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qwimblenorrisstan · 2 months

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A New Dawn | Eris x Reader

Summary: Feyre grows closer to you, a close friend of Lucien’s, as you visit him while she’s in Spring Court. During that time, she learns of you being given to Eris as a servant by Amarantha, but no one could’ve suspected how deep the relationship between you and the Autumn Court heir went.

Word Count: ~ 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, tyranny, pregnancy, also this entire fic is mainly in Feyre’s perspective btw

A/N: This is actually my first attempt at writing for Eris (all bc of a cute request), but if you like it then lmk and I might try more, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Feyre Archeron first met you at Tamlin’s manor, when she was still stuck as a human in a land of immortals that were trapped and bound by Amarantha. She’d been taking a walk through the house with Lucien, him explaining all the paintings in the gallery’s old, dusty collection that he knew of, and her eagerly listening, wanting to scrape up any lick of knowledge she could get.

That was when she’d seen you, coming from Tamlin’s office, him grave-faced and you just looking sad. You saw Lucien and perked up a bit, and he eagerly pulled you into his arms and held you.

“Who is..?”

Feyre spoke, trailing off at the silent tears you shed while Lucien held you close, his face buried in your shoulder. When you finally pulled away, the fiery male wiped your tears away with his thumb and glanced towards Feyre, you also looked at her.

“Y/N, this is Feyre, Feyre, this is Y/N.”

He said simply, a bit of his usual charm lacking because of the raw emotion in his tone. Feyre hadn’t known then why you’d been wide-eyed looking at her, turning to Tamlin and whispering some questions her human hearing couldn’t pick up, but she now knew exactly why you’d been shocked to find a human there during that time.

She was the cursebreaker, and you’d suspected that she would be the one from the moment you saw her.

You eventually had to leave, with whispered words to Lucien and more silent tears, before you had mounted a horse, even though running would be faster, and ventured back off to Under the Mountain.

“Where is she going?”

Feyre had asked Lucien. The male had only shook his head.

“Under the Mountain. She was..gifted to my brother as his servant, and she’s stuck there.”

He said, sentences carefully worded in the true manner of the fox-like male. Feyre found that horrifying, the thought of being gifted to a male, forced to serve him and do gods know what for him, being stuck there and only able to leave by delivering messages to other Courts. If only she knew the truth.

However, you sometimes got excuses or reasons to leave and stay at Spring longer than necessary, and you became a sort of salvation for Feyre. You would take her out into Spring Court to your favorite bakery, or the shops that were open at the time. Even when she asked, you never had a good reason for why some were closed, nor did Tamlin.

You slowly spent more time together, and she told you of her sisters, of Nesta’s hostility, Elain’s love for gardening and the flowers she’d grow with the spare change they had after selling skins, or how she grew up hunting. In exchange, you would tell Feyre all about your life growing up, how you and Lucien had been in the same age group and because of your High Fae status, you’d been friends for centuries.

“I’ll see you next visit,”

You would tell her every time, but this time seemed different. It seemed more like a final farewell. She gave a concerned look.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know, but I hope I see you again.”

It turned out that the next time you saw her was when you had a leash around your neck like a dog, Eris holding the chain to the collar as you both watched Feyre fight for her life in the challenges Amarantha proposed to her.

“Do you think she’ll live?”

You’d asked him quietly, and Eris had responded point-blank.

“No.”

But the glimmer of hope in his eyes as he glanced at you, a silent apology promising a future together if this human did manage to free you, a future where you weren’t chained and he wasn’t trapped.

Well, you’d almost gotten that when Feyre had given her life to free Prythian’s people, and come back as High Fae. Almost, but not quite.

“Just a little longer, darling, I promise.”

He would murmur to you every night as you had to act as his servant, attend to his every need, and act like the two of you weren’t painfully in love every day and night. That was, until, the night Beron was assassinated, shot dead with an ash arrow right through his black, soulless heart during a private conference between him and some higher-up you hadn’t bothered to learn the name of.

The next time Feyre had seen you, she’d been accompanied by Nyx and Rhys, Nyx on her hip as the other High Lords idly chattered, most of which were interested in how Eris would handle being High Lord of Autumn. Even more surprising, you’d been labeled High Lady of Autumn not shortly after.

They were still in for plenty of shock when you and Eris walked in, and the scent of budding, growing life spread through the room. Rhysand recognized it instantly, and the tiny bump on your stomach told everyone else what it was as well, not to mention the smug, satisfied face of Eris, clearly filled with pure male pride at his mate being pregnant.

“Oh wow, so you two were..?”

Feyre asked you while you chatted with her.

“We’ve been mates since before Amarantha, but we didn’t want to say because of Beron, then everything happened…it was a whole mess, but we worked it out.”

You replied with a warm smile on your face, one hand on your stomach. Rhys still seemed wary of Eris, rightfully so, but after seeing how the fiery male didn’t seem as conniving or rude, or even like the Eris he’d known for centuries at the meeting all because of his pregnant wife, or maybe because he didn’t have to play the role as the unassuming heir anymore, his mindset was slowly starting to change.

“Congratulations,”

Rhys had said to you and Eris, a slight genuine smile tugging at his lips as he’d patted Eris on the back, at which the other male stiffened slightly, but didn’t seem overly hostile.

Back at the townhouse, both having glasses of wine and idly sipping on them, Nyx already asleep, Feyre and Rhys chatted.

“I think they’re cute together,”

She said with a smile. Rhys chuckled lightly, shaking his head in amusement.

“She mellowed him out, for sure. I’m glad, I don’t think they could deal with another sassy High Lord out there other than me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Really, though. They’re cute.”

Rhys let out a little hum of thought, before nodding.

“They are.”

#acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #writers on tumblr #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #eris fluff #eris x you

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oh-saints · 1 year

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Fellow engineer here! Thank you for not writing us off ❤️ Can you do an F1 engineer and that's how you meet Ruben Dias or Mason Mount?

i'm sorry this takes AGES but here's to you fellow engineers <3

paddock

rúben was only supposed to enjoy another favourite sport of his over the weekend in monaco and she was only supposed to drag george russell from the william’s garage, for the driver hung around too much with alex albon. but life, as we know it, never made it as simple as it seemed.

rúben dias x f1crew!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: good god, this has been sitting for far too long... time to let this out! mainly inspired by pictures of rúben watching f1 in monaco and as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

request still open & you can drop them here!

goddamn it, russell.

the young british racer was infamously known for his mischief way of life, pranking people here and there whenever he wasn’t driving his racing car, and—unfortunately—you happened to be on the other end of his antics, more often than not.

as the junior engineer to someone who didn’t bother to hide his distaste towards rigorous technical discussions, your job sometimes required you to flip the entire paddock upside down to hunt george down until he finished all of the nitty gritties he’d rather bypass.

it was another case of haas team finding out mick hang around in mercedes’ garage a while ago. except for you, it was more of a weekly case.

as soon as you spotted the bright blonde locks amongst brown heads, you forced your feet to move faster because your supervisor’s wrath wasn’t something you were fond of. especially when you were now tired from hearing it’s been weeks and you still can’t get him to work together with you? endlessly every weekend.

“george william russell!”

at your shout, alex albon and nicholas latifi immediately went into a disperse. they knew george was due for a wee bit of finalizing this weekend’s machinery, but the brit managed to coax them into playing with him, and now that you were barrelling towards them, they didn’t want any part of it.

you were already using george’s full name, anyway. definitely time to run for the williams racers.

“alright, alright,” the youngest between the racers, groaned. “I’m coming, okay?”

you didn’t say anything else as a response to that, other than dragging george by the hand.

“I said I’m coming, okay!” he shouted at you this time but you paid no heed. he wasn’t the one rolling your paycheck anyway. “let me grab my tumbler first, jesus.”

george stashed your fingers away before he walked away from you. only then did you realise that everyone’s eyes had been directed towards the quarrel between you and george, and you had never felt so small in your life.

this was exactly why you insisted on working behind the scene, despite your immense love for motor racing since childhood.

“hi, there.”

you were so startled that you jumped on your feet, almost knocking off someone in front of you that definitely looked like an important guest, suits and all.

“I’m sorry,” the man continued with a soft chuckle, and you melted in your place at the sheepish grin plastered on that gorgeous face. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

your eyes couldn’t help themselves when they scanned the hanging lanyard, indicating he was a guest of this side of the paddock. when your vision went back up, you noticed he was now flashing a full-watt grin—he’d caught you checking him out. well, sort of.

you coughed yourself while you straightened your spine and feet, in order to regain your composure, but before you could open up your beak to reciprocate his effort—you love a good banter—george shouted for your name from a far.

“let’s go!” with his wicked smile, george knew what he was doing to mess up your chance on scoring what could possibly your big shot

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“hi again, there.”

the meeting had ended well—it always did because george actually knew what he was doing and his feedbacks were always valuable. he was just too lazy to sit through the meeting, dealing with technical jargons and everything. so now you were back to the paddock, just in time for the mechanic’s pit-stop practice.

you had stepped aside, giving the performing team more space so they could work more freely under countless eyes of the VIPs and paddock-club owners who were interested with the whole ordeal. so certainly, you didn’t expect the man from earlier to sneak up behind everyone’s back so he could reach you.

it seemed like he had a knack for surprising you.

“oh, hi,” but you didn’t want to complain. you’d be too shy to come up to him if you had the chance, anyway. “fancy seeing you again, monsieur.”

seeing you weren’t giving off a bad signal whatsoever, he stepped in closer to you, which meant closer view to those fit, bulging arms he was folding in front of his chest now. you were about to remind yourself to breath when he spoke up, “you certainly look like you belong here more than william’s.”

“and white certainly looks better on you than blue,” you had been mentally taking note about the white Mercedes shirt he was now dangling messily over his own beige shirt, but you didn’t mean to say that out loud. realising your slip of tongue, you averted the conversation elsewhere. “sorry i haven’t had the chance to introduce myself.”

“rúben,” he replied after you said your name, welcoming your extended hand. “i’ve got to say i’m impressed with your garage more than william’s or mclaren’s.”

you had to remind yourself to breath and act normal after you felt his hands. it was pretty much what you imagined them to be—damn, you were swooning over a hand? that was the first. “why’s that?”

“well, beside the fact that you’re here?”

chuckling, you had to give this man a kudos for sporting no-nonsense. this indicated he knew what he wanted and for you, that was a very sexy aspect a man could possess. “here i am thinking to give you a pass to let you watch the race from here,”

rúben couldn’t help but laugh at your playful banter. you were exactly how he thought you to be and god, isn’t this refreshing? all these models on his DMs were giving him one-dimensional conversations. “oh no, i’ve blown my chances!”

you found it impressive that rúben was able to make you laugh effortlessly, despite the lame joke. is it because those big, brown eyes? “if you promise to be a good boy, i might cancel what i said.”

“of course i will, mother,” he stood up straighter, hands were now behind his back, in line with the act he was putting on.

the attractive gummy smile was still attached to the face, though.

“i was saying that mercedes’ better because i spot some different equipment and tools and other things i don’t see on other garages and it’s interesting you’re a part of why it runs smoothly here.”

“alright, alright, here’s your headphone,” you rolled your eyes as if you’d heard enough of the same pick up line, but in truth, you were trying to mask your palpitating heart from the last part of his sentence. “please stay behind this line right here and do not, at any circumstances, use the mic here. i’ll be very busy during the race so if you need anything, you can ask nicola here.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

the silver arrow gained 1-2 deadlock till the end of the most legendary street circuit and the whole team erupted in cheers. it’d been a long while since they’d last done it here, and it meant more for you because you got to soak in the experience as the lead engineer for george russell. another achievement unlocked for you, to stand winning amongst those brilliant group of men as your teammates.

the euphoria almost blinded you and swept you away to join the rest of the crew in the side line as the cars pulled up for post-race procedures. until you forgot your sunglasses so you could look up to the historic podium, and that was when you realised rúben was still standing not far from where your working post was.

the reality dawned on you.

“you’re still here.”

he did not move an inch from the post you’d designated for him, not far from you. he’d seen you working, through ups and downs of a stressful race. while deep down you felt ashamed he must’ve seen you cursing and cussing like those words were water to your tongue, you were more touched at the fact that he was waiting for you.

waiting for you while you worked, waiting for you while you celebrated with your teammates. all without imposing—the paddock had seen and invited so many celebrities inside, and the guests would jump as if they contributed to the win the team was achieving. but rúben wasn’t like that, at all, and you could feel whatever wall you were trying to put up, obliterated at that second.

noticing you were too stunned at whatever sight you were witnessing, rúben walked up to you. “you think i’m going somewhere?”

“well, would you wait? until the podium’s finished?”

you knew you were shooting for the stars because this man was a VIP guest, albeit for another team on the grid, but heck, you had to try. it’d been a while since the last time a man intrigued you the way rúben had been doing.

it’d been a while since the last time rúben felt the same way too. “for you? absolutely.”

you didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the longing feeling of a man sweeping you off you feet—you’d grown steel since being surrounded by men almost 7 days a week—that fueled you brain, and fuck did you not want to know. rúben’s cliché answer was enough of a reason for you to reach for those muscular, long arms hidden under his shirt and pulled him to join the crowd heading towards the podium.

you laughed as carlos’ manager spotted you dragging rúben almost like a ragdoll and the carefree, out-of-pressure laugh brought a wide smile to rúben’s face. he liked this, a woman handling stares thrown at them like a second skin to you, more than he’d like to admit. and maybe, he needed this more than he thought he would.

rúben used his huge, muscular figure to maneuvered you to his front, protecting you from push and shove from people around you both just because they wanted to see their favourite racer lifting the trophy. such gesture would usually scare you because you’d gotten used to such treatment during your trip to the club, but this time, you couldn’t help but melt under his ministrations.

feeling you getting comfortable, rúben dared himself to shoot for the stars this time. he dipped down, levelling his lips to your ears so you could hear him despite the loud atmosphere. “ditch the party tonight and have a dinner with me.”

it didn’t take you a second to respond, “where do you have in mind?”

#anon asks #oh-saints answers #oh-saints writes #oh-saints writes requests #ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fics #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias x you #footie fic #footie fics #footballer x you #footie fanfic

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crestfallercanyon · 1 month

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weekly tag wednesday friday (these last few weeks have been absolute hell so I've missed the last couple i've been tagged in-- but I'm still here!)💞

tagged by the loveliest peoples: @jrooc, @mmmichyyy <3

name and ao3 handle: crest, crestfallercanyon

current location: sitting at my desk at home technically off work but waiting for one person to email me back goddammit

favorite picrew (don't have one?you can skip this or do this one)? (I don't actually smoke btw, but I liked the aesthetic here)

what's one thing you want in a picrew? i hardly ever do them. guess freckles?

favourite thing you’ve created for the fandom? oh that's hard. I loved writing a lot of my fics, but probably was most excited with the final product of all these things I have left to say to you.

why is it your favourite? it'd been a long time since I'd written anything in the first person, especially in an epistolary format. I loved getting in both Ian and Mickey's heads for a fic. I love writing things that are mildly frightening and very surreal, and it was fun to be able to do that here. Especially when people realize what life is like for another person, which Mickey has a moment of clarity when it comes to Ian's BPD in this fic, so. That's probably why.

did it come easily or was it hard to create? It actually came together much faster than I thought it would. I didn't anticipate having much of a part two either, but then I just started going.

last ao3 fic you commented on? Past Anterior by noyeahtotally (Inception) for the third time, I forgot I commented on it previously, but I love that fic.

biggest wip heartache you’ve ever experienced? oh god there's been so many. I'm going to go with the one that immediately came to mind when I thought of this question though and that's A Hundred Thousand Loves (for just this one) by @subjecta5newtella

favorite trope or head canon you like included in a fanfic? don't know if it's a trope, but I do enjoy a good enemies/rivals to lovers. headcanon, for shameless in particular -- which I now realize i don't know if I've ever done this in my fics oops -- but I love when Ian's attention on Mickey feels like a goddamn spotlight. Boy has an intense stare and I think his attention on someone like Mickey, who usually vies for attention via violence and otherwise doesn't want to be bothered, has to both make him itchy and make him preen. I don't know, I just think Ian's full attention, the way he stares, it just seems very focused and I think it'd be a bit like "whoa, shit, okay"

least favourite? love that these are out here for other people, but I personally am not a big fan of a/b/o or mpreg. Also I don't like when characters get super shmoopified by love -- make 'em as lovesick as you want, but even at the most lovesick lovelorn, there are some characters who will not call the object of their affection "pookie"

secret or surprising kink or trope? I love when characters have to pretend to be something they're not? I don't know how else to describe it, but like spontaneous fake dating/fake hating, pretending to be a certain job because they got caught somewhere they shouldn't be, pretending to be an entirely different person in front of the object of their affection because of shenanigans, I find that really fun. Done well, it's just delightful to see the mounting horror of characters look at their loved one like "what in the actual hell are you doing" or having to join in on the charade and be like "what in the actual hell are we doing?"

describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? depends on what I've posted! Sometimes I feel good, sometimes I mainly feel nervous that I fucked something up or forgot something. usually I feel pretty good though.

top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: the discord servers I'm part of are filled with the loveliest hype people -- and then of course I cherish every comment I receive on fics after <3

it's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? read something I've read a thousand times, the same I do with my television -- I go to something I've read or watched so many times that makes my heart happy.

I'm not going to tag anyone because I am already SO late! But thanks for including me still <3

#weekly tag wednesday #days late this time kids #oopsy shwoopsy #fic recs

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electrasev5nwrites · 1 year

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Ninja Daily: Vapors 65

"ANBU Butterfly. You've been summoned."

Aiko jerked, one hand pulling her sheet further up and the other fisting around the handle of the kunai under her pillow. Boar's mask hovered above her in the darkness, the pale curve illuminated from one side by the trickle of moonlight coming in her window. It looked unusually demonic—the red mouth pulled into a high sneer, and the eyes appeared as impenetrable sinkholes.

'Is he really allowed to actually enter my apartment? It would have been faster to wake me with a knock at the window. He must have put more effort into getting in without waking me than he would have to do what he was supposed to.' she realized, wide-awake and mildly alarmed. It seemed… unnecessarily aggressive. The move was a show of power and ability. Boar was better than her traps and senses, and he wanted her to know that.

