#i cannot tell you why this took so long. the chapters are so short. it's a very simple plotless kind of fic lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

swordsandholly · 1 year ago

Text

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic

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cr4yolaas · 5 months ago

Text

WHIPLASH — LOOK BACK

work is horrifying. men are horrifying. the whole world is horrifying, and horribly against her. she tries not to let her structure crumble — but there are limits to everything.

002. that's the industry, baby! / masterlist / 004. distractor

"I hate him," she mutters under her breath. It's barely a whisper beneath the noise around them, but the anger laced in it is pungent. He watches her take one, two, three sips from her drink before slinking down onto the wooden counter.

"You still haven't told me why."

Her head slowly rotates, shifting around in the nook she's created with her folded arms, to face him in all his midnight glory. The music is nothing but white noise, and all she can hear is the subtle thumping of her heart against her ribs.

(She doesn't really remember how he looked that night. All she recalls is his signature hat and the pretty jewelry he wore.)

There's only a string of restraint left in her. Her rationale — fine-tuned and perfectly curated after just a few years of surviving through this industry — tells her to keep quiet; that any details about her irritation and regret, no matter how long they may fester in the pools of her stomach, cannot slip out. But when he lays down to match her position and whispers a question, one she barely misses, the little string snaps.

"I'll just listen, if you want. No advice. No input. Just an ear."

(What happens between that and the moment they find themselves outside is a blur.)

It all spills out, the reservoir that she's been carefully maintaining up until then bursting at the seams. She rambles on about shitty coworkers, who can't seem to stop relying on her, shitty editors, who don't have any sense of proper management, and a shitty ex, who used all of it to get his way. All of her — the people pleasing, the work obsession, the ease in which she let things happen under the guise that something good would come out of it all. She tells him about it all in chronological order (because it's the only way she seems to remember things these days), from the opportunities he'd stolen from her grasp and the arguments and the pure, bubbling humiliation she feels just from thinking about it.

And he listens. Like he'd promised.

A part of her finds solitude in the knowledge that her chances of seeing him again are slim to none. Another part longs to see him again — how can she resist when he looks at her like she'd hung up the stars over their heads?

(The rest of the night is gone to time. She can't recall anything — she actively tries not to, a subconscious decision made the day after. What she does know is that she regrets it — regrets baring her soul, wide open, for someone gone so quickly.

It's a necessary evil. She knows she can't grow attached. But part of her wishes he'd stayed, just for another hour.)

★ super short filler/interlude :) a little background on megs' and yn's history

★ this took place when yn just transferred publishing companies -- she wasn't a sport editor at the time, hence why she didn't recognize him

★ i'll leave this chapter up for interpretation buttt there is an actual plot behind it, mainly w/ what happened @ yn's old company

★ in the main tl, the aespa fangirls don't know abt this night nor anything that yn shared </3 they r under the assumption that she transferred js for the fun of it

★ they minus toge

★ i rlly don't like how this one came out but i couldn't figure out how else to write it without it getting too detailed. this night is meant to be a memory that yn tries to force down, which is why it isn't as in-depth

★ hope u all enjoyed :)

TAGLIST: @kameyyy @s777athv @solecitoszn @1l-ynn @valvoria @standcom @kissunday @hqnge @applepi25 @fushiguruuzzzz @reveurdoll @anotherwriternamedclara @sh0ot1ngst4r @starrysho @lizbix @diearama @cherryredribbons @asuritam @tiramizuloz @saltypuffin1040 @burnishingbagels @beepbopzlorp @reezerdotcom @tibibibi123 @carneries @gumims @chososcamgirl @anngelllla @fefesooli @anngelllla @tiramizuloz @vrxouei @s3ns4ti0n4l @lucentwings @sentifua @in-the-marina-trench

divider creds @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x reader

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 year ago

Text

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 29)

Tw: mental breakdown and thoughts that made you go a little "wtf", mentions of non con touching, a bit of smut, chapters kinda short

okay here u go Evangeline enjoyers

Part 30

You decided to confront her. The suspense as to why she did what she did is killing you.

So you have to work, on composing a long-winded paragraph with a beginning, middle, and end. Your hands were shaky from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you were never really assertive. So this is very new to you, yet exciting, yet frightening.

You tried not to be too accusatory and not too dismissive. It was hard because you either tend to paint her as a horrible person or paint yourself as an overreactive dramatic. However, you managed to find the right balance with the ultimate goal of extracting her reasoning behind her latest behavior towards everyone.

You held your breath as you tapped send.

You waited and waited while chewing on your nails. Imagining all the ways she would respond. Anger? Remorse? Revenge? Nonchalance? It could be anything, even no response at all.

Which you thought you might be getting. She hasn't replied to you yet and it's been 30 minutes since you sent it. You sighed, she's probably just busy and will take her time to read too, you should be patient and find a way to calm your nerves.

You were about to put your phone down and prepare yourself dinner; which is just following the instructions Yves plastered on its container- usually only involving the microwave or the saucepan. You jolted when your phone buzzed to life, your mouth was gaping wide when you saw the contact to be your dreaded friend: Evangeline.

You whimpered, pacing around the room as you let it vibrate. You feel unprepared, inexperienced, and upset. You regret doing this in the first place. You wish you could just disappear into a hole somewhere, or disappear into Yves's warm embrace.

It stopped ringing. A text message took its place after that.

"Pick up"

She didn't give you more than ten seconds to read before attempting to call you again.

So you decided to take a leap of faith and answer her call.

"(name)? I read your text, what are you talking about?" She sounded concerned and worried, and there were hints of something darker that you picked up in her voice.

She did not read your text. At least, she refused to understand it. You were clear in what you wanted from her; which was to stop doing what she was doing and reflect upon her actions, giving you her rationale behind her offenses at the same time.

You summarized it, telling her that she was confusing and weird. You didn't like how she tried to touch you without your consent. You cannot figure out for the life of you if she was on Montgomery's side, Yves's, or yours.

"I'm on your side, of course. I'm your friend! What? So I can't touch you now? I think you need to get out of your shell more, (name). That didn't mean anything, you can touch me the same way too if you want to get even--"

You cut her off and told her no. You don't think whatever she's doing is merely a friendly gesture. You felt dirty and violated even having Evangeline suggest that you do the same to her.

There was a beat of silence, followed by a sigh.

"...I'm sorry you felt that way, (name). I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just trying to be a good friend."

You didn't know what to say next. Soon after, you heard sniffling and soft weeping.

"I'm so sorry. You're such a good friend to me, I don't want to lose you. Please don't be mad at me." Her voice cracked and wavers. You

You don't know how you feel about her reaction. But you do know that, unlike Yves, you have the power to walk away from her. He's coming back tomorrow anyway, so you won't be the 'friendless' on campus anymore. So you can afford to cut her off because she's acting strange and you think that being with her, will lead to more trouble.

You told her that you're not mad at her. But you don't feel comfortable hanging out with her anymore.

"What?! W-why? I apologized, what more do you want me to do?" She raised her voice and strained it painfully. You hear that she began to sob and wail.

You told her that there was nothing she could do except to move on. You wished her the best and said goodbye.

You hung up before she could get another word in. You immediately blocked her and flopped onto your bed. The breath you exhale felt like smoke evacuating your lungs, you felt you could breathe properly again without feeling too worked up. At least that chapter of your life is done, you most likely would either need to take the bus or Yves would drive you around. Fine by you, no Evangeline or Mr. Jones in sight.

You will let Yves handle Montgomery, he has a bigger, legal hammer to beat him with.

"Sweetie...?" Mr. Jones creaked the door to her room open, letting the lights from the hallway spill into her pitch-dark room.

She was crying, her breathing was choppy and her whimpers bounced off the walls. Evangeline was sobbing into her pillows, her blond hair was a mess around her, unlike her usual combed style. Her beautiful dress was wrinkled and her blue eyes were red and puffed.

Her father stared at her with heartbreak and pity. You must have told her already. However, he knows that this behavior of hers needs to be addressed. Evangeline's mother is cooking downstairs, she was never the type to be compassionate in her discipline methods. So Mr. Jones decided to be the one to break the news to her.

"Oh, Evangeline..." He switched the lights on and sat right next to her sniveling form.

She didn't acknowledge his presence, nor did she wish to talk to him. But he has to discuss with his daughter that some things aren't acceptable.

"Sir Yves... he called me earlier." Mr. Jones felt her entire body tense up to the mention of his client. "Mx. (Name) told him you were touching them inappropriately, is that true?" He was gentle with his words, careful not to provoke his already emotionally unstable daughter.

She neither confirms nor denies. Evangeline just stayed very still.

"...Please, Evangeline. You have to talk to me." He pleaded, rubbing a soothing hand on her shoulder. "What's going on?"

No response.

He shuffled himself on the bed uncomfortably. Mr. Jones cleared his throat.

"You can tell us anything. You know Mommy and Daddy love you no matter what." Evangeline moved a bit, but it was only to adjust her positioning. Her face remains buried in her pillow.

"I-I don't get it, I know you're a good girl but... these things that happened to you, these things you did... Why?" He asked, gently shaking her as Mr. Jones looked at her in desperation.

"Hitting your baby cousins suffering from illnesses, pushing your pregnant aunt Myrtle down the stairs, accusing your uncle Ben of infidelity, the rumors about some... ridiculous cheating scandals, and now this? Why?" Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as well, he bit back his lip to try and avoid it from rolling down his cheek.

He retracted his hand when he felt Evangeline trembling. It was soon made known to him that she was shaking in hysterics.

"You are all so ungrateful! I was trying to help everyone!" She snapped, her heart holding an ugly contempt for the world around her, which included her doting father.

"They weren't going to live long anyways, their mothers constantly complain of needing to take care of their children. I wanted to save Aunt Myrtle from that horrible, horrible fate, but I'm the villain? Uncle Ben hated his wife and kids, he wanted to escape. I gave him that escape, didn't I? He went ahead and married a woman much prettier and younger than his ex, didn't he? Why am I the villain?" She screamed as she hyperventilated, her father taking a step backward to avoid her erratic movements.

"Evangeline-"

"I didn't- I didn't steal her boyfriend! I was trying to get along with him, I wanted us to be a big happy group but they were fighting. I didn't want them to fight..." She sobbed loudly into her hands. Her nails dig into the delicate flesh on her face as she tries to quell her rage. "They were my friends! (Name) was my friend, I tried to help them, I tried..."

She crumbled to her knees and bawled. "I tried helping them get along with Sir Yves, but I was punished for it. I tried helping them get along with Monty, but I was... told I was 'weird'. I just wanted something back, I just wanted to touch them, they were so good to me... I wanted to touch them. Was that so wrong?"

"Yes, Evangeline! You can't just... touch them like that! You don't touch your friends in that manner, you don't touch anyone in that manner! What are you..." He was at a loss for words. Her father tried looking back at what was being taught to her, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but why couldn't she think normally? Her logic is distorted and her sense of entitlement is demented, it's much more serious considering that she began her unhinged quests for justice just a year ago.

She looked away and wept some more. Evangeline is alone again, a feeling so familiar to her. It's ironic, that her parents tried to expose her to as many people as they could to improve her loneliness as an only child. But in a room full of children and adults who she knew on a first-name basis, she was alone. So, so alone.

There is nobody in the world she could tell her thoughts to. She tried telling her mother, her so-called 'friends', her extended family... they all deemed her crazy. She was forbidden to have her truest opinion on life and Evangeline never understood why, it felt unfair, it felt like the world was against her. Not even the vastness of the internet allowed her to find like-minded companions, she was shunned out of communities she desperately yearned to be in for being true to herself.

"You're just like the rest..." She mumbled inaudibly under her breath. "It's useless..." She muttered, a bit more coherently now. Enough for her father to pick up on.

"What's useless, sweetie?" He wiped away his own tears of anguish, it was horrible to see his child suffer like this, but he did not have the skills or understanding to help her.

"Crying about it... it's useless." She sniffled and wiped away her tears. Mr. Jones watched her blink multiple times with a neutral expression.

Evangeline stared into the distance for a few minutes. She didn't blink nor did she speak, not a single twitch of her muscle could be seen or felt. Her father was worried that she wasn't even breathing because her sniffles stopped and the girl let her nose drip freely. Her blue eyes are dilated and blank.

"Evangeline...?" Her father hesitantly shook her by the shoulder. She blinked one last time, allowing a tear from each eye to roll down her already damp cheeks.

