da — Tony,” you said, barely catching yourself. “I mean, Mr. Stark. I was examining the scar tissue and spinal connection to determine how to enhance the sensory receptors currently embedded in the vibranium.”

Tony’s eyes flitted between you and Bucky. Your eyes were wide, clearly nervous as he grilled you. Bucky, on the other hand, was flushed pink and leaning a little too close for Tony’s comfort.

“Keep this PG from now on, okay? And no working outside of the lab. This is Stark Tower, not Bezos Tower. We’re not gonna work you to the bone.” He started to walk away before stepping back and adding, “No fraternizing with coworkers, remember?”

With a quick nod, you stood abruptly and gathered your things to take it back to your lab for the night. Bucky was quick to slip his shirt back on and followed you with his head down to avoid the burning gaze of your father — or as far as he knew, his boss.

You didn’t expect Bucky to go back to your lab with you, but part of you was glad he did. Being around him brought you a sense of calm and comfort, even after what just happened. If he had just walked away, you’d assume the worst: that an accusation like that was far from what he wanted to hear.

You set all your things back on your table to start putting them away when Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that,” he said. You spared a quick glance at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he chose his words carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused on how that situation was somehow his fault.

“Tony… he doesn’t really like me much.”

“Yeah, I know,” you laughed. “But that was way more of a me-problem than a you-problem. We’ll just have to work in here from now on.” You shrugged and went back to putting your tools in their respective drawers.

Bucky still stood right inside the doorway, the door shut behind him so no one outside could hear you two. He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to force himself to follow through with at least mentioning what he planned on asking you.

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted to get dinner together sometime until Tony gave us that speech,” he chuckled.

You slid the final drawer shut and turned to Bucky. You knew you two were getting closer and you couldn’t deny feeling an attraction to him, but you never expected him to feel that same pull. The thought made you smile back at him while he cracked his knuckles, most likely from nerves. What happened to that fun and flirty attitude he had just a few minutes ago?

Your grandma always said to never date a man who wasn’t nervous about asking you out...

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” you said quietly.

His eyes stopped darting around the room to find your gaze. You stepped closer, taking slow steps as you crossed the room to him until you were toe to toe. He didn’t take his eyes off of you until you held your phone out to him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” you said with a small smirk.

His lips curled into a small smile as he snatched your phone and entered his number.

“I’ll text you my address. Does tomorrow night work?” you asked, unintentionally biting your lip but not missing the way Bucky’s eyes followed the movement.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Buck.” You took a bit of a risk and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, his face immediately flushing red. Your own cheeks grew warm when you stepped back, tossing Bucky a quick wave as you turned back around and hoping he’d leave before you started screaming.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x Stark!reader #Stark!reader #bucky barnes fanfic

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silverfootstepswrites · 3 years

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Eden: BLEACH [2]

ZERO / BLEACH (here) / TWIST / REVERSE / DYE / RED

++++

One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. - Antonio Porchia

++++

There was a knock on the open door. Sakura scowled before she even looked up.

“Go away.”

“You sound more and more like him with every day.”

Sakura finally lifted her head from the ancient manuscript. She lowered her magnifying glass.

“Headmaster,” she greeted Hashirama. The older man, who hadn’t aged a single day since she had first met him, smiled in return. He lingered in the doorway, well aware of the fact that she hadn’t actually invited him inside. She just blinked at him.

Hashirama sighed.

“You’re really just like him. I wanted to let you know that those spell books you requested last month are finally here,” he informed her. And then his eyes drifting to the pile sitting on her desk. “Oh… you already got them?”

Sakura paused. The truth was that she recalled in her long nightmare several days ago that these books would arrive. Just to be sure, she had popped into the library to check. And there they were. Labelled with her name and her department.

It was unsettling- if that was the right word for a situation like this.

Coincidences happened all the time. But was it a coincidence if so many of them piled up at once like this?

“How goes the research?” Hashirama then asked.

In response, Sakura extended her hand. She imagined the molecules in the air gathering into a solid surface. The shield expanded, shoving Hashirama all the way out the door. Hashirama examined the shimmering surface of the shield. When he poked it, static electricity crackled off the outside. He jerked his hand back.

“That’s a nice touch,” he commended. And then he waved his hand. “Alright. I get the hint. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Thank you,” Sakura replied, already turning back to her reading.

Madara cackled when Sakura recounted the encounter to him that night.

“Good. Keep that geezer far away from you,” Madara agreed, crunching a pistachio between his back molars.

Sakura thought for a moment. She turned away from the stove for a moment. It was her turn to cook dinner. “You’re no spring chicken yourself, Papa,” she reminded him. Madara frowned at her.

Sakura paused. She lowered her spatula.

“Sorry, was that too much?” she asked.

But Madara only smirked, leaning against the counter. He ruffled her hair.

“Don’t worry about that kind of crap, kid. We’re always fine,” he assured her. And then he pointed at the pan. Sakura went back to stirring the garlic before it could burn.

“Quit snacking on those. You’ll ruin your appetite,” Sakura told him. She heard him chuckle.

“Are you my grandmother? Quit nagging.” And then he crunched through another pistachio, grinding it to pieces between his teeth.

Later that night, Sakura laid on her bed, phone pressed to her ear.

“Are you sure you won’t come? The guys are cute. I promise,” Ino pleaded one last time. And then she added: “Sorry. It’s just… I haven’t seen you in forever. I miss you.”

And Sakura smiled at the ceiling.

“Yeah. I’ll sit this one out, Ino. I’m not feeling it,” Sakura answered. She heard Ino sigh.

Before Ino could worry too much, Sakura then said: “I do appreciate the invites, Ino. I know you’re just thinking about me. I’ll be at the next one.”

Ino’s tone brightened. “Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”

“Take pictures so I can see them later.”

“Yeah yeah. I’ll drop by the shop?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Letting out a sigh, Sakura dropped the phone and rolled onto her side. She stretched her arms over her head. As she lay there, she could hear footsteps downstairs. She thought for a moment. And then her mouth opened.

“Papa,” she called.

No response.

She considered getting up, and then she extended her left arm. Pointing, she flicked her wrist as she called him again.

This time, the “Papa” traveled down the stairs, spreading through the third floor like mist. She could feel the way the word surged ahead, knocking walls and doors, spreading until she was sure that it could be heard everywhere.

There was a pause. And then she felt Madara’s magic wash over her in a wave. Soft. Just a little warm- as were the spells of most fire affinity casters.

What.

I’m bored.

There was a drawn-out exhale. Madara trudged up the stairs, his glasses dangling from the chain around his neck. He stood in the doorway, hand on his hip.

“What do you want me to do about that?” he demanded.

Sakura tilted her head to look at him.

“Dunno. I wanna eat something.”

Madara squinted at her. “We had dinner.”

Sakura stared right back at him.

He pushed off the doorway, already walking out of the room.

“You want toast?”

“With butter and jam,” she called after him. Hugging a pillow to her chest, she fell back on the bed again.

“Brat,” he grumbled, stomping down the stairs.

Sakura laughed.

They stood at the counter eating together, barefoot, scolding each other for getting crumbs everywhere.

Sakura loved the way the butter melted in her mouth, mixing with the sweet taste of strawberries. Madara even cut the toast into triangles, just the way she liked, even though she had never once asked him to.

It struck her, staring out the kitchen window, how fortunate she was. The people who had abandoned her had never written or called. She was sure that the Senju Institute and Madara knew of some way to get in touch with them. But she didn’t want to know.

Madara had taught her when everyone else said there was something defective about her. He had given her a place to belong. And as all these thoughts swam around in her head, Sakura let her head fall against Madara’s arm.

“You know…”

Madara looked at her as he took a bite of his toast.

“I really like being here with you, Papa. I feel happy here,” she told him.

Madara stopped chewing. He looked away.

“Then stick around, kid. It’s not bad having you around too,” Madara replied, not meeting her eyes.

Sakura beamed. She didn’t have to say anything else. They finished eating their late-night snack together. Brushing crumbs off their face and licking jam from their fingers once they were done.

++++

On the days that she wasn’t working at the dream shop, Sakura was working on her own research. Her thesis was exploring how magical barriers and fields interact with dreams. If shields and charms were cast in the real world, would those protections extend to dreams? (No.) Could they be manipulated to work in dreams? (Maybe- she wasn’t sure yet.)

Her undergraduate studies in abjuration focused mostly on shields and banishment. Shisui had laughed when she announced her major to them one morning at the shop. As Itachi and Sasuke both punched his arms, he tried to explain that it was a good thing.

Of course you would want to protect people. That’s just like you.

Everyone in the Uchiha family agreed that Sakura’s shields had a kick to them. They didn’t just block. They fought back when attacked. One of her favorite shields was one that she liked to call The Urchin. It looked like any other shield- clear but shimmering faintly under the right light. If touched gently, it had no reaction. But if struck with force, thousands of spikes rose out of the surface to stab the threat.

For Sasuke, who favored evocation magic, Sakura’s shields were a great source of amusement as he tried to find ways to break them down with fireballs and bolts of lightning. And Sakura in turn would then work to fix those weaknesses to render his attacks harmless. Neither of them ever admitted it out loud, but their playful competition was what had probably driven both of them to excel in their studies during their undergrad years.

Itachi worked almost exclusively with illusions. His ability to blur illusions with reality made him a fearsome sparring partner. It was no surprise that he had graduated at the top of his class in record time. Even now, his old professors joked that Itachi had walked into the school and then walked out with his diplomas.