Creeptastic. Still, orders were orders. "Understood. I will require two minutes." She didn't wait for him to leave or worry about modesty, throwing off the covers and hurrying to unzip the sealed bag with her ANBU equipment. Usually she preferred to wear shorts and a tanktop underneath, but she pulled the sleeveless shirt and baggy pants on directly over the sports bra and boyshorts she had been sleeping in, sparing only a grimace that she didn't have time to bind her chest.

'Better tighten the armor a notch, or I'm going to be hurting later,' she noted grimly. She might have taken the less time consuming but still effective solution of putting a regular bra on under her sports top, but Boar didn't appear to be moving. 'Where the hell does he think I'm going to go if he turns around? Fish will wait.'

Even as she thought that, Aiko knew she was lying to herself. Fish hadn't sent Boar to summon her. Someone else had. Her heart was already pounding. As much as this was dangerous and idiotic… it would also be a challenge. She loved mind games. Mainly, she liked picking them apart

Bantering with Kakashi couldn't possibly compare to matching wits with a man like Danzo. From both her prior knowledge and Tsunade's warnings, every indication was that he was completely fucking brilliant. A power-hungry extremist, yes. It was hard to claim that he was Miss Congeniality when he was wandering around with a dozen stolen wiggly-eyes in his arm (even aside from the disaster that would make the swimsuit competition). Consistently out-maneuvering and out-classing someone called 'The God of Shinobi' without anyone else catching on for decades wasn't something that happened by accident. He was… sort of cool, with or without the effervescent personality. Frankly, he might have made a better Kage. Maybe he'd settle down into less lunatic hobbies if he had the power he was chasing.

That last bit stopped her for a moment.

'Dangerous thoughts,' she chided herself. 'Let's just hand the homicidally insane man the power he craves because he has excellent rhetoric and political aptitude. That worked out well for Germany… China… Russia. Like, pretty much every country at one point or another. Yeah, that holds together. I may not start a fan club, but Danzo is a man I could learn from. Unless Tsunade has been hiding some sort of elite task force in her bra for thirty years, I don't know who el-'

She paused. Now there was some food for thought. 'I should mount an expedition to investigate.'

Click.

Aiko glanced over in the middle of shoving her feet into boots to see that Boar had just now unlocked her window… meaning he had gotten in another way and gone through her apartment. On second thought, that was both creepy and made sense. He'd have a hard time fitting through the frame with those monster shoulders. He turned slowly to stare, forcing her to hurry even faster.

"I'm ready," she announced briskly, forgoing her usual tight braid for a messy bun and extra pins in her wig.

Boar grunted and shoved her window open with a tiny, frustrated squall of wood against wood. The intimidating effect was slightly undermined by the undignified way he had to squirm for a moment to fit through the available space, but she didn't have time to snicker before they were sprinting across rooftops… and not going to a rendezvous location she recognized.

A glance at the skyline confirmed that it was somewhere in the witching hour or thereabouts. A coincidence, or an intentional parallel meant to illustrate ANBU's darker implications?

'It's probably just my imagination. Don't be so theatrical,' Aiko scolded herself.

Nonetheless, she did feel a creep of unease up her spine, manifesting as hyper-awareness. That state of alert served her well. Despite what seemed to be an attempt to get her disoriented by taking a circuitous route, Aiko was certain that she could re-locate the specific tree that Boar powered through to reveal a man-hole hidden by the best genjutsu she'd ever walked through. It prickled and pulled at her senses as she followed him down, creating the odd and unpleasant simultaneous perception of looking at an underground entrance hidden in a training ground and a very solid piece of flora. She just barely caught sight of a little pink nose poking out of a well-hidden rabbit warren in the instant before she grimaced and closed her eyes on the first few steps.

"You will not speak out of place." Boar's voice echoed oddly in the narrow tunnel that led straight down. From her position on top of him on the cold metal ladder, Aiko indulged in rolling her eyes. How cliché. Someone really liked to set the atmosphere. "You will treat Danzo-sama with the proper respect. Noncompliance with be punished severely."

It didn't seem like he wanted an answer. That was fine. He'd given her plenty of information. She heard him jump the rest of the distance, and waited a few moments herself while he moved before lithely copying. Completely blind as she was, Aiko took the safe route of landing in an exaggerated crouch to save strain on her joints. They'd only fallen something like fifteen feet straight down, however. Not so bad. Circe du-Soleil performers routinely did more drastic stunts, so a chakra-using ninja properly trained in how to fall had no problem.

A hand gripped her shoulder. It wasn't Boar's—his hand was twice that size. She reacted by snatching the wrist and twisting, positioning herself behind the relatively lean, petite body, placing the pads of her fingers against her assailant's spine in a clear warning. She didn't particularly appreciate being touched in the dark by unknown persons, but nor was she sure she could react with lethal force. The exchange took less than a second.

'I spy an opportunity,' Aiko noted. It took less time to set a trapped Hiraishin seal on the back she was touching than it did for the thought to occur. That was good, because she didn't have time for another thought before a hand that definitely was Boar's snatched her by her throat and lifted her entirely, crushing her body into a wall. She seized up, not even trying to breathe. In this position, he could easily crush her larynx. If she felt even the slightly hint of added force…

"I said to behave," he said shortly. "This person will be your guide."

She controlled her breathing, not letting herself gasp audibly when Boar's monstrous paw released her to the ground, and obediently turned to face the figure she could smell but not see in the dark.

Now that no one was surprising her or tossing her around… well. That was a scent she knew.

The previous incident was tucked away to deal with later (or not, possibly) and instead Aiko trailed after intentionally light footsteps. Intentionally audible, that was. They would have been silent under normal circumstances. It was hard to gauge time and distance—she hadn't thought to count steps, and she was probably being led around multiple paths and through traps and genjutsu. The acoustics began to change slightly, as did the elevation of their path so that they were walking up an incline instead of down. For all she knew, they weren't even within Konoha's city limits anymore.

'Light,' she registered. It wasn't much, but there was ambient light seeping out from beneath the doors that they were passing. Her guide led her through one such dimly-lit room and gave a perfunctory knock on a closed door. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see the slim outline of the boy guiding her—and she was sure it was a boy about her own age. He was slim and graceful, but few girls had shoulders quite that broad without hips to match.

Of course, she'd known that already without any light at all. Aiko allowed herself to give an ironic smile to Sai underneath her mask. Honestly, like she wouldn't smell his ink just because he'd left it at home and washed his clothes. The unique chemical blend had been soaked into his fingertips so many times that he would have to slough the skin to completely erase the scent.

It was good to be underestimated, though. They'd clearly taken her abilities and training into account, but either didn't know what scent tracking implied or had underestimated Kakashi's perfectionism. Perhaps they intended to strategically surprise her by revealing Sai's identity later to put her off-balance, or see if she reacted in a way that implied she already knew his identity. If that was the case, then she should pretend to be surprised, or else might give up the fact that Tsunade had already taken her into confidence. Then again, it could be a test of her abilities and pretending not to know it was Sai would make Danzo think she was incompetent. The last possibility that occurred to her that it wasn't a test for her at all—it was a way for Danzo to get a second opinion by keeping the person who would theoretically know her best close by to use as a reference. Possibly he would listen in on their conversation.

The only safe response was no response. Whatever they were looking for, she wouldn't give it to them. That might frustrate Danzo, but he wouldn't give up either. Actually, he might be looking for agents who kept a sharp poker face.

Whatever he was looking for, it included the categorization 'vulnerable'. If she had been a real teenager, she would stand no chance against a man like this. No matter the intellect, a teenager just didn't have the experience to deal with a master manipulator. She might not, either, despite her hidden advantages.

"Come in."

She'd never heard Danzo speak before, but that faint wheeze could certainly belong to him. It sounded like an affectation made by healthy lungs. Then again, she might be making judgments based on what she already thought she knew. Perhaps he really was too infirm to breathe properly.

Sai backed away, implying that she should go in alone. Probably wasn't supposed to risk stepping into the light. She felt the cheeky urge to wave at him, but suppressed it. This wasn't the place to impress or irritate with attitude. These people took themselves far too seriously.

The door she pressed open buzzed with chakra at her touch, probing invasively. It was probably recording her signature. She suppressed both a grimace and the reflex to spark back and cancel the seal that carried the technique. It was probably too strong to overload like that, and trying would endear her to no one. Her eyes burnt a little at the sudden change in lighting: this room was cozy, lit by several low lanterns and boasted exactly two chairs.

She wasn't fool enough to sit without invitation. A quick analysis of the room's other visible inhabitant confirmed her suspicion.

If he had investigated her at all, he would know that she should recognize him on sight. There was no point in feigning unfamiliarity. Doubtlessly, his Root ANBU would greet him with a full bow and he was used to that deference even out and about in the village. So, in order to position herself in the way she wanted…

Aiko came to stand in front of him and gave an exact, correct incline of just the neck with a locked back. This man was not her master. Pretending that she thought he was would be suspicious. Giving him no deference would be infuriating. She had to take the third path.

"Danzo-sama."

"Take that mask off, Aiko-chan." The old man looked like any retired shinobi or samurai. Granted, he seemed more beat-up than most, with crisp bandages wound around a good third of his body and the sturdy cane within easy reach. "I've heard interesting things about you, child."

'Subtle threat that he's been spying. Attempt to assert himself in hierarchy by citing age and therefore wisdom and experience. Rhetorical attempt to position himself as a grandfatherly figure to make me relax,' she catalogued instantly. In addition to all that, removing her mask would both make it more difficult for her to lie to him and put her in the awkward position of having to hold it, which would make her break out of her professional stance.

It was going to be that kind of conversation.

Aiko caught the "of course" that threatened to bubble up as she removed her mask. It would be safer to give this man nothing than to speak insincere platitudes. If he was as practical as she expected, he wouldn't appreciate the wasted time. The best way to deal with someone as intelligent and crafty as she feared he was would be not to lie at all. Her best weapon here would be strategic truths.

Danzo's face could have been carved from stone, but doubtlessly he'd just made his first judgment about her.

"How do you like your work?"

Well. That was a bizarrely inane beginning, although she thought she sensed where this was heading.

"Sir?"

'I can't engage too soon. I can't lie to him, can't give him the impression that I'm content with Tsunade, and I definitely can't seem too eager to share semi-traitorous thoughts. Talk about suspicious.'

The old man heaved a sigh, tapping stiff fingers against the side of his chair. "Have a seat." She did. "Don't be coy, child. You're a skeptic, a critic. You've been questioning Hiruzen's judgment and rebelling against academy teachers since you could write your name. You certainly did not learn discipline and respect at Sharingan no Kakashi's knee. Do not think to outfox me. You confided concerns to your teammate about the efficiency and sense behind one of Konoha's most important institutions. Do you stand by those remarks?"

'I did not expect such an aggressive beginning. That was a bit brutal.'

Despite not being what she had anticipated, it was a turn of conversation Aiko welcomed. The brief moment of shock had drained the color from her cheeks. She looked sincere.

"I do," Aiko answered steadily. It wasn't even a lie. She did see severe problems with Konoha's administration. It was a bit of a fallacy to assume that the fact that she saw problems meant that she would agree with his solutions or even that she intended to have a part in fixing them.

Her strategy was much the way she would plan any argument, except with the opposite intention. When she would normally defend a claim with evidence in order to win someone over to her premise, here she would obscure her premise and use true evidence that happened to support his claim. Lying without lying.

"You do? How arrogant, to say such a thing to a man who has devoted many years of his life to Konoha's welfare."

That was meant to put her on the defensive—either force her to retract or qualify her statement (displaying weakness), or back her into a corner and allow her to prove that she was unworthy of his time by showing she was not fit to join his force. Of course, she could also falter under sudden pressure and show that she had no aptitude as a member of a black operations force or for intelligence work. None of those outcomes were acceptable.

Danzo was controlling because he felt others were not as competent or intelligent. A man like that needed two kinds of allies. He needed mindlessly obedient drones, which he obtained by systematically breaking vulnerable minds and building them up as he desired; and he needed workers who thought like he did but just not quite as well. He was a man who could only trust someone if he thought he understood every nuance of their personality, motivations, and likely actions… and could follow that through one step further than they could.

There was no chance that she could pass for a drone. So she had to make herself worth his time. If she didn't, she would probably wake up in the morning with a terrible headache and no idea that she'd failed her mission.

"The protocols in the detention facility are evidence of an attempt to be merciful and practical. Both aims are unsuccessful."

Blunt, without back-tracking, pandering, or insulting him. She had needed to show that she wasn't just prone to complaints—she could form, investigate, and articulate a thought that cut to the quick.

Danzo stared at her a second, as if waiting for her resolve to fade and prove that she was posturing. One side of his mouth curled up ruefully. "Cheeky brat." He gave a single, barking laugh that almost hurt her own throat in sympathy. "You are lucky that I am not a man who becomes displeased by inconvenient truths."

It was an effort not to grit her teeth together to hide her amusement at the unintentional reference. She kept her face slack, but a man like Danzo doubtlessly spotted the imperfections in her mien.

That was fine. He would want to think that she was at least a little shaken at the prospect of displeasing him. He had gone to such lengths to unnerve her, after all, what with the late-night summoning and theatricality. It would be a shame not to indulge him.

"You are correct, of course," he continued tonelessly, turning to stare at a piece of calligraphy wall art. "That prison is a mess. For years I had pushed Hiruzen to made needed changes. Unfortunate as his illness and retirement was, I admit that I hoped for a successor who would listen to wisdom when it was offered."

'Illness? What the hell is he talking about? That's an odd way to refer to injuries sustained from fighting Orochimaru.'

Danzo didn't clarify on that. She'd have to ruminate on that oddity later. The part she was meant to pick up on was the implication that…

"Tsunade-sama has no plans to simplify matters?"

He scoffed. "Plans? There are plans. There are no intentions." Scorn was evident in his tone even before he turned to glare resentfully at her, his one visible eye narrowed into a thin, wrinkled line. "You must have noticed Tsunade-chan is unsuitable for the position of Hokage."

'Tsu- Tsunade-chan? That's positively scathing. It's incredibly inappropriate for him to refer to the Hokage that way, no matter his comparative age.'

For one startling instant, it felt that his full ire was directed at her. A shiver ran up her spine, and her full attention was on just how dangerous the man she was playing games with really was. Even aside from his not-inconsiderable political influence, he had the physical superiority as well through his genetic augmentations. Tsunade could fight him. Jiraiya could. With assistance, Kakashi could as well.

She could not. Aiko could escape him if things went wrong, but that was it, and then he would know about her Hiraishin if he didn't already. He shouldn't know. But a man like that? A man with his own spy network in her own village?

Danzo could very well know already.

'He doesn't know it's modified and trapped,' she reminded herself, desperate for a small reminder of any sort of advantage on her side. Of course, seeing as the trap was based on his own seal work…

"I suppose you are pleased about gaining clan status," Danzo switched gears briskly.

Something unpleasant curled in her stomach. She didn't see the thread that connected those thoughts… which meant that she was stabbing blindly. But she had to say something. "It is my duty."

The black pool of his visible eye emerged slightly into visibility when he tilted his head, displacing the loose strands of hair that had been shadowing it. "Is it, now. You're not the least bit pleased about gaining a clan seat."

"No," she said bluntly. Always good to be able not to lie.

That really did seem to take Danzo off guard. She'd been right. He had some method of reading her that he felt confident in—perhaps something involving his hidden Sharingan, or a special seal, or even just plain old skill in discerning falsehoods through close observation. "Whyever not?"

"I have no interest in leadership."

Slowly, his brow raised. "Is that so." It wasn't a question, so she remained silent. "Perhaps you are suited to it, then." He reached out to curl his hand around the top of his gnarled cane, as if searching out comfort or something to do with his hands. "The concept of inheriting power is highly flawed. The suitability of one's father for leadership says nothing of the child."

"You're talking about Tsunade." She allowed her eyes to glide off his face, lifting her chin slightly as if in contemplation. "You feel that she became Hokage because of her familial connections and not her competency."

"Very good." When Aiko turned, it became clear that he was giving a faint smile. It wasn't actually amused. "Clever young thing. You cut well to the heart of matters," he continued, breathing in deeply and broadening his shoulders slightly. "Duty. Leadership is duty. Duty to the village's welfare first and above all other concerns. Do you not agree?"

"I agree," she concurred easily. 'That's certainly a viable definition of duty. Not my 'duty', but it's certainly 'duty'.

"Would you say your loyalty lies with the position of the Hokage, then?"

"If the Hokage serves those interests," she smoothly concurred. That would be what she would say in that situation, yes.

"And if the Hokage does not?" Danzo pronounced crisply, making the phrase more of a statement than a query.

"I would not presume to take the position of an advisor," she demurred. This was a bit of rhetoric she had anticipated. She hadn't been bothered by the change in administration, but he'd had Koharu and Homura in his corner. Hissy fit in three, two, one…

"Ha! What can then be done, when the Hokage is an impertinent fool who dismisses the wisdom of her elders?" Danzo half-growled, his voice a low rumble.

"Look to the wise."

There was silence, broken only by the faint wheeze of his breath. It wasn't entirely affected, she was certain now. Exaggerated, perhaps. But he really was infirm with age. No wonder he had gone in search of strength, however artificial. For someone who had chased power their entire life, the gradual creep of old age must be terrifying.

Danzo sighed, deflated and weary. The bags beneath his eyes looked even more pronounced when he let his face go slack. "Words that express more than they would seem to. I would like to continue this conversation tomorrow. I will have you brought here again."

'Wait. That's it?'

Confused, Aiko started for a second. She instantly regretted it—it was her first fuck-up of the night. She'd been doing so well, too. It would be stupidly optimistic to hope that Danzo didn't catch the slip in composure, even though he gave no visible reaction.

Once she'd collected herself, Aiko gave the same bow she had at the beginning and turned to leave. Was that- yes. A third ANBU had appeared instead of Boar or Sai.

'Oh well.' She re-fastened her mask over her face, not giving the room a backwards glance. That was an unsettling, confusing mess, and she was ready to be out of there.