When she opened her eyes once more, her usual girlish sparkle was back. Evangeline blew her nose on a piece of napkin she pulled from her tissue box nearby. She crumpled the soiled sheet in her hands, a long strip of muscle on the inner side of her wrist was raised when she squeezed it in her fist. She let go and threw it into her trash can.

"All better." She smiled, patting the area under her eyes with her fingertips.

Baffled by her sudden, impossible change, Mr. Jones tried asking her all the questions in his head, but it came out as a pathetic stutter.

"I'm sorry for costing you a customer, Daddy." Her eyes were downcast. "I promise I won't do it again."

Mr. Jones's eyes darted around her. Confused and terrified at this strange switch of hers. "Sweetie, I-"

"If you'll excuse me, Daddy, I need to freshen up." She stood up and smoothed her hair. "Please leave my room, I will join you and Mommy downstairs for dinner, later. Okay?"

He has no words to give. So he nodded and as usual, became a pushover for his daughter.

She guided him out, waved goodbye with the sweetest smile, and closed the door. Her hand went to the knob to lock it shut.

She took a moment to stare into space as she listened for her father's footsteps. Once she's positive that he has gone downstairs, she lets out a sigh.

Evangeline switched her lights off and headed to her bed. She laid on it and picked her phone up.

The screen illuminates her face. She made a few taps on it and soon found herself scrolling through her picture gallery.

"Maybe it isn't so bad to be the Villain..." She mumbled to no one in particular, grinning to herself.

Her pupils dilated tremendously when her optics landed on a picture of you on the beach. You were bending over and collecting seashells, so focused on your activity that you didn't notice a pair of lenses capturing this moment.

Evangeline's breathing became more ragged as her eyes glimmered at the sight of your mildly saltwater-dampened rear. You're such a prude, how she wished you wore something a bit more accessible. That would have made her very happy. Maybe if it was a little warmer, you would have worn something a lot more revealing and easier to worm her depraved digits around.

Her soft hands slowly slid down to her panties, torturously tucking one finger at a time under the fabric.

The more the blonde stared at different pictures of you, the further her perverted hands and thoughts went.

She stifled a moan as she touched herself, she imagined doing all kinds of unspeakable things to you. She wanted to see you under her, she wanted to see you squirm and beg for her forgiveness. Evangeline wanted to ravage you like the beast she was under that heroine-like persona.

She quivered as she pumped her fingers into herself. But her eyes never strayed away from that photo of you. Evangeline wanted to take you so badly, she wanted to overpower you and have you pinned against the wall, the bed, the floor... She drooled at the thought of you so helpless and despaired.

Her baby blues shifted towards your clueless face. You looked like you never experienced the high of an orgasm before. She could fix that, she could make you cum over and over again until you fell unconscious in her fluffy pink handcuffs, eyes rolled back into your head, and all your orifices dripping with sexual fluids. What a sight, she thinks.

She had to push her face into her pillow as she let out a powerful moan.

Even then, she still went on. Furiously rubbing herself and imagining herself as this antihero in your story. But ultimately, you saw her as your savior in her mind.

#yandere #yandere concept #tw yandere #oc yves #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere x reader #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #oc evangeline #oc montgomery

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minniethemoocherda · 10 months ago

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Iridescent: Chapter 22

A/N: Holy shit!! Cannot believe that it has been over a year now since I started this fic! Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck around for this long!! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

It was early the next day and Prowl was trying to catch up on paperwork after the fire had completely knocked him off schedule. Which was not an excuse to not go to see Bluestreak in the temporary med-bay.

Prowl hadn't even opened his first file when his office door was hacked open.

At this point, Prowl had come to expect Jazz's unscheduled break ins, so he when the door opened, he was surprised to see the twins instead. Not least for the fact that the pair were supposed to he unconsciousness in the temporary med-bay.

Sideswipe's optic was still cracked and without any replacement lenses they were just going to have to wait for the self pair nanites to do their work and whilst Sunstreaker's arm was hidden behind his back, Prowl knew that it was currently wrapped in a cast.

An unusually serious expression was work by both their faces. It was never a good sign when the twins were serious.

Before Prowl could ask what they thought they were doing here, Sideswipe as usual opened his big mouth.

"So you know how we were banned from the med-bay right?" Sideswiped started.

"I am aware." Prowl replied curtly.

"Yeah well we were trying to sneak in to see Bumblebee so we borrowed a trick out of his book and went through the vents but Sunny's fat aft got stuck.-"

Sunstreaker punched his brother in the arm but Sideswipe continued unbothered.

"-so whilst I was trying to push Sunny along the vent for no particular reason whatsoever, through the grill we saw Silverstreak running out of the med-bay. Which is odd because usually you only people running towards the med-bay like when they're dying or rushing to see their conjunx who's been injured after a big battle. But Silverstreak was totally fine after her last mission and according to the base gossip she isn't dating anyone. So we thought that she had to be running away from a wrench wielding Ratchet. So obviously we hung around to watch because that's always fun to see when its not us and-"

"-And then the med-bay exploded." Sunstreaker interrupted cutting straight to the point.

"Yeah exactly and then- err hey Prowl? You doing okay dude?" Sideswipe asked. Sunstreaker barely managed to drag his brother out of the way as Prowl marched out of his office.

Prowl couldn't speak. They couldn't even think. All he felt was white hot rage. All of his tactical net was now focused on one mission. To kill Silverstreak.

For once luck was on Prowl's side as he spotted Silverstreak at the end of the command corridor.

Silverstreak took one quick look at him and she must have seen the bloodlust in his eyes because in the next second she bolted.

Prowl transformed, sirens blaring as he raced after her.

However his luck was short-lived as he hadn't even made it to the end of the command corridor when someone walked out of a nearby door opened and Prowl immediate switched all his focus into breaking on time to not run them over.

"Do you want to tell me why you're trying to kill one of my agents?" Jazz asked, appearing unbothered by the fact that he had almost been flattened.

"Because she tried to kill Bluestreak!" Prowl yelled, trying to drive around him, but Jazz just stepped in front of him again.

"And you think this because?"

"The twins told me!" Prowl yelled, aiming a punch mid-transformation at the spy's face.

Jazz caught his hand with a raised optic ridge.

"I know the twins," Prowl argued, trying to yank his hand free of the spy's grip. "And we both know that they wouldn't joke about that."

"Well that would explain why I've currently got Sideswipe shouting down my comm that you're going to kill somebody." Jazz replied, keeping a tight hold on Prowl's wrist. "But we can't kill Silverstreak yet. We need her alive for questioning first."

Reluctantly Prowl had to concede that Jazz did have a point. Not that he was going to tell him that. Prowl managed a sharp nod, finally pulling his hand free as Jazz loosened his grip.

Prowl didn't wait for Jazz as he returned to vehicle mode, catching a glimpse of Silverstreak before she turned a corner.

It was late so the corridors were relatively empty. The few bots they did come across were to quick to get out of the way.

Prowl took a few shots at the traitor but despite their shared Praxian forms, Silverstreak was faster, her sleeker form allowing her to dodge his lasers. Jazz wasn't having much luck either, the other spy already knowing most of his tricks before he even got a chance to try them.

Suddenly Silverstreak transformed. In the air, during her transformation, she used her new legs to leap off the wall, down the sharp turn of a slim maintenance hatch.

Prowl sped past before his optics even had time to process what had just happened. He skidded to a stop, scrapping his sides on the walls as he forced his body to turn around. Jazz had to jump over him to stop themselves from crashing.

Now in robot mode, Prowl squeezed himself down the maintenance tunnel trying to shove himself down it as fast as he could despite the fact that he had to run sideways down the narrow passage. The hot rusted cogs of gears and bolts stabbed into his paint. However, Prowl paid no notice to the warning of surface level damage to his body, his mind focused entirely on one purpose.

Prowl saw a flash of light up ahead as Silverstreak must have opened and closed the hatch at the other end. Barely a minute later, Prowl reached the same hatch. He charged through it, a set of hinges clattered to the floor as it snapped.

On the other side was a seemingly ordinary corridor. Prowl glanced left then right but he could not see Silverstreak. He did however spot Inferno.

The fire truck who had been driving along the metal floor, jumped the sight of the Second in Command running towards him.

"Woah where's the fire-"

"Did you Silverstreak?" Prowl demanded, his voice barely more than a growl.

"Err no, not since we came back from Tyger Pax." Inferno replied, turning into robot mode so that he could hold up his hands as took a step away from the usually stoic commander.

"Then where is she!"

Prowl scanned the corridor back and forth and back and forth. Logic dictated that Silverstreak should still be within his lone of sight but no matter how many times he turned his head he could not see her anywhere.

Eventually Prowl's sight latched back onto Inferno, the only other bot there.

"And why aren't you at your post!" Prowl screamed.

Inferno apparently decided to interpret that as a rhetorical question and sped towards the temporary med-bay before they could give him an answer.

Prowl was about to storm after them when he felt someone grab him by the shoulder.

Prowl spun around, hoping to find Silverstreak but instead it was Jazz climbing out of the hatch.

The spy was apparently unfazed by his anger, simply pointing to the ceiling. Prowl looked up to see a vent with the grate now hanging by its hinges.

Prowl shoved Jazz off him. He climbed up the grate. His wings screeched against the metal as he tried to push himself inside the enclosed vent. But the facts of reality was that he was too large to fit inside.

"I commed Red Alert," Jazz called up to him, evidently deciding that trying to stop him would be a pointless battle, "I told them to seal off all exists, including the vents."

Prowl couldn't even bring himself to nod. He was too angry at himself for being too much of a slave to his emotions to think to call Red Alert before. If he had, the chances that they would have caught Silverstreak increased astronomically.

The suddenly influx of calculations and missed possibilities crashed onto his head like a freight train. He stumbled as he dropped from the grate.

Jazz caught him before he could trip over his own exhaustion.

"It's okay." Jazz tried to reassure him, stroking a hand down his arm, but Prowl just shook his head.

"No. It is not. Not until Silverstreak is dead."

#transformers #jazzprowl #transformers jazz #transformers prowl #prowljazz #autobot jazz #bluestreak #silverstreak #sunstreaker #sideswipe #jazz x prowl #jazz #prowl #tf jazz #tf prowl

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occasionallyprosie · 1 year ago

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A Thousand Ways

Chapter 11: "Frost Over Charcoal"

Legend learns that he's really bad at saying no when someone is being sincere and genuine, especially when he trusts that someone.

First | <<Previous | Next>>

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 8: "Why won't it stop?"

Read On AO3 Warnings: Implied Character Death

----

"What happened in there?" Warriors asked, his voice so uncharacteristically soft that Legend just--He didn't know how to respond.

They had found the black blooded monsters on the road from that town to a larger, merchant village (Mabe Village, Hyrule said that it would survive to his era remarkably. Legend did wonder why that village had been the one to appear on Koholint) that would've had the information they'd need.

From there, a portal took them to the usual places of eras between their times.

They got to a local inn, but it only had two rooms with two beds each. As a result, they split into two groups with Time going with the four youngest heroes if Legend was excluded from the list, though none of them actually knew how old he was except for Wind. Either way, that left--and Legend was certain it was on purpose--Sky, Twilight, Warriors, and Legend in the other room.

Legend inhaled slowly, trying not to break down again. "I cannot emphasize how much I really do not want to talk about it."

He knew it was obvious, especially since he felt their eyes on him when he changed not five minutes ago. It didn't help that his current outfit was short sleeved either, and didn't have the really high collar he used to wear.

He knew his new scars were obvious, but he also knew that they weren't too familiar with his old ones that they shouldn't be able to tell just how many of the new scars were actually new. All they knew was that not a single stretch of skin on his arms and torso was scarless anymore.

"I know," Warriors promised, and Legend wondered why he was the one taking point in this conversation when both Twilight and Sky were harder to look in the eye and deny anything. Warriors, Legend just had the instinct to deny him everything out of pure spite.

Legend realized how wrong he was when Warriors approached, careful and slow, and guided him to sit. Legend just sort of stared, he didn't want to snap at anyone. He really didn't want to be sharp, driving them off was dangerous now. If he drove them off, who could he look to, who could he hope for see, if he ever got captured again? Besides, those almost three months of being separated put into perspective that yeah, he actually cared about them.

So he couldn't snap, he couldn't drive them away during what little time they'd have together. How could he taint such memories when soon enough those memories would he all he had of them?

Warriors had him sit on the bed beside Twilight. Sky was sitting just opposite them.

"I'll make a deal with you," Warriors said gently, "if you just answer three questions for us, a simple yes or no will suffice, we won't bring it up again unless absolutely necessary."