Shisui was the only one among them that hadn’t gone on to college. But that didn’t seem to bother anyone- especially not his parents. Because as soon as it was legal, Shisui was scouted to work with the city’s observatory to test how celestial bodies and their positions influenced casting. It was a new field that not many people were familiar with. Shisui had a tendency to pack his car with his telescope and spectrometer and drive off into the mountains whenever the skies were clear. If his frequent absences irritated Madara, he didn’t say anything.

With so many people around her who excelled at magic, it wasn’t hard to find someone to assist her with research on most days. Even her friends from school, Ino and Naruto, were usually around to lend a helping hand.

But Sakura liked it best when Madara was the one to help her with her experiments.

“Because I ask the least amount of stupid questions,” he guessed when she told him so.

They sat cross-legged in Sakura’s room in the dream world. Madara looked around at all the crystals that filled the tall shelves. She had recently extended the height of her room just to accommodate them all.

“No. You just… you’re good at knowing how to help. You’re kind of a natural, Papa,” Sakura replied.

Before Madara could touch any of the dreams, Sakura made a sweeping gesture with both her hands. The room around them dissolved into a gentle blue mist. And when it reformed, they were standing in what looked like the city park. There was even a swing creaking gently in the breeze nearby.

Madara was sitting on a boulder now. He patted the surface a few times, nodding approvingly.

“The texture’s pretty realistic. You’ve got a good eye for detail,” he commented.

Sakura took a moment to smile before she closed her eyes and gathered energy into her palms again. This time, when she swept her arms, the particles in the air began to vibrate, knitting together. Closer and closer, closing the gaps until they formed a standard shield.

Madara picked up a small stone and tossed it at the shield. It bounced off.

“Well. Looks like it’s holding this time around.”

As he spoke, the smooth surface of the shield began to ripple. Like a soap bubble, it popped. Sakura’s arms fell to her sides. Her lips jutted out.

“Oh man, I thought I really had it this time,” she lamented.

But Madara just patted the empty spot beside him. Sakura made her way over. She climbed up on the boulder and plopped down beside him.

“I wonder why shields don’t work in dreams. It would be helpful for lots of people,” she grumbled. She pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Why’d you choose something so hard? No one’s ever managed to make abjuration magic last here. The dream world doesn’t follow the regular laws of nature,” Madara pointed out. And as if to drive the point home, he held up his pointer finger. A flame appeared at the tip. Only it was burning upside down.

Sakura copied him. She lowered the temperature of the magic until it turned a dull, almost brownish color. When she lowered her hand, the flame dissipated completely.

“There’s lots of people. Kids especially. Who feel scared. And maybe they didn’t have some weird artificer popping into their heads every night to make the nightmares go away,” she explained. When she met Madara’s eyes, he was smiling again. Sighing, he patted her head a couple times.

“You got a real heart of gold. You know that, right?” he commended. But the praise almost sounded a little sad.

Madara’s hand fell away.

“By the way, I wanted to ask.”

“Yeah, Papa?”

“You’ve been at home a lot lately. Something happen with your friends?”

It wasn’t like Madara to pry into her private matters. He hadn’t asked why she had started casting a barrier over their home every night before they went to bed. And he didn’t ask why she had suddenly started texting him every day while she was at work.

It was just a nightmare. One of countless ones she had dreamt over all these years. It still made her feel sick to remember the scene. So much blood.

She did feel guilty for not speaking to Gaara again. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But the image of him laying dead there next to Madara had felt too strange. Part of the reason she had chosen to minor in divination was because dreams and divination were often linked together. Dreams could be a warning of some events to come. And if Gaara was part of that ominous message, she didn’t want to involve herself with him in any way.

“Just been busy. Too tired to go out, mostly. Everything’s fine with my friends. Ino’s gonna drop by the shop tomorrow. I might get lunch with her,” Sakura replied, looking down at her hands.

They both looked up as they heard distant beeping.

“That’s your alarm,” Sakura told him, turning to Madara again.

He hadn’t aged a day since he had picked her up from the Senju Academy all those years ago. She knew that really talented casters who were constantly working with magic often lived much longer. Bathing in all that energy had a rejuvenating effect. She suspected that her aging would begin to slow soon too. It was rumored that Professor Tobirama and Professor Hashirama were centuries old- although no one would know from looking at their faces.

Madara nodded.

“See you soon, kid.”

He tapped her shoulder once before he dissolved into black mist.

When Sakura opened her eyes, she could hear the faucet running in the bathroom. Her phone was buzzing on her nightstand. She reached over to hit the snooze button. The faucet shut off.

“Papa,” she croaked half into her pillow.

There was a pause. When she pried one eye open, Madara was opening her bedroom door. There was a towel around his neck.

“Pancakes,” was all she mumbled.

Madara rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, Your Highness,” he complained, closing the door again.

++++

The peaceful days continued even as the weather grew cold. Snow fell on the city, but the inside of the dream shop stayed cozy thanks to an enchantment cast by Madara at the beginning of every winter.

Sakura didn’t really have to duck her head when she entered the store. But her cousins did. It was one of the few times when she was glad to be so much shorter.

She unwrapped her scarf and tossed it into the air. It hovered there. Waiting until she unzipped her coat and threw it too. Only then did the magic whisk them both away to hang on the coat rack.

“Morning,” Sasuke said from behind the counter.

“Hi. I’m freezing,” she replied. Nose red from the cold, Sakura rubbed her hands together.

“There’s still some coffee in the break room. Help yourself,” Sasuke told her. And when he began taking off his hoodie for her, Sakura waved his offer away.

When she approached, Sasuke turned the appointment book around so she could see the day’s schedule. Itachi was upstairs dealing with a client already. She didn’t have anything booked until after lunch today.

“Shisui?” she called.

“In storage,” came a muffled reply.

She found him digging through one of the shelves. To the side were rolled pieces of paper. She picked one up and opened it to find a star map.

“What’s this?”

Shisui’s head popped up.

“Ah. Weather looks real clear tomorrow. I’m gonna head out and get some readings.”

Sakura felt her knees buckle. She gripped the edge of the shelf as she remembered something else from that nightmare that had never faded from her mind.

“Shi.”

“Yeah?”

When she didn’t speak, Shisui straightened. Dusting off his shirt, he stepped toward her. When he saw the look on her face, he rushed the last few steps. He grasped her shoulders.

“Hey hey hey. What’s wrong?”

Sakura grabbed his forearms.

“Do you have to go?”

“What?”

“On your trip. Do you have to go?”

“Yeah, kid. Been planning this for a while. What’s wrong?” he said, slowly. He searched her face as he spoke. She hated the way his forehead wrinkled with concern. Hated even more the way Sasuke opened the door. Standing there with his fists held in front of him, as if getting ready to punch whatever had upset her.

“What’d you say, you turd?” Sasuke snapped. He shoved Shisui aside. He ducked to get a better look at Sakura’s expression.

“You don’t look so good. Let’s go sit down,” Sasuke suggested. He took her hand. Waited for her to slowly curl her fingers around his. As he guided her to the door, Itachi appeared. His face brightened as he spotted her.

“Hey. When’d you get here?” he greeted her.

The warmth in his voice made her burst into tears.

“What’d you two say to her?” Itachi immediately accused. He crossed the threshold to wrap his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. He patted her back as he went on with his scolding the others. “She’s tired enough as is without you two saying something stupid to her.”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

“I just said I was going on a trip.”

Sakura bawled into Itachi’s shirt. She didn’t have the energy to care how stupid she must look. She needed to tell Shisui not to go. Not go away. Because what if that awful dream came true and he disappeared forever again? And then Itachi would go too. And to imagine the sorrow in Sasuke’s face hurt more than all those other things put together.

“Sasuke, go get her something to drink. Shisui, go get a blanket out of the back,” Itachi was ordering now. And then he lowered his voice.

“There there. Cry it out. You’ll feel better once you do,” Itachi murmured, patting her back again.

#eden #fanfiction #writing #uchisaku #haruno sakura

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catisawells · 4 years

Text

Spelunking

Chatter filled the bustling streets of the small town of Lakeshire while she waited out by the docks for her new friend. She stood with crimson robes wrapped about her person. A light breeze rolled through and pulled at raven locks indicative of the seasons changing, her satchel by her side and a smile upon her soft features.

Snowyn joined her new found peer, Catisa shortly armed as well as any mage should be on a rescue mission. Snowyn knew all too well what could go wrong and so equipped herself proper – her twisted birch wand at her side, her banged up staff with a sand-worn stone at the top, and a small dagger – just in case. She wasn’t going to risk either of them getting injured and wanted to make sure she was ready. The red-headed mage bounded over to Catisa, heavy, purposeful steps echoing on the wooden dock. “Thank you for waiting, Miss Wells! I do hope I didn’t keep you waiting long. Had to make sure we’re ready for this venture,” she said waving her hand about and producing a pointed, worn-out blue hat that matched her blue worn out robes. She popped it on her head, but it did little to tame all the wild curls on her crown.

A giggle escaped Catisa as she grinned to her colleague, "I wasn't waiting long! It's good to see you again, Miss Silverfield, though I wish it were under better circumstances than a search party." She patted her hip, gesturing toward her satchel from before with the endless bottom much like her own. "I brought along some supplies that might help, and if we need it literal breadcrumbs, just in case!" She gave Snowyne an awkward thumbs up, "Shall we head that way?"

“Breadcrumbs,” Snowyn replied, “A perfect idea, Miss Wells. Wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Hopefully nothing eats them, otherwise we’ll be stuck in there as well!” she snickered. Snowyn unhooked her wand from her hip and gave it a gentle blow; the stone at the tip lighting up in a soft, blue light. She drew in a deep breath and nodded, “Let us find Mister Reeve and Miss Twistphase. I just hope we’re not too late…” Snowyn trailed off and lead the way to the tunnel entrance, just beyond the edge of Lakeshire.