The door swung shut, and the faint patter of light foot-steps faded. Danzo struggled to his feet without bothering to posture as he would in anyone else's presence. His right hand clenched tightly around the knob on his cane, but the left was raised slowly in a signal to the boy hiding in the shadows.

"Danzo-sama."

"Don't let her out of your sight." Danzo slowly closed his eye, focusing on shutting off the trickle of chakra he had been forcing to his hidden eye. "If she makes a motion towards the Hokage or anyone of political import, restrain her immediately and bring her to me. If the girl is a genuine candidate, bring her here tomorrow night."

"Hai." Sai inclined in a deep bow for a long second. In the next, he leapt to follow Uzumaki Aiko out into the darkness.

It was effortless to follow her through the tunnels, although the path she was led out through was not the one he had taken in. It was no matter. He was one of Danzo-sama's most valued subordinates. Sai had been raised in the darkness and knew these passages like Aiko knew the world above ground.

It was good that Washboard did not move to find anyone like the Hokage after she was brought to her home. The idea of taking her to Danzo-sama to have her mind forcibly sealed was not appealing in the least. Sai kept a careful distance. He had not missed the way that she had followed his movements in the dark—Washboard had been sensing his presence somehow. That ability had seemed to fade once he put some distance between them, as she had not looked at him once while he had listened to her conversation with Danzo-sama. At one point she closed her curtains, so he had to infiltrate her apartment with an ink beast and use it as a visual medium.

'Washboard has surprisingly poor security for a seals specialist,' he noted with a rare frown. He was unable to get quite close enough to hear what Washboard was saying as she fidgeted, paced from room-to-room, and did various menial chores, but more than once she seemed to be quietly moving her mouth. 'Why does she not go to sleep?'

Mildly perplexed, but not actually bothered, Sai settled down for the night on a nearby roof so that he could monitor her movements. As odd as it seemed, she was pacing from room to room, running her hands through her hair in some sort of nervous tick. Washboard had almost immediately shucked her ANBU gear in exchange for some rather baffling sleepwear. It seemed to serve no tactical purpose whatsoever—certainly not armor, and there was no possibility for weapon storage even when he squinted and attempted to give it the benefit of the doubt. Even worse, the garments were a powdery pink with obscene dots of sparkles. What kind of ninja gear could it possibly be?

Sai felt his face contort oddly. He was never going to understand Washboard. Sometimes she seemed so composed and capable like she had in Danzo-sama's presence. And then she did lunatic things like stay up all night in the safety of her own village, wandering her own home like a trapped animal and looking like she might cry at any moment.

He was glad for the distance. The thought made him uncomfortable. If she didn't know he was there, he would not have to deal with her illogical outbursts.

'Twenty-four hours. I need only watch her for twenty-four hours.'

Sai could do that.

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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edodecoredodecor · 1 year

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The Enduring Appeal of Wood Surface Panels in Interior Decor

Are you thinking of redecorating your home or office? Before starting with the process of renovation, you must have thought of what to do with your walls. Maybe stick to painted walls, or go with wallpapers. But have you considered wooden wall art panels?

In the world of Interior Decor, wooden wall panelling has been an enduring trend for many years now. Wood has a natural beauty that is difficult to replicate with other materials, making it a more popular choice to add warmth and character to your homes and workspace.

● Visually Pleasing

One of the primary reasons for the enduring popularity of wooden wall panelling is their visual appeal. Wood has a natural beauty that is difficult to replicate with other materials. With a wide selection of types like shiplap and beadboard and finishes to choose from, one can select the right look to make their interiors stand out.

● Hassle-free maintenance

Maintaining wooden wall art panels is a hassle-free process. Unlike paint or wallpapers, wood panels require only a damp cloth and a light household cleaner for cleaning. The natural resistance to wear and tear makes it a great choice for wall panels. Wall panels are particularly durable and easy to maintain, requiring only occasional dusting or wiping down to keep them looking new.

● Easy to Install

Another benefit of wood panels is their easy installation. Wooden panels can be hung on the wall with a simple mounting system. The installation process is, in fact, faster than painting, which requires multiple coats and drying time. However, it is still recommended to hire a professional for the best fittings.

● Added warmth

Wooden wall panelling is a popular choice for homes because of its natural insulation properties, which means it can help regulate the temperature of a room. Wood acts as a natural insulator, keeping homes cool in the summer and warm during the winter.

Conclusion

Wooden wall art panels continue to be popular choices in interior decor owing mainly to their visual appeal, easy installation and maintenance. Whether you are looking to create a focal point in a room with a statement decor or add warmth and texture to walls, wood surface panels are an excellent choice. EDO can help you with the best patterns and designs in wooden wall panels. To take a look at their collection, visit their website today.

#wall design #acoustic wood panels #japanese wall panel

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art-but-only-sometimes · 2 years

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I’ve seen soooooo many horror games/ non-horror games (but in this post I’m mainly going to be talking about horror) where they use a flashlight as a source of light. I’ve also seen other games that have called out the whole “flashlight on the ground out of nowhere”. But what about other stuff that could act as a light but isn’t a flashlight.

Examples:

a phone light:

SO many people have a phone. I have a phone, you looking at this might be looking at this post on your phone. But I can’t think of too many games that have a phone light.

one of the games I do know about is Cry of Fear:

It’s super convenient and people already have them. It fits real well into the world without being like “oh look a sudden flashlight on the ground, huh, weird”. Because (unless a character in a game is homeless or doesn’t have a lot of money) they will probably already have it on them.

Camera light:

while the flashing light of a camera, especially those with photosensitive epilepsy, may not be the best idea for everyone. It does add in a scare factor because there are points in the game it can add suspense. You only get a second (maybe less) to look around and observe your surroundings. Adding to the fear of the dark.

However there’s more than one function for a camera for example:

Outlast. The camera in outlast it pretty cool, it gives the player the ability to see and see all the scary stuff inside Mount Massive Asylum. Also if you went around waving a flashlight around you’d probably die A LOT faster than you normally would in the game.

Glow in the dark stuff:

Normally glowsticks don’t last long in horror games. But according to google:

They can last SO much longer. While neon colors usually aren’t 100% popular in horror games it’d be cool to see something different.

~~~~

I’m gonna cut this post here because I know some people don’t like reading long text post. But I will add more ideas in another post. Also feel free to add stuff I didn’t add in this post or any future posts.

#ideas #videogame ideas #idea #videogame #horror game #horror

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paddlingspace · 2 years

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Best Trolling Motors for Canoes

When your canoe is fully loaded up for fishing or hunting, paddling it can be an exhausting experience. Sure, you can paddle yourself to your favorite spot, but once you get there, you want to be able to fish straight away, not sit and recover. With a trolling motor, the hard work is taken away from you, so you get more time fishing and less time paddling. With so many different trolling motors to choose from, it can be hard to know where to start. Should you go with a small gas outboard motor or an electric trolling motor? Should you mount your motor at the bow or the stern of your canoe? What about thrust, shaft length, and power? Our canoe trolling motor guide will help you pick the right motor for your canoe so you can cruise to those fishing spots. Got a kayak, not a canoe? Check out our kayak trolling motor guide here. At a Glance: Best Trolling Motors for Canoe: - Newport Vessels X-Series - Watersnake T18 ASP - Minn Kota Endura C2 - Newport Vessels L-Series Saltwater Why Use a Trolling Motor on a Canoe? Canoe trolling motors are mainly used by anglers and hunters. The reasons for this are twofold. Firstly, they tend to have the heaviest canoes, meaning they are the hardest and most tiring to paddle. Secondly, their purpose out on the water is the destination, not the journey. That may sound a little overly poetic, but if you’re out on a trip, or a day with your family, you’re there in part to enjoy the paddling itself. Sure, you could fit a trolling motor and effortlessly cruise to a picnic spot instead of paddling there, but it’s not likely you’re going to want to. Benefits of a Trolling Motor on Canoes Having a trolling motor mounted on your canoe gives you a number of advantages: - You can (obviously) troll for fish. Trolling is not for everybody (some anglers hate it), but if that’s your thing, a trolling motor lets you do it. - You can reach your fishing spot faster and with more energy, ready to fish. This is especially useful if you’re out for long days, carrying heavy loads, or would otherwise be paddling into a headwind. - You can hold your canoe in position once you reach your spot. A bow-mounted trolling motor can act as an anchor and prevent the wind or current from dragging your boat away from your spot. Bow-mounted motors are preferable because they keep the boat directly into the wind, but also stay clear of fishing lines. Drawbacks to a Trolling Motor As with any canoe accessory, trolling motors don’t come cheap. You not only need the motor, but a mount and a battery, as well as battery protection. All of this can easily cost several hundred dollars or more. They’re not light, either. In fact, a full set up of motor, mount, and battery can easily weigh over 50 lbs. You will need a stable canoe in order to mount a trolling motor, especially if you’re going for a side mount. Otherwise, you will find yourself having to lean far over the other way to provide ballast. Finally, you might feel as though you’re getting away from the essence of canoeing. This isn’t an issue as such, but for many people, canoeing is about peaceful tranquility, about using the paddle. A trolling motor is a personal choice and if they’re not for you, that’s fine. Choosing a Trolling Motor for your Canoe: Features to look for Thrust The majority of canoe trolling motors are electric, rather than gas-powered. The output of an electric motor is measured in pounds of thrust rather than horsepower. Measuring this thrust is not performed in a uniform or standardized manner though, so engines with the same thrust rating may vary slightly. It’s unlikely that you will need a motor that provides more than 50 - 55 lbs. of thrust. You might think that more thrust will equal more speed, but every canoe’s top speed is dictated by its length, not how hard you can power it. Any more than 55 lbs. of thrust and you’re not gaining a great deal compared to the extra weight you’ll be hauling. Voltage and Battery Electric trolling motors require a battery, which can easily cost more than the motor itself. You’ll see that there are 12-Volt, 24-Volt, and 36-Volt motors. 12 Volts is all you need for a canoe. What Battery Do I Need for a Trolling Motor? While you could use a car battery to power your trolling motor, that battery will not last long. Lead-acid car batteries are designed to provide short surges of power, not continuous power, and they don’t like to be fully discharged (read more about battery sulfation here). The best way to go is either a so-called “deep cycle” lead-acid battery (their main disadvantage is their heavy weight) or a modern LiFePO4 lithium battery, which will be lighter but more expensive. In terms of capacity, aim for at least 50 Amp-hours (Ah). If you plan to spend long days on the water, 100 Ah or even more is the way to go. Remember that a 55 lbs electric motor can consume about 50 Amps at full speed, which means a 50 Ah battery will only last an hour (or less if it’s a car battery). Shaft Length In order to have the most efficient system, your propeller should be between 10 - 12 inches underwater. This ensures a reasonable clearance from underwater obstacles but also gives a good level of propulsion. Measure the depth of your canoe from the transom to the ground to ensure your motor will sit deep enough in the water. Weight The weight of your trolling motor is added to the overall weight of your canoeing setup. This means that it counts towards your capacity, along with any paddlers and all of their equipment. Remember to stay within 70% of your canoe’s maximum capacity for optimal performance. If you do not have a square stern canoe, your motor mount will hold your trolling motor off to one side. Heavier motors are liable to unbalance you in your canoe and you may have to use your bodyweight as ballast to hold your canoe level. If you’re going to side mount your motor, a lightweight model will make your ride more comfortable. Mount Style If you paddle a square stern canoe, you probably already have a transom mount ready fitted to attach your motor. If you paddle a more traditional-looking canoe, you may have to use a canoe motor mount to mount your canoe trolling motor. There are two main types of motor mounts; standard and side mounts. A standard style mount uses a crossbeam at the rear of the canoe and mounts the motor off to one side, keeping your motor behind you. These are suited to longer journeys and heavier trolling motors. Side mounts clamp onto the gunwales at whatever point you choose to fit them. These are more likely to unbalance you as the mount does not span both gunwales. These mounts can be used to easily move your motor to the bow of the canoe to keep it clear of fishing lines and hold you in position. Read more about the types of canoe motor mounts and their use here. Saltwater vs. Freshwater Are you a freshwater angler or do you spend your days out on the sea? Because saltwater corrodes engines more quickly than freshwater, saltwater engines have a higher level of protection against this corrosion. This tends to come with a higher price tag and often a little more weight, so if you are sticking to freshwater, you might want to avoid saltwater engines. The Best Trolling Motors for Canoes Newport Vessels X-Series Weight: 20 lbs. / 9 kgThrust: 40 lbs. / 55 lbs. Shaft Length: Adjustable 36 in. The Newport Vessels X-Series features a telescopic tiller handle and 30-degree tilting head, making this motor one of the most versatile options on the market. Whether you fit it higher than normal or in a different location, you still get the bonus of comfortable tiller control and easy use. The adjustable shaft gives you full freedom over how deep you sit your propellor. The Newport Vessels X-Series has eight speeds; five forward and three reverse. This gives the X-Series a top speed of around 4 miles per hour, more than enough for a reasonable trolling speed. This motor is designed to be run all day, using a 12-volt deep cycle battery. Not only that, but the high-quality components fitted by Newport Vessels keep this motor ticking over quietly, so you won’t spook the fish. Pros: - Telescopic and tilting tiller - Adjustable shaft length - Eight-speed Cons: - The Head and handle aren’t fully waterproof and are only designed for use in light rain SEE ON AMAZON Watersnake T18 ASP Weight: 4.85 lbs. / 2.2 kgThrust: 18 lbs. / 24 lbs.Shaft Length: 24 in. The Watersnake T18 ASP is the ultimate in a lightweight design, weighing in at just 4.85 lbs. Mount this motor anywhere along the side of your canoe and cruise along with minimal counterbalancing required. This also makes the Watersnake T18 ASP a useful option to carry with you as a trolling option if you prefer to paddle. This lightweight model has a smaller shaft than most on this list, at just 24 inches. This may limit the use on some higher-sided canoes, but should still allow you a reasonable propellor depth. The two thrust options of 18 lbs. and 24 lbs. reflect the lightweight design of this motor, but still provide reasonable speeds across the water. This motor has two forward and one reverse gear and is fitted with an easy-to-use tiller, as well as an extendable handle. Pros: - Extremely lightweight - Three speed - Adjustable height Cons: - Mountain brackets are flimsy - Short shaft SEE ON AMAZON Minn Kota Endura C2 Weight: 26 lbs. / 11.8 kgThrust: 30 lbs. / 40 lbs. / 45 lbs. / 50 lbs. / 55 lbs. Shaft Length: 36 in. The solid durability of the Minn Kota Endura C2 lets you cruise along with peace of mind, knowing that you’re not going to need to replace your motor at the end of the day. It will comfortably last all day, too. The five forward and two reverse speeds let you control exactly how fast you go and how much power you use, so you aren’t wasting any battery life. A ten-position mount gives you a full range of adjustment to suit the depth of water and avoid any underwater obstacles. If you do collide with anything, the mount breaks away on contact to avoid breaking. Resetting the motor is straightforward and doesn’t impact your day. Controlling this motor is easy and comfortable with the six-inch adjustable tiller handle, so you don’t need to move from your canoe seat. The Minn Kota Endura C2 is available in a whole range of thrust outputs, from thirty to fifty-five. These all come with an associated weight and this isn’t the lightest engine on the market, best suited to stern mounting on a square stern canoe. Pros: - Heavy duty durability - Breakaway on impact - Raise and lower the motor easily Cons: - Heavy - Expensive SEE ON AMAZON Newport Vessels L-Series Saltwater Weight: 23 lbs. / 10.4 kgThrust: 62 lbs. Shaft Length: 40 in. The Newport Vessels L-Series Saltwater is designed for serious canoe anglers who are looking to take their adventure out onto the sea. This durable, saltwater-ready trolling motor provides an enormous 62 lbs. of thrust, more than enough to power you through rolling waves and chop. With five forward and three reverse speeds, you can adjust the motor to suit your environment and needs. The higher thrust of this motor does mean it requires a larger battery and Newport Vessels recommends a battery capable of putting out 50 aH. The 40-inch shaft lets you get your propellor deep in the water, for use in environments where underwater obstacles aren’t a concern. The adjustable collar lets you raise and lower your motor, although the lack of tilt on the head may make this uncomfortable. You can keep the motor within easy reach with the 6-inch adjustable tiller. Pros: - Saltwater ready - Higher output - Long shaft Cons: - Expensive - Heavy - Requires a higher output battery SEE ON AMAZON FAQ Which battery is the best for a canoe trolling motor? Getting the right battery for your trolling motor is crucial. It follows logically that the more thrust your motor provides, the higher voltage your battery will need to put out. Most motors under 55 lbs. output can use a single 12-volt battery. Anything with a higher output may require a larger battery, or two batteries conjoined. There is a little more to batteries than just voltage though, including weight, size, and amp-hours. For a full rundown of batteries, check out our trolling motor battery guide. Do I need to register a canoe with a trolling motor? Yes. A canoe with a trolling motor is classified as a motorized boat and requires registration. Will a bigger motor make my canoe go faster? A bigger motor will increase the top speed of your canoe, but only to a point. The top speed of a canoe is limited more by length than it is by motors. Also, the weight of more powerful motors limit their effectiveness and impact the drag and balance of a canoe. Motors of around 55 lbs. thrust are a good balance of weight and power and should allow your canoe to cruise at around 4 mph. Read the full article

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noneatnonedotcom · 3 years

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concept: TOTAL WAR RWBY

in a universe where the great war destroyed every kingdom and caused a collapse of civilization you play as one of the five remaining peoples of remnant as you seek to (re) forge a kingdom that can stand the test of the grimm tide

KINGDOMS

Vale: led by Ruby Rose

ruby's kingdom of vale focuses on light cavalry and ranged. her own special abilites as a general are

SILVER EYED WARRIOR: grimm are weakened greatly within her aura and can even be outright destroyed if the differance in power between her and them is great enough

OPTIMISTIC HEROISM: lower unhappiness in area's controlled by ruby means that there's less Grimm to fight overall meaning lower garisons and more money spent on the main armies

unique units

Wood Runners: long bowmen with added range and melee combat stats equal to melee infantry. light armor means that you should keep them in cover though as well as being a juicy target for cavalry. added range over most normal archers and better armor piecing with their arrows makes them a powerful, unit that can last in melee as well specializing in Anti heavy infantry

Dire corgis: large war dogs with aura unlocked. look like giant corgis because they are giant corgis. great for running off ranged units and light cav. weak to spears, though their aura lets them hang around in combat longer than most would think. they do rely on the charge bonus though and can't be controlled once they're let off the leash. can be called back to their handlers though to be repositioned

FOCUS OF CAMPAIGN: ruby's main focus is to retake the cities and villages of vale that were lost to the grimm tide. your main strategy should be to build up on patch while the rest of vale falls to the grimm before striking out. your main advantage is against the grimm not people after all. and your added happyness means that you can spend more on your armies to put in your frontlines rather than worrying about protecting your rear (ruby's got a great rear guys) your main rival will be

UNITED TRIBES OF VALE: led by Yang Xiao-Long

yang's all about shock infantry and charge bonuses. using them to break the morale of enemy armies her special abilities are

HOT STUFF: human morale lowers around her and buildings catch fire in her aura when she's in combat. she's too hot to handle

PROBABLY WASN'T IMPORTANT ANYWAYS: still recruits units and receives money from buildings that are burned down. though at a slightly reduced rate

UNIQUE UNITS

Bandits: replaces mob, cheap units that gain charge bonus when next to another bandit unit. burn down buildings when nearby. no formations though and can't brace for charges so avoid cav. low morale, they're bandits they're not sticking around when shit goes south

berzerkers: shock infantry, cause dread in enemies lowering morale. chance of going berserk which makes them unbreakable but uncontrollable may even attack allies if they're the closest unit. REALLY FUCKING STRONG ON THE ATTACK! weak to ranged

yang's campaign is all about uniting vale as a tributary state to the tribe. you can recruit units from burned down buildings and still get money so spread like a wildfire and try to show your baby sis that it's safer under your protection. be aware that grimm are gonna be a huge problem for you so keep some bandits as a garrison in every village to deal with grimm.

"some of you may die... but I don't really give a shit about you" - Yang to the bandits probably

vale is a mix of American and French culture. so yeah kinda like Louisiana plantations but with more anime

Vaccuo: led by Jaune Arc

jaune specializes in pike infantry with heavy armor and heavy knights on horseback. he's set up to be a slugger with his special abilities

AURA AMP: allied units in jaune's aura slowly recover health and have increased stats (including armor)

SCION OF HEROES: the effects of chivalry are doubled and you gain it faster.

UNIQUE UNITS

shining knights: heavy knights with aura and mounts also in aura and armor. fuck you, fuck the guy behind you, and fuck the guy behind him I'm coming through. very expensive high morale and capabilities

rainbow guard: heavy pike infantry that proudly protect the standard of the arc family. give extra morale to those around them. fuck you they're not breaking. if there's even one guy left they're still fighting.

jaune's campaign is centered around taking control of the deserts and jungles of vaccuo from your origins in the mountains and hill country of the arc territories.

vaccuo's culture is like Scotland mixed with the middle east. fiercely independent people with a very strong sense of honor. also fuck you they'd rather die then be seen as a coward so you'd better just fucking kill them all. AND FUCK TAXES! so jaune has his work cut out for him, but he's in it for the long haul

MINSTRAL: LED BY PYRRHA NIKOS

pyrrha's all about personal combat and single entity units

INVINCIBLE GIRL: pyrrha herself is fucking busted and everyone wants to be like her. single entity units like huntsmen or companions are stronger and get more XP from battles

AN OFFER THEY CAN'T REFUSE: if pyrrha has more military power than someone they have improved relations with her. peacefully annexing people is possible this way. though this can cause a problem if you expand too fast

UNIQUE UNITS

pyrrha's guard: heavy spear infantry made in the image of spartans. slow but they decimate cav outlast ranged and out fight most over infantry. but they are fucking slow and hate being flanked where their phalanx will not work.

nora and ren: two unit entity, stealth shock is the name of the game ren sneaks them in close to anything even grimm. nora deals a fuck ton of damage all at once that can't be blocked by armor and shatters units. you only get one though sorry the world isn't ready for two noras

while sino/Greco/Roman culture makes martial ability the most important, however, only champions and highly expensive units can be trained. your low-level fighters (I.e most of your army) will have to be mercenaries. still with enough champions, you can take on most things so that's good

SCHNEE DUST COMPANY led by Weiss Schnee

atlas is all about dust weapons. a necessity because of but funded by Weiss's special abilities

COMPANY MEN: units require less upkeep cost

WEISSY: she's kinda a bitch, -50 to all diplomatic relations -75 to faunas factions

UNIQUE UNITS

WEISS GUARD: dust rifle units, slow to reload but longer range than normal dust muskets. dust round in general deal moral damage greater than almost any other units in the game (only yang's berzerkers and blake's beast-men scare people more)

BIG GUNS: 24LBS rifled field guns. or cannons rather for those who don't know the difference. fire straight and have an effective range of 1500 feet. highly accurate and with enough kick to drop even the largest of grimm

atlas and the SDC by extension are based on German and Russian culture (mainly german now that the nobles are gone) and have their main campaign focused on dealing with internal divisions and grimm. their cheaper units lends themselves to using dust arms rather than melee but bare in mind they suck in melee as a result. still, weiss is of the opinion that if you can kill your enemies from the comfort of your home and simply bombard them into submission or dust, why wouldn't you?

Menagerie led by Blake belladonna

menagerie must toe the line between animal and man, utilizing special abilities like

SAVAGE REPUTATION: the effects of dread are doubled and you gain dread faster

CUNNING HUNTERS: blake has bonuses to stats and the stats of her army while ambushing or attacking at night. doing both will make the bonuses stack

UNIQUE UNITS:

white fang infantry: can deploy anywhere light armor but use spears so cav has a hard time with them

NINJA: can deploy anywhere, inspire dread, use grenades flung from slings. capable of vanishing or using smoke bombs to lower enemy stats in melee for a short time

menagerie is a mix between Australian and Polynesian cultures but they are relatively new on the world stage. having been granted the island of menagerie in the brief time before the collapse of vale after the great war. the fuanas population outside of menagerie is very low as a result of the collapse and you have to ask yourself "what will you do to ensure the survival of your people?"

menagerie is a mix between Australian and Polynesian cultures but they are relatively new on the world stage. having been granted the island of menagerie in the brief time before the collapse of vale after the great war. the funas population outside of menagerie is very low as a result of the collapse and you have to ask yourself "what will you do to ensure the survival of your people?"

concepts.

chivalry: is a meter in the game, doing honorable actions increases chivalry. making formal declarations of war and waiting a turn to attack, not doing night battles, honoring alliances and calls to arms. generally making combat harder for yourself will be seen as chivalrous. the higher your chivalry the bigger bonus you will have to morale in battles and to diplomatic interactions.

dread: dread is the opposite of chivalry and is gained by doing unchivalrous actions. it will cause the enemy to start with lower moral and cause everyone (including yourself) to lose moral more quickly. this can be really helpful against strong enemies that have better weapons than you. it will also cause diplomatic relations to be harder. using dust muskets or cannons will cause dread but only in small amounts the more you use them the more dread you'll cause

post-campaign content

finishing your kingdom will open up international diplomacy and will allow you to start a campaign in another kingdom. each with different results based on the person you're playing

jaune can marry the ruler of another kingdom giving him their special abilities (jaune can only get dust muskets and cannons after he marries Weiss btw)

Pyrrha may offer protection to the others and gains their general unit for her own army

yang may extort tribute from them and treat them as the tributaries she had before gaining access to their unique units. ruby may offer bonds of friendship and do the same

blake may create embassies and get faunas versions of each unit (they can fight at night) as well as improve her chivalric reputation with each campaign (basically lets you gain the bonuses of dread without the negatives)

and Weiss may open up branch offices and have each character as a leader under her (you basically play the official campaign as the character you choose but with access to Weiss's abilities and units now as well)

you may only do one campaign at a time. so if you're jaune you have to subjugate yang and ruby in vale before you can try to marry weiss. you gotta finish what you started before you move on basically

on each map, there's an ancient grimm. this is a massive single-unit entity and has an army of grimm backing it. defeating this grimm will grant you a major bonus to happiness and prevent further grimm from showing up later.

single unit entities are very powerful but get weaker as their health goes down. their health will recover with time though

if you finish every campaign as a single character you unlock the grimm tide. salem has taken notice of you and wants you gone before ozma has a chance to bring you to his side. grimm will spawn every turn based on the unhappiness of cities in every kingdom you will wage a war all over the world against the grimm and try to hold on as unique and powerful generals lead hords of powerful grimm to attack you. these hords will even be supplemented by the grimm attracted to your unhappiness to keep your pops happy!