You see, Legend had teased all three of these heroes for being mother hens, for being fussy and worrywart's, he teased them and called them the group's "big brothers" to Time's group "dad" thing, the others even agreed!

This was just unfair. All three of them ganging up on him and even though he thought Warriors would've been the easiest to shut down, the earnestness and sincerity was almost overwhelming, combined with Twilight leaning into his side, warm and grounding, and Sky just being there and offering an encouraging smile.

He didn't break, but he huffed and had to look away and curl in on himself as some kind of measure of defense.

"Fine," he bit out. "Three questions."

"Are you--Is it okay?" Sky spoke up immediately.

He didn't respond for a long moment, debating lying. Finally he just quietly shook his head and muttered, "No."

Warriors squeezed his hands gently and Twilight's arm wrapped around his shoulder. It made the pressure behind his eyes worse but he really tried to ignore it.

"Those tools on the table--"

"Yes."

Warriors' mouth clicked shut and the soft look was briefly replaced by something blazing and violent. Legend flinched into Twilight just as quickly as that look was snuffed out and replaced by something sad.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Twilight asked.

Legend shook his head, not pulling away from how he had curled into him as a result of Warriors' anger. "No. Just--stay."

"Of course," Sky promised. "You’re stuck with us, vet. I don’t think the Rancher's going to let you go anytime soon anyways."

He snorted, forcing the amusement out more than anything to just please, get rid of this heavy atmosphere. Stop all this worry and claustrophobic caring.

Warriors cracked a small smile. "I guess we know how the bedding situation's going to be."

"Shut up, you’re just jealous I get the kid," Twilight retorted playfully. Legend startled a bit as the second arm wound around him and pulled him into the warm chest behind him, but he knew who it was so he didn't jump too bad.

Warriors huffed. "As if I'd want to share a bed with him, he kicks."

"Like a bunny," Sky commented, a grin on his face that had Legend immediately squawking.

"Not if you cuddle him enough," Twilight chimed in and hugged him closer.

Legend felt his face heat up as he tried to escape. "I will kick you right now--let me go."

"Aww, don't be like that, bunny," Sky teased.

"Don’t call me that!"

Sky cackled and Twilight and Warriors both laughed too. Legend squirmed but couldn't escape Twilight's grip without actually trying.

Eventually he just gave up, and about that time conversation shifted to something far more calm and casual.

The older heroes mostly talked between themselves over Legend's head. And older they were, none of them were secretive about their ages. Sky was the youngest of the three at 23 and was six years post his adventure, Twilight came next at 26 and eight years since his last adventure, then Warriors was 28 and ten years in the aftermath of the war. Legend just relaxed into Twilight and let their voices become a white noise as he played with his magic in his hands until he ended up falling asleep first.

The three older heroes knew what had happened in that cell. Twilight had told them that Legend confirmed it was his torture cell, and they had an idea of what tools had been used, and they knew that he wasn't okay in its aftermath.

Thankfully, as promised, none of them said a thing to the others. As far as the younger heroes and Time knew, Legend just lost his cool and ran off into the woods before he exploded the rest of the building like he did the front door.

After a few more unnamed eras, Legend stepped through the portal and was immediately greeted by the familiar magic of his era.

But when he opened his eyes, his blood went cold.

They were on a path just outside Kakariko, but the late afternoon sky was darkened by smoke rather than the setting of the sun. A huge plume of black and darkness filling the air, he turned too slowly, despite getting whiplash from the action.

The billow came from the wrong direction.

Fire should not be burning that high that way. Ever. That kind of fire was a forest fire, a house fire, it was something damaging and dangerous. That was no campfire.

"No," he breathed.

"Vet? Whe--COLLECTOR WAIT!"

He did not, in fact, wait.

Instead he ran headfirst toward the forest. He ran right where that fire was burning.

Showing up far too late, Legend came up to a large crowd that had already formed. He shoved through, people yelping and beginning to scold him before going silent as they realized who he was.

He reached the front of the crowd and the edge of the property and he stopped.

Oh goddesses, no.

A farmhouse too familiar for his rabbit-fast heart to handle was burning sky high. Deep red and orange marring the oaken walls, staining it black and eating holes through the wood, windows either blocked by flames or burned beyond transparency.

"Link?" Someone called. "Is that--Link, I'm so sorry--"

"Where are they?" He demanded, searching the faces of Kakariko's villagers. "Where--My grandparents, they're not--"

"We hadn't seen them leave, but they may not have been home," one of the ladies--Elizabeth, the wife of the mason-- said.

Legend inhaled sharply. He couldn't lose them--Not them too. Not like this. He couldn't--

He ran toward the burning farmhouse ignoring all the cries for him to wait and stop as if this wasn't his home, as if this wasn't where he grew up and it wasn't where his grandparents may be dying or already be dead at.

He never wanted to return home to this.

The fire had started in the house, it was spreading but the plants were well trimmed and the ground well worn from walking. It did not spread easily to the pasture, but the barn was caught in it. He threw a blast of pure magic at the cucoo coop as he passed it. He saw the pasture empty and hoped to the goddesses that Epona and the cows had ran by now. The fowl were escaping quickly and Legend was about to slam his whole body weight into the burning front door.

Someone grabbed him from behind.

"Vet no! You can't--"

"Let me go!" He fought against their hold.

"It's about to collapse! You'll die!"

He didn't care. He had to find them. He needed to find them. They were all he had left! They weren't supposed to die like this! They were supposed to grow older, maybe even be there when he finally settled, they were supposed to live to their natural ends! He had to--

The farmhouse that Legend spent half his formative years in collapsed. The burned walls giving in to the weight of the upper floors. It crashed to the ground and whoever grabbed him pulled him close and curled their body around his protectively.

A rush of ash and soot surrounded them, turning the world dark.

The dust settled and the fire still burned, though it was more of a huge bonfire that tried to spread.

Legend shoved Twilight away and grabbed the Ether Medallion.

Winter came early in that moment, an explosion of frost and ice exploding off him and leaving every person untouched but the flames were subdued.

He wanted to collapse, magical precision like that was exhausting, but the muddled voices stopped him. He couldn't break, he couldn't fall and scream and beg the goddesses to just please, let him have someone.

Why did they need to take everyone from him? Why was he doomed to lose them all?

He couldn't. He couldn't break. There were people here and he was still the hero. He had to stay strong, be that damned pillar of strength and courage for the world that was out to break him.

Link?

He turned, looked down, and a little ash covered cucoo was approaching him.

You came back, Piyoko clucked, nudging his leg. I'm glad to see you... I don't know what happened, one moment things were fine then the next the house was burning. Your grandparents had just gone inside for dinner too.

Legend sighed softly. "Gather the others. I'll get you guys to safe farmers."

Piyoko clearly had her own opinion about his response but thankfully didn't push it. She chirped and went toward wherever the other animals had run to. Legend turned to head back to the crowd, his throat trying to close up and his eyes stinging.

It's just the smoke, he told himself.

"Link? Are you..."

"I'll see what animals survived and check on the crops," he told them as calmly as he could, and a few--people who knew him--looked even sadder. "I'd--I would like to see it cleaned, but I don’t have the time do so, though I'd be willing to pay for it to be done. If you’re willing to help out, or willing to take what surviving animals there are, then I'll be here tomorrow morning by dawn."

The heroes looked confused and a bit against that decision, but Legend could care less. Most of the villagers gave him looks of pity, some mixed with concern, others with contempt.

"Everyone should get back home before it gets dark, monsters still roam these parts even if it's rarer than before."

Murmurs seemed to agree with his statements and the townsfolk left, some muttering about how sorry they were for the fates of his grandparents, others promising to be back in the morning. None of them actually referred to them as his grandparents, only calling them by name and telling Legend they were sorry.

Then they were all gone and left the nine heroes in the melting aftermath of the fire.

"Why'd you promise that?" Wild asked with a frown on his face. "We have a job to do, can't the family's next of kin handle this, or maybe the nearest town's mayor--"

"I'm the next of kin."

The following silence was horrible and it further ripped at his chest as he directed his carefully crafted blank look at the champion.

"This was my grandparents farm. Go hunt monsters if you want, I have things to handle right here and that starts with finding the animals that survived while the rubble finishes cooling, that ice is still steaming after all."

This time, nobody stopped him when he turned his back. Twilight and Hyrule both followed him.

Piyoko was on the edge of the survived forest, the fact that none of the surrounding trees were caught in the fire... There were four cucoos, Epona, and a cow. More than Legend expected frankly.

They saw him approach and he knelt down in front of them. Piyoko was quick to press against him and Epona nuzzled his face. Ali, the cow he had won in Labrynna and sent to the farm, drew closer too.

What now, Link?

He let out a steady breath. "Hopefully some of the other farmers around will take you guys in. You guys know as well as I do that I won't be... Rebuilding to stay here."

Epona nudged his head. We know. We'll stay with you, I can keep up.

We'll go, don't worry. It isn't a surprise, Autumn, a russet hen, cooed.

He got a headcount. All the hens intended to go, Piyoko stubbornly insisted on staying with him, and Epona promised she'd follow him too. Ali assured she'd be fine on a new farm.

After that he went and got them all under shelter, he didn't care what the other heroes were doing, he just made sure the shade out by the pasture wasn't about to collapse and then collapsed there with the remaining farm animals.

Twilight and Hyrule had been nearby, but they didn't come too close. Twilight did, eventually, but he just sat beside Legend while Hyrule headed toward the small orange glow over by the nonexistent front gate.

"I'm sorry," Twilight said quietly.

Legend tried desperately to keep himself in check. "It's fine," he managed. "I don't--They're... They were inside when the fire broke out, I-I can't--Why didn't you let me go in?"

There was a chance they were still alive before the building collapsed.

"If you went in, you would've died. It was about to collapse and it did seconds later. If you'd gone inside... I'm sorry about your grandparents."

If he'd gone inside maybe he'd have stopped killing all the people he's cared about.

"Go join the others," he grumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

"I'm not leaving you alone right now."

"I'm not alone. I have Piyoko, and Epona, Ali, Autumn, Britt, Nettle, and Thorn."

"I'm still staying. I promised to help you and that's what I'll do."

Oh he was unsteady. He had to keep strong, don’t break... He's broken too much this adventure, too many times.

Twilight wound an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug slowly, giving him plenty of time to escape but he went rigid and didn't quite process what was happening until the rancher was holding him to his chest, a hand in his hair and carding through it gently.

Oh.

He buried his face into his chest and sobbed. The dam broke and so did he.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay. We're all here and we'll help you get through this."

"I-I can't--I--" Legend gasped, choking. "I can't keep doing this," he forced out.

"I know--"

"Why doesn't it stop? Why won't it stop?" He begged, he needed to know.

Why did he still hurt? Why did every single person he cared about get hurt? How could he protect them if he's the reason they're hurt?

"Why won't it stop?"

Next>>

#linked universe #febuwhump 2024 #lu legend #linkeduniverse #legend lu #fanfic #lu warriors #lu wild #lu sky #lu twilight #linked universe fanfiction #whump fic #whump #epona #implied character death #house fire #prosie writes #a thousand ways au #fluff to angst

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shitty-fallout-art · 7 months ago

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For the fic writer asks:

11,21, 23? :]

11. What was the most challenging aspect of writing it?

-I struggle a lot with dialogue, I feel like it comes across as awkward or stagnant cause it’s ironically enough haveingn to put THOUGHTS into WORDS. That’s why I like internal thoughts better, more abstract and easier to describe. Overall though, the hardest part of writing is motivation and focus. I REALLY cannot get stuff done if I’m not in the mood to do it, I’m not one of those people that can push through bad feelings for the sake of productivity. So often I open my word doc and then just close it cause my brain feels like pudding, and my weekends are spend doing nothing when I really want to be doing ANYTHING. If I could, I’d put out more than one chapter a month, but alas.

21. Did the fic end up shorter or longer than you had planned?

-…. Ok, technically, none of these were meant to be fics AT ALL. Rusted shut was supposed to be a single chapter thjng for the sake of experimenting how I wanted to get my au out there, especially since it was danse that really pulled a lot of people to it. Felt like I had to give something to keep peoples interest. Ended up doing three chapters cause, well, I can’t keep this shit short, no matter how hard I try. After I got a lot of support for it though, I decided to keep writing it, and boy has it ended up WAY longer than I initially anticipated. I half joked once that at the current rate I’m going with the story, and there amount of stuff I have planned for it, it might take YEARS to get it written down. 💀 really hoping it doesn’t take that long but it’s been three years already….