"Yes, lets!" Catisa corralled with her new friend and colleague and trotted off with her toward the entrance. The walk was short, though pleasant, with the birds chirping and cool breeze wafting through. After a time she pointed to a fold in the mountain beside them and shouted, "There!" As they crested the hill the cavern entrance fell into view before them, the arcane guardians posted out front motionless as statues.

Snowyn approached the entrance, looking at both of the arcane guardians. She looked them over, her right brow cocked into place as she began investigating them and inspecting them for any flaws. Seeing no such errors, she shrugged, “They seem perfectly fine. No one has tampered with them or put any spells on them to get past their defenses,” she hummed in thought, “I guess we’ll find our answers inside I suppose!” she said cheerfully, pointing her illuminated wand into the darkness of the tunnels. Torches were spaced out evenly along the tunnel walls, but even they weren’t bright enough to see much in there.

Catisa tapped her chin with a forefinger in thought, "I don't know much about them in particular, but they look fine to me too!" She shrugged and looked around before she stepped forward and waved a hand around in an intricate pattern, "It looks as though the wards weren't tampered with either, at least in this area." With a wave she summoned Snowyn to her, "Come on! Let's stick together, just in case." She smiled at her companion for the journey and started to lead their way into the caverns.

Just as Snowyn was about to take out a magnifying glass and investigate the guardians further, she was instantly teleported over to Catisa. The mage stood there for a second, blinking a few times and trying to gain her bearing before following Catisa into the caverns. She held out her wand, the blue light emitting from the tip lighting their way. The mage scanned the area, her green eyes darting from one thing or another; she didn't want to miss any clues or creatures that would come out of nowhere and chase after them!

Soft footsteps padded carefully down the cavern, brown eyes alert as she examined each rune and ward they passed. Farther and farther in, the tunnel seemed endless until at last they reached a fork in their path. Both seemed safe enough, all that remained was to find out which way they should go in their search. "Which way do you think goes to the market?" Catisa inquired as she reached into her bag and began to dig around for something. There didn't seem to be any clear indicators of which way they should take, simply the same repetitive patterns along the cavern walls where the runes were inscribed.

Snowyn shook her head, "Your guess is as good as mine, Miss Wells - I've only been escorted through here once and the arcane guardians are the ones that walked me through," she pointed her fingers at each path, "Enee, meenee, minee..." her finger landed on the left path "mo!" she snickered, "Let's give this one a try shall we. Should break out those bread crumbs you have handy? I believe we're going to be needing them right about now."

With a giggle she nodded and pulled out a loaf of stale bread, "Great minds think alike!" Catisa paused a moment to reach up and mark the wall at the entrance of the path they had decided to take with a small scorch mark in the shape of a star. "For added assurance." She stated to her colleague before she ripped a corner off of the bread and began to sprinkle it behind them as they proceeded. There was very little space between them as they moved, her willingness to not allow any distance between them so they wouldn't get separated was very apparent.

Snowyn noted the closeness between them and smiled; best to stick close together! Snowyn continued holding out the wand in front of her. In the darkness of the cave, a small, but very benign article of clothing lay on the cold, hardened dirt beneath them. Much like a child with a stick, Snowyn poked at it before gently picking it up. She stared, pursing her lips: a lacy, purple bra! "I'm guessing this must be Kisles..." she looked it over, "no blood. Signs of any rippage...." she shoved the bra into her small purse, disappearing into the void, "I do hope she's okay. Her and Luka."

"Me too!" Catisa nodded in agreement as she inspected the garment as well, brow arched. "Though, what a piece of clothing to lose here... where are the rest of them?" She sighed with a huff, uncertain if they would even find the answers. As they continued shuffling along in the dim light of the cavern with torches that grew fewer and farther in-between, she conceded, "At least that tells us we're headed in the right direction."

"I just hope we're not too late..." Snowyn said sadly. She pointed her wand forward and took Catisa's lead, looking for any more signs of the pair. For what seemed like ages, Snowyn walked beside her companion, trying to find any other clues. So far, none to be found. The last article of clothing had been the bra and nothing else had turned up just yet. Snowyn sighed, concern growing on her features each minute that passed by with nothing to be found.

Every few feet she tore off a new piece of bread to sprinkle in their wake, her brow furrowed with worry, "Agreed." Catisa stated, but just as she thought to quicken the pace a chill ran down her spine. From somewhere ahead of them a low and haunting wail reverberated off of the cavern walls and it took all the poor girl had not to shriek as she turned to cling desperately to Snowyn. Her hands trembled and she looked even more pale than she did in the artificial light from her wand.

Being the scardey cat that she was, Snowyn clung to Catisa back! She held her close, perhaps almost too close that she could very well suffocate Catisa, if she didn't do anything to push the red-haired mage back. "What on Azeroth was that!?" she said in a low, panicked whisper to Catisa. She held out her wand, swinging it back and forth in a rushed motion, "You heard that right? Of course you did. Goodness..." she said turning pale herself.

Catisa nodded as they clung to each other, though color quickly returned to her cheeks as she realized how close they were and blushed heavily. "M-maybe-" She gulped in an attempt to compose herself. "Maybe that was the reason they're missing." Came her conjecture despite trembling hands, still white-knuckling any fabric of Snowyn's that she could have clung to. "D-do you think ghosts are real?" She asked suddenly in her paralyzed state.

Snowyn drew in a deep breath - it was time to woman up! She stopped clinging to Catisa and gently reassured her with soothing rubs to her upper arms. Gazing into the dark for a moment, she looked back at Catisa, "I do... which is why we're here. To put them to rest if they're the reason Luka and Kisles are missing...." she cleared her throat, standing up straight, "We got to be brave. Too late to turn back now..." she said, crouching low and moving quietly forward. She blew at the tip of her wand, dulling the light in it just enough for them to see in front of them. She looked back at Catisa and smiled warmly, "Come along now. Lets not surprise whatever ghouls lurk here... If things get bad, just start shooting and run, understood? Follow your marks and bread crumbs back."

She cleared her throat and nodded, "Right." Her features hardened as she took the possibility of a threat far more seriously, and continued spreading bread crumbs behind them and marking the walls at each turn they took. The silence was near deafening as they proceeded to creep along in the darkness of the caverns seldom traveled, her shoulders arched with the mental preparation to brace herself for the next surprise. Catisa dared not speak even in a whisper in case something was listening, laying in wait for them to be caught off guard.

Snowyn carefully stepped through the darkness, her wand raised up over her head. She stayed vigilant as the two of them creeped through the darkness. The same sound from earlier echoed through the tunnels, only this time it was a little louder. It was unnerving, to say the least, but Snowyn crept forward. Her steps became hushed as to not surprise whatever it was they were going to find in the tunnels ahead of them. In the darkness, a dull flame lit up the tunnels. Shadows danced across the walls. Snowyn paused, pointing as they neared their destination. "Get ready..." she said in a padded whisper.

Catisa nearly dropped the bread as a second wail echoed through the cave, though she was able to maintain her composure this time. With brows knit the mage flicked her free wrist and flames began to dance at her fingertips. "Whatever it is... I have your back." She tried to reassure herself as much as her compatriot. There was a dim light further down the tunnel as though there was another torch or lantern that flickered erratically. Strange elongated shadows of misshapen and malformed creatures flashed down the tunnel walls accompanied by rustling sounds of movement in the distance.

Snowyn nodded to Catisa, a look of determination disguising the nervousness she felt going forward towards the light. As they made their approach, rustling could be heard, but no voices; nothing to give away it or all of it was. Snowyn rounded the corner, her back pressed to the cavern wall as they approached what appeared to be another tunnel that had been lit up completely to the right side. Snowyn drew in a deep breath as she inched closer to the entrance to the side tunnel. She looked over at Catisa, whispering, "On the count of three..." Snowyn said, pointing her wand out in the direction of the tunnel, "One.... Two...."

The fledgling mage had been counting with her, right by her side with the flames in her palms at the ready. "...Three!" They would have said together and Catisa rushed forward into the lit up cavern before she could think about hesitating. A pair of gasps filled the air and the rustling noises quickly turned to scrambling with belongings and garments being thrown about. What she assumed to be the rest of the clothing was outstretched before them in a trail to what appeared to be makeshift bedding. "Wha-?" Her confusion was palpable as the pair they had been searching for sat mostly nude before them save for a single sleeping back that they cowered behind, clearly having thought they would be undisturbed.

"D-don't hurt us!" The human male she assumed was Luka yelped.

On three, Snowyn pointed out her wand with her companion in tow before letting out a gasp and covering her eyes. She saw what she saw and immediately turned away for a moment, allowing the couple some time to cover up. Looking back and seeing they were somewhat decent after covering themselves up, she placed her hands at her hips, "Miss Kisles. Mister Luka. You could've at least sent a letter or a notice or something before gallivanting into the tunnels!" she scolded, sheathing her wand into a makeshift loop in her belt, "The director will be most displeased! I'm sure if the both of you would've explained your relationship to her, you wouldn't have to hide out in the tunnels. You had us all worried..." her tone softening at the end. She let out a long, drawn out sigh. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head, "Please - for all our sakes, let's get back to the estate and inform the Director of your return, if that's what you want to do. I do not know of your intentions, but either way she and the rest of our company has the right to know..."

"Oh thank the light!" Luka exclaimed and the pair breathed a sigh of relief while they reached for their respective clothing.

"Uh, anyone seen my bra?" Kisles asked to no one in particular.

Catisa just covered her face with both hands and turned around, successfully hiding the crimson in her features from everyone except for Snowyn who might have also heard the small 'meep' that escaped her. She had not been prepared for such an outcome to their search! The poor girl remained like that while Luka continued from his earlier exasperation.