if you beat every general salem herself will come to take you out. she has an unending army that will constantly get reinforcement from offscreen every time you kill off a unit and she's a capable commander in her own right with powerful magic that will prevent you from camping too much (she's out of practice so she can only cast a spell every once in a while, be sure to move when you see the strange glow) if you can manage to get your character to her through her army you'll win and defeat her once and for all

@weatherman667 don't know if you play total war but had an idea for total war rwby and wanted to know your thoughts on the various kingdoms as lead by the main characters.

anyone else who sees this and has suggestions go nuts with it. it's just a bit of fun at the end of the day. how would you incorporate a character? what would their unique units be?

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jojoboisimagines · 3 years

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Johnny Joestar x Reader :: Wait for It :: Chapter 7

Previous chapter Next chapter

Summary: Gyro is hospitalized, and now Johnny has no one to turn to. That is, until a former female rider shows him a little compassion.

..::..

The atmosphere out in this grassy field felt much better to say the least. Probably the most comfortable you’d been throughout this whole race. No fighting, no people, and plenty of roaming space for your horse.

You and your riding partner, aka Johnny, had mostly eaten your leftovers in silence. He had devoured the meal a lot faster than you thought he would. He’s still growing, you guessed.

Laughing to yourself earned a side-eye from him, before wiping his hands of all the leftover crumbs. Johnny heaves a content sigh, staring at the empty to-go box. The man did a couple of arm stretches, seems like the food really wore him out. Or made him sleepy.

Now that you had a chance to unwind today, you couldn't help but realize how calm he was around you. He wasn’t wary or suspicious of you as far as you could tell, and he wasn’t really pushing you away when having conversations. He was just..doing his own thing.

Perhaps he was too busy missing his riding partner to even attempt to start any real conflict on his own.

Before you knew it, Johnny was back on his wheelchair, wheeling himself towards Slow Dancer to mount again. You were pretty much done with your own food as well. It was good, but not nearly good enough to start a bar fight for.

Standing on your feet, you dusted any excess grass from your pants. You knew you were probably gonna miss this spot, but it was better to go ahead and move on. There was still a lot you needed to learn, according to your ‘mentor’.

A cool, satisfying breeze passed by as you walked back up to your horse Soarin’. It really was a nice day out. You glanced over to Johnny, but he wasn’t on his horse yet. Actually, it looked like he was a bit angry. Furious even, if his face getting slightly red was any indication.

You looked up to see a familiar face, yet one you haven't seen since the beginning of the race.

What was his name again, you thought...DJ...Damon...oh, Diego.

You had practically no idea who this guy was, aside from the fact he was British and had stolen the lead for the majority of the race. You didn’t particularly know him because he was a foreign racer, you mainly focused on the popular riders in your own country.

Yet it seemed like Johnny had some prior business with him, evident by him almost literally seething in his seat.

"The hell do you want, Dio, leave us alone!" He pointed at the taller man, hoping itd emphasize how he wanted him to back off.

"Hmm..Where is the Italian idiot anyway? It's almost strange seeing you without being latched to his side like a Chihuahua." Diego said, dismissively of Johnny's threat.

The ex jockey gripped the handle of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles might turn white in a matter of minutes. Though his face said something different, like he was trying to keep his cool but his body couldn't help but demonstrate his frustration.

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"None of your business. Don't you have anything other to do than bother me?"

The Brit opened his mouth to say something else, before you caught his eye. The blue orbs quickly scanned you before looking back at Johnny.

"Oh? Having other racers aid you? Are you that desperate for help since you can't do anything alone?"

Johnny sneered. Did this guy get off on confronting someone just to insult and degrade them? There was nothing stopping Johnny from punching Diego in the face (except for onlookers, which he could care less about honestly) so he wasn't sure where he thought his hubris would get him, but if Jojo has any say in it, it'll get him in the hospital.

He had been so far in his own mind after that remark that he hadn't even realized your presence beside him now. You had already spoken up before he got the chance to tell you it wasn't worth it.

"Actually, I'm not helping him, he's helping me." You corrected the arrogant man.

Raising an eyebrow at you, he places a hand on his hip in a way that implies he really didn't care about what you said.

In that case, you wouldn't hold back either.

Dio puts his hand on his chest like a petty rich girl in high school.

"Who are you again? In all my time in this race I haven't seen you."

You knew that was a subtle jab about him being first and you being so far behind you were barely noticeable. Fists almost automatically balled up at that, but you'd control yourself for now.

"I'm sure you hardly look at anyone except your mirror. By now it's probably been splotched in horse manure by now, so really it's showing you what you've looked like all along."

Johnny snickers, and it's probably the cutest thing you've seen all day.

..in a friendly way of course.

His lip twitches, showing his teeth, a fang pointedly sticking out. Weird, you thought. You hadn't seen anyone with a fang in years.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dio tried to interrogate, but you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were just getting started on this guy.

"It means you look like horse shit, duh." Johnny answered, folding his arms. A small smirk still on his face.

“Watch it, Joestar.” Diego sneered. For someone who dished it out like second nature, he sure couldn’t take it. “One wrong move and I can ruin your standing in the race, AND your reputation--or at least, what’s left of it.”

You roll your (e/c) eyes. You’ve had enough of this guy, what was this, a playground?

“Dude shut up, if you want to prove anything then win the whole damn race and stop talking like you already have.” One more retort and you’ll fly off the handle at him.

Diego stays silent for a moment, before leaning in to your face, his nose inches from yours.

“I already have. You’re welcome to join me when you’re done playing in the mud with poor Jojo.”

Before you could reply, he reeled back and turned on his heel. You wanted to punch him so bad, how dare he talk down to you and your friend like this..

“Don’t do it (y/n).” You hear Johnny behind you. “As much as I wanna see it happen, he’s not wrong about being able to sabotage both of us.”

You grunted. “What could you possibly care about our ‘reputations’, Johnny? That was pure disrespect, and I can’t let it fly!”

“...” He was looking at the ground now, seeming like he was trying to find whatever reason he could to prevent you from firing off. Johnny sighs.

“Look, I’ll be straightforward with you. I’m not in the race for money or status.”

You turned around at that, fairly confused.

“I’m in this race to..learn a technique from my friend, Gyro. I could care less about the stuff Diego desperately wants me to so he can have ammo to bug me with. However, you seem pretty set on trying to prove yourself that you can do this. I’ve seen it when we train.”

“..Seen what?”

Johnny pauses.

“Your determination. This is probably gonna sound dumb, but your eyes, they’ve been different. Like there’s some kind of fire in them now. Honestly, since joining this race, I can relate. Its part of why i’m still deciding to help you after you’ve..” His eyes become sarcastically half lidded. “Gotten me into almost two fights now.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What on Earth was this man saying anymore? Though you wouldn’t deny, it was a bit encouraging to hear.

The scoff was a bit off-putting to him, and he took another pause. He looked a little...flustered? You weren’t sure what that meant. Did you make him feel stupid on accident?

“That’s why...I’m not letting you take the chance to have Diego potentially ruin all your chances. This training would be for nothing.”

Something inside you suspected there was another reason, but you wouldn’t question it. Walking forward to him, you bent over to meet his eye level in his chair.

“Fine. I’ll beat up Diego after the race is over. Let’s get to our horses.” You take the wheelchair handles and starting walking towards Slow Dancer.

You couldn’t see it but, Johnny had a faint smile on his face.

#jjba #jojo #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #diego brando x reader #Johnny Joestar #diego brando #johnny joestar x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #Steel Ball Run #jojo part 7

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system76 · 3 years

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Behind the Scenes of System76: Industrial Design

Since moving into a factory space in 2018, System76 has delved deeper and deeper into manufacturing hardware in-house. Three years later, we’ve introduced five Thelio desktops, fine-tuned the hardware, developed our fully configurable Launch keyboard, and optimized our production processes. Helming the design process is Mechanical Engineer John Grano, who wears a number of different hats here. We sat down with John this week to discuss industrial design and the team behind our beautiful open source hardware.

How would you describe industrial design for people unfamiliar with the term?

To me, industrial design is basically the art of making something into a usable product. In industrial design, you have to balance looks and function, and that drives your form. It’s kind of like hardware UX in that it’s really important to have the right feel. If you can make the system connect better with people, they’ll like it more. Adding that softness we do with Thelio, like slightly rounded edges and darker wood, it makes it a little more approachable to have a semi-natural looking system and not something that’s blinking at you with red lights all the time.

System76 itself is a group of hardcore programmers and people that are really into Linux, but I think the idea of trying to democratize Linux is extremely important. If you can create something that doesn’t have that robotic aesthetic, it will provide people with something that feels more familiar and usable. No one really wants to go sit in a car that looks like a square with wheels on it. They want something that makes them feel something, maybe openness or comfort, when they’re in it.

What inspired you to get into mechanical engineering, and how did you end up at System76?

The way my brain works lends itself well to engineering, for better or for worse. There’s a lot of really solid engineers who don’t have much creativity, and then there are a lot of people who have great creative ability, but can’t do math. I kind of fluctuate in the middle; I wouldn’t say I’m the best at math or the most creative person in the entire world, but I have enough of each that the combination pushed me towards mechanical engineering. I like working with my hands, and it’s more of a study of how things work in the real world versus computer science, which is a purely digital and nontangible practice.

During school I worked mainly as a bike mechanic, and that helped me to think about how to build things better. That led me to my first internship at a bike company working in a wind tunnel, which was really fun. Realizing that I could probably never get a job there—or at least one that would pay me enough to live—I started working at an environmental engineering company, where I prototyped scientific sampling systems for R&D that would process materials with all these gasses at really high heat and tried not to die. It was kind of fun making these large-scale systems that were basically just gigantic science experiments, but I didn’t really have the creative outlet I wanted in terms of making something that looks good.

One of the main things that drew me to System76 was being able to have a solid influence on what tools we were able to use and how we were going to push the design. In the past three years, it’s pretty wild to see what we’ve been able to accomplish coming from a completely empty warehouse to being able to crank out parts.

I had also previously, while working at these scientific instrument companies, been working with a local company to design and develop a cargo bicycle, so I had that experience as well in terms of consumer product development with overseas manufacturing. I think that helped get me in the door here.

Let’s talk a bit about your team. Who do you collaborate with on a typical day?

It’s a very small team and everyone does a lot. I pretty much lead the mechanical engineering team slash design team...slash manufacturing team. Being a small company, we are all wearing a bunch of different hats. Aside from doing the initial design work on all of our Thelio desktops and the Launch keyboard, I also program our laser-punch machine and our brake press and run through all of the design for manufacturing hang ups that show up. Those changes tend to be a result of our current tools, and internal capabilities.

Crystal came on last August as our first CNC Machinist. She heads up all of the machining, trains our operators, makes sure our parts are coming out in a nice clean fashion, and has done a lot of work on minimizing machine time and maximizing the parts we can get out. She also provides really great feedback on what's possible and what kind of special fixtures or tools we'll need to make for a specific part. Around the same time we picked up our first Haas 3-axis CNC mill to start working on the Launch project. That led to some other opportunities to make parts for Thelio and improve the feel of some of the parts that we were pumping out.

We just hired Cary, who came from a similar background as me in consumer product development, as well as low-scale scientific machine development. He’s going to help build manufacturing tools for us, and he’s only been here now for two or three weeks. Going forward, Cary will be heading up the Thelio line long-term, and I’ll be moving to some interesting R&D work.

And Zooey?

Zooey doesn’t really do much. She just kind of sits there and waits for people to feed her their lunch. I take her out for walks during the day so she can get away from everyone petting her. She doesn’t like when they do that.

What was the R&D process like for Launch?

Launch is a less complicated product in that we don’t have to deal with things like cooling. Even dropping a PCB into aluminum housing deals with multiple processes, like using the laser and CNC machine. This was a start to looking at those processes to see how much time it takes to produce parts, the costs going into making them, and monitoring the cutting quality. You have to be familiar with the machines and know what you’re looking for when you see a tool going dull.

We first let the software experts do their thing and optimize a layout they wanted for their programming life. Then I was given that template, built a couple of sheet metal chassis that we wired up to test that layout, and made a bunch of little changes to that to get that right secret sauce for our keyboard-centric workflow in Pop!_OS. Once we got a sheet metal product that we were sure was going to be usable, we decided officially that we were going to pursue making a keyboard. That came with a whole new set of manufacturing requirements that we would have to look into.

We spent a ton of time working on pocket profile. When you look at a Launch, you’ll see that it’s not a perfect rectangle. That’s because when you’re using a mill, you have a round tool, so you can go through and get close to a pretty small radius on the corner, but you can never make it exact. If we wanted to get a very small, tight pocket, we’d have to use a very small cutter that takes an extremely long period of time.

We’re taking raw billet, which are these huge 12-foot-long sticks of aluminum that we cut down to get our final product. We went with a rounded rectangle so that we could use our cutter and decrease the overall time to machine that part. There was a lot of work in that and making sure the pockets were all 13.95mm versus 13.9mm versus 14.1mm.

We also did a lot of R&D on how we go about putting the angle bar on. Magnetic assembly seemed to be a good idea. We went from trying to glue magnets in to doing what's called press fitting. The bars come right out of powder coating while they’re nice and warm, when the aluminum is slightly larger than when it cools down. Those magnets aren’t actually adhered to anything in the bars; they’re squeezed in nice and tight from the aluminum cooling and contracting around them. That’s called a press fit, and doing that makes the process faster and less expensive.

It’s similar with the bottoms of Launch; we have steel plates that we press fit into that part as opposed to gluing or screwing, but that we do before powder coating; steel rusts, and we don’t want someone opening up their keyboard in a year and finding a little bit of rust floating underneath their super high-end PCB. So we do that, sand it down, use our media blaster to clean off the surface from the tool paths you see from the mill, and then we powder coat it through and through.

Word on the Denver streets is that Thelio Major is getting a redesign soon. What does that entail?

We’re bringing Thelio Major a lot more in line with Thelio Mega in terms of a different PCI mount for graphics cards, because we know that’s been a pain point for a lot of our users. We want to provide a little bit more robust installation for these graphics cards, which continue to increase in size and weight. The NVIDIA 3000-series cards are almost a pound heavier in some instances, and that’s a lot of weight to be shipping across the country.

We also want to continue to make Thelio Major cooler and quieter when it’s running with these new GPUs. Our new brake press allows us to make radius bends on parts, so we’re starting to run through R&D of a laser-welded external. It’s a wholesale departure from us using custom brackets and 3M VHB tape. That will provide a nicer finished product to our end user, and it’ll allow us to make our product faster with less material and less steps.

What qualities do you look for when adding someone to the team?

Creativity is extremely important. As a small manufacturing company, our priorities can shift on a day or in an afternoon where we don’t have the full line of product anymore. There are all sorts of examples in the past few years of times where you have to react pretty quickly. The motherboard’s been EOL’d, or we have to change our sheet metal design, build a new part, things like that. Making sure that someone can adapt to those changes on a moment’s notice is one of the key parts of the job.

We also want people who get excited about a new challenge and have the desire to keep improving something. I look for people who like to make things and go back in and refine it and not hold it up on this pillar. It’s good to not look at something like it’s perfect.

You have a lot of love for your Audi. What do you love about it over other options?

I like German cars. We have a family of them. They’re high-performance and not too expensive if you do all the work on it yourself. There’s a huge after-market community that tunes and changes these cars, which is pretty fun. Plus I prefer the metric system. Having a standard system drives me nuts, because what the [REDACTED] are fractions?

My real love, though, is bikes. I love tuning and riding bikes, and I love that more than I like to work on cars. It comes out of tinkering. I work with carbon fiber, I’ve done a lot of repairs on bikes over the years—there’s a certain sense of freedom you get from riding a bike that you can’t get from anything else. Not motorcycles, not cars.

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Explosive Chemistry

Summary: Chemistry labs can be a bit tedious. Nothing laser vision can’t fix though.

A/n: You can all blame @birdy-bat-writes for this fluff and @knightfall05x for the amazing mood board. This might feel a little rushed so apologies and Clark is kind of hard to write (ope). Anyway, here is your regularly scheduled comedy. Thanks again to @knightfall05x for proof reading!

warning: swearing, reader’s terrible moral compass, and some injury

masterlist

You met Clark- Well, ‘met’ might be too formal a word for what happened.

You discovered Clark during a mundane Metropolis afternoon. Taking a break from your studies (read: a group project that had not been going smoothly), you hopped on to a trail car to go to your favorite sandwich shop right across from your favorite diner.

The sandwich shop itself was nothing too special, not in a good way at least. It was even what your delicately paletted father had politely described as ‘subpar’ which as far as you knew was the worst insult he could give. Frank- the owner- was, of course, inclined to disagree. You were, on the other hand, inclined to agree with the opinion especially after biting into a raw piece of chicken in one of their “famous” chicken sandwiches. But it was cheap and it offered the best view of the diner across the street.

In truth, you liked the food at the diner better. Their blueberry pancakes were absolutely delightful, at least, on Mondays. But more than anything you found more delight in watching its contained chaos. You’ve watched people propose, get divorced, have fights, and everything else in between. The sheer absurd theatrics of it all captivated you. It was people-watching at its finest. Frank just thought it was creepy to which you simply nodded and nibbled at your sandwich.

As you watched the usual ensemble cast in the diner, you witness a tall, handsome guy with black hair and blue eyes get mugged. Ok, well, almost get mugged. He was a big boi so you weren’t entirely surprised when he was easily able to stop the scrawny knife-wielding assailant. What did surprise you were the proceeding events. To your utter disbelief (and amusement); instead of throwing the guy into the gutter as custom dictates, the buff guy just guided his assailant to the diner and had a chat with him. You chew your sandwich slowly as you watch them talk as if nothing strange had occurred minutes before, digesting the odd comedy unfolding before your eyes.

Moments later and a few tears shed, they parted ways. You frowned thinking that would be the end of it and you were about to whine to Frank about how anticlimactic that was. But then it just kept going.

He got mugged.

Again.

And again.

By the fourth time, Frank sat beside you to watch finally leaving the spot he was polishing alone. Repeated muggings were weird enough but the guy kept inviting them to talk. You choked every time but made no move to intervene, only nibbling at your sandwich and watching with near clinical interest.

After the fifth mugging, Frank raised a challenging brow at you as you continued to chew on your sandwich. You shrug at him as if to say ‘I’m eating what do you want me to do?’. Frank’s eyes didn’t leave you even as another mugger approached the buff guy. You cut him a look and chew a little faster. For a guy running what is most likely a money-laundering scheme, he sure was noble.

Having finally finished your sandwich, you wave your hand halfheartedly to Frank, your middle finger extended skyward. Kicking the shop door open and jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets, you made your way to the other side of the street ignoring the cars driving past you, blowing and whipping the skirt of your dress every which way.

Neither of them pays you any mind as you approach them, which was just as well. You shifted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder deciding whether to use it. Your laptop was in there so probably not. You decide to christen your new flattops by giving the man a good harsh kick in his nether regions. He goes down with a squeak.

“Scram!” You snarl, baring your teeth. In a surprisingly well-coordinated motion, he does, looking honestly scared for his life. You pivot to the guy who you assume is some kind of tourist.