23. How did you come up with the title?

-the au names themselves are all undertale au parodies. That’s how this whole things started. Hypotheticals and jokes that people took genuine interest in and I latched onto cause I liked being noticed. Chapter titles are a swing and a miss for me. I actually hate Rusted ShUt as a title but I couldn’t think of anything and couldn’t leave it blank. The others have more well thought out meanings, especially the lamb which is a play on what abrahman tells Issac before he sacrifices him in the Bible. Fellout is a lot more simple, I’m just gonna take the titles of the in universe songs and change them around to be fitting.

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shostakobitchh · 1 year ago

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Hello! On my millionth re-read of Aim and Ignite, and would love to know how you would have wrote/envisioned Snape’s reaction to the memory Lily left for Ariel and him. When Lily says that she “loves them both”, Ariel doesn’t linger too much on those words as she knew Lily loved her dearly, having read so in the letter/seen Lily’s love and sorrow for her in the Mirror etc. I can only imagine what Snape must have felt when he heard Lily say that she loved him, even though she couldn’t truly know that he was “on his way back”... I think it’s interesting that Snape doesn’t ever think about/reflect on that moment, is it just too painful? Is it locked away forever in his mind? I absolutely adore your story and would love to hear your thoughts!

so, I love this question for two reasons.

(1) this was the very first thing I wrote for aim & ignite - the story was actually meant to end on this moment - and it is my favorite thing i’ve written thus far.

(2) I kept a lot of what Snape felt here a mystery because you’re completely right! he has never reflected on the memory, has never really thought about it. I actually don’t think I’ve ever written him ever even having a passing thought about this moment and how it’s affected him - and there’s absolutely a reason for that!

Short answer: yes, Snape finds it almost unbearable that she loved him, and he cannot mentally handle that memory, so he keeps it under lockdown. Notice that he doesn’t say a single word after they emerge from the memory - Ariel even remarks that she can’t tell if the hand on her shoulder is to comfort her, or to keep himself upright. She sees him in a very, VERY vulnerable state. I believe he’s covering his face, too - my original intention was that he was trying not to cry, actually - I know, a rare one for Snape! But it’s open to interpretation honestly.

The one thing he took away and keeps at the forefront is that Lily asked Snape to care for Ariel. She asked him to do what he should have done from the beginning, and he does, which you see when he’s strolling through Little Whinging with Ariel after the events of Book 1. He’s actually trying.

Long answer (I just typed all this out a deleted it I’m going to kill myself)

At the time, Lily had no idea what she felt for Snape. It’s my own personal headcanon that Lily always loved him, in a way, had some sort of crush but didn’t understand it until the Mudblood incident. That’s why the inciting incident of Snape saving Lily during battle drives her crazy in the flashback in Chapter 11 (I think it’s Chapter 11, anyway).

Snape, in the meantime, has always loved her - never stopped, never will. The idea that he HAD Lily - he could have had her after that night in the inn - probably could have saved her life - is crushing him. And this is ON TOP of the prophecy (and The Other Thing, but we’re not there yet).

And, despite all of his mistakes - “you’re on your way back.” Lily still believes in him. He showed her enough that night that she knows, somehow, someway, he’ll come back and do the right thing. For Snape to know she had that much faith in him - at a time when he was still a loyal Death Eater - he just can’t handle it. He can’t forgive himself for fucking up so massively.

Snape knows he could have saved Lily, but even with what happened between them it changed nothing, so he doesn’t think his love was enough. Lily, however, loved him knowing he wouldn’t come back - not for a while, anyway - but she had to try something - anything - for Ariel.

I also think finally confronting that memory will directly tie into how Snape feels about Ariel. He’s admitted he cares about her - okay, great. What’s he going to do with that? Well, right now, he’s caring in his Snape-way, but he’s not exactly doing it well. And why is that?

Because he loves Ariel and doesn’t know it yet.

And once he admits he loves Ariel, he can begin to make his way back to Lily, and what she tried to give him in the Pensive.

#sam speaks #aim and ignite #snape vibes #lily vibes #ariel vibes #ask #anon #i think this is my favorite ask i’ve ever gotten lol #i love this scene so fucking much #and snape never thinking about it is so intentional #i’m so happy someone picked up on it

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aeoki · 7 months ago

Text

Swing Night - Life is Short: Chapter 2

Characters: Adonis, Kouga, Kaoru & Rei

Kaoru: Oh, so Adonis-kun has a fiance, huh…

I wonder why I feel so complicated. It feels like I’ve lost as a man – like how a kid has all grown up without the adult realising…

Adonis: ? I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re my parent, Hakaze-senpai.

Kaoru: Uhh, it’s my own problem, so don’t worry about it.

I do think it’s a very Adonis thing to do, though. Why are you always so serious – you’re a little like a stick in the mud?

Adonis: Stick in the mud…? I don’t know that word.

Kaoru: Well, I probably shouldn’t say that after what you’ve just been through. You’re a prince, Adonis-kun, so it might not be strange for you to have one or two fiances, huh.

I always tend to forget when I’m with you.

Adonis: I’m a prince…?

Kaoru: Huh? You’re not? Your family are basically billionaires, right? One that me or Rei-kun can’t even compare to, no?

I always thought your family was like an oil magnate. And seeing as you’re the son, then that would make you a prince, right?

Rei: Rather than a prince, more like a man of wealth in that region.

We can’t compare these things on the same worldly scale in the first place.

I don’t know how much I can say, so I phrased it in a rather ambiguous way, though. Adonis-kun’s family is one of the top five noble families with a long and honourable history in his country.

Naturally, his house is the most impressive one in that region.

I’ve visited several times and it’s so luxurious, I feel as though I’d stepped foot into a movie.

Adonis: Sakuma-senpai, it may not be to the same scale, but your home is rather grand in its own sense as well.

Kaoru: Really? So this… Urania-chan? Is she someone from your country? She sounds like a foreigner.

Adonis: Yeah. She’s from my country.

Rei: Hmm. I knew you had a fiance, but I presume the engagement took place after you came to Japan?

Or was it recent?

Adonis: No. It was established before I came to Japan. I was still young back then.

Kouga: It was when you were a kid? So you guys were like childhood friends, then?

Adonis: I’m not sure. I don’t think we would be what people call childhood friends.

Childhood friends refer to two individuals who have spent a certain amount of time together, right?

Urania and I may be from the same country, but we live in different regions.

So I couldn’t see her often. We’ve only met a handful of times.

Kouga: Huh? So you’ve only seen her a few times? Some fiance she is.

Rei: Now, now. You cannot say that, Kouga.

Kouga: …Tch. I know. My bad.

Rei: My apologies, Adonis-kun. It appears something unacceptable in Kouga’s eyes has occurred, so he’s on edge.

Adonis: It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me.

I understand that my engagement with Urania is different from the norm.

Rei: Perspectives also change when you see them from different angles.

It would be rarer for people from a family like yours to be engaged in a general manner.

Kouga: So why didn’t you just tell the reporters what’s going on when they were askin’ for answerS?

The rumour about Adonis havin’ a girlfriend was fake, so couldn’t you have said the same thing ‘bout your fiance?

Even if you told the reporters that you have a fiance, she’s from a faraway country, so it’s possible she might feign ignorance, right?

Kaoru: Well, I guess that’s true. I think I might’ve lied if I was in Adonis-kun’s shoes.

But he’s not a good liar. There is the saying that a little lie can go a long way. I think it should be fine to lie if it’s not going to hurt anybody~

Adonis: No. I couldn’t lie in that situation.

If I did, I’m sure I’d be met with a flood of harsh criticism over the next few days.

I told them the truth because that was the best option I had.

Kouga: Wha? They ain’t gonna fly all the way to your country and investigate.

Rei: Indeed. Usually, removing evidence is the final option, but that still would’ve been an option open to you. It does create a lot more trouble, so I don’t recommend it, though.

Adonis: That would have been difficult.

I received a message from Urania saying that she wanted to see me perform in one of “UNDEAD’s” concerts, so she’ll be visiting Japan in the next few days.

Kouga: HUUUH!?

Kaoru: Ehhh!? Your fiance is coming to Japan, Adonis-kun!?

Adonis: Yeah. There’s bound to be information spread about her sooner or later when she arrives.

Rei: I see. I thought you had made a rather rash decision.

But once your fiance is involved, this is a matter beyond the idol you. So this is what you meant when you said there’d be no point in removing information in the entertainment industry.

Adonis: Exactly.

Kouga: W–W–What do you mean? Are you seriously gonna get married like this, Adonis!?

Adonis: Don’t worry. I don’t intend on getting married.

After all, the engagement talks only happened because…

…………

Rei: Hmm. It seems there’s more than meets the eye.

How about it, Adonis-kun? We can’t leave this place anytime soon.

We have plenty of time, so could you tell us about your story with Urania?

Adonis: …Alright. It’ll be quite long and not entertaining in the least. But I hope you’ll listen to our story.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#swing night

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catyo90 · 2 years ago

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Fighting Fate: Chapter 4

Ch.3

Zelda stood almost completely frozen, her hair swayed in the wind as the words he said echoed in her mind. What was she to say, she couldn’t tell him she was from the future, at least not yet.

She sighed taking a breath as she kneeled down and bowed her head before him.

“Forgive me...but I cannot say. At least for now. I swore to keep such information private as the truth would be too much to bare...I would hope that you understand.”

“is it truly so imperative to keep your origin a secret?”

“Yes...it is.”

She brought her hands to the ground bowing her head, she knew if Urbosa saw her like this she would be very agitated but It would have to be done.

Ganondorf simply chuckled as he lift her chin up gently with one finger making him look up at her.

“While the sight of you bowing before me gives me some amusement...I will honor your request. For now.”

Upon their return to the city, Zelda was immediately greeted by many vai who showed concern with them being gone so long explaining and how they were preparing to send out their fastest riders to find them. Eventually all of the citizens had gathered. Zelda looked up at Ganondorf and walked up the stairs of the palace looking out to all of them as she gestured for him to join her. Ganondorf stood beside her shouting loud for all to hear.

“My loyal and proud people, Zelda and her company are herby welcomed to our home. In a few days the leaders from each realm will send word, if all goes well. We will be celebrating a marriage between Hyrulian and Gerudo.”

Silence swept through with a few murmurs before all the people cheered on in their native language as the hyrulian that accompanied Zelda were shocked but still clapped in celebration. Ganondorf walked away from the crowd up to his palace as Zelda followed closely behind, but before retreating she did smile at seeing the many vai pulling out fruit and drink to celebrate and even instruments that they would play long into the day and night.

Walking into the throne room she saw Ganondorf had stopped in the middle of the room and looking in front of him Zelda was shocked to see a familiar face.

“Naboris?”

Sitting on the golden throne wearing the helm of the divine beast under the same name was Naboris, her face covered by the zonai mask given to her as her long red hair flowed past her waist. In her hand was a letter.

‘Vasaaq dear Zelda, it is quite I sight to see you. With the news I received from your letter...well I had to ensure no trouble was caused. From both of you.”

“Though I also bring word about the others.”

“Are they alright?’

“Oh of course. They simply wished for me to deliver a message.” she said holding out the letter to Ganondorf who took it and looked over it rather quickly before he passed it to Zelda.

‘Why are you in my throne Naboris?” Ganondorf said crossing his arms as Naboris simply smirked under her mask.

“I was tired from the travel and wished the comforts of home. But I promise this is no ill will toward you dear Vohve.” she said standing up from the throne.

Zelda looked over the letter. It shorts terms it simply was a congratulative letter informing both of them that each leader from each realm requested safe travel into his kingdom as to discuss the potential treaties or at least some agreements.

“The others simply wished to come here on your terms Vohve, nothing else.” Naboris said walking over to the side of the room pouring a vase of cool melon juice into a few goblets and passed the drink along to him, taking a small sip herself.

Zelda listened close to the word Vohve, it was one she hadn’t heard before and wondered what it meant.

“They may enter my city Naboris, but I will keep a watchful eye on each...I will not fall for any tricks even from you.” Ganondorf said before drinking the juice completely in one gulp.

“Ha, such a worrisome look on your face. You have no need to worry. After all even King Rauru and Queen Sonia have sent their goodwill in that letter.”

“Will they be joining the meeting as well?” Zelda asked placing the letter down on the nearby table.

“They have decided to defer to you, for their trust is with you to speak for their people.”