"We lost our way, but somewhere along the way wandering about these endless tunnels..." He paused and smiled at his companion, Kisles. "We found each other."

Snowyn giggled seeing Catisa's reaction and turned back to the couple. She looked to Kisles and walked over to her, fumbling through her purse and procuring the bra she had left in the tunnels. " Best keep this on you," she snickered. Addressing both, "Well now that you've found each other and we've found you, let's get out of here. This is nowhere to... well.... I know it's private and all, but the Director can find you both a room, if you like. That way neither of you have to lose yourself in the tunnels and you can continue your...." she cleared her throat, trying to find the right word, "Business with one another there instead. Likely wards can be placed to mute any sounds," trying to sound as professional as possible, but her own cheeks lit up a slight red as she tried to find the right wording.

Kisles snatched up the Bra, "Thanks!" and continued to dress herself while Luka smiled to Snowyn and elaborated.

"Now that you're here to guide us I'm sure that will be much easier! We've just been wandering about getting more and more lost." With a hearty chuckle he pulled his shirt over his head and the pair, though dirty and unwashed, were ready to go.

Catisa turned around once she heard them stop moving around so much and breathed a sigh of relief to see that they were dressed once more. "Yes, quite, let's get out of here. I've had about enough of these caverns." She stated as she tucked the bread loaf away at last, "We marked our tracks so it should be fairly easy to find our way back." Still blushing red, she tried to use her hair to block the view of her rosy cheeks.

Snowyn snickered again. She held up her wand, lighting it up with a brighter glow. She walked over to the other side of the tunnel and much like a school teacher, "Alright everyone, let us get to moving then. The tunnel is no place for... a great many things. Let us be back before it grows dark on the outside world. I'd rather not be caught dead in the middle of redridge with all manner of foul creatures about. Or if there are any in the tunnel - let us avoid them!" Looking to Catisa, "Miss Wells. Would you kindly lead the way?"

"Of course!" The fledgling mage was more than happy to lead the way and set the pace for leading them out of there. Kisles and Luka filed in close behind and almost clinging to each other including Snowyn and Catisa. She flicked her wrist and flames ignited once more, illuminating the path ahead as she lead onward.

"Sorry for causin' ya so much trouble." Kisles finally piped up, "We never meant anyone to fret."

Luka nodded his agreement in the dim light, "Yes, and thank you so much for your help." He added with a sigh.

Snowyn ushered them along, "Quite alright, we're just glad you both are safe. And the director and the rest of the company will be glad too," she smiled, watching as Catisa lead the way. Looking back to Luka and Kisles, "I do suggest talking to the Director and explaining yourselves... she's worried sick, I imagine. Two of her finest workers. Tsk tsk," scolding playfully.

Catisa snickered to herself up front and smirked at Snowyn, "Yes, quite!" Her still flushed features hidden by the blend of warm light emitting from her palm.

"Oi we will, but honestly I would love a bath first!" Kisles responded with a giggle.

"Yes, a bath would do both of you well..." she humphed playfully at the two.

"I'll join you..." Luka purred to Kisles, sneaking a kiss to her forehead.

"Oh you two - wait til we're back at the estate, if you will," she snickered behind them, keeping her wanding raised up.

@snowynsilverfield @thevioletbastion

#job board posting #violetbastion #guild #snowynsilverfield #catisawells #magic #rp #caverns #labyrinth #WoW #wyrmrestaccord

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gwenbrightly · 4 years

Text

The Gingerbread Caper

Cross-posted from ffnet.

The quiet atmosphere of the monastery was broken by the sound of screaming originating from Kai’s bedroom, waking anyone who still happened to be asleep. Nya groaned in annoyance and covered her face with a pillow. Wu was letting them slack off from Sunrise Exercises and she really didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to take advantage of that.

“GET IT OFF ME!!!” Her brother screamed again, forming coherent words this time. That was it. Obviously, the master of water wasn’t going to be sleeping in today. She threw her pillow aside and climbed out of bed, eyeing her clock resentfully. It was far too early for this. Not that 10 am was particularly early (but still!). She trudged from her room still wrapped in one of her blankets.

“What the heck, Kai?” Nya demanded when she reached Kai’s bedroom just down the hall. The master of fire sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tossed something at her in disgust. She caught it with minimal effort. A gingerbread man. Or, at least, what was left of one. The poor cookie didn’t have any head.

“This better not have been you, sis.” he stated. Nya rolled her eyes, tempted to return to the comfort of her bed rather than deal with her over dramatic brother.

“Like I’d ever stoop so low. Seriously, you didn’t need to scream like that. It’s just a cookie.”

Kai gaped at her indignantly.

“Would you wanna wake up with some creepy soulless human wannabe in your bed?”

“Now there’s a quote I should send to your lovely girlfriend right away.” Nya laughed. He glared at her for a moment before suddenly shooting up from his bed.

“Skylor!”

“What?” she asked, confused, “I swear I wasn’t actually planning on sending this to her.”

“No, she’s supposed to be coming over today to decorate cookies with us!” he reminded her. Nya face-palmed.

“I can’t believe I forgot about that…”

“Actually, this is perfect. She’ll be totally unbiased about this whole gingerbread man fiasco.” Kai mused, already deep in thought. His sister frowned at him. It was obvious he had something up his sleeve.

“What are you planning?”

“Don’t look so worried, Nya. This is just like one of Ninja Noir’s mysteries! I just gotta follow the trail of evidence and eventually, I’ll be able to eliminate the impossible and find the truth!” Kai told her, quoting his favorite detective series.

“Kai, no.” she said, attempting to prevent the situation from getting totally out of hand. He ignored her, instead opting to head over to his closet to grab something. When he turned to face Nya again, he was wearing a fedora.

“Since when do you own a fedora?” the master of water questioned. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Shhhh,” he cut her off with a wave of his hand, “Just go with it.”

Nya sighed, but followed him to go wait for Skylor to appear.

_________________________________________________________________

“Do I even wanna know what I just walked into?” Skylor wondered when she caught site of the scene playing out in the living room. Her boyfriend stared suspiciously at Lloyd and Jay, who were playing what appeared to be a rather intense game of Fist to Face (Ninja Edition!). It took him a second to register her presence. Nya waved her over, smiling apologetically.

“Someone,” Kai began to explain, holding up the cookie, which he’d gotten back from his sister, “thought it would be funny to put this in my bed and I wanna know who.”

Skylor resigned herself to another of Kai’s chaotic schemes. She already knew he had a problem with gingerbread people (and Christmas elves, and those little expanding bath toys they sold at the dollar store for that matter), though he wouldn’t tell her what it was about the holiday treats that bothered him so much.

“Eh okay. How can I help?”

“Are you sure you wanna do that?” Nya asked at the same time as Kai said, “You can be, like, the insanely hot mystery woman who helps the dashing detective (me) solve the mystery.”

“Real smooth, dork. But sure, why not.” the redhead decided, punching the master of fire’s shoulder lightly to distract from how rosy her cheeks were all of a sudden. He grinned in delight.

“Cool! Oh, and I guess Nya can help too.” Kai added as an afterthought. Nya raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously not a suspect, sis! The gingerbread man couldn’t have been in my bed long or it would have crumbled, and you value sleep way too much to have gotten up early enough to orchestrate this.” he stated confidently. She didn’t look like she was taking this as a compliment.

“So, detective Smith, where do we start our investigation?” Skylor prompted. She had no desire to see the siblings get into a debate over their sleeping habits.

“Oh. Uh… We have to interview our suspects!” announced Kai, dragging Skylor and Nya over to the two video game playing ninja.

“Oh, hey guys. You wanna join our next round?” Jay offered, not taking his eyes off of the screen. He rapidly pressed several buttons on his controller at once.

“Yeah, it’ll be way more fun with more players!” agreed Lloyd. He gave a smirk of triumph as his avatar landed a final hit on his opponent. The master of lightning groaned, disappointed.

“Actually, I think Kai had something he wanted to ask you.” Skylor informed them. Jay and Lloyd set aside their controllers, curious. The sight of Kai in a fedora was unexpected; Lloyd was usually the only one who found them fashionable enough to wear.

“Oh, okay. What’s up?” the green ninja asked, wondering what on earth could be so pressing that Kai had gotten Nya and Skylor involved.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about this?” answered Kai he shoved the cookie under his brother’s nose. Taking note of the gingerbread man, Jay demanded, “Hey – how’d you convince Zane to let you have one of his cookies?”

He’d tried to snag one earlier that morning, only to be thwarted by the master of ice, who insisted they must save the gingerbread cookies for Skylor’s arrival. This was rather unfortunate, as they smelled utterly delicious.

“No, I- you’re telling me that you, the two biggest pranksters around, have no idea how this got in my bed?” Kai stated, skeptical. The two ninja shook their heads. It appeared he was going to have to use a different interrogation method to get answers. He judged his sister. She glared at him. He nodded pointedly at Lloyd and Jay. Not wanting to give in so easily, Nya stared at Kai silently for several minutes before finally relenting.

“If that’s true, then you won’t mind telling us what you’ve been doing all morning.” she said in her best police officer voice (and secretly wishing she had a fake mustache on her).

“Oh, that’s easy. We’ve been having a Fist to Face (Ninja Edition!) tournament for the past couple of hours. Just look at the scoreboard,” Jay told them with a shrug, “I mean, it is kinda embarrassing to see how many times Lloyd’s hooped me already today, but if it gets you to stop looking at me like that…”

Lloyd nodded, the picture of innocence. They took a closer look at the screen. Sure enough, the scores for the past thirty or so rounds, along with the times they were completed scrolled across the pause screen.