Most people would say that Clark towered over you but the truth was that no matter how tall Clark was he couldn’t really measure up to the height of you. Nothing about you was inherently intimidating, especially as you stand before him in flat tops, hoodie, and short dress, except maybe for your shoulders. But that had less to do with their actual shape and more to do with how uncommonly broad they were compared to the rest of your body. Some people say it made you look like an angry dorito to which you unfailingly replied with something Clark would rather not repeat. At least, not in polite company.

You regard him with a pinched brow which makes Clark straighten as you openly assess him. You memorize the angles of his features, all the sharpness and corners of it not noticeable due to the softness of the way he carries himself in a typical hometown boy kind of way. You note your university’s logo on the edge of his sweatshirt.

You reach your hand out. “Y/n L/n but just call me Y/n”

“Clark Kent” He answers, shaking your hands. You note the distinct midwestern shape of his syllables which explained a lot.

“Yanno muggers aren’t exactly good speed dating partners, right?”

Clark smiled at the, admittedly, terrible joke. By the way, your eyes flash with interest, he’ll be seeing a lot of you.

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Your foot bounced erratically against the metal bar serving as your stool’s footrest. You watched the thermometer with a pinched face and a ticking brow as the mercury in it remains unmoving. Your mounting frustration amusing Clark making him cover his mouth. You fix him with a look and the door actually whistles “innocently” and looks away, pretending to be intently reading the procedure as if you two haven’t been reading it for the past half hour trying to figure out why your solution wasn’t boiling. His baby blues none-too-subtly flicking in your direction. You give him one last scathing look, which he easily glances off, before turning back to your solution. His eyes have been flickering at you as if he’s been meaning to ask you a question. That question likely being ‘could you possibly stop looking like you’re going to murder the molecules in our solution’. His eyes flicker again to watch you seethe and pout at the liquid and it takes everything in Clark not to tease you about being cute.

Bouncing your leg again, you gently turn the hot plate’s nob until the screen reads 1000 F. Clark makes a choked sound, finally tearing his attention away from what you assumed to be a particularly interesting semicolon. Clark reaches over and turns the damned thing back down to 300 F. You glare at him before, violently, turning it back up to 1000. Clark just as quickly turns it back down.

Click

You two continue on like this for a while ‘til your instructor, pinching his nose, strolls over to your lab bench to politely tell you to knock it off. With a shrug, you two settle on 650 F as your compromise. You, however, continue to glower at the solution while Clark peruses through the next lab distinctly reminding you of someone in the waiting room of a dentist’s office which makes you scrunch your nose and worsen the impatient ticking of your limbs. “Glaring at it won’t make it go faster,” Clark chuckled in his Midwestern sweater voice. You had the urge to pour the hot acid of the flask on to him but you suppressed the urge mainly because it wouldn’t actually hurt and pouring it on him meant starting over and that just sounded tragic.

You place your hands primly on your lap and spin your chair towards Clark. “Not all of us can watch grass grow, Paul Bunyan.” You snip. Clark shakes his head at you, whether it’s from your tone or the nickname you can’t tell. All you could discern was that it irritated him and some petty part of you was satiated the way old gods were when someone made an acceptable sacrifice.

“Is that what you think we do in Kansas?” Your first impulse is to say ‘yes’ even if it wasn’t the truth. You thought better of it though. Picking a fight with Clark Kent was a terrible idea, superstrength or not. You were, of course, familiar with Kansas as a concept the same way you were familiar with Mars. Both seemed equally distant, equally alien, and equally irrelevant as such you never dedicated too much thought to it. The last one might have changed a bit with your chance encounter with Clark. You remember him mentioning going home for Thanksgiving Break. You also distinctly remember wanting to ask if you could come along. After all, you didn’t have much in the way of killing time during holidays seeing as most of your relatives were overseas and the relatives you did have here were indisposed either due to work or due to other families. You felt silly thinking about it now and even sillier contemplating how you would explain the special brand of unpleasantness of being bored over the holidays. Maybe you should get a boyfriend- your eyes flicker to Clark but you shake your head- or a girlfriend or maybe friends who weren’t either foreign exchange students or farm boys from Kansas with laser vision.

You whip your head to Clark who was mumbling something about not staring at the grass. He frowns at you, not finishing his sentence.

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

“The bad idea look.”

“I do not”

“Ok, let me rephrase. The let’s do something stupid for science look.”

You huff indignantly. Clark looks unfazed and a little smug. You did not have that kind of look and sue, you’ve asked once or ten times to use his powers to do something ridiculous but this was a matter of importance.

“Use your heat vision”

“Wha-”

“Heat vision. Flask. Go faster.” You punctuate each word with a wild flick or gesticulation of your hands.

Clark moves his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his sharp nose.“We’re not going to use my heat vision-”

“-Yes, we are.”

“No, we aren’t. Do you want me to list the ways this could go wrong?”

“Relax, my human shield is invincible.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Yup.”

“I really can’t convince you?”

“Nope.”

“What if I just don’t?”

“Then I dip out and break into a different lab to get a bunsen burner.”

Clark laughs, shaking his head fondness seeping into his smile. It made your heart melt and your face heat. You know you’ve won when Clark moves his seat closer to you. For some reason, Clark always insisted on sitting just a little farther from you no matter the circumstance.

You two lean in. Clark gives you a side glance. “For the record, I said this was a bad idea.”

“Fine, I’ll quote you on that once I’ve won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry.”

Clark snorts. He removes his glasses, the blue of his eyes shifting to an angry red. It makes your breath hitch every time being reminded just how dangerous your sweet, gentle best friend really is.

You watch the liquid in the flask begin to boil and you make a noise of triumph, throwing your arms up in the air in delight. Clark smiles at you and you feel a little embarrassed by your reaction but the smile on your face doesn’t disappear. You both lean back and you toss him a smug smile. He huffs at you amused and rolls his eyes.

“Fine, not all of your ideas are-”

Crack.

Shatter.

Shards of glass fly everywhere as the flask shatters. You yelp high and surprised. Clark pulls you into his arms shielding you from the glass and hot acid. You hiss when a shard cuts against the delicate skin of your forehead. You’re numb as you feel the blood trickling staining Clark’s shirt. Your senses were more focused on the way he wraps his arms around you and how safe you feel despite the graze on your forehead.

“Y/n, Clark, are you two ok?”

You hear the frantic footsteps approach you but neither of you pulls away. You just focus on how tightly Clark holds you against himself. You feel the flex of his large muscles as he pulls you closer.

“We’re fine sir but I think Y/n needs to go to the clinic.”

Do you?

Your fingers rise up your forehead and your stomach drops a little when they come away red. You’re aware that you’re bleeding but it takes some time for the knowledge to fully sink in. Your professor is practically shoving you out of the room by the time you even make any move to react.

“Y/n, I-”

“I swear to god if you say I told you so I’ll punch you in the face-” You look into his eyes, your voice amazingly calm. He opens his mouth again. “- and if you say I’m sorry I’ll punch you in the dick.” His mouth closes and you both fall silent even as you go down the hall towards the university’s health office which was just a glorified clinic with the addition of counselors and a waiting room with Rubix cubes instead of magazines. Clark doesn’t loosen his grip on your shoulder even as you wait for the nurse to come out and treat you.

Your mind feels far less frantic than it did a few moments ago.

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Clark jokes offhandedly.

You snort at the remark and glare at him without any real venom. “You really aren’t as nice as people say you are.”

“Nope.”

“Jackass.”

This draws a tired laugh from him. “Well, I’m sorry. Why don’t I make it up to you then?”

“Unless you’ve got a Porsche in your back pocket”

He winces. You snort again.

“How bout coffee?” You blink at him. “Or maybe dinner? This Friday?” He adds with a hopeful lilt.

“Just as long as you don’t invite a mugger to come along.”

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THANKS FOR READING

taglist: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell

#superman #superman x y/n #superman x reader #my writing #clark kent #clark kent x reader #superfam #kind of #in the future if I continue with this reader

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

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“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #16:

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A/N: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii babies!!!!!!!!!! Let’s fucking goooooooooooooo! I’m excited for y’all to read this juicy marathon. As of right now, I am unsure of how many collections it will be but it’s going to be one of the longest marathons ii. Check back every 20 minutes or so if you caught this immediately. Oh and I will be trying again to put my post under a read more but if it fucks up an deletes half the chapter again I am DONE and I TRIED okay??? xo

***ALSO I did not add my taglist to the last marathon so you guys might have missed collections 13-15!!!!***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Your Losty Heartbreak and Your Spy Kids Debut 😎🖊📚

Sigh. The curse of being a young adult, I tell ya.

You are annoyed.

Yes, two months after the breakup you are still completely heartbroken, even though, yes, it was your genius idea to break up with the love of your life: a man that girls only dream about having as a S/O….

but it was a selfless decision.

Aone Takanobu deserved more, better… than you. That was your rationale.

It’s not fair of you to just accept the perfect man because he was lost enough to lock onto you and not someone on his level.

While it was a selfless decision , it was still a decision you selfishly regretted because …you were so in love with that man at the time that you did it….

You are….

But you will stifle those emotions so that he can get over you and hopefully see his own worth.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be annoyed. Because you were. And at what, exactly? Well:

After dating and breaking up with him, Aone had females constantly approaching him. A/N: Not constantly but it felt that way for you ofc lol

You guess it’s nice that the females of Date Teko gave him the courtesy of one month to get over you but STILL!

Kusa and Katana said that Takanobu’s admirers shot up because everyone witnessed how he treated you, how amazing he was to you, and they fell for that along with his looks.

Your ex’s new admirers are hoping they can get a man that just as inwardly beautiful as he is outwardly and hopefully he will like them, too

In other words: They want what you had.

And what did you want?

Well:

You wanted to rip some hair out. Yours or theirs? You’ll leave that up to subjective interpretation.

EVERY TIME you walked past your ex—that you still love—’s locker there was some brat or another staring up at him in admiration like he was Mount fucking Everest.

You wanted to scream.

but isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N? Your Mountain man to find someone else? Your conscience would ask.

Shut the hell up, conscience. You’d bark back.

You heard from Katana who was keeping tags on his every admirer that he denied them all dates (which defeats the purpose of your break-up, but you smiled nonetheless) but that Aone did agree to host a study session with a group of girls that apparently begged/needed his help in all subjects before finals.

give me a fucking break, you and your conscious agreed.

“Ugh. He’s too kind for his own good. Can’t he see those girls just want an excuse to be near him?!?!” You raged about the study session as you peered closely through the passenger side window to make sure that Kusa got inside her house safely. It was 6pm, and you had just heard the news while on the way home from dinner at your favourite restaurant. Katana drove. From her doorstep, Kusa waved at you before closing her door.

This Saturday, your best friends forced you on your first outing since the breakup, dressing you and even doing your makeup despite your complaining about leaving the house. You had to admit that the food that you did order at the restaurant was decent enough, but really—you would much prefer to still be in bed, flipping through pictures of Aone and Perdu and having a good cry.

Katana rolled her eyes as she stopped at a red light, responding to your initial question. “Ugh. Yeah, they are smarter than we thought. But you’re okay with this, right? I mean this is what you said you wanted when you broke up with him. You said you want him to find a new girl,”” Katana fished for your true feelings, sounding a lot like your annoying conscience.

You sulked, picturing other females near the man you are in love with. It made you sick. But, instead, you said, “Of course I am Okay with it. I want him to be the happiest he can be.”

Katana fixed her eyes on the road and bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t laugh.

You had no idea why you weren’t being fully honest with your friends, but perhaps it made you believe it more the more you said it aloud. “I know Kusa had that assignment to do tonight… and you have that one with Kenji tomorrow, right? so do you want to come over? My mom got me another tub of cookie dough ice cream, and we can rewatch Bad Girls Club again.” You asked Katana in that voice that meant you didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Katana smirked. It was an evil smirk. “I’ll do you one better.”

“Uhhh… Katana….you missed my turn.” Your eyes widened when the cheer captain passed your street, and then passed her own street a few seconds later. “Katana!”

“Word on the cheer team is that Aone-san’s first study session ends in 20 at the local library. I wanna check it out.”

“What?! No you will not—!” You yelled, but you couldn’t help the surge of excitement that flew through your body thinking about seeing that man again. It was always like this.

“—Oh, lighten up— it’s not like I will be joining the damn study session.”

“You won’t?” You asked, surprised.

“Obviously not! Muri is studying something else there, so I need to give her back her notes anyway. It’s only a plus that I’ll get to see how desperate those girls are being with my besties ex. Incognito, kay? I was going to drop you off first and go, but it looks like you don’t wanna be alone. Right?”

Your pretty best friend waited a few seconds for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she nodded. “Exactly.” She turned into the school’s practically empty parking lot, finding her favourite spot. “So, you can stay in the car. No prob. And I won’t tell you anything about it.”

You frowned, watching as Katana reached in the backseat for her purse so that she could take out the notes she had for Muri.

“Okay,” you whispered anxiously.

“I’ll be like, 10 minutes.” The brunette removed her keys from the ignition and stepped outside of her car.

You stayed where you were as Katana’s figure disappeared into the one of the Date Teko’s many entrances. You began to think about what your friend was going to see in there: Aone leaning over the shoulder of pretty Date Teko girls? Helping them with their homework the way he would help you? These girls smelling his fresh icy mountain scent, and leaning in closer, the way you would to him?

Naturally, you began to panic internally.

You pictured the girls twirling their hair flirtatiously and telling him that they didn’t understand when they did, just to keep him hovering over them longer. The same way you used to.

😤😤😤

Your foot started tapping on its own inside Katana’s car, thinking about how your lost ex-boyfriend wouldn’t even pick up any of it as flirting, ugh.

Your imagination created even more concerning visuals: more giggling, more oblivious Aone, more shoulder brushing, more oblivious Aone, and then some more….. yeah. Should it really have come as no surprise that you soon found yourself hidden behind a dusty bookshelf in the anatomy section of your school’s library on a Saturday, squatted down and peeping through the slits between books to catch glimpses of your ex boyfriend hosting a study session?!

You blamed your active imagination.

Behind the dusty shelves, you whimpered because the obstructed vision due to the books covered the white haired beauty perfectly. You held a disgusting book to the right a bit.

“Oh,” your stomach flipped. “He looks so cute.” You put on a 🥺 face when you noticed how utterly adorable a standing Takanobu looked decked out in forest green sweatpants and a matching hoodie with the hood on, and his white hair barely visible.

Your stomach flips were quickly bumped away by sheer annoyance as you saw him then do exactly what brought you up here, just as you thought: innocently leaning down to help a blonde third-year girl you knew by the name of Sutairu Elyts with a question she was asking. She was smiling way too much for someone doing boring ass school work on Saturday, you noted. Flipping her hair, giggling, and obnoxiously putting her cleavage in Aone’s line of sight. You picked up the dusty library book that was obstructing your view and stopped yourself from tossing it at Sutairu— instead choosing to toss it to the side without a care in the world, trying to get a closer look at how close the girl was going to get while Aone answered her question.

You were close to literally poking your head through the bookshelf hole completely, when someone to the left of your hiding spot cleared their throat very loudly. You jumped, bumping your head and hissing in pain.

You removed your head from the bookshelf and looked up at the cause of your newfound migraine.

There stood Katana, her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. “You got here faster than I thought,” She reached down to help you up. “Now, come on. None of this amateur shit. You know my style. When it comes to cute boys: make it obvious, and make it count.”

***

Aone was in the middle of teaching Algebra to a group of students (he doesn’t register the fact that they are all conveniently female and all too well dressed for a study session) who had desperately begged him for his help, to the point where the teacher just asked Aone to do it.

He didn’t mind, the teacher offered him extra credit and everyone he was teaching was nice, they didn’t mind him being pretty silent, plus Kenji fully supported it. So why not? Aone mainly supported it because it was a great distraction from his broken heart and his plan….

Or so he thought it would be—before he spotted you in the library.

His heart skipped a beat because he absolutely was not expecting to see you today. His plan wasnt supposed to be put into action until Monday! Trying not to freak out, Aone watched you enter from a side that wasnt the entry way—which is pretty odd—but he shoved the thought to the side anyway because there you were, looking busy.

“Wow.” Takanobu couldn’t stop himself from mouthing when his eyes found you. He mouthed it to himself, of course, but it caused the observant participants in his study group to whip around to see what he was looking at.

you were dressed pretty casually, coming from dinner with the girls, but Aone hadn’t seen you dressed in anything other than your school or cheer uniforms since your breakup, so it took him by surprise

Not to mention you looked really, really, really good:

Aone watched you scan the bookshelves with Katana—which, if Takanobu was thinking straight— he would realistically call bs on you ever coming to the library for no reason, ESPECIALLY on a Saturday— but you looked too gorgeous to him to care

Now that he is working alongside you in a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression a bit, simply because your mere presence made him feel whole again, so he basked in the delight he felt any time he was able to see you.

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you want to be with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again.

The premise of Aone’s plan presides on the idea that you are the only girl he wants. Therefore, he just has to prove that to you. Silently. Strategically.

So that’s the only reason why Aone was able to to shift his focus right now and look away from you, effectively returning to helping his study group and making them forget you even walked in.

Aone’s mission is to become the man that you want and need, naturally. He will exude more confidence: which is a testament to the fact that he was here right now: tutoring a bunch of girls who have asked him out and he has rejected before because of you,

He wants word to get back to you that your ex is the type of guy who knows how to be just friends with people who had feelings for him. Just in case you wanted to start there with him.

He wants to be your friend. Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if that’s all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that is what he would willingly accept!

Aone forced himself to look back down, getting up to step around the circular table to help with the other girls’ study guides.

He was able to keep his cool for the most part, but almost lost it twice...

Once when you dropped a book and bent down to pick it up, showcasing how amazing your butt looked in those jeans.

Aone cleared his throat to get his own attention back and turned away quickly when he felt a familiar stir under his sweatpants. He stuffed his hands deep in his sweatpants pockets and directed his energy back to the paper in front of him. He erased an answer for one of his students and plugged in the correct one.

The second time Takanobu almost lost his cool was when he heard you make a cute noise and his eyes flicked back up to you. You were trying to reach a book that was too high for you but probably met the height of his ear, your hand above your head, your bodyweight on your toes which gravitationally rose your top up as well, exposing the naked skin on your lower back.

Aone’s throat went dry and he bit back a groan because the last time he’d stared at that lower back of yours so intensely: you were in a perfect arch, naked, using his dick to pleasure yourself when he told he was on the phone.

Cue hands in pockets again.

He recalled how that section of your back had a light layer of sweat on it back then, making it glisten as he bit his lip, trying not to moan to the feeling of your tight and juicy walls running up and down his length. Holy, shit, that feel good.

Aone began thinking about helping you get that book and then fucking you against that bookshelf you were leaning on: holding you up in his arm, the other hand used to place it behind your head as a cushion so that you did not harm yourself when he sheathed his big dick inside your absolutely perfect box, so hot and so delicious, and soo hard not to cum inside within the first minute…..

👁👅👁 Aone’s eyes glazed over to the point where one of his tutor-ies had to snap their fingers in front of his face.

Highly embarrassed, Takanobu pulled it together ASAP, muttering a quick and sincere apology and thinking only of his plan. Trusting in his plan, he refused to look up in your general direction again. He didn’t trust himself to.

***

“He barely looked my way….” You sobbed into your cookie dough ice cream later that night, Katana rubbing your back and removing your hair out the tub.

“Please, Y/N,” Katana begged, absolutely gutted seeing her best friend like this. “Please be honest with yourself and make sure you truly stand by the decision you made.”

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A New Aone and a Perfect Plan? ✅🤩