Zelda was a bit shocked but she understood the risk of both of them coming here. At least with her speaking for them...less conflict was guarantee. She took the goblet from Naboris and savored the flavor and welcoming the refreshment.

“They will be here in three days time. Until I recommend you relax for the few days and come up with arrangements between both of you. After all it has been some time since our lands were blessed with a Queen. Naboris said sipping on her own goblet before bowing her head to Ganondorf before walking over to Zelda and whispering in her ear.

“Do something for me, relax and enjoy yourself. My Vohve is intimidating there is no mistake about that. But I promise...he would not harm you.”

She said walking away from the two of them down the stairs to join her fellow vai in the celebration. Ganondorf looked over at Zelda and noticed she was covered almost head to toe in sand and her pure white dress was stained with it as well. Her skin was slightly more tan but not too significantly different. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and spoke.

“I hope she did not say anything to disturb you.”

“No Ganondorf, she was simply expressing her goodwill to me. Nothing to worry about.”

“Alright. But I would recommend you retire to the private chambers and bath. The sun may not have burned you but the sands that cling to you no doubt will make you uncomfortable. After all...sleeping outside like that could not have been very comfortable.”

Zelda said nothing as she remembered waking up on the rug gripping onto his arm. In truth while she would not admit it to him, she had never slept so calmly before in this time period.

“It could have been worse, but I do have to agree. A bath would be quite agreeable but also for you.”

Ganondorf smirked as she pointed to his skin where just like her, he was covered in grains of sand. He gestured for him to follow him down the stairs to a hidden bathing area between the plaza and the training ground. Toward the right was a door locked on their side. Most likely the baths for the other vai. This one being his private baths. It was cooler than the rooms above and the water in front of them gave off steam with a different smell than what she was familiar to. Most likely from aromatic oils and spices she saw nearby.

She turned to see there was no separate baths for men and women. At which point she turned around right as Ganondorf undid his hair tie allowing his hair to drape effortlessly over his shoulders as he looked down at her she quickly looked away to give him privacy.

“Surely I should wait for you to bath first...then I may later.” she said when she suddenly saw him holding a small towel out to her.

“The water is slightly murky on its own and the other vai use these.”

‘What about you?” She asked taking the towel.

“I usually do not use them as these are my private baths...but i suppose for now I can cover myself with one as well.”

He started to disrobe, which made Zelda blush so much she could have sworn her ears were red. She turned around until she heard his heavy steps enter the water. She looked over her shoulder to see his hair was now soaked and his arms were rid of cloth but still adorned with gold. His skin has a thin layer of water and fragrant oil. She started to become a little nervous at the idea that not only could he peek at her but potentially see her bare.

“If seeing your body is a concern, I can swear I will not look.” He said as she saw him washing his arms keeping his back to her.

She breathed in and out for a few moments before taking the dress off and laying it down along with the royal head piece before gently wrapping the towel around her body. Taking a small step into the water she felt the warmth of the water almost immediately caused her to relax. The deeper she got into the water the more the feeling overtook her. She looked over at the small vials of soap and oils and gently lathered up enough for her skin and hair.

The scents of volfruit and hydomelon enticed her as she rinsed herself off. She could hear Ganondorf sigh to himself as he was sitting down on the underwater bench. His head leaning back as his felt all his muscles slowly relax more and more with each minute.

Zelda smiled for a moment as she rinsed off the last bits of soap studs. After a few moments she stepped below the small waterfall nearby rising her body of completely. A knock at the door that she saw earlier made her jump at the sound before hearing it open and close quickly seeing two pairs of clothes on a nearby table. Quickly and carefully she stepped up the stairs to see the clothes were Ganondorf’s robes which were simply the same, as for the pair next to them. It was a female vai clothes set, the color was white with small geometric shapes on the sides along with a veil that seemed to reach further than the normal ones she was associated with. Another pair of clothes were vai clothes to sleep in.

She was about to gather the clothes up to change until she felt and heard Ganondorf standing behind her. His skin was slightly still wet as his hair was still hanging over his shoulders covering most of his chest as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Might I ask you to pass my clothes to me?”

Zelda looked up at him handing his clothes to him, careful not to drop them. After which she took her own and started to dress herself. It was mostly easy to put together until she tried to tie the top of the outfit making her struggle with tieing it securely.

She suddenly felt herself freeze when she felt his hand catch her own causing her to look up at him a little puzzled. He watched her move her hand away as he brought his hand to the ties and secured it as he moved her hair as to not tangle it.

‘Thank you. I must admit Gerudo clothes seem easier to wear than Hylians ones but tieing ropes lies seems a bite difficult to handle.”

“Better you wear that than what you normally wear. In truth I'm surprised you could bare the heat in such clothes.”

She merely shrugged with a smile on her face.

‘Oh I meant to ask...and I suppose now is as good as anytime. But Naboris called you ‘Vohve.’ what exactly does that mean? I’m not familiar with it.”

“Its a rare word only used every 100 years. It means brother.”

Zelda's eyes went wide for a moment as she thought on what he said for a moment.

“As in brother in arms?”

“No, Naboris and I are biologically siblings. No different than Rauru and Mineru. Our births were quite different. I was reborn first by her mother and then she came after. I never met her father but we do have the same mother...that was more than enough for me.”

Present Day

Link awoke in the lavish bed the was gifted to him by Sidon who just so happened to be laying asleep beside him. He smiled as the handsome Zora prince breathed deeply. Link was overlooking ancient books reading over page by page searching for any hint of what could have happened to Zelda. At first he thought to travel into the depths but that didn’t go as planned when he came face to face with an armored Lynel.

It had been weeks now and still there were no more sighting of Zelda at least none that were actually her.

But not all was lost, he had found the stones for not only Sidon but Tulin as well. However with every good piece of news there was also bad. The stones were inactive and what their purpose was used for all those centuries ago was not clear. But he sighed with some relief knowing that finding these stones was helping the lands recover from the awoken Demon King.

Some movement made Link look down at Sidon who was smiling with his ever beaming sharp smile as he spoke.

“Any luck finding any clues as to the princesses whereabouts?”

Link signed with his hands.

‘No, still nothing. It would probably be best for me to go back out and search for her more thoroughly.’

Sidon sat up immediately with a worried look.

“My dearest friend, you are still injured. No hero no matter who strong can not endure everything. I would ask you rest until your injuries have healed completely.”

Link smiled up at the tall Zoran and simply nodded with a smile making Sidon grab both of link’s hands.

“Thank you my friend. After all Riju will understand. Hopefully the books she found will shed some light on this whole situation...but until then you need to rest.” He said kissing Link’s forehead.

#zelda #Ganondorf #ganon x zelda #link x sidon #fightingfate #fanfiction #new #catyo90 #@s-kinnaly #enjoy #non canon

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canyouhearthelight · 1 year ago

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Machine is Perfect, but Flesh is Free Act Three

Here we are, the final act of our dancer's performance. As ever, I cannot thank @baelpenrose enough for his work beta-reading a story with so much going on that he didn't initially understand, and for helping me through the stickier bits.

Also, thank you to everyone who has read this story... I promise to get the page links done by the end of the week, and the master post links will be finished after this chapter. So much has been going on, and I need to get caught up, if we are being honest.

This story started out as my rendition of The Princess with Silver Hands, and then promptly got away from me. But I like it, quite a lot. I hope you do, too.

I dedicate this to the survivors.

The morning of the performance dawned with nothing short of complete and total chaotic confusion. Even the sudden bright lights and lack of blankets had barely woken me before I found myself unceremoniously lowered into a bath. Sputtering as I pulled myself from below the surface of the water - only decade long habits kept me from pushing with the recently earned strength in my legs - I shouted in alarm with my first breath.

“What is going on!?” I begged in confusion, looking around for a way to page a guard.

Urus’s voice came gruffly from just beyond the screen. “Performance day preparations.”

“Perform - “ I tried to wrap my mind around what he had just said. “Today!?”

“Apparently.”

It was completely out of character - Master Arik’s household had always been run with a precision that would have made a hive queen envious. “When was this announced? Why did M.Russo not tell me?” For the second time in less than a year, my entire world view was being broken apart and rearranged.

“Imagine the news is being delivered now, with his coffee and toast.”

Coffee. I wasn’t permitted anything with caffeine, but the scent was always tantalizing. “May I have some coffee today?”

A rough laughter echoed off of what felt like every corner of my rooms. “Absolutely no deviation from your performance day schedule.”

I scowled as my hair was washed, irritated by the joy Urus seemed to be taking in rejecting my request.

Once I was scrubbed, buffed, and stuffed into my warm-up clothes, Urus himself took the handles of my chair to usher me to the studio. We were greeted by a bleary and somewhat unkempt M. Russo, who grumbled as guards took up posts in corners of the space - again, in completely contrast to what typically occurred. “It is only for the fact that we have been rehearsing for far too long that I am not demanding to see that Master Arik is sane with my own eyes,” he muttered as my nerve blocks were administered.

Painstakingly, we went through each stretch and position as thoroughly as possible. Gene hacks meant no need to be concerned for sweat ruining my hair, which was lacquered into immobility regardless. Instead, M. Russo checked my temperature every half hour, barking to the guards to have ice water and cold packs brought as needed to keep me from overheating. A final costume fitting had to be done in between stretching sessions, much to the chagrin of the utterly terrified seamstress. I thought she would die of heart failure on the spot when she presented my new shoes for the performance, only to have M. Russo throw them across the studio.

“Unlace your shoes,” he commanded me. Once I obediently handed them over, he tossed them at the poor woman’s feet. “Recover these.”

“Sir, these are nearly dead - “

“They only need to last fifteen minutes,” he barked in his most stern tone, one I knew brooked no argument. “We do not have time for them to break in a new pair. These are already broken in, they are just ugly. Recover them.”

“I do not have - “

M. Russo leaned to stare into her eyes. “If we give them new shoes, and even one blister appears after the performance, Master will whip you or worse. For your own sake, ask the guards to send for whatever you need, but recover these shoes.”

That was all it took. While she sent for materials, removed ribbons, and measured the shoes, M. Russo had me stretch and flex every joint in my body from the floor. It was only as my headpiece was being sewn into my hair that the seamstress walked up to Urus. She set the newly covered shoes on the ground, wrapped in her own apron. “I need you to step on these please.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but M. Russo cut him off. “The new glue is too stiff, and we do not have time to hammer and break it. You are the largest person here, Urus. Step on them please, until they no longer crack.”

For the first time in my life, I realized that M. Russo was higher in the household than Urus, as the head of my security detail closed his mouth angrily and started crushing the toe boxes with a loud, satisfying crunch. While he took care of that, I was stripped and sponged off while the seamstress applied one last spray of starch to my costume. Before I knew it, I was tucked into a robe and in my chair, to be whisked to the performance hall, for the first time with M. Russo following closely.

Where the journey to backstage was normally a blur, I made a point to pay attention to my surroundings: servants darting around with arms full of linens, vases of flowers, or trays of food. The last part, I paid the most attention to, as Master Arik’s keep did not contain livestock or edible gardens. I knew the path between the studio and the stage by heart, so I made a note of what artwork was near the doors I saw servants emerging from with full arms, curious where they led.

I did not get to wonder for long, as we were soon at the part where I was being sewn into my costume, pointe shoes tied on as securely as possible. My familiar, worn shoes felt far heavier than recovering should have accounted for, and I rolled my feet around to adjust.

M. Russo nodded approvingly. “She thickened the platform on the outside so that they do not die while you are performing.”

Once I was standing, I rolled onto pointe several times, taking tiny steps and checking the weight with an arabesque before nodding. “They will do.”

“They will have to,” Urus grumbled mockingly.

I could tell M. Russo wanted to argue, but was cut off as the orchestra’s warm-up ended. I took my mark, a circle laid into the floor - one I knew would rise into an incredibly narrow platform. I had been told it was to demonstrate the precision and balance of the turns I would be doing, but strongly suspected an ulterior motive. Namely, that if there was any chance of another person trying to shoot me, they would have a more isolated target. The insurance on a stagehand - staff - was fairly small and paid to the family. Insurance on me - property - was far more and paid directly to Master Arik. I wasn’t terribly intelligent, but even I had figured that much out.

The music started properly, curtain parting to bring my focus to the present. The piece was a very long, original composition, tailored to the limit of my endurance - fifteen minutes, according to M. Russo. Any longer, and I started to show symptoms of heat exhaustion. For Mme. Boulvais’ sake, I was far more worried about my shoes.