“Huh. Well, I guess you’re off the hook. For now, at least.” Kai decided, wondering who he should use his detective skills on next if the most obvious suspects had been ruled out.

“Maybe Zane knows who it was. He’s been in the kitchen all morning.” suggested Lloyd as he set up another round of the video game. Skylor grabbed Kai’s elbow and drug him towards the door, saying, “Good idea. I need to give him the extra sprinkles I brought anyway.”

Nya mouthed I’ll be back later to her boyfriend before following them. Instead of heading directly to the kitchen, Kai insisted on examining every nook and cranny of the hallway. He held a magnifying glass he’d somehow ended up with, though no one could say for sure where it had come from, and was doing his best to mutter what he thought sounded like very professional and insightful comments.

“Ahah! A trail of crumbs. Collect that for evidence, Sky.”

The redhead pretended like she hadn’t heard him, sharing a grossed out look with Nya.

“Oh, hey! Weren’t you missing an earring, Nya?”

Kai held out something sparkly and blue.

“Uh…thanks.” Nya accepted it, a look of utter surprise on her face. She’d been searching for this earring for weeks. Could it be possible that Kai was actually… good at this detective stuff?

“The detective and his sidekicks arrived at the kitchen at approximately 11:05 am., wondering what clues they would uncover inside…” Kai loudly announced, interrupting Nya’s thoughts.

“Hello!” Zane greeted them. Bowls of frosting in an impressively wide range of colors lined the counters along with several different kinds of sprinkles. Pixal was currently adding a few drops of vibrant red food dye to one of the few bowls that remained uncolored.

“Yes, welcome! Did you bring the sprinkles?” she asked. Skylor pulled a jar from her purse.

“Yep, here you go.”

“Thank goodness,” exclaimed Zane, taking them from her, “Dyeing sugar crystals by hand just isn’t effective.”

“Tell me about it. We tried it at the restaurant one time when we were in a pinch and… it didn’t work well.” the redhead recalled. Having grown bored with the conversation the others were having about epic fails with sprinkles, Kai examined the trays of cookies stacked next to the oven. Just as he’d predicted, one row of cookies was missing a gingerbread man.

“Hey, Zane, Pixal? You guys have been in here all morning, right?” he asked, casually. The two nindroids glanced at each other. Zane was the first to reply.

“Well, I stepped out for a few moments to bring Master Wu some oolong tea – he claims to be feeling a bit under the weather today – but, other than that, yes. Why?”

“I’m trying to figure out where this cookie came from. You didn’t happen to, say, give one of these to someone, did you?” Kai showed them the gingerbread man, curious to see their reaction. He was a little disappointed when neither of them did anything incriminating.

“I suppose it’s possible that Cole took it when I wasn’t looking. He came in here while Zane was gone to grab some extra tape.” Pixal said thoughtfully. Ahah! Kai’s eyes lit up.

“So he’s wrapping presents, huh,” he mused, “I wonder if he’s gotten to mine yet…”

“Kai! I thought you were being a detective, not some nosy kid!” his sister hissed disapprovingly. He huffed indignantly.

“I’m just curious, Nya. And besides, all the best detectives can multi-task.” Kai defended.

“Suuure.”

“Anyway, thank you for the info. We may be back later.” the master of fire stated in a more professional tone, heading out into the hall once more. Zane and Pixal waved as the others left, not sure how else to respond.

En route to Cole’s bedroom, Kai immediately reverted back to carefully examining every small space, carpet snag, and leafy garland in sight. Nothing escaped the lens of his magnifying glass. Not even his sister’s tennis shoes, which kept blocking his view. If he could just find something, anything, that would prove once and for all who was guilty of this delectable crime… Wait. Kai caught a whiff of something cinnamony wafting off of a wreath hung across the hall from the master of earth’s door. He sniffed the gingerbread man. It was the same smell. Reaching into the wreath, he plucked something small and round from inside. Victory! Skylor stared at him in confusion for a few minutes before realizing what he was holding.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Kai held the two pieces of the gingerbread man together.

“Yep. Looks like we might just have an official suspect.”

“You’re so weird…” Nya muttered under her breath. She was pretty sure nothing would possess her to behave like this.

“Hey, it worked pretty well, didn’t it?” Kai pointed out, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She sidestepped quickly, shrugging it off as she went.

“Well…” she started reluctantly, “I guess we’d better get in there and get some answers.” She swung the door open. They could hear the pleasant tune of the Nutcracker soundtrack playing on Cole’s phone as they entered. The ninja in question sat at his desk, surrounded by wrapping paper. He turned around and blocked their view of whatever else was on the desk before quickly asking, “Do… you need something, or are you just here to enjoy the total masterpiece that is the Nutcracker?”

“Uh, yeah. Though, it is definitely a classic.” Nya told him appreciatively. They would have to pull out the recording of Cole’s 6th grade performance of the ballet that Lou had given them one day soon.

“Let’s cut to the chase. We know why you were really in the kitchen, Cole.” Kai cut in impatiently. Cole’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Aw, man! You’re not gonna tell Zane, are you?” he stammered.

“…What?” the master of fire attempted to ask.

“This is a one-time thing, I swear! His frosting is just too delicious to resist.” Cole continued sheepishly, oblivious to Kai’s question. Kai, Skylor, and Nya froze. This wasn’t at all what they had been expecting him to say.

“Zane’s…. Frosting?” Skylor repeated, wanting to make sure they had heard him right.

“Well yeah. I’ve been snacking in it all morning,” the master of earth admitted, showing them a mostly empty bowl, “It’s so good! Wait - what did you think I was talking about?”

No one replied at first; they were still processing the unexpected turn of events.

“We… may have thought you put a headless gingerbread man in Kai’s bed to mess with him.” Nya ultimately explained. Cole couldn’t help himself. He burst into laughter at this admission.

“Wow, I guess that explains the looks on your faces right about now. But as totally brilliant of an idea as that prank is, I had nothing to do with it. Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s okay. We probably shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions when Pixal told us you’d been in the kitchen. Or when I found the gingerbread man’s head in that wreath. In hindsight it was a pretty weird hiding place.” Kai said apologetically.

“Yeah.” his sister agreed.

“Almost…. Like someone wanted us to find it…” he continued.

“You think whoever did this tried to frame Cole?” Skylor questioned, finishing his thought. It was all coming together now.

“I guess I do…. Oolong tea not licorice…. Hang on a sec, I think I solved this thing!”

Nya gave him a look, as if questioning his sanity. His ramblings made little sense to her.

“No offense, Kai, but you lost me at tea.” she told him with a frown.

“Me too, honestly.” Cole nodded, equally lost, especially since he had missed a majority of the investigative process. Kai rolled his eyes in exasperation and said, “Just make sure everyone meets me in the living room in five minutes, and I’ll explain then, okay?”

“Even Master Wu?” Cole clarified, not wanting to disturb the old man without a good reason.

“Especially Master Wu.” Kai confirmed before dashing out of the room and leaving everyone else to wonder whether or not the master of fire was going to crash and burn.

He paced back and forth across the living room, earning the occasional odd look from Lloyd and Jay, who had moved on to arguing over the existence of a plot hole in the latest Starfarers movie.

“I’m telling you, Jay. They left that part vague so that it can be expanded on in the sequel!” Lloyd insisted. Jay didn’t look like he agreed with this statement, still stuck on his accusations of lazy writing. He was rescued from having to formulate a convincing comeback by the arrival of the rest of the residents of the monastery. Nya and Skylor had returned to the kitchen for the pair of nindroids, leaving Cole to retrieve Master Wu. The room was suddenly filled with noisy conversations as everyone claimed a seat.

“Okay. Let’s get down to business.” Kai practically shouted over the din. One by one, the others stopped talking and looked at him.

“Alright, let’s get this hare-brained scheme of yours over with so we can have lunch, then.” Cole encouraged, speaking for everyone. While they were curious to see if Kai had actually figured out who had pranked him, they had also gotten more than a little tired of being on the receiving end of his investigative tactics.

“Right. As you all know, I woke up this morning to find a decapitated gingerbread man in my bed,” the master of fire began dramatically, making sure everyone could see the cookie, “at first, it seemed like our resident pranksters, Lloyd and Jay, were the obvious suspects. However, they both had a strong alibi… It couldn’t have been them – they were right here in this room playing video games when the crime was committed.” he crossed over to Zane and Pixal, “next, my lovely assistants and I headed to the source of the cookie – the kitchen, in the hopes that someone there would know what had happened. Our ever-watchful ice ninja hadn’t seen anything suspicious. He stepped out for what, 15 minutes tops?”

“That is correct,” Zane nodded.

“He was getting Master Wu some tea because he was sick,” Kai explained, “more on that later. Pixal told us that Cole had come looking for tape while Zane was gone. We figured maybe he could give us some answers, so we headed for his room, and you know what we found in the wreath across the hall from his door?”

“That’s right,” Nya jumped in, though she still wasn’t sure how relevant it was, “The missing head!”

“Exactly. So obviously that must mean that Cole’s the culprit, right?” Jay and Lloyd looked at each other. Were they supposed to agree?

“Wrong! If he’d taken the cookie, he would’ve eaten the head right away, not hidden it. The only thing Cole was guilty of was stealing a bowl of frosting for a mid-morning snack. And that’s when it hit me. What kind of tea does Master Wu always drink when he’s sick?”

“Licorice?” Lloyd offered. Kai smiled triumphantly.

“Bingo. But when he asked Zane to bring him some tea, he asked for Oolong tea, which he never drinks when he’s sick because it tastes nasty with honey in it. Master Wu, you’re not really sick, are you?”