Mountain Man put absolutely all of his energy into his plan to get you back. His understanding is that you broke up with him because he wasn’t good enough for you, so that means he would just have to make himself good enough for you. While Kenji was completely against Aone trying to get back the girl who broke his heart, Kenji found himself agreeing with the plan since it meant that his best friend would be speaking, playing volleyball, and overall living life again while it was in action. The plan was to essentially fake it till you make it—show you that Takanobu could be the man you deserved.

The gist of the plan was for Aone to disallow himself to be zombie-like anymore, because you probably didn’t like that. He started spending more time with his friends again, and he was eating again. He was banking on this plan, and if it didn’t work—sure, he’d be crushed for the rest of his life—but at least he’d have no regrets. It wouldn’t be easy, he’d have to speak back to other females kindly letting them down when all he wanted to do was speak to you. He’d have to ignore you when you walked by which meant going against his every instinct, and he’d have to speak to you confidently in class when you two were working on the project and small talk about your lives, when all he wanted to do was lean in and kiss you until he could taste you even when he pulled away.

Thoughts of you consumed him, still, but they were now hopeful thoughts. He was not going to let his dream girl walk away that easily.

A/N: GO BABY GOOOOO

You, on the other hand, took this new and confident Aone as a sign that he was getting over you. He didn’t seem very sad anymore, you didn’t see that same dejected and lost eyes you saw when he pushed his best friend away from you. You saw intensity there, like he was now focused on a new task in his life. It confused you, and it hurt like a bitch, because deep down you knew he’d move on soon and you wouldn’t.

But this is what you wanted, right? 🙄🙄Repeated your conscience, again. You really wanted to fight her.

“Y/N, you seem out of it today.” Mountain Man stopped writing the outline of the content analysis in class to stare down at you. You could see the concern in his eyes, but you refused to believe it was anything more than the concern anyone would feel for an ex turned friend, and nothing more.

Embarrassed, you realized that you must have zoned-out, and now this gorgeous man that you wanted to jump was calling you out on your odd behaviour. “W-was I?’ You shook your head then looked down in your lap. “Sorry.”

Aone placed his pencil down, heart pounding because he wanted that frown of yours to disappear so badly. “Is it about your University Cheerleading tryouts?” He asked kindly, too kindly—if you had any hope of getting over him in the next 5 years.

You looked up at him, confused as to why he’d even mention that.

The white haired beauty blushed. “Kogane—he, uh, well…” Aone took a second to look away and collect his thoughts because your big beautiful eyes were making him lose his train of thought. He reminded himself of his plan and collected himself, returning to your gaze. “Kogane-san mentioned to Kenji and I this morning that Kusa needed someone to film her audition tape, because that is the only way cheerleaders are able to send in your tryouts for schools that are too far away, correct?”

“Oh,” You nodded. “Ya—“

Aone continued without missing a beat. “I know Kogane is helping film Kusa’s, and you mentioned yesterday that Katana is out of town for a camp… so, and feel free to say no: but I’d love to offer you my help, Y/N. With filming and editing.”

There was a pause in which you just looked at Aone with those big beautiful eyes that he thinks about 24/7.

Afraid that he might be coming onto way too strong, which goes against his super slow plan, Takanobu adds: “As friends. Offer you my help as friend.”

Your heart sunk, but he looked so sweet asking, not to mention you really did need to get on that tryout instead of pushing it off until you miss it completely and don’t end up going to University—

If you didn’t get a cheer scholarship you were screwed; Aone knew this. Not to mention you would love to see him more; Aone did not know this.

“I’ve taken photography as my elective for the past three years and do pretty well in that class in terms of grades, so I just thought…” Mountain Man was scared shitless, nervously listing off his accomplishments like this was an interview…. mostly due to the fact that you hadn’t answered him yet. Too fast, she can tell you want her back—now she’ll never give you another chance. Failure. Aone opened his mouth to retract his offer, but you interrupted him before he could get the first word out.

“Um, yes. Sure. I’d love your help, Aone-san. I promise it won’t take long. Thank you so much.”

Aone nodded even though he was bursting at the seams inside. Mountain Man couldn’t believe it. After being broken up with because your feelings weren’t there, you agreed to spend non-school related time with him?! The middle blocker couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t have said yes, had he still been acting like a zombie. Actually, he wouldn’t even have dared asked, if he was still acting like a zombie. Now he gets to help you and see you more than he has since the breakup, and he considers this like a gift! Yes!

“Great. Just tell me where and when you would like to have your audition, and I will be there.” A very cool reply.

You even rewarded him even more with a smile. “How about next Tuesday? Here on the field since it’s getting warm out again? I need to rehearse a lot and that gives me enough time.”

“Understood.” A cool second later, Takanobu had to excuse himself to the washroom so that he could celebrate in silence. He texted his friends and took a deep breath.

Selfishly, Aone also wanted to help you with this particular audition because he wanted you to go to the same University as he and Kenji. He wanted to help you with your future assignments and he wanted to see you everyday. How great would that be? A little torturous, too. But if you were on a cheer team and happy, then: mostly great.

Baby steps, Mountain Man sighed contentedly. He would get you back in baby steps, and this was the first one.

He just had to keep following the plan.

———————————

Taglist: @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same @marvelousbakugou @qyuanon 💛

Outtake #17: CLICK HERE!

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scribeofmorpheus · 3 years

Text

Himmeløyne [27/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Wowieeee, it's been a long time since I've written a chapter this long. It feels like the old days. But also, I wrote this without my glasses, so... there will be errors.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

“Do you think we’ll be hanged?” Fandral asked from his cell. It wasn’t intended as a question to the room. From his tone, he certainly wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but in need of anything besides the quiet of the prison area. “I think I’d hate a hanging. There hasn’t been one in centuries. You think it will be public?”

In the parallel cell, Sif paced about. Checking the golden barriers of her cage and then pounding her fists against the barrier couple of times. Each hit barely made a sound, let alone a dent. Adjacent to your own cell, Heimdall struggled to stay upright. He looked won out. In need of a long, long sleep. Normally, seeing him in distress would make you worry, but nothing felt normal with the amulet on.

“I’m not sure I’d prefer banishment either,” Fandral kept speaking.

“At least you’ get to keep your pretty head,” Volstagg chimed in, annoyed. His face was getting redder. It seemed his friend's ruminations were becoming tiresome to listen to. “Which is better than what I’ll do to you if you don’t shut up for a minute!”

“Yggdrasil’s branches!” Sif huffed. “I can’t hear myself think with you all yapping like starved pups!”

Her tone was different from everyone else’s. Sharper. That made them afraid. Talking was a way to keep distracted. With Sif’s outburst, everyone was forced to face that silence they were too afraid to let settle. Well, everyone except Heimdall and Hogun. You, on the other hand, weren’t feeling much of anything. Strange…

“Leave them be, Sif,” Hogun said softly. His face was calm, legs crossed at the ankle as he reclined comfortably on his cot, eyes closed. “Everything will work itself out.”

“You sound so certain,” she seemed surprised. “Why?”

“Because,” Hogun stretched, sitting up on crossed legs. “One way or another, everything always reaches a conclusion.”

Fandral let out a shaky laugh, “You’re a real comfort.”

Hogun shrugged, “Could be worse. You could have had Thor for a cellmate. You know how he hates small spaces. Especially if he’s confined in said small places.”

Sif tried to fight her smile, a reminiscent look on her face. All the warriors had it. Even Heimdall. It must have been a shared memory. Before your time.

“That big oaf,” Sif finally let her teeth show through the smile.

As the others began to trade anecdotes from the past, mainly about Thor’s claustrophobia and a previous stint in prison, Heimdall scooted closer to you, his back pressed up against the barrier o his cell, head turned at an angle to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright?” he squinted at the amulet and then focused on your face. He was searching for something, you weren’t quite sure he found. A moment later, he sighed. “Can you even hear me?”

Yes, you said. But he didn’t respond. He didn’t hear.

He wasn’t discouraged by his inability to communicate two ways with you. He soldiered through and found another question to ask, “Does it hurt?”

It doesn’t feel like anything, you said. Again, he didn’t hear.

He was frowning now, asking question after question as if the right one would get you to open your mouth. A task so simple, yet so difficult to do.

Minutes passed—or maybe hours—when guards came to round everyone out of their cells. Everyone except you. There was a commotion. Some unpleasant words exchanged. Someone tried to rile up the Captain from before. She ignored them, acting above reproach. An impenetrable shield, shining with true Asgardian worth. The guards never lowered your cell’s barrier, and after another minute—or hour—you finally registered that you were alone in the prison ward. It didn’t bother you though. Nothing did. Not even the spot of blood that marked the spot where two guards were knocked unconscious by Loki’s hands. Two more stood slack, in a headlock between Thor’s large arms. Frigga was with them too, casting sleep spells on the last few on guard duty.

The barrier to your cell faded in the blink of an eye. Faster than lightning, Loki rushed to your side, cradling your body against his own. He felt strong, like an anchor in the impossible storm. Smiling seemed the right thing to do, but you weren’t sure if you managed to.

He was trembling, his body hot from exertion. He kept his voice a whisper, his words only for you. “When I saw that the cells were empty, I thought… I don’t know what I thought. But you’re here. I wasn’t too late. I found you again. I have you in my arms again and I promise not to let go. Never to let go.”

Those words should have meant the world. You should have been elated. Relieved. But there was still nothing.

When you didn’t reply or lean into his touch, Loki pulled back to study you. He tugged at the clasp, but the amulet refused to separate. It took a while for Frigga to understand what was happening, to notice the amulet for what it was.

As Loki turned to use his magic against the amulet’s hold, Frigga raised a hand in warning, “No, Loki, wait—”

Loki’s magic was invasive to the amulets, and you felt the ancient device retaliate, slapping his magic away. He was knocked back on his ass before Frigga could finish her sentence.

She knelled next to you, tearing a piece of fabric from her skirts and chanting below a whisper. The fabric began to shimmer, imbued with magical essence.

“The amulet siphon’s magic, drains the wearer and attacks anyone who tries to take it off,” she explained. “You have to trick it into focusing its curse on something else, and then…” She wrapped the fabric around her hand and used it to unclasp the amulet. As it fell, the fabric was turned to nothing in a flash of cold fire. The amulet dropped onto the floor. Loki and Frigga were cautious not to touch it.

You shuddered to life. Everything bright and real. The floor was cold. Your body was every bit as tired as you remembered. And the pull of Loki’s magic returned. Beautiful. Right.

He rushed to hold you again, and this time you reciprocated. Wrapping your arms around his midriff and clinging onto him as if he were the source of all life.

“I love you,” you said abruptly.

The air left his lungs. His chest grew still. Unmoving. You loved how that sounded. His heart racing. Your words. Everything about that imperfect moment suddenly became perfect.

You laughed, euphoric. “I really do. I love you.”

You looked up to him, saw his shock and adoration and a mix of every look he’d ever given you worn under one instant. His lips quivered. He tried to speak. To breath. But he was stunned in silence.

“I regretted not telling you before,” you kissed him. Your body finding solace in the proximity. Your heart beating strong and steady, in a way it never had before. In a way that promised forever. To love forever. To live forever. To be near him forever. You had forgotten what it felt like to be exhilarated. To actually cherish each heartbeat. And, as if a flood had passed over your body, you felt renewed. Loved. You poured all of yourself into the kiss, into him. And he drank gleefully. Greedily.

“Ahem!” Thor cleared his throat, obviously flustered from witnessing you and Loki’s moment. “I’m… Uh—I’ll just… be… over there… keeping watch for patrols.” He stalked over to the staircase and pretended to keep watch. Cheeks turning tomato red.

The kiss finally broke and you both needed more than a few seconds to fill your lungs with air again.

Loki grinned from ear to ear, “To think, I’ve waited countless of your lifetimes to feel this way about anyone, and you only needed the one. I knew I was missing something since I was a little boy. You restored that part of me. Gave me the chance to see that I could be something whole. You’ve healed a broken prince, and I wish I could give you more but… I suppose… this will have to do…” He trailed off, staring intently at your face. “I’ll love you fiercely for every lifetime I spent without you. Half-mortal or not, I’ll love you a thousand year’s worth every moment of every day. For as long as we have.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“No. It’s just what you deserve.”

“Then you deserve the same. It goes both ways, so that makes two thousand year’s worth.”

He arched his brow, some of that self-assuredness he used to carry with him returned. “That’s technically not true.”

A mounted torch holder fell off the wall with a loud clang! Everyone turned to see Thor kicking the polished bronze ornament into a darkened corner. He held up his hands in a silent apology. Loki rolled his eyes.

“My brother with his insightful contribution,” Loki said, tongue-in-cheek. Loud enough for Thor to hear this time, he asked: “Would you like to make a little more noise? I don’t think every guard in the lower levels heard you.”

“I just might,” Thor grumbled, placing his hand close to another torch holder. Daring his brother to say another word.

“I don’t mean to cut this short,” Frigga interjected, helping you up off the floor. “But if we mean to do this, we must get to the others before Odin has had time to pass judgement. After that his will is paramount. Not even the Rite of Conscription will save your companions.”

You wobbled on your feet and Loki instinctively slinked an arm around your waist. You leaned into him.

“What is the Rite of Conscription?” you turned to Loki.

He frowned, “It’s… It’s the best of my bad ideas. Conscription can only be evoked by senior members of the Asgardian royal family. Once enacted, it places a subject in a position of servitude. They become agents of the court and crown. And it also means, they cannot be tried as traitors. Once conscripted, they have full protection under the King, or, in this case, Queen.”

“Sounds simple enough,” you said. Loki’s expression didn’t reassure though. “But… it’s not, is it?”

“No. Conscription for you, given how little we know about your true lifespan, it could end up being a life sentence.”

“But I have no home to return to. No family besides Heimdall…” you felt a wave of dizziness and had to clutch onto Loki’s jacket to keep steady. His fingers found yours. He twined them together, holding them close to his chest. You looked up at him. “Up until recently, I was ready to accept Asgard as my new home. For good.”

“But it wouldn’t just be you, my dear,” Frigga pointed out. “We’d have to conscript them all to Asgard’s service. Forever. They’d never have the chance to become anything different in the future. Neither would you.”

A life of servitude in exchange for freedom from Odin’s unpredictable wrath. Or was it his illogical fear? If you had to make the choice alone, you wouldn’t hesitate, even if it landed you in a precarious position in the future. But you couldn’t dare play arbiter of fate over everyone else’s lives. That would be selfish. And you’d be no better than Odin.

“I don’t think I can agree to this,” you said solemnly. “If it was only me that had to make the decision, then… maybe. But, I was only just beginning to get to know everyone. I don’t want to be a source of tension. And Heimdall’s the only family I have left. From what he’s told me, of the Great War, of his people, conscription would be a cruel thing to do without even talking to him about it. This whole mess started because of scheming and secrecy. We can’t continue that pattern.”

Frigga’s eyes flitted to your hand interlocked with Loki’s, a new thought percolating to the surface. “Family,” she murmured.

“What?” you asked.

“Handfasting!” she said hastily, her voice the loudest you’d ever heard it.

Loki’s eyes went large, “You can’t mean…”

Frigga nodded, taking one of your hands in each of her own.

“We don’t have a priestess,” Loki spoke too quick, anxious.

“I don’t—” you tried to get a word in, but Frigga talked over you.

“It’s the best alternative. At the very least, it will grant us a year of peace. A year we can use to persuade Odin to forgive whatever transgressions he found so grave that he’d risk imprisoning the protector of the Bi-frost. I know him. If he truly wanted this, he’d have acted without hesitancy. This—” she gestured towards the prison “—this is all to buy time. He’s undecided. So we must decide for him.”

Loki brushed off her explanation, unwilling to listen, “He’s the king. His will is law. If he truly didn’t want this, he wouldn’t have done it.”

Frigga shook her head, a wizened edge hanging on her words, “Only tyrants rule in that manner. And he is not his father.”

“What does Bor have to do with any of this?” Loki said, eyeing his mother suspiciously. She dismissed his prying with a flick of her wrist. She did it with the same flourish that Loki did.

You looked to Thor then back to Frigga, lost. “Is anyone going to tell me what handfasting is, or—”

“It’s a marriage,” Thor blurted out.

Now it was your turn to go silent.

“Subtle, brother. Thank you for that,” Loki chided. He placed his attentions back on you in an effort to explain things more smoothly, avoiding your gaze. “Handfasting isn’t exactly as binding as marriage. Handfasting is like… a trial period. It was used in arranged marriages to see if the betrothed were… agreeable. It was also a way to end disputes politically. Give the respective sides time to assess and recuperate.”

“I see,” was all you could muster, your voice small.

“In fact, Odin and I were handfasted,” Frigga said. “And if you have any doubts, remember, as Loki said, it isn’t binding. But as a betrothed, your family gains diplomatic immunity. And since Heimdall is Vanir, both of you fall under allies, not subjects.”¨

Finally, you found your voice. “What of Sif and the others?”

“They’d be protected too,” she assured you. “The handfasting period is a period of peace. If anyone acts out violently, then they disrespect the old ways. And Odin is too traditional. The old ways are his ways. His father’s ways. He will respect the year of peace. I’ll make sure of it.”

You took a sure, deep breath. Steeling yourself. You had dreamed of a future with Loki. Years spent discovering each other, learning of intimacies beyond touch. Sharing desires and thoughts. Spending days in the library, discovering more about your peoples, more about your magic. It may not have included a mysterious boy from Verdenspeil. Or a handfasting ceremony as a last-ditch effort to one-up Odin, but then again, your life on Asgard had been far from ideal. Loki waited for your answer, his eyes holding a darker edge to them; desire. Frigga and Thor waited with bated breath, both their postures too ramrod straight, towering over you. Expecting an answer.

“Then, my answer is yes.” You smiled, both anxious and excited. There was a shared sigh of relief in the room.

Frigga turned to her son, happy for him. He pressed his forehead to yours and mimicked your actions.

“Yes,” he said with a laugh caught in his throat.

Frigga whispered a spell, and suddenly, a spool of ribbon inked itself between your hand and Loki’s. Twisting into an infinity loop at the wrist. You thought of the snake from the cave, then immediately, you remembered the dream with the snake in the cave. Something in you stirred. Through your conjoined hands, you felt Loki’ magic reciprocate that feeling. A yearning. He looked at you with a devilish smirk, making heat spread in your belly. You almost turned away, face too hot.

Frigga’s chant ended. The lyrical music notes of it lost to your unfamiliar ears. Loki and Thor seemed to recognise some of it. You made it a point to remember to ask one of them about it. Especially since the last line made Loki blush.

“I need something to seal the incantation. Something with magic imbued,” Frigga said, searching the surroundings for anything that could work.

Thor opened his fist and after a few seconds of awkward silence, his hammer came crashing through the walls perpendicular to where he was facing. Rumble rolled to your feet, and Frigga looked at him with the most motherly expression you’d ever seen.

“Will this do?” Thor shrugged and held the hammer above you and Loki’s linked arms.

“Just,” Frigga said as she finished off the incantation. A torrent of light, holding all the colours of the rainbow encircled the spot of union.

Everything was as clear as a summer’s morning. Colour giving life to the room. Magic tingling everywhere.

Frigga cleared her throat, “Marked by magic, and witnessed by a prince of Asgard, do you, Loki, and your betrothed, vow to keep the peace and set aside any grudges and conflicts for one year? Do you vow to share, in confidence, the truth of your thoughts and the full extent of your feelings for one another, whatever they may be, however they might grow?”

“I vow,” he said, openly.

A roucus above the floor alerted you to a group of guards immobilising on your position. Distracted, your head tilted up, as if you could will yourself to see through the stone. Your heart quickened and Frigga nudged you. Thor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his hammer an inch.

“Dear, you have to vow,” she brought you back to the present.

“Yes. I vow,” you nodded, trying to stay calm.

Frigga concentrated her magic, her palms coming close. “Then, with these words, I bind you to one another. Bind you in peace. And hope a union will spring from your time together.”

Frigga’s eyebrows drew close together, her hands straining to maintain the magic. A bead of sweat meandered across her temple. And with a grunt, Mjölnir went flying into the wall, a burst of energy exploding out war. Frigga released her grip, panting. “It is done. You are handfasted.”

“Was that supposed to happen?” Thor pointed to the new hole in the wall.

Frigga shook her head, “No. There was…” she regarded you carefully, making sure not to let her face betray whatever she was thinking. “Resistance. It—It’s probably nothing. We’re all tired. We’ve all been through ordeals. It could simply be fatigue.”

You glanced at your tattoo. It had cracks along the artificial ribbon, as if unfinished. The colour of bright emeralds flawed by golden veins. Hints of cerulean in the right lighting. The triquetra, Mjölnir’s symbol, had formed an endless pattern on the ribbon. Easily missed, and of delicate line work. The prick and bristle of the tattoo's magic was bewildering. Sparking with a deeper connection than you could articulate. It wasn’t just the symbol of a bond, but an actual link to both you and Loki.