The platform started to rise at number thirty-two, and gasps of awe echoed at fifty once people realized what was happening. By the time I was halfway through my second set of left-handed turns - eighty seven, eighty eight - the platform had stopped and I estimated I was two full stories above the stage, pivoting on a pillar barely wider than one of my feet was long.

And bored. I was so bored of spinning. The music meandered, cresting and falling, as I mentally counted off turns. Yes, this would look impressive from the outside. Yes, it would increase my stock and hopefully bring my parents out of poverty finally. But the reality was that, between pain inhibiting nerve blocks and the mostly-mechanical nature of my legs, the only thing that was straining were my shoulders and neck. Two hundred and four, two hundred and five…

If I never had to do another turn - not even a pirouette or chaine - after this, I could die happily.

Murmurs reached my ears, even past the orchestra in front of the stage. It turned into thunderous applause as the tempo of the music increased - as did my spinning. Even though I could not see beyond the lights that were close to eye level and could not become dizzy besides, I made sure to spot in the exact same place each time - directly toward Master Arik, as always. A simpering show of ‘gratitude’, as pointless as it was empty. When a loud crack sounded, I pushed through just as M. Russo had insisted should anything disrupt this performance. The applause turned into unseemly cheering.

After the second crack, angry shouts began and the music ground to a discordant halt. I realized that I hadn’t been hearing any cheers at all - they were screams.

Shoving down my panic even as I cursed myself, I continued my now-morbid performance in silence. What else could I do, two stories above the stage, knowing I would be even easier to shoot if I were still?

The third crack caused the platform to shake, and then sway from the force of my turns. It began to tip, forcing me to come to a stop. At the last moment, I realized it was collapsing and I would fall to the stage either way. In a moment of sheer terror, with all the audacity I had, I jumped, choosing to let my enhanced and reinforced legs to take the brunt of the plummet.

Even with the nerve blocks, I could feel something shift horribly in my feet before the force of my fall caused me to roll forward involuntarily. When I came to a stop, I glanced into the crowd in hopes they had caught the shooter. My eyes came to rest on a man pointing an object at me, a guard behind him with a gun to his head, and my heart shattered. Disgust and anger were the only things I found in the features of the shooter, like I was an abomination, a sin against humanity. And then the guard fired, leaving the body to drop to the ground. I screamed as the last anchor of my steady, predictable world was erased, familiar cane still in one strict and strong hand of the now-headless body, improvised gun not far from the other.

Someone grabbed my shoulders and shook me, breaking me out of my emotions. “Did you know?” a harsh voice demanded.

I snapped my head around, yanking my arm free of Urus’ grip. “You’re hurting me,” I threatened.

He pulled the arm he still held, navigating me off stage and toward my chair. “Did you know anything about Russo’s plan?”

I stormed ahead of him, forcing him to let go. “You are asking if I knew that the only person other than you in my entire life here who was trusted to be left alone with me wanted to kill me?” I stopped in front of my chair, turned, and stared at him blankly as my costume was cut from my body unceremoniously.

He scowled and pulled out the counteragent to my nerve block. I held up one hand, knowing I couldn’t stop him if I tried and beyond caring at this point. “Please let them remove the hairpiece first.”

The seamstress, Mme Boulvais, was less polite. “It is sewn into their hair, and then glued. Removing it will hurt very badly and cause bleeding if they are not still. It is better if they cannot feel it.”

The nerve block did nothing for my body above the waist, but only I and the doctor knew that. I certainly wasn’t telling Urus such information while I stood on what was likely a badly sprained or dislocated foot. And as long as I stood, my shoes could not be removed, concealing it. Instead, Mme Boulvais stood on a box to dissolve the glue and carefully cut away the threads with a deft hand, ignoring the runners constantly updating Urus along with the two guards who glanced about furtively, fingers on triggers.

The headpiece was finally free, and she stepped down and bent to start unlacing my shoes. Urus, again, stepped forward with the injectors, and I refused to watch, instead staring down at my shoes. They survived, I thought numbly. My practically-dead pointe shoes had survived intact, and tears came to my eyes as I realized I had made a decision I didn’t even realize I was contemplating.

“I am so sorry,” I whispered hoarsely. Mme Boulvais whipped her head up to hear me better, and as my leg cracked into her chest and throat, forcing her to the ground to gasp for air, I realized it may have saved her life.

Judging by the sound I heard when I caught Urus in the jaw with my damaged foot, and how he fell so limply, he may not have been so lucky. “A kick like that could kill a man,” Arik had said. The remaining guards stared dumbly, not knowing what to do when they had been trained to protect me and avoid harming me at all costs.

I ran. Damaged foot, one pointe shoe still on, and mostly naked, I ran through the hallways until I reached the first door I recognized as one I had seen servants coming from with armfuls of clean laundry. As I ran inside, I startled a young woman, causing her to drop the contents of her arms.

She swiftly squatted to gather them again. “You scared me, running in here like demons were chasing you!” She glanced up with a sparkle in her eye, but it faded as she took in my appearance. Pure panic at being found out was hammering all the way to my fingertips as she shook her head and stood, dropping the laundry again. “Damned two-legged demons, more like it,” she spat angrily. “Pretty thing like you, running in here, bare as the day you were born.”

To my shock, she started rifling through stacks on the shelves, pulling out a shirt after a moment. “Sa bit big, but warm. Breeches or skirts?”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

“To cover up. Do you want breeches like a man, or skirts like a woman?”

“I’ve never been asked what I wanted to wear…”

She muttered something about wool socks before turning and giving me a look that reminded me of Mme Boulvais. “Pretty as you are, whoever you’re running from will know you in a skirt, sure as the dawn. Better be breeches…. Cook has a lanky one, where are - ah!” She seemed triumphant at the folded square the found, and handed the entire stack to me. “Here. Undershirt, shirt, jacket, breeches, socks. Better to look like a kitchen boy, no one pays them any attention.” With that, she turned her back to me.

“What?”

“Get dressed, and I’ll take you to the kitchens.”

“Oh.” I felt like an idiot, but a grateful one. When I had run away, I hadn’t had a plan, and here was this woman handing one to me. “I think I’ve got everything on right,” I said finally.

As soon as she turned, she heaved a breath. “Never worn breeches, I see. Lacing goes in the front, like a boy. Ladies lace clothes in the back.”

Finally, we were sorted out, and I was following her like a baby duck, a stack of what she swore were towels in my arms. I felt rather than saw as we entered the kitchens, the immediate and overwhelming warmth reminding me of a bath. “Marie-Jeanne!” a robust voice called out. “I thought you were carrying sheets now!”

“Hush, Therese,” my escort scolded lightly, as though she didn’t mean it. “I missed you and brought you towels and gossip. Lots going on upstairs! And I found Jean-Rene, I know you were looking for him.”

Alarmingly quickly, the towels were removed from my arms, and a pair of warm, callused hands gently grabbed my chin. An older woman, stout and red-faced from the heat, looked at me. Carefully, she spoke. “Yes, Jean-Rene has been ill and wandered off in his fever. Thank you for finding him. Let me get you both some soup, and you can tell me the gossip while I make sure he eats.” She flicked a towel near me, carefully not touching me with it. “Silly child, wandering around this keep like that when you’ve been sick.”

Without another word, she steered us into a room with bags upon bags of dried things, pointing one finger firmly at a large sack while staring me down. “Marie-Jeanne, you will tell me exactly what is going on when I come back.” The woman - Therese, apparently - did not even leave the room, just opened the door to retrieve a tray that she seemed to know would be there. My eyes widened at the sight of thick, buttered bread next to two bowls. Actual food, not just porridge.

I ate as fast as the steaming stew would let me while Marie-Jeanne explained how we had encountered each other. It turned out that she thought I was an escaped and abused courtesan, and even at that would have brought me here without question. When she was finished, Therese looked at me in pity.

Holding out my bowl, I forced myself to speak. “I don’t think I can stay here. I think I killed a man.”

Two sets of eyes widened in my direction. “My nephew, Jean-Rene, helps with the deliveries when farmers bring tithe. You could leave with them, if you can be still. Can you do that?”

I thought about the neuro blocks in my legs, and how they would eventually wear off. “I can sit still better than anything, if I can have help getting there. I’m on painkillers, and they’ll wear off eventually. I can still walk,” I rushed to explain. “I’ve worked really hard on that. But not very far.”

“Nasty fuckers,” Therese spat, looking meaningfully at Marie-Jeanne. “Keep people enslaved with drugs.”

If you only knew. I thought about all the expensive medical science in my legs, all to make me a pretty paper doll who could only function with my master’s permission. “Once the painkillers wear off, I only hurt if I move. So I can be very still.”

Therese and Marie-Jeanne stood, as though that settled the matter. Marie-Jeanne spoke this time. “I’ll send someone in here to lay down some beans and rice for you to lay on. Jean-Rene is a lazy boy, so no one will blink if you’re laying down out of the way. Our next delivery is in a week, may be longer if Master Arik starts searching everything after what I heard about upstairs.” Therese elbowed her and she rolled her eyes. “That fancy dance instructor started shooting people, and the ballerine is missing. Shame, really. I hear the performances are incredible.”

Therese’s eyes flicked to me before turning away to grab a jar of beans. “Mmm. I would rather be down here cooking and chattering, being left alone as long as everyone is fed. Even golden cages hold lonely birds, I think. Might be he shot the ballerine and Master Arik is covering it up.”

Marie-Jeanne snorted. “Better for the ballerine, I think.”

#original fiction #science fiction #original writing #original science fiction #traumatized characters #writeblr #original sci fi #machine flesh #cyberpunk #dystopian fiction #biohacking #my writing

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innerchorus · 1 year ago

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There may only have been one panel of Zandeh in the last chapter but it nonetheless sparked some thoughts (which I was going to share yesterday but ran out of energy, anyway I figured I might as well do it while I wait for the new chapter). I guess there will be a few novel spoilers in here so consider yourselves warned.

Here is that panel from the last chapter (123).

While I would have liked to see more of Zandeh, especially considering the fact that there was a bit of content from the novels that was skipped over, I do think that it's possible that Arakawa might incorporate those missing scenes soon, in a way that shows some of Hilmes's doubts after Andragoras confronted him with the revelation of his origins.

To briefly summarise those missing scenes (both of which are short), one is Zandeh reassuring the soldiers who have started to lose morale and worry about their fate, and the other is a conversation between Zandeh and Hilmes where Zandeh expresses his concerns about how long they can last in this situation, and Hilmes reveals his plan for ending the confrontation sooner rather than later.

We know from last chapter (although we don't know all the details yet) that Hilmes is in fact Andragoras's younger brother. We also know that this means that according to the rules of succession he doesn't have the right to the throne. He's built his life around being the 'rightful Shah of Pars' and now he knows that's not true.

Anyway, it struck me that this image of Zandeh + the banner of Kaykhusraw feels significant and may also relate to how Arakawa might incorporate those two missing scenes, so I'll go into more detail on that in this post.

From Chapter 113; Zandeh is the one who is instructed to bring Kaykhusraw's standard and raise it in Ecbatana. You can see his fervour here.

From Chapter 112 (yes, I'm going backwards).

Countless times, Hilmes has heard Zandeh vehemently proclaim that he is the rightful Shah of Pars. He himself has stated it many times, too. His claim to the throne is why Kharlan betrayed his country at Atropatene in order to restore the rightful royal line. Without that, I am sure Kharlan would never have done it. Zandeh came to serve Hilmes in Kharlan's stead after his death, and while I know in my heart that Zandeh's loyalty to Hilmes goes beyond the fact that he believes him to be the rightful king, does Hilmes?

It saddens me but doesn't surprise me in the least that Hilmes finds himself unsure following what Andragoras tells him. In the novels, he avoids telling Zandeh about the fact that his claim to the throne is invalid. Why? The novels don't state it, but it's likely in part because he fears Zandeh's loyalty is to the royal line. (That's simplifying it a bit; I'm sure there are also more complex emotions related to Hilmes's feelings of self-worth being tied to his identity as the rightful Shah, such as guilt over the fact that Kharlan died for a lie and worry about how Zandeh will react when he realises this. But this is what's at the centre of it, I think.)

From Chapter 89 (I told you I was going backwards!).

Sam and Zandeh are loyal to the Parsian royal line. These are Narsus's words, but Hilmes probably believes this, too. There's no evidence he even told Sam that he was going to Mount Damavand; he probably took Zandeh because he felt that Zandeh would follow him more easily, but even Zandeh found it in himself to raise his concerns and eventually went against Hilmes's wishes.