The elderly spinjitzu master smiled weakly at him, but did not deny the accusation.

“Here’s what happened: Master Wu asked Zane to bring him some tea because he knew it would distract him long enough for the real gingerbread prankster to put their plan into action. Knowing she only had a short amount of time, Pixal grabbed a cookie and snuck into my bedroom to plant it on me. She also hid the gingerbread man’s head in that wreath in case someone came looking for it later. She only barely made it back to the kitchen before Cole arrived.”

Skylor snapped her fingers, excitedly jumping in.

“I get it! When we showed up in the kitchen to ask Zane about the cookies, she told us about Cole because she knew we’d find the head and think it was him.”

“Exactly! And it would’ve worked, too, if the tea hadn’t made me suspicious. The only thing I haven’t figured out is why….” Kai paused, staring at them, “Why did you do this, guys?”

Wu stood and walked over to him.

“To put it simply, we wanted to help you overcome your phobia of gingerbread people. It gets in the way of you spending time with your family and friends every year. I know it wasn’t a very kind thing to do, but I honestly felt it would be worth it in the end to see you enjoy the holidays a bit more.” he admitted, placing a hand on Kai’s shoulder.

“And I do believe it worked!” Pixal added, “although you were certainly annoyed, you didn’t seem frightened at any point this morning.”

Kai made a funny face as he thought about everything that had happened. However misguided Pixal and Wu’s plan had been… he didn’t feel the disgust and terror he was used to when he looked at the gingerbread man in his hand anymore.

“You know, I think you’re right… don’t get me wrong, I’m still kinda irritated that you thought this was a good idea. But… thanks.” he told them. Out of all the holiday adventures Kai had had, he was pretty sure this was the strangest. Later that day, after they had finally eaten lunch (much to Cole’s relief), he had to smile when Zane didn’t hesitate to hand him a gingerbread man to decorate. He set to work carefully frosting it so they it resembled a detective with a trench coat and fedora, proudly displaying it with the rest when he was finished. It was nice to see that gingerbread people weren’t so bad after all. Ninja Noir would be proud.

Hopefully this ridiculous story made someone smile today :) it was literally so fun to come up with hehe

#Ninjago #Ninjago fanfiction #my fics #ninjago Christmas #Kai loves detective novels #Who put a decapitated gingerbread man in his bed?#Yall are gonna have to read to find out #Pixal and wu just wanna help but are really bad at it #Cole eats frosting by the bowlful but can we blame him? No #You guys I am seriously so proud of this

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deathnoting · 7 years

Text

abecedarian (4/26)

back @ ya with that beyond birthday shit

previous parts: a b c

warning: animal death

d. dog (c. 1988)

B kills the groundskeeper’s dog, and then everyone shouts a lot at everyone else.

Mr. Kassir, who makes the drive from the Southhampton University Hospital every other Wednesday to give them their anatomy lesson, is in the middle of a lecture about arterial systems when the house begins to creak with commotion. The hard-soled shoes of the maids clack outside the door, trailed more softly by their whispers. A is taking color-coded notes in blue and black and red ink in his white notebook with its pale blue lines. B is drawing a realistic blood splatter on his desk with permanent marker. L has already passed anatomy, and is excused.

Q waits for the lesson to be over before he asks them into his office. When he explains what’s happened to Figgy, A’s eyes glisten and his nose runs and he keeps on shaking his head, back and forth, back and forth. B studies his pain with fascination. As he’d done it, he’d been aware that people generally like a live dog better than a dead one, but it hadn’t felt like an evil act. Animals have no numbers, no names, and B has never known if that means they are absent a soul, or if his soul is just incompatible with their’s. He had been trying to find out, by looking inside of Figgy, but all that he’d found was what Mr. Kassir has already told him. Thorax, neck, nasal plane. He’d stared at the wet pink tissue and nothing had stared back.

Q asks them, very plainly and without censure, if they know anything or saw anything.

“No.” The word quivers out of A.

“No.” B can’t help his apologetic smile.

—

He was maybe four when he realized that everybody else was half blind. Hiroko Ando, the only person he’d ever been tempted to call Mom, told him that. She held his face in her ring-heavy hands and kissed his cheeks and said, “Nobody else sees those numbers, Beyond. You are a very special boy. There is absolutely nobody like you.”

B cried when they took him away from her and her husband and their ramshackle house, their steaming bowls of soba noodles, cats chasing cats through the yard. They hung wind chimes from the rafters of the balcony, read him stories at night, and threw laughing drunken parties with all of their laughing drunken friends cramped into the living room, flicking syringes and telling him to go back to bed.

“Other people don’t see what you see, baby boy. Other people don’t know what you know.”

B does not cry for Figgy the dog.

—

R and Q raise their voices at one another, then hush them down low. He listens through the wall, slumped in one of the crawlspaces. He asks the mice to keep it down but they have no manners. R uses words like Trauma, Maladjustment, and Diagnosis. Q uses words like Precocious. Between the two of them, they say his name twenty-seven times. B keeps count.

When he climbs out of the passageway, L is there, slumped with his ear against the door, chewed-up lollipop hanging crooked from his mouth. Maybe he doesn’t know about the secret passages. Maybe he cannot hear the house breathe and shuffle and sigh. His eyes dart to B, spooked for a second, but he holds in his flinch commendably.

B has not seen him since the morning they were introduced, though he has felt his ripples: floorboards trembling, doorknobs clicking, bannisters squeaking. He’s found the room directly below L’s and listened to his movements through the ceiling. He’s traced his midnight paths to and from the kitchen, library, and telephone, examining crumbs and dog-eared pages left in his wake. To meet him suddenly in person, without intending to, is like sighting some rare and portentous animal. An albino crow means good luck. A black cat means bad luck. A dead dog means—

“You killed Figgy.” L doesn’t say it like a question.

B bites his lip. His whole body gets warm every time he hears L’s voice. “You killed Figgy.”

L rolls his eyes. “Not this again.”

B rolls his eyes. “Not this again.”

L scoffs and starts walking away. His disinterest is feigned but the distance that grows between them is real. B’s pulse thuds and his throat clenches through ways to make him stick around.

“I know when you’re going to die,” he says to the white back of L’s shirt.

L stops walking. B sees gauzy specters in the corners of his eyes, and shoos them away. He takes a step forward just as L reels around, face contorted in a sneer, and says, “I could make them get rid of you, you know.”

He’d taken as a threat what had been intended as promise. B chews on the inside of his cheek.

“You don’t like that I’m good at being you,” he observes.

L’s nostrils flare. His scrawny shoulders clench. “That’s not—there’s something wrong with you.”

B takes another step toward him. “There’s something wrong with you.”

L shoves him with two hands, palms to his chest, and B doesn’t resist for an instant. He falls to the floor at L’s feet and it’s like slotting right into place. L looks like he wants to kick him and B wonders if he might have found something worth finding if he had cut L open instead of the dog. He wonders if this is what Hiroko meant when she spoke about secrets that were only for him. He likes the jut of L’s nose and brutal limiting force of his numbers.

“Keep away from me,” L says, before stomping down the hall, and B repeats the words back to himself until he gets the inflection right.

—

Everybody knows but nobody says outright what B did. A woman whose letters say Hope Millward comes to the house and asks B a series of questions, makes him look at a series of pictures, and writes placid observations into a crisp notebook. Q regards him with chiding sympathy, R with poorly concealed horror. The maids clean his room in pairs, and double back when they see him in the hallways, whispering flattering exaggerations. The evil eye that is shortly hung above the door of the groundskeeper’s cabin is not questioned. All households become superstitious when encouraged.

A won’t speak to B for weeks. He’d liked to feed Figgy scraps off his dinner plate. He’d liked the coarse hair on her jowls. He finds teeming life in the places where B sees only death. He doesn’t understand the secret geography that surrounds them. He only breaks his silence on the morning that B pulls him out of bed just after dawn, leads him up into the topmost branches of the property’s third-largest hawthorn, and shows him a cluster of webs as big as both their bodies put together and crawling with furry anthropods that grow to monstrous proportions under his magnifying glass.

A’s voice quivers when he says thank you. B grins with his gums.

#death note #beyond birthday #l lawliet #jaye writes fic #abecedarian #i'm back to writing my novella but i do have a few more parts of this written #semi written??

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themurphyzone · 7 years

Text

Mystery at McDuck Manor Ch 1

This story is a huge change from my usual writing style. I thought I’d mix it up and have a little fun.

Ch 1- The Scene of the Crime

Tonight I venture out of my home turf and into the unknown, trailing the path of crime wherever it may lead. I find myself standing in front of the imposing gates of McDuck Manor, an ominous creak sounding from the rusted bars. I was requested most highly by a certain...DWDbiggestfan1991 on an Internet forum to solve a matter of utmost pressing concern to his boss.

The message is highly classified information, which I will not disclose to my narration lest the night wind carries it to eavesdropping ears.

As I survey the grounds with a keen eye, I spy a dark figure sneaking out the front door with a square object tucked under his left arm. He rounds the corner and breaks into a run.

I follow him to the back side of the property, where a tiny, damaged houseboat stays afloat in a pool. Judging from the blackened edges of several planks, it was safe to assume the engine had been hotwired.

The figure dashes into the boat, tossing assorted knickknacks around as he searches for that unknown object. The time has come for my dramatic-and dare I say-daring entrance.

“I am the terror who flaps in the night!”

“Where’s all that smoke coming from? Show yourself!” The other duck demands in a near-unintelligible voice. Boy, he should really consider speech therapy.

“I am the miscalculation which costs you millions of dough! I am...DARKWING-YIPE!” I duck a thrown snow globe, the glass shattering on the wall behind me. “What was that for?”

The other duck balls his fists. “You barge into my home and expect a warm welcome from me? Well, you’ve got another thing coming, pal!”

“And you expect an explanation from me when you rudely interrupted my introduction?” I say. “Now, explain what you plan on doing in this destroyed dump.”

“GET OUT OF MY HOME!” The duck screeches, leaping towards me.

My honed senses enable me to expertly evade his enraged attack, and I point my trusty gas gun at his bill. “Yep, yep, yep,” I say. “Now will you be good and tell me what purpose you had for sneaking into a houseboat at 10:37 at night? Nothing good ever comes out of tiptoeing around.”

Before he could reply, something whizzes by my head, knocking the gas gun out of my hand. When I look back, a cane had embedded itself into the panels, my gas gun hanging from the end by its handle.

“Who are you and why are you attackin’ my nephew?” An old duck barks in a most peculiar accent. He stands on the edge of the boat, glaring at both of us with more rage than I would have thought was possible for an old geezer. “Curse me kilts, Donald! I turn my back for two minutes and ya already land yourself in trouble.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Uncle Scrooge,” Donald mutters. “I was only putting away a photo album.”

“Ah, so you must be DWDbiggestfan1991′s boss,” I say. “Scrooge McDuck, an honor to meet you. I am the caped crusader, he who flaps in the night, Darkwing Duck. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, what seems to be troubling you?”

Scrooge storms over to the planks, pulling his cane out of the wall and letting the gas gun clatter to the floor. “You have ten seconds to take your fancy gadgetry and theatrics off my property,” he growls. “As for you Donald, couldn’t this have waited til morning?”

Suddenly a large, rather dopey fellow rushes on board. “Darkwing Duck! You’re here! You’re actually here!”

I fold my arms. “What kind of a hero would I be if I didn’t answer the calls of a needy populace in an orderly fashion?”

He picks me up and crushes me in a giant hug. My lungs are on fire and I savor all the precious air I possibly can. One time the malicious miscreant Megavolt mangled the circuits of St. Canard’s power grid for his own nefarious purposes. Being tangled in his wires was preferable to this behemoth’s death hug.

“So....” I gag. “Are you DWDbiggestfan1991 by...oof my organs...any chance?”

He finally lets go, and I wheeze for breath.

“That’s me! Launchpad McQuack, mind getting me an autograph?”

Well, it would be rather rude of me to refuse. I sign his hat with a black sharpie. I even leave him a smiley face.

“I’m never washing this baby again!” he exclaims.

“Launchpad, may we talk for a moment?” Scrooge says in a dangerously calm voice. He pulls him to the side of the boat. I’m left with Donald, who glares at me.

Well, it was certainly nice to know one duck in McDuck Manor had manners.

“When I said you could bring someone who would help us figure out where the painting went, I did not mean use the Internet to hire A MASKED CLOWN!”

“If I said he didn’t demand payment, would you be a little more welcoming?”

“Why do I even-wait a moment, Launchpad. Did you say he doesn’t demand payment?”

I clear my throat. “That’s correct. I do not accept payment for my services. Though a bit of gratitude would be nice.”

Scrooge sighs, shaking his head. “I’m goin’ to regret this later. But as long as you work for free, I suppose there’s no other choice. Follow me to the garage. And don’t touch anything!”

Now I see why some call him the cheapest duck in the world.

But if he would kindly stop calling me a masked clown, that would be much appreciated.

I stay behind him as I keenly take in all the details of dusty old relics that have fallen prey to neglect over the years. Strangely, there were green post it notes on some of the objects. I rip one off as we pass by a podium.

I stow it in my pocket so I can examine in a better lit area. It could be a very important clue.

“This is where I kept the painting,” Scrooge says, stopping in front of a stack of crates. “It has a picture of a pirate ship, and there’s a tear in the upper left corner.”

I thoroughly scour the area for clues with my magnifying glass. There was a faded rectangular area free of dust where the painting once sat, as well as several light footprints that led into the interior of the manor.

“It appears that the perpetrator has made their way into your mansion,” I explain. “And I found these green post it notes right by the scene of the crime! Whoever pilfered the painting did a poor job of covering their tracks. Mr. McDuck, if you would please gather all the occupants of your estate so we can figure this out quickly.”

“Wait, Uncle Scrooge!” Donald yells. “The boys are asleep!”

“Nonsense, Donald,” Scrooge says with a dismissive wave. “Nobody is sleepin’ tonight until we figure out who stole that painting. I’ll wake up Webby and Beakley. Grab the boys and bring them down to the parlor. Launchpad, help this clown search downstairs.”

Lightpack salutes, his entire body stiff. “Aye, aye, Mr. McDee! Er, or was it sir, yes sir?” Scrooge taps him with his cane, and the larger duck falls to the ground, almost squashing Donald under his weight.

The Darkwing does not have a need for a partner. I work alone! I have done everything by myself for years, and I most certainly have no need for a dopey duck who looks as though he can’t tell a triangle from the square root of 254.

However, I feel generous today. “Come along, Lunchbox,” I say in an authoritative, heroic voice. “Let us begin our search...” I pause for dramatic effect as I figure out where to begin. “...in the lobby!”

“Cool! Mind if I show you wear I crashed the limo one time? Mr. McDee’s face turned this funny shade of red after I did that!” he exclaimed.

“Later. Duty calls,” I reply.

I poke my head into the empty fireplace. “Find anything?” Limbobar calls.

“Nope!” I cough. “Nothing but...ack...soot and brick! They did not use the chimney for this.”

“Well, geez, I wouldn’t really expect Santa Claus to be the stealing type.”

Before I could yell at him for that remark, I bang my head against the brick as I crawl out. My suit is covered in ash, so I dust it off, coughing the entire time.

Hope Scrooge McDuck didn’t mind a little ash on his nice looking rug.

Next I continue my search into the kitchen, looking underneath the sliver platters for a crumb, a wrapper, or any piece of food that the thief might have eaten while committing this heinous heist.

Another valiant effort, wasted.

“Letterpen, we shall now head to the parlor.” I must carefully construct my statements so that nobody is aware that my search has so far yielded nothing. “I have allowed a sufficient amount of time to pass for everyone to be brought to order.”

“Okay, DW!” he nods. “Check this out!” He holds out a pair of aviator goggles in his palms. “Found it by the front door. I’m always misplacing my stuff. Lucky this was in an obvious spot.”

“Let me see that,” I say, examining the material under a magnifying glass. “Hmm...bought from somewhere exotic it appears. I will be holding these goggles as possible evidence.”

Lechepond shrugs. “Maybe one of the kids lost it. That Webby is always sneaking up on the boys with dart guns.”

At this point I was getting bored out of my mind with the speculation. “That’s quite enough. Darkwing Duck shall begin questioning in the parlor momentarily. Who is the thief? Did they know each other previously? Why would the thief choose a painting and not the money?”

“Is it my turn to ask a question?” Lumberpack asks.

“Make it quick,” I mutter.

He nods eagerly. “Why are you asking all these questions out loud?”

“For the drama! What kind of superhero would I be without a few cliffhangers?” I protest.

I’m sure it will be a long night.

#darkwing duck #crossover #ducktales 2017 #launchpad mcquack #fanfiction

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flowermandalas · 7 years

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Electrocuting the Ants

I did terrible things to insects as a child.

Like many other boys growing up with nothing better to do, I tore the legs off Daddy Longlegs, incinerated pill bugs with magnifying glasses, and set fire to more than one ant hill. But I didn’t stop there.

I was a kid scientist. Spurred on by the early space program and largely ignored by the adults around me, I dreamed of one day voyaging to the stars. Meanwhile, to prepare myself, I read Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein, Bradbury, and other SF masters of the day. At the same time, I plowed through one field of scientific inquiry after another, beginning with magnets and batteries – I built my first lead-acid battery when I was seven – and moving quickly through fossils, geology, chemistry and electronics. But entomology was my most enduring interest and bugs were my favorite experimental subjects.

The insect kingdom was convenient for testing ideas that came up in both my scientific and science fictional pursuits. My interest was, I believed, purely clinical. I was training myself to become the perfect scientist: dispassionate, precise, even ruthless in the pursuit of Knowledge.

So, in the name of Science and in imitation of the Martians in H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, I removed the parabolic mirror from my telescope and used it to build a crude ray gun, on sunny days incinerating dozens of hapless bugs. Inspired by the pioneering efforts of the space program – I had a National Geographic poster of the solar system on one wall of my bedroom and on another a chart comparing the Russian and American unmanned satellites – I loaded grasshoppers and crickets into model rockets and blasted them into the sky. Unfortunately, like the dogs and monkeys who were carried aloft by grown-up rockets, few of my astronauts survived. Sea Hunt and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea led me to investigate building self-sustaining underwater environments, and in the course of my researches, I discovered that electricity breaks down salt water into hydrogen and chlorine gas. I caught flies and bleached them in hyper-chlorinated water, a byproduct of this process, until their bodies became translucent and their eyes glowed a piercing bright red.

I found all bugs interesting, but I think it was Superman who first got me to home in on ants. Though I soon graduated to more sophisticated characters like X-Men and The Fantastic Four and finally to genuine science fiction, Superman was my earliest superhero, and the Man of Steel always had a special place in my pantheon.