So, even though it's a small detail, these scenes of Zandeh with Kaykhusraw's banner serve to reinforce Hilmes's view of Zandeh as someone who believes in the rightful royal line, showing us why he feels he cannot tell him the truth. We've seen how his mental state appears to be growing worse under the pressure he is facing inside Ecbatana, and how he closes himself off from support and allows his doubts to cloud his mind (such as the scene where the words of the mage Ghundi cause him to have suspicions about Sam's loyalty). Now he's been shaken to the absolute core.

Anyway, the two missing scenes I mentioned should have taken place before the Chapter 123 confrontation between Hilmes and Andragoras, but they could be put to good use after it to show what I've outlined here, too. In reassuring the soldiers, Zandeh again focuses on Hilmes's legitimacy. And when Hilmes responds to Zandeh's worries by proposing putting an end to the siege by challenging Andragoras to a duel, he could be motivated in part by wanting to kill him quickly before he can tell anyone else the truth (this is also why he doesn't order anyone to pursue him after their confrontation).

I just hope that, before the story is over, he finds out the truth about how deep Zandeh's loyalty goes.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #arslan senki novel spoilers #zandeh #hilmes #this was a bit rambly but sometimes you just have to get the thoughts out #we may or may not get those two scenes in the manga #but my thoughts on how Hilmes sees things are the same either way

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cdragons · 2 years ago

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Our Love is Eternal-Chapter 2

Previous Chapter Pairing(s): Ikaris x fem!Elemental!Reader; Sersi x Dane Whitman Word Count: 5.0k words Chapter Summary: Ikaris continues to reminisce of the love you two shared while Sersi is about to meet an old friend Warning: slight angst, overload of fluff, Sersi mentally cursing, past natural violence, mention of abusive childhood, past violence Author's Note: Once again, a special thank you to the one and only @valeskafics for kindly agreeing to being my beta despite her insanely busy schedule! I could not have continued this fic (or any of my fics) without your help! Also thank you to everyone who decided to keep reading my works, I cannot tell you enough how grateful I am for all the likes and reblogs! I sincerely apologize for how long this chapter took, it is shorter than the last one. I'm trying to see if making my chapters shorter, I can post more frequently. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Be kind and like, reblog, and/or comment if you want me to continue!

“Ikaris…Ikaris…”

It’s you. You were calling out to him.

Ikaris reaches out to hold you, to press your frame against his for a single moment of bliss to fight the ocean of misery that had been his life since you left him. He feels your body shaking, and he looks down to see tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Ikaris, I love you.” You swore to him.

Why are you crying?

“I love you so much.”

Do you?

“I’m sorry; I’m so, so sorry.”

Then stay – please just stay.

“Please, I’m begging you. Just forget me.”

My cruel darling, how could you ask such a thing from me? How could you even think of mocking my pain with such an impossible favor?

“Forget our vow, just be free of me.”

If forgetting you is freedom, then let me be damned by your haunting.

And then he woke up, and once more you were gone.

Opening his eyes only to see that the sun had not risen yet, Ikaris stretched his tired muscles before rubbing his face to loudly groan at the idea of going through another tedious day of pretending to be human. Looking at the clock on his left bedside, he sees that it was only 4:42 am. Despite not needing to meet Sersi until at least 10, he knew that there was little point in attempting to sleep again. Instead, he decided to take a quick run to hopefully get his mind off you. He would have flown, but he felt the need to purposely limit himself to distract himself. Quickly getting dressed in a navy-blue cotton compression tee with black running shorts, he decided to make a route that would start at his building in Hammersmith to around Hyde Park’s perimeter, before returning. Putting a dark-grey hoodie, he quickly put in his ear buds before listening to one of the playlists Sersi made for him when she dragged him to buy a new phone after learning he only carried a flip phone.

Being an Eternal – especially one that can literally fly – there was little point in exercising, as they cannot age, get sick, or physically change. But Ikaris found that it took a tremendous amount of both mental and physical concentration in limiting his physical capabilities to that of an average human male. He learned this when you made fun of his being unable to shoot an arrow from a bow like a human during one of your earlier outings together.

He was grateful that the sun hadn’t risen yet, otherwise he certainly would have gotten some unwanted stares from civilians. While he was running, he tried to keep his head from glancing around the world around him – but it was futile. All he could see was the changes made to the city since its founding. What was once a tiny settlement from the Roman Empire expanded to the bustling metropolis now. By the time his run is over, the sun is rising, his playlist has ended, and he is ripping off his clothes to wash away all the sweat on his body to prepare for the day. He doesn’t bother to wait for the water to heat up before letting it pour against his skin. As the water slowly starts to warm up, he closes his eyes and lets his mind drift off to the entirety of his life.

Ikaris remembered every moment of his seven-thousand-year lifespan on Earth. He remembered everything from the moment he awoke on the Domo, to the first time he spilled the blood of his first deviant, saving that young boy whose father was cruelly devoured by that same monstrosity. He couldn’t claim that he particularly enjoyed his existence, only that he knew he had a purpose to achieve, one bestowed upon him by Arishem. A purpose he intended to fulfill to the best of his abilities and expected the very same by his fellow Eternals. Although the mission had its obstacles, knowing that he was an integral component in carrying out Arishem’s plan for this planet was more than enough to him. According to Ajak, the Grand Celestial was very pleased by their progress and dedication in their faith towards him.

Everything was going smoothly, until a sudden windstorm annihilated one of the settlements, they had been watching over for over a decade. Thankfully none of the humans were harmed, but the destruction was unsettling. Ajak assured both the humans and her children that the storm resulted from the Earth’s evolving climatology. But the storms continued, and the powerful gales were accompanied by heavy rain, followed by constant thunder and lightning. Even worse, the constant downpour of rain caused a rise in water levels, resulting in any settlement close to any water body to be completely flooded beyond repair.

Ajak and Sersi had been completely beside themselves with panic for humanity’s tedious fragility, their tender and soft hearts breaking more and more with each loss of life.

The kind and noble Makkari had fallen into bouts of depression in knowing that her extraordinary speed could only save so many; along with the fact that more links of humanity’s past were lost forever.

Sprite was losing more of her spark and grew more aggravated as she could no longer use her illusions to lift their spirits, camouflaging herself into her surroundings to avoid any interaction.

The ever so cheerful Kingo no longer flaunted their home, and only grew more withdrawn and taciturn.

Thena only continued to train herself harder, growing more agitated by her unquenched thirst for battle, and her self-frustration at her inability to strike the cause of humans’ plight.

Gilgamesh took it upon himself to be her sparring partner and emotional tether when her frustration grew too much.

Phastos had nearly worked himself into a damn stupor in trying to figure out the cause of such calamity, only to discover that the natural disasters could not be considered “natural” at all.

No, to classify the cause as “not natural” was a gross understatement. The chaos that erupted in the Domo in discovering that the abnormal wind patterns were from an all-powerful wind goddess referred to as Zephyr, “Mistress of the Winds.” However, it was not she who was the mastermind of all this destruction. No, that honor belongs solely to you…the younger sister of her most prized protégé who she adored to dote on.

Despite what his other Eternals assumed of him; Ikaris was more than aware of his flaws. He knew that he could be at times overbearing and arrogant, that he can seem unkind and indifferent to humanity he had sworn to protect, that he at times had “tunnel vision” when it came to his mission and was uncompromising, and that he was too easily baited by his fellow eternal and rival Druig. But he could gladly accept all of his faults, if only so that he would be burdened by his greatest weakness, you.

You, who pillaged the land with endless floods and harrowing winds, inflicting more damage upon the humans than any deviant. You, who plagued his mind since the very first time he laid eyes on you over six-thousand years ago on the shores of what is now referred to as the Mediterranean Sea. Ikaris remembered that time well, as he was sent with Ajak and Druig to not only formally announce their presence on Earth, but hopefully form a sort of partnership between them and the offenders. For Ajak to lower herself to ask for permission to meet with you was insulting to say the least, even Druig agreed with him on this matter.

At first glance, Ikaris dismissed you as a spoiled goddess, drunk enough on her otherworldly power to delude her into thinking herself more important than his purpose to Arishem. How could he not, with your fine cerulean silk robes wrapped around your pliant body, further lavished in silver adornments and precious sea stones? It had not been until he looked into your eyes that he was taken back by their intensity and forced to reevaluate his original assessment. Those dazzling, glorious, beckoning (e/c) eyes that stared back at him with such blazing ferocity that he wondered if you were actually a fire demon disguised as a water goddess.

The introductions were fairly straightforward; it was the matter of the “negotiations” that led to the problem. Ajak tried to explain that their mission as the “Eternals” was to protect humanity from the “Deviants” in order to aid them to prosper and evolve. She tried to explain how the flooding is a risk to their mission, and how their creator “Arishem” would bring dire consequences on those who intend to disrupt their assignment to the people of Earth.

You then explained that you did actually care about the “surface walkers.” In your eyes, the moment they left the sea, you held no responsibility over them. What concerned you was the fact that since the “Eternals” arrived on Earth, the deviants had started to target those who relied on your protection. Not only that, but there have been multiple instances of territories being destroyed by strange energy beams. You and your brothers did not fight in a three-thousand-year war to banish your tyrant of a father and restore the sea’s delicate balance only for a band of pretty aliens in shiny tights to ruin it. Stating all of this, you demanded the head of the one who caused so much destruction in return for the flooding to cease.

This is where the discussion got a bit…overzealous on both ends. As Ikaris admitted himself to be the one who could create the energy beams from his eyes – even giving you and your aunt a demonstration by destroying the impressive rock formation behind you into a million tiny pebbles. He then outright demanded that your childish temper tantrum cease, as you and your “people” were not more important than the orders from the Great Celestial Arishem. He told you of how as an Eternal, nothing was more important than the fulfillment of his grand design.

This outraged you to no end, as you slammed the stone table as you quickly stood to meet your opponent’s gaze. You then countered Ikaris by stating that your family and kingdom had existed long before the surface walkers, let alone the Eternals. You went so far to blatantly called him a “puppet” to this Arishem character, for so willingly going along with his so called “grand design.” In your eyes, those who blindly followed a higher being were no different than pawns. And in your experience, pawns were the ones who were always the first to be sacrificed by the masters they followed.

The two of you argued back and forth at one another for what seemed to be hours. Ajak and Lady Zephyr both appeared to be extremely nervous at the heated exchange; while Druig seemed more amused than nervous at the heated discussion. He didn’t want to voice his opinion, but he was intrigued by your honest skepticism. You were clearly someone who believed in proof through action and evidence as opposed to blind faith.

Although, it wasn’t until you torpedoed sea water to Ikaris – no doubt resulting in a concussion and few dozen broken bones, added by you throwing your sandal to his battered face for good measure (leaving a clear red imprint of the shoe that would last for at least an hour) – that truly made you earn the mind controller’s respect. Ikaris would later flush in embarrassment every time Druig told this story to the team, describing in excessive detail how pathetic the Golden Son looked with his armor completely soaked, and how his body was ruined to the point he couldn’t even fly.

However, in learning that your main concern remained in your people’s protection. Ajak suggested that you would aid the Eternals in preventing the deviants from consuming the humans, so long that they provide help to prevent the same from being done to your people as well. Along with that, Ikaris would be much more careful in making sure that his energy beams do not damage any of the ocean reefs.

Despite knowing that this arrangement would be mutually beneficial to both parties, you still had to discuss it with your brothers before a final decision could be reached. However, you assured the Prime Eternal that you would immediately reach out to inform her when a final decision has been made and announce it in person. Ajak countered this by telling you that she would send both Druig and Ikaris as escorts as a symbol of good faith and respect between both families. Although he protested a great deal at the time, Ikaris knew that it was his duty as Ajak’s second-in-command to follow her orders. Looking back, he couldn’t help but feel very grateful for Ajak’s insistence of his company. If she had never done so, he would never have had the opportunity to get to know the beautiful complexity that was you.

Since that meeting, he had to learn to tolerate your quips and pranks. He would be forced to make conversation with you in order to diminish the overwhelming awkward and silent tension. You would be forced to pretend that his company was welcome. He would learn about your complicated relationship with your mother, and the scars you carried from your father. You would apologize for calling him a puppet and admit that you were jealous of his ability to have faith in ideas and places and people he had no recollection of ever meeting before his mission on Earth. He would buy your first loaf of bread and smile fondly at how large your cheeks would get in how much you stuffed them. You would show him how to eat sea grapes raw and laugh at his bewildered reaction and gagging. He would see that beneath all the scars and sarcasm, was a girl who was robbed of any sense of security as a child. You would see that behind the stoicism and preaching, laid a soldier whose faith was his only constant in his role of an observer to constant change.