In one issue, the Caped Crusader was exposed to red Kryptonite, which transformed him into a creature with the body and mind of a man and the head and special abilities of an ant. This metamorphosis, though horrifying to Lois Lane, turned out to be a lucky break for humanity. Nearby, an army of mutant ants which had grown to gargantuan size was threatening Metropolis. The transfigured Man of Steel was able to communicate with the ant Queen antenna-to-antenna and persuade her to follow him, with her flock, into outer space. Happily, the effects of the Kryptonite wore off soon after Superman’s return to Earth, restoring his familiar blue-haired, manly visage.

Though I could never match the Man of Steel’s skill in ant argot, on a summer’s day I would spend hours in the back yard watching these ingenious creatures conduct their subtle and mysterious business. To test the abilities of their tiny minds, I’d block their path with twigs and fingers, forming impromptu obstacle courses for them to find their way around. It was ants who first fell to the death ray of my telescope’s mirror, and ants who were my first aquanauts, held under water on a leaf or twig, small bubbles of air clinging to their skinny bodies until they ceased to move. Later, it was ants I threw into jars filled with sulfur dioxide gas, and then, briefly remorseful, attempted to revive with pure oxygen.

Ants abruptly and permanently ceased to be my subjects, however, shortly after I turned twelve.

As a school science project, I had built a Tesla coil. This was an air-core transformer capable of producing tremendously high voltages at very small currents. It was first created by Nikola Tesla, the Serbian-born inventor who discovered alternating current and the principles behind radio. My coil, constructed from a cardboard tube that linoleum came in and parts scavenged from broken TVs, generated about 100,000 volts of radio-frequency energy, enough to light fluorescent bulbs from across a room and to interfere with the neighbors’ television reception. It made a monstrous noise, reminiscent of the Jacob’s Ladders I’d seen in old Frankenstein movies. With it I had won the 7th grade science fair.

After the fair, I continued to read up on Tesla and his inventions and to experiment with his device. One thing I learned was that six- or seven-inch sparks could jump from the coil to my hand without hurting me because high-frequency electricity flowed only along the outer surfaces of objects. When I grew tired of making my fingers twitch, shocking my kid brothers, and remotely lighting fluorescent bulbs, I began to wonder what would happen to smaller life forms if they were subjected to this surface-seeking current.

My studies of ants often ran in parallel with other investigations. While I was experimenting with the Tesla coil, I had also been cultivating an ant farm. I’d dug up the ants from an ant hill at the base of the swing set in our back yard and filled a large peanut butter jar with a mixture of ants and dirt. Then I’d punched tiny holes in the lid and covered the sides of the jar with black construction paper to keep out the light. Every few days I placed bread crumbs and chopped-up raisins on top of the soil and added water to a Coke bottle cap I’d set up as a trough.

After a week, I took the paper off and found, as I’d hoped, that the ants had made this jar their home. They’d built a maze of tunnels, visible through the sides of the jar, and had deposited stores of food in miniature cul-de-sacs. The ant farm appeared to be a successful community – at any rate, far more so than the crop of “sea monkeys” I’d tried to raise from a kit ordered through DC Comics, or the pollywogs we caught at Boy Scout camp that never quite made it to frogs. From time to time I’d remove the paper to see what new works the ants had created, and I’d periodically refill the Coke bottle top and toss in scraps of food. I began to wonder what to do with it next.

One Saturday morning, directly after Mr. Wizard – an early hero, until I learned he’d run off with his secretary – I turned on the Tesla coil. I tested its spark by drawing it to my fingertips, then picked up the ant farm jar and let the spark discharge through it into my hand. To be sure I was well grounded, I’d grabbed one of the metal poles that supported the I-beam in the center of our house. I felt the shock ripple through one hand and across to the other, saw it snake along the black paper covering the jar, which I’d left in place like an executioner’s mask. A few seconds later I put the jar down and switched off the power.

I don’t think I would have been affected much if, when I examined the ant farm the next day, all of them had been killed; I had already sacrificed many ants in the name of Science. Conversely, had they been unscathed, this would merely have confirmed what I’d learned about high-frequency electricity. I was prepared for either of these outcomes. But instead, when I stripped off the paper and unscrewed the top of the jar, I found a few ants still scurrying through their tunnels and, neatly stacked at the entrance to one of them, a mound of dead ants.

It had never occurred to me that only some of the ants would die, or that ants were sentient creatures who valued their lives as much as I did mine and would respond meaningfully to death. Survivors of their own miniature holocaust, the ants had dealt with the unthinkable as best they could and moved on.

My whole view of ants, and of all living creatures, changed forever in that moment. Solemn and remorseful, I brought the ravaged ant farm outside, back to the ant hill from which it had come. I dumped out the contents of the jar and left it to the survivors and their kin to sift the living from the dead. I tossed the jar itself into the garbage and, a few weeks later, moved the Tesla coil out to the garage.

On that day my experiments with insects ceased and my apprehension of what it is to live, and die, and grieve began.

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montessorishop · 7 years

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Activities for 1-3 Year Olds

I recently had an article published in Montessori Voices (a magazine published by Montessori Aotearoa New Zealand), which I thought I might re-publish on my blog incase you don’t get Montessori Voices where you are!

Happy reading :) xx

“We must help the child act for himself, will for himself, think for himself; this is the art of those who aspire to serve the spirit.” (Maria Montessori - Education for a New World, p.69)

I have two children, aged two and three years old, which means I have been fully immersed in the ‘first phase of development’ for the last three years. While having two children so close in age has brought its challenges, it has also been a beautiful period full of wonderful learning’s. Here are my favourite four!

1. Independendence & the prepared environment.

“I do it!” was pretty much my childrens’ first and forever favourite phrase. Maria Montessori talked about the “conquest of independence” (The Absorbent Mind, p.76) and young children certainly do see independence as a conquest. Their drive to do it themselves is very strong - and frustration follows closely behind.

A well-prepared home environment is key. But don’t try to do everything at once...focus on the areas your children are showing an interest. For example my daughter is all about putting her own shoes on, so we have a little stool just for her and a basket for her shoes by the front door so she has what she needs to get the job done. Tip: Set the clock 5 minutes ahead of the actual time so you’ve always got a couple of minutes up your sleeve. Activity idea: Make a game out of the washing - starting with asking her to sort her dirty clothes into lights and darks and take her right through the process, letting her do as much as possible on her own, to the point she is putting her own clean clothes back into her drawers.

2. Make learning a part of everyday activities.

“Not only does he create his language, but he shapes the organs that enable him to frame the words. He has to make the physical basis of every moment, all the elements of our intellect, everything the human being is blessed with.” (Maria Montessori - The Absorbent Mind, p.22)

Young children are active both in body and mind. Keeping up with them makes for a busy day, but is also so much fun! Incorporating simple learning games into everyday activities gives children the ability to learn in a meaningful way. Activity ideas: When driving, play i-spy - start with phonetics (the sound a letter makes) before using letters. Count, having an abacus or number puzzle on the shelves at home can make counting fun. Turn moments into projects - take note of a subject your child keeps mentioning and turn it into an opportunity to learn more about it. For us it is currently rockets so we have made rockets from lego, borrowed a couple of books from the library, made a paper telescope and even managed a trip to the Star Dome!

3. Get outside.

It is a well-known fact that getting outside can be just the tonic for mothers and children! It is a Danish saying that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing choices. Try to get outside with your children every day, even if it is just a walk around the garden or to the mailbox. Let them forage, collect natural materials (or worms and slugs), let their imaginations run free and let them guide you. It is amazing what can be accomplished in 30 minutes of fresh air. Activity ideas: Collect as many different leaves as possible and thread them into garlands, use them for crayon etches or even turn them into a pretty leaf arrangement when you get home. Collect rocks and pebbles and other treasure to make a habitat of your favourite animal figurine. Let your child pack their bug collector (or ice cream container) and a magnifying glass for closer examination of everything and anything!

4. Cooking.

Pre-schoolers love to help. They often want to do what you are doing, especially when you are busy trying to get something done! These two factors, combined with a love of food, means that it’s not unusual to feel some very enthusiastic pulls on your apron strings while you are preparing meals. While sometimes it is necessary to distract them with another activity outside of the kitchen (they don’t call it the ‘witching hour’ for no reason), there are times when you’re possibly able to set up a food-related activity for your child at a low bench, their own table set or even on a mat on the floor. Letting your child help in the kitchen means they are learning what goes in to preparing their meals - and they will often enjoy the meal more as a result. Bonus! Tip: Set up activities with foods you don’t mind them eating before dinner! Use child-size materials where possible to avoid accidents and unnecessary frustrations. Activity Ideas: Sorting the peas from the corn, scrubbing the potatoes or carrots, grating cheese, crumbing fish, whisking or beating eggs, sifting flour. All of these activities are also fantastic for small motor skill development.

#montessori #montessorimaterial #montessorinz #montessoriathome #montessorimum #montessorichild #montessorichildren #montessoriactivities #cookingwithkids #getoutside #slowlife

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stargazingpoetry · 7 years

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The Ant

I hold a magnifying glass to myself, the ant. I examine my every move, How I articulate myself, how I behave, Carefully executing each and every gesture, so as to not instigate The glass refracts the light, it zeros in on me, burning me alive. I am small, insignificant, Yet unassuming. I wish to join in on the picnic, Just a single crumb will do, But at the mere sight of me The picnickers retaliate: Their giant fists crashing down on me, squashing what little motivation I had left, To be outgoing.

#Poetry

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flowermandalas · 7 years

Text

Electrocuting the Ants

I did terrible things to insects as a child.

Ants abruptly and permanently ceased to be my subjects, however, shortly after I turned twelve.

On that day my experiments with insects ceased and my apprehension of what it is to live, and die, and grieve began.

P.S. If you find what you read here helpful, please forward it to others who might, too. Or click one of the buttons below.

from Electrocuting the Ants

#Electrocuting the Ants

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