In a way, you both were not so different from one another. You both were warriors with purpose forced upon them by higher beings with no choice in the matter. You both had to make sacrifices that painted yourselves as strong and hid away the cracks and broken pieces. But somehow, the broken parts of either of you made the most beautiful mosaic when put together. And that made all of the pain worth it.

Ikaris was then brought out of his wistful melancholy at the realization that the warm water had turned icy on his skin. Immediately shutting off faucet, he stepped onto the rug and quickly dried himself before tossing his running clothes into the laundry hamper next to the bidet. He briskly sauntered off to his wardrobe and pulled out his typical daytime casual wear of a black crew neck t-shirt with black jeans and a dark peacoat with black leather Oxfords.

Making an adequate breakfast of toast, eggs, and black coffee; he quickly ate as he watched the boats sail on the river from the view in his flat’s reception room. Glancing at his phone to note the time, he was shocked to find that he had less than fifteen minutes to get to the museum. Although his attendance was in no way expected and necessary today, he made a commitment to his friend and was determined to see it through. He swiftly washed his dishes and checked his home to make sure that nothing could burn, nor flood the apartment while he was away. Taking only his phone and his keys, he locked the door and exited his building. Greeting the daytime porter, Norman, who managed to expertly hail him a cab within seconds. As Ikaris handed Norman a generous tip for his service, he entered the cab before sinking into the seat as he looked at the river to his side.

No matter how pretty the view might have been, no amount of picturesque sunlight could hide the heaps of grime and waste that laid on the bottom of the river floor. While London was never the most hygienic of cities, it has only worsened to an irreversible extent since the dawn of the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century. If Ikaris was grateful for only one thing since your disappearance, it was that you were absent from the horrors he is forced to witness every day. While you were never a fan of England, you and he shared many fond memories of Europe; the time you two spent in the early 3000 BC Scandinavia held an especially special place in his mind.

You knew what snow was, and how it looked – your eldest brother’s domain was in the Artic Circle for Gods’ sake– but you had never been allowed to touch it, let alone play with it. And when you saw a small group of human children throwing snowballs at one another, you decided to make the biggest one you could make before chucking it directly to Ikaris’ face. Ikaris was so taken back by the assault, he barely registered what happened before you decided to throw another aimed at his solar plexus. Naturally, this led to a full-heated battle that lasted for the rest of the day. By the end of it, Ikaris couldn’t remember the last time he felt so young and laughed so hard. In fact, he couldn’t recall smiling so much before meeting you. But as the two of you laid on your backs, watching the stars and moon fill up the night sky, he heard you whisper something that he would never forget.

“These lands must have magic inside its bones.”

Confused, Ikaris wanted you to repeat yourself. But when he turned his head, there were no words. Because there you laid, soft smiles and flushed cheeks; but all he saw were your eyes. In that moment, there were more stars in your eyes than there were in the galaxy. Realizing you were expecting a response. Ikaris thought back to all the stories Sprite told to the humans at banquets and feasts. He would laugh at her made-up tales of magic and themselves as gods.

But if someone like him can laugh and play like a human; if you were by his side laughing with soft smiles, flushed cheeks, and eyes filled with stars; if the two of you can lie on the snow-covered ground as time flies by; then maybe magic truly did exist beyond stories and ideas.

“I think you’re right.”

And he found that he meant it with all his heart.

As Ikaris continued to reminisce about simpler times, he felt a soft mechanical buzzing. Knowing that it was most likely Sersi questioning him of his location, he reached into his pocket to silence the ring without even looking. Not even realizing that he was about to get everything he ever wanted for the last 600 years in the most unexpected way possible.

NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM, LONDON – ABOUT 30 MINUTES EARLIER

Since Ajak had split the team, and each member had decided to venture off in their own lives, Sersi was determined to continue to live amongst humans. She had seen millions killed by their own hand, but her love for humanity remained steadfast. As she continued to roam, she would live a life with a new role. Sometimes she was a wandering healer who could transform a rock into medicine; other times she would pretend to be a midwife, witnessing first-hand the wonders and joys of life and creation. In this time however, working as a museum scientist to one of the most prestigious institutions in the modern world was thrilling in a different way. She was able to meet so many people from all around the world, not including sharing her knowledge from her early life to the next generation of potential scholars. She may have been terrible with punctuality, but her natural ability to teach had saved her many close calls. However, she made sure to leave her shared flat with Sprite about 30 minutes earlier than usual to meet Dane and finally meet the mysterious historian this morning. But as she prepared herself, she slightly regretted that decision.

Sersi couldn’t remember the last time she was so anxious to meet someone in a professional setting. She loved her job, and she was good at it too. Ever since her first day, she was always in her element. As she walked into her office, she was immediately relieved by the sight of a strong dark figure in a handsome white cover that was sitting on her papers.

“One iced americano with 2 espresso shots and an avocado on toast for you my lady, from yours truly.”

Oh, and Dane was there too!

Sersi chuckled fondly at the sight of her boyfriend as he made a grand sweeping arm gesture to the takeaway feast before her eyes.

“My hero,” she cooed as she held her hand over her chest as she pretended to swoon. “How did know?”

“Well, considering how long we’ve been together,” he started, “I figured that the only way you were going to get here early enough to make a decent impression on our special guest was if you skipped your usual morning meal routine. So, I thought that some caffeine and overpriced toast would be enough to get you through the morning.”

“Well, you thought correctly.” Sersi gave Dane a quick peck on the cheek before walking to her desk and setting her things down. “Isn’t this coffee shop really busy around this time?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’ve got an old schoolmate who works there as the chef. He made sure to set my order aside when I asked him last night.”

“Oh no, was it any trouble?” No matter how sweet the gesture was, Sersi hated the idea of causing trouble for others, especially those she held close to her heart.

“Nah,” Dane quickly reassured her, “I just owe him a pint or two when I next see him for drinks.”

“Well, I’m very grateful for you and your friend.” She stated as she opened the takeaway box, only for her jaw to drop and her eyes to stare back at her human boyfriend.

“You ate it?” The lovely eternal exclaimed in shock and betrayal, but Dane only shrugged while sucking a breath through his teeth.

“Yeah,” he drawled out with his hands in his slacks’ pockets, “I didn’t actually expect you to show up early, and please hear me out before you get angry!” Putting his hands in front of him in an attempt to make peace, “I didn’t want it to go to waste, and I only really ate half of it.” As if pointing out that last bit would grant him any mercy.

But seeing that he crossed a line, Dr. Dane Whitman made sure to save his ultimate weapon for guaranteed forgiveness.

“Forgive me?” He begged, pouting slightly as he pulled out the most pitiful puppy-eyed expression he could manage. Fingers crossed behind his back in hopes that it would work.

“Damn it,” thought Sersi, “he knows I can’t NOT forgive him when he does that.” Whatever defenses Sersi had were always knocked completely down whenever Dane pulled out that expression. It didn’t help that she found his pout incredibly adorable. She sighed in mock defeat.

“Fine,” she conceded, “I suppose that I can forgive you this one time.” Walking over to her mortal lover as she wrapped her arms around his neck, she closed the distance until their lips were a breath apart.

“But don’t ever eat my toast again.” Sersi stated with an expression too serious to be taken seriously.

“Deal,” Dane nodded in mocking serious expression, the ends of his mouth lifting as Sersi leaned in for a kiss. It was almost pitiful how devastated she was when she pulled away to eat the rest of her feast.

“By the way,” she stated after taking a large sip of her coffee to wash down the toast, “Isaac is coming to visit today. To see the historian visiting today.”

“Since when was he interested in nautical folklore and oceanography?”

It was a fair question to ask. Ikaris may have been an ancient immortal being that watched over humanity’s evolution, but Isaac Harris was a man with PhD’s in both Classical and Historical Archeology.

“He just wants to make sure that our time and resources aren’t going to be wasted,” reassured Sersi, “that’s all. But I think he’s more curious to see if I can actually manage to come in before him in anything.”

“Well,” Dane chuckled, “good to know you beat him today at least. But seriously, how are you feeling today?”

“Yeah!” Sersi cheerfully replied, “This wouldn’t be my first rodeo, and knowing that she is closer to our age will help smooth any awkward tension!”

“At the very least, she’s closer to the age I put on my resume,” thought Sersi.

“Good to know at least one of us is confident,” chided Dane to the beautiful Eternal. But his next words were very sincere, “it’s impossible to not adore you though.”

Sersi did genuinely swoon that time. She was surprised that her knees managed to keep her steady. Luckily, the clock above her office’s entrance showed her that they were both dangerously close to being barely early in meeting their guest.

“Well, we better head down now,” she softly stated as she walked toward the door with her incredible boyfriend’s hand locked with hers. “After all, first impressions and punctuality are the things that mean a great deal to us Brits.”

Dane’s smile grew even larger at her terrible joke, “Most of us at least.” And he swore that his morning became ten times better at hearing her laugh on his own.

After what seemed like an eternity of impatient walking in the familiar halls and corridors to finally reach the grand lobby, both Dr. Sersi and Dr. Dane Whitman hurried down the ornate staircase. To their shock and amazement, their mystery guest was already there, standing with their backs turned toward them and staring at the colossal skeleton hanging above her. Reaching the bottom, Sersi felt there was something strange about this person, almost…familiar.

“Hello,” Dane called out, “I am so sorry for making you wait. Although, it’s a huge relief to know that someone of your caliber would find our institution’s Hope to be worthy of your attention. The full story is quite remarkable actually, see she-”

“She was found in 1891, along the Irish coastline,” a hauntingly familiar voice interjected, “judging from the sheer size of the skeleton, I’d say that the fisherman must have gained a fortune by auctioning the corpse. I can’t imagine how long it must have taken the buyer to butcher the meat and boil down the blubber.”

Sersi swore she stopped breathing. It couldn’t be…could it?

It wasn’t until their guest paused to turn and faced the couple that Sersi felt her heart beating more rapidly by the second.

Over 5000 years ago, Sersi met a young woman who came from the sea. The young woman was the product of two great beings, each containing powers that existed before time itself. She lived a hard life, but she grew strong. She learned to control the sea she came from, along with banishing a primordial evil. But with peace came solitude, and with solitude came loneliness. But she eventually found the Eternals, or rather they learned of her. An agreement was brokered between the two parties, and what was an alliance of necessity came a bond willingly forged of fond memories. But around 600 years ago, the young woman disappeared for unknown reasons, and was never seen again.

Until now apparently.

Sersi couldn’t believe her eyes. It was over 600 years ago in Mesoamerica. You had donned your battle armor and unsheathed the blade the finest sea smiths forged in honor of your first kill in the name of your eldest brother’s new empire. Sersi remembered how terrified Ikaris was in that battle; he could not remain by your side since the Deviants were scattered across the region, and you alone had to cover the coastline. It was a brutal battle that day. By the end, your pristine robes were shredded and whatever remained was drenched in tar-like blood. She could see new scars and bruises littered on the skin that peaked through the torn cloth. That steady stance that could only come from a seasoned warrior such as yourself was gone; in fact, you looked less like a warrior and more like a beggar. Your body had taken so much damage that you could only be healed by your second eldest brother. Sersi remembered being terrified of your well-being, but you reassured her that you would soon return. She wept for days after learning from Ajak that you could no longer return.

And yet, here you were! You were right in front of her! Except that it seems you traded your warrior aesthetic for modern business casual. She took in the sight in front of her. You were smartly dressed in a double-breasted blazer with gold buttons over a striped cotton zip sweater, and light-wash straight leg jeans paired with a pair of flat-heeled light brown loafers. The familiar braids you styled daily were replaced with a sleeker, more modern style. She took in your figure, pitifully attempting to find any resemblance between the image of the woman before her and the memory of her friend who she thought was gone. The only thing that confirmed your identity to her was the lapis lazuli charm attached to a gold chain around your neck.

“It matches his eyes.” You told her when showing her the gift Ikaris gave all those years ago.

As if sensing that Sersi finally confirmed your identity for herself, you gave out a warm smile.

“Hey Sersi,” you cheerfully stated, “it’s been a while huh?” You walked forward and wrapped your arms around her to give her a tight hug.

Reciprocating your embrace, Sersi had only one thought going through her head as she warmly greeted you back.

“You bitch.”

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