Loki rushed to his mother’s side, placing a hastened kiss on your forehead beforehand. Thor’s palm called out to Mjölnir and it returned with the sound of thunder rumbling outside. The hoard of guards descending upon you sounded closer. Their voices louder.

“Bit much, don’t you think?” Loki frowned at Thor.

“Subtlety is lost on me,” Thor said.

“Yes, well… you wouldn’t be my brother if it wasn’t.”

Thor and Loki shared a moment. Their bickering giving way to something deeper. Something neither of them would voice aloud anytime soon. It was trust. A different kind of love. Greater than blood.

“We should get out of here,” Thor began spinning his hammer and suddenly a gut-punching realisation hit you.

You yanked on Thor’s bulky arm, “Wait! Where’s Baldrick?”

All three of them looked at you, confused.

“Who?” they asked simultaneously.

~Odin

The child that had come through the portal with Heimdall and Y/N was strange. Odin had brought him to his study and asked him questions.

The boy—Baldrick as he came to introduce himself—possessed knowledge beyond his years. An aura to him, almost ancient, yet also too young, too powerful. Odin had given him a puzzle to solve, one that required intimate knowledge of magic and science. Baldrick had fiddled with the pentagon-shaped object with a blasé expression. He had solved it faster than Odin had when his father had presented him with the same challenge.

“Astounding,” Odin remarked as the boy set the puzzle down. Baldrick busied himself by staring at the books in Odin’s study. He had made it a point not to speak beyond saying his name.

The boy seemed so familiar. A likeness in his small face.

Odin knew he was biding time by trying to figure out how Baldrick’s mind worked, but he was thankful for the distraction. When Loki had pounded at his door, demanding an audience, Baldrick had studied Odin as if he was the old man and Odin was the boy. It was a peculiar feeling.

When Aisling had been the one to knock on his door, hiding her true thoughts behind pleasantries, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. A judgement needed to be passed. After all, the Allfather does not lash out on a whim. He’s concise. Calculative. And pragmatic. And he had pushed things too far when he’d sent the Destroyer.

Regret. That’s what had been eating him since Loki fell unconscious. And what had he done once his son awoke? Cowered away. All in the name of protecting his family’s legacy and keeping the truth of his father’s reign buried. It was his curse. His duty. But, at least it hurt less than what he did to Hela. That was a transgression he could never make right, failing as a father.

He left the boy in his study. Odin feared he may have been more perceptive to emotion. And emotion was the last thing he cared to face.

Heimdall was held down by the straining arm of a member of the royal guard. His knees kissing stone. Beside him, Sif and her companions held the same posture; necks refusing to stay weighed down, heads facing Odin with arms tied behind their backs, armour stripped for simple clothing.

“What am I to do with you?” Odin finally spoke. His fingers ghosted over the intricate designs carved into his stave, feeling the schism between each drawn line and folded knot; feeling the obvious divide in his family and peoples. With a sigh, he continued, “Disobedience, theft, evasion and escape. Worst of all, you all knowingly defied the will of your king. One son wasted away in a tower, the other in taverns. And Frigga… My health is barely as it was. What would you have me do? Make an example of you? Show you lenience? Leave you to the mercy of the Destroyer?”

“Do as you wish. I have made my peace with my decisions, and I’d do it all again to ensure my daughter was safe,” Heimdall said.

His voice wasn’t intended to sound defiant, but lately, to Odin’s suspicious ears, everything sounded suspect.

“Safe?” Odin didn’t mean to condescend, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “And can you say the same for everyone in this room? Sif? Volstagg? Hogun? Even you, Fandral? Could you all say that you’d go to the gallows for an outsider? A mortal?”

“Half. Mortal.” Heimdall corrected. A withheld threat somewhere beneath his red-hot glare.

“Now, hold on a minute,” Fandral’s voice fumbled, “that seems an overreaction.”

“Is it not part of our teachings to show benevolence to those that see us as more?” Sif challenged, hurling the guard that held her down over her shoulder. “A mere mortal? You’re the Allfather, the one Midgardians pray to, the one whose story they carve onto mountains. Even if she wasn’t Heimdall’s daughter, it is our duty to protect her, to protect all of them.”

The guard tried to retaliate, but Odin held up his hand, stopping their advances.

“Your notions are young,” Odin said with a sad smile. “I miss seeing the world as simply as you all do, but that is not our reality. And that is why you do not bear the weight of a ruler. I hope none of you do.”

Heimdall watched him closely as he stood to walk closer. Some of that trust they’d built over years of infighting and war was still there, despite them both trying to act otherwise. Bonds of war and patricide were hard to shake.

“Are you still willing to risk everything to keep this fragile peace? This lie?” Heimdall asked. When Odin did not give an answer, Heimdall lamented to himself, “So, this is how it is then.”

“I must pass judgement now. Chaos cannot stand,” Odin quieted the room with a strike of his stave. The room grew very still. Then, Thor’s hammer burst through the door, causing a commotion.

Odin’s breath was stolen away when he saw Frigga stride in a few paces behind their son. And his heart stopped entirely when he saw the tell-tale ribbon tattoo shared between Loki and Y/N.

To his surprise, he was relieved.

“No judgement shall be passed today!” Frigga announced. “No judgement shall be passed until the year is over.” She walked over to pull attention to Loki and Y/N’s matching tattoos. “They are handfasted, and the rules of the old ways are clear. Y/N and her Father, being both of the Vanir, both of my homeworld, cannot be harmed. Nor can they be tried by the king of another realm. Especially since it is your son who is handfasted.”

Odin smiled, and everyone in the room was shocked by his response, “The old ways are sacred, and so, I accept your conditions.” His smile grew wider, “My Queen.”

Frigga walked over to his side easily.

He struck his stave once more and gestured for the guards to stand down. Y/N rushed to Heimdall’s side helping him up, while Sif and Thor and the Warriors Three had their own little reunion.

Yes, he thought to himself. This is a far better outcome.

“Mark today as the start of a passive year. A year of peace,” he decreed.

“Where’s Baldrick?” Y/N demanded, a protective scowl on her face.

Curious, he thought. That they’d form such a bond in such small time. The boy obviously had a way of influencing those around him. Albeit, passively.

Odin was about to answer when the boy shimmered into the room as if summoned, a favourite of Loki’s tricks. Loki stared at the boy, noticing the same thing.

“I am here,” Baldrick said. Y/N took large strides to his side and offered her hand to him. Baldrick walked to the other side, accepting the arm that wasn’t marked by the tattoo instead.

“Well, that was rather unpleasant,” Volstagg stretched, his stomach growling deeply. “How about some good, old fashioned merriment and song tonight?”

“Aye! I have a bone to pick with you all for abandoning me in a tavern to go off on your own adventure,” Thor pouted.

Sif ribbed his arm casually, “You were brooding. You’re utterly useless when you brood.”

“I am not!” he refuted.

“You are too,” Fandral and Loki said simultaneously.

Hogun patted Thor’s back, a teasing smirk on his lips, “Wait until you hear of the snake made of stone.”

Frigga walked over to Loki’s side, whispering something in his ear. He adjusted his collar as if he couldn’t breathe. His gaze fell on Y/N as he strode purposefully to her side. But before he could reach her, Heimdall blocked his path, imposing and large as he looked down at him with a set jaw.

“You and I have much to discuss,” Heimdall glanced at the handfasting tattoo with disapproval. “But,” he sighed, letting his body shrink lower, “it can wait till the morning, I suppose. Your father and I have much to sort through.” He turned to Odin and they both nodded in agreement.

Loki heaved a sigh when Heimdall turned his back. Y/N and Loki shared a secret laugh--the kind Odin had shared with Frigga in youth--before he got on his knee and extended his hand to the small boy.

“I’m Loki,” he said. “I take it, you’re Baldrick?”

Heimdall came to stand close to Odin, arms folded. “Where do we go from here?”

Odin sat back on his throne, his bones aching. “We let them savour their youth.”

“And what happens once the year is done?”

Odin eyes the dispersing crowd, unsure of how to answer that question.

To be continued...

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#loki imagine #loki #loki x reader #loki odinson imagine #himmeløyne #loki mcu #loki laufeyson

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kumeko · 3 years

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A/N: For the @bat-famzine Bats and Birds zine! I wanted to write my fav trio, Stephanie, Tim, and Cassandra.

…

“Yep. Doing it here was the right choice,” Stephanie Brown confirmed, crossing her arms and nodding her head slowly as she surveyed the living room. A wide, expansive area, it was as big as the first floor of her house. Hell, the TV mounted on the wall was bigger than all the screens in her house combined. “No, it was the onlychoice.”

“Over-dramatic much?” Tim rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face said otherwise. Sitting in front of the TV in a mess of wires, he started connecting several game consoles to the TV. “Your house would have been fine.”

“It would have been only fine. Wayne Manor? Now that’s great.” With a snort, she gingerly picked up a free HDMI cord. “And you have what, five different consoles for us to play? In one night? And I’m the over dramatic one?”

“We could switch games part way,” Tim argued, untangling a controller. His tongue was stuck to the side, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on unravelling the messy pile in front of him. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Jason use these.”

“Is it possible to use…” Perched awkwardly on one of Bruce’s leather couches, Cassandra paused as she struggled to find the right word. Correcting herself, she continued, “to playa game in a night?”

“Depends on the game!” Delighted by the question, Tim immediately looked over his shoulder. “With the party type games—”

“Less talking, more doing!” Stephanie interrupted, before a huge spiel about time could occur. At the rate he talked, it’d be morning before they could play and Gotham probably couldn’t survive them taking two nights in a row off.

“Yes, yes,” Tim grumbled, puffing his cheeks as he hurried with set up.

Stephanie chuckled. Honestly, he was so ridiculous sometimes. Turning back to Cassandra, she winced. Cassandra didn’t look like she knew how to sit on a comfy couch, let alone relax, and maybe they should have done this earlier. She couldn’t even remember the last time Cassandra took time off. At the rate she was going, she’d turn into a mini-Batman. And they already had enough of that with Damian running around.

“What are you doing?”

Speak of the devil. Forcing a smile on her face, Stephanie turned around. “Heya, Damian.”

Damian gave her a pointed stare and she tried not to shiver. Sure, he was only ten, but in demon years, he’d be like sixty. Or was that dog years? At least there wasn’t bloodlust in his eyes. Or a weapon in his hands. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Not tonight.” Stephanie grinned, hand on her hip. “We’re having a sleepover.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an unimpressed brow. “So you’re slacking off.”

Part of her wondered if Bruce was rubbing off on him or vice versa. Her smile strained as she tried not to frown. “No, we’re taking a well-deserved break.”

“He doesn’t understand what that is,” Tim snipped, setting down the Switch. Finished untangling, he turned on the system and flipped on the T.V. When the screen stayed black, he frowned and fiddled with the controller. “Talk to him like you’d talk to a five-year-old.”

“I suppose she would have a lot of experience, dealing with you.” Damian casually strolled over to Tim.

Tim opened his mouth to argue, but there really was no going around that burn. It was almost impossible to get the last word with Damian; she would know. No, there was only one way this could end. Tim’s hand was already curled around a controller, his weapon of choice, and while Damian looked unarmed, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had at least ten knives hidden in his dress pants. Eyes darting from one boy to the other, Stephanie wasn’t sure if she should separate them before they stained the carpet with blood or run to the kitchen to get popcorn.

Damian pressed a button on the side of the screen and it flickered on. Lips curling into a smirk, he sneered, “Can’t even manage this much, Drake?” And just as suddenly as he had entered the room, he left.

“I hate that kid,” Tim muttered grumpily.

Stephanie patted his back consolingly. “I know. I know.”

-x-

“Jump!” Stephanie yelled, pressed up against Cassandra’s left side. When her friend gave her an owlish blink, she shouted, “X. HIT X.”

“Right.” Cassandra quickly pressed the right button, bouncing on her seat slightly. On the screen, Mario jumped to safety as a black bullet smashed into the wall beneath him. A narrow escape. Too narrow.

“Safe,” Stephanie sighed, slumping over and resting her head on Cassandra’s shoulder. Man, it was more stressful than she’d expected, watching Cassandra play. For someone who picked up every way to kill a man just by watching it once, she was an unexpectedly slow study on video game controls.

On Cassandra’s other side, Tim gave her a curious look. “Are there too many buttons to remember?”

“No, not that…” Cassandra stared at the little controller in her hands, her fingers lightly brushing over the various buttons. The tracking pad. Mario shuffled in spot, waiting to move. “I just want to do it myself.”

Stephanie looked up, eyebrow raised. “You mean, run through the forest fighting off bullets and bombs and weird turtle guys?”

“Yes.” Cassandra paused, then shook her head. “No. I want to…I want to jump. To run. To do that action. When you say ‘dodge’, I want to dodge.”

“Oh!” Tim hit his fist on his open palm, realization dawning on his face. “Is that why you keep bouncing in your seat?”

“Yes.” Cassandra nodded. “I tried to…keep it still.”

“Doing a terrible job of it.” Sitting up, Stephanie stroked her chin. “Oh, is it like when I play foosball and just want to tear out the sticks and force the guys to hit the ball?”

“Kinda.” Tim shot her a deadpan stare. “But that’s mainly because you’re bad at it.”

“…them’s fighting words.” Plucking the controller out of Cassandra’s hands, she brought up the home menu. Opening Smash, she turned to Tim with a challenging smirk. “Ready for a beat down?”

“Don’t go home crying,” Tim retorted, picking up the second controller. He pushed his hair back, out of his eyes, turning on his serious mode. “What was our score? 40 to 17?”

Gritting her teeth, she swiped a finger across her neck, execution-style.

-x-

“I’m sorry.” Cassandra wrung her hands apologetically, her cheeks red with embarrassment. She hung her head shamefully, her back hunched as they headed toward the kitchen.

“It’s fine!” Tim reassured quickly, patting her back awkwardly. “We can always get new controllers.”

Arms crossed behind her head, Stephanie looked over her shoulder at the pair. “I didn’t think you could break them like that.”

“It could happen to anyone.” Tim shot her a shut-up glare.

Stephanie had never taken a hint before and she wasn’t about to start now. “No, seriously. What kinda workout do you give your fingers? Those buttons look like they were hammeredin.”

Still a little flustered, Cassandra curled her fingers in and out. “Push ups. Finger bands. I use a lot of. Uh. Methods.”

Push-ups. Stephanie cocked her head, remembering their work-outs together. Remembering Cassandra’s finger push ups. An entire human body supported by a single finger. Her mouth made an ‘o’ shape. “Riiigghhht. Got it.”

“I could teach you,” Cassandra offered, looking more enthusiastic now. She curled her hand into a fist, punching the air ahead of them. “Just like before.”

“Uhhh….” Stephanie suppressed a shudder, remembering how their first time around as teacher-student had gone. Vomiting. Bruises. Bones that felt like they should have been broken but were miraculously not. Sure, she was better now: faster, quicker, stronger, all of that jazz. Part of her feared that would make Cassandra’s spartan training even worse, that she’ll kick it up a notch thinking she didn’t have to hold back now. “I’ll…think about it.”

“Chicken!” Tim teased, chuckling.

Cassandra turned to Tim hopefully. “To make up for the controller.”

He froze mid-laugh. Like a deer in the headlights, he was only able to blink and nod.

“Fraidy cat,” Stephanie muttered, rolling her eyes. Falling back to walk apace with Cassandra, she bumped shoulders with her. “Honestly, with the allowance you guys get, I bet Tim won’t even notice the controllers.” As they entered the kitchen, she leaned forward, shooting him a questioning look. “How much do you guys get again?”

“Finished with your games, are you?” A formal, clipped tone interrupted their discussion. Alfred Pennyworth stood in front of the counter, whisking briskly in a plastic bowl. “I am afraid you will have to wait a little longer for the waffles.”

“Alfred! You remembered!” Stephanie gave Alfred a side hug. He was even wearing the frilly apron she gave him last year. “It’s been so long since I had one of your waffles!” Excited, Stephanie pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat on it backwards. Resting her chin on the chair’s back, she grinned cheerfully. “Best food ever. This is why we had to do this here.”

“The curtain’s why we have to do this here,” Tim mocked, rolling his eyes as he sat next to her.

“Didn’t you ask for the waffles?” Cassandra asked. She stood next to Alfred, watching curiously as he stirred. “For Steph.”

Tim coloured at that, turning away when Stephanie gave him a questioning look. “Cass! You weren’t supposed to say that!”

“Ooohh?” Stephanie grinned, looping an arm around his shoulders. He covered his face, but she could see his ears and they were as red as a tomato. “Did someone miss me?”

“Vey much so, Miss Stephanie.” Alfred smiled kindly, cracking an egg and adding it to the batter. “I dare say the house had been too quiet with you gone. It is good to have you back.”

“Aww, Alfred.” Stephanie could feel her own face flushing now, her skin warm, and she blew him a kiss. “I missed you too.”

“I have to apologize, though, for the state your waffles are in.” Alfred wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, before folding it neatly and returning it to his pocket. “I had created a batch with blueberries earlier but Master Damian consumed them.”

“He ate them,” Stephanie replied flatly. Her hand curled into a fist and she looked up at the ceiling, in the direction of Damian’s room. That little punk. There was no way he wanted those waffles—they weren’t ‘elite’ enough for him. She narrowed her eyes. “He’s just messing with me.”

“That’s just…” Thinking about it a little more, Tim rubbed his neck. “He is. He definitely is.”

-x-

“We should do the party game,” Stephanie suggested, scrolling through Tim’s game list. It was simple enough—throwing a die and hoping to land on the right tile. Just like Monopoly! Most importantly, it sounded like something she could win. “Pure luck.”

“You’ll still lose.” Tim picked up an old Gamecube case. “Maybe Starfox. Or Sonic.”

“You trash talking me?” Stephanie glared at him. “I beat you before and I’ll beat you again.”

“That’s like one out of—Cass?” They watched as Cassandra re-entered the living room, calmly walking over to her bag. She gave them a short nod as she reached in and pulled out a rope. “Uh…what’s that for?”

“Damian,” Cassandra replied, her voice eerily flat. She coiled the rope around her arm and headed to the door.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Stephanie dropped the Switch and a frantic Tim dived to catch it. Quickly, she ran in front of Cassandra, her arms spread wide. “What are you doing?”

“Catching Damian,” Cassandra explained, as though it was the most natural thing.

“With a rope?” She tugged the rope, trying to pry it free. “What’d he do?”

Setting the Switch down carefully, Tim stood back and crossed his arms. “Did he attack you?”

“No.” Cassandra paused, an uncharacteristic frown on her face. “He…complimented me.”

“Huh? Damian Wayne? Mr. Snobby Brat himself?’ Stephanie tried and failed to keep her jaw from dropping. Sure, she highly suspected Damian would like Cassandra; with her assassin-like skills and taciturn behaviour, she was almost everything Damian wanted to be. It was still another thing to hear it. “Then why’re so angry?”

“…he insulted you.” Cassandra walked around her, pushing open the door.

They watched her leave, Tim giving a low whistle. “Three strikes, and he’s out.”

“Do you think we should, uh, follow?” Stephanie bit her cheek when it was clear Cassandra wasn’t coming back. “It might get...bloody.”

“Oh definitely.” Tim grinned, practically skipping out the door. “I only wish I had popcorn.”

-x-

“You know, it’s too bad Damian didn’t want to join us,” Stephanie sighed, selecting her car for the race. It was a hard choice between something purple and semi-good, and something ridiculous. She went with ridiculous. Baby Daisy in a Flame Ride.

“MMMFFFFF.”

Tim snickered, pressing start. “I know. I can almost hear him now, begging to join us.”

“MMMMMNNNNNFFFF.”

“I think he is cursing us.” Cassandra looked over her shoulder curiously at the strung-up Damian. Strung upside down like a turkey, his face was red as he continued to shout. Or tried to shout. The cloth muffled most of his words. Squinting, Cassandra tried to read his body language but even with her skills, it was an impossible task. “I think he is…angry.”

“I’m sure he is.” Stephanie nodded sagely, before gently turning Cassandra’s face toward the TV. It was just like her to miss the point; they were supposed to be ignoring the jerk. “We’re also in the middle of a race.”

Doubt colouring her expression, she looked uncertainly over her shoulder at Damian’s struggling form. He swung side to side, outraged. “Should we take him down?”

“That’s what got him there in the first place,” Tim quipped. He laughed when Damian growled. “I never knew how much I needed to hear that.”

“Me neither.” Stephanie sighed blissfully. “Should have done that ages ago.” Watching as Cassandra hesitantly selected Mario, she raised a brow. “Really? Him? He’s like, the most stereotypical choice.”

Cassandra stared at her like she was crazy. “How can the others drive? They do not have thumbs. Or a license.”

“It’s…part of the game.” Well, when it was put like that, Stephanie couldn’t really argue. Giant gorillas, toads, and babies; none of them made sense as drivers. “They’re not actually—well, they are actually gorillas but…um…cartoon gorillas? Real life doesn’t really mean anything to them.” When Cassandra still looked at her questioningly, she moaned and pressed ‘x’. “Look, let’s just start the game, okay? It’ll make sense later.”

Three matches later, Stephanie wasn’t sure if it made any more sense, but it certainly hadn’t stopped Cassandra from branching out and becoming a flower monster, an elf, and a turtle. Lying on the floor, she turned her hands left and right with her car, as though she were speeding down the track with it. Not that Stephanie was much better—honestly, there was just something about a racing game that made you want to veer with it. Sitting on Cassandra’s back, she gritted her teeth as Princess Peach slammed into a tunnel wall. “That’s cheating, Tim!”

“It’s in the rules, Steph!” Tim growled back, his hip bumping into her arm as he tried to keep Link on the tracks.

“Interference!” she shouted, hitting buttons wildly. One of them would make her go faster. Or shoot down Tim. Or burn down the racetrack. “You hit my arm.”

“And you spilled my drink!”

“MMMMMHHHHH.”

“See? Damian’s on my side!”

-x-

“Ah, Miss Stephanie.” Alfred exited the kitchen, a tray in his hands. Three glasses of pop sat on them, looking far more expensive than the coke she found in the supermarket. Even the chips she brought looked elevated in a ceramic bowl, and she wasn’t sure if that was Alfred’s magic or if it was just how expensive everything else was. “I was just bringing snacks.”

“You’re the best, Alfred.” Stephanie tried to take the tray from him but he smoothly stepped out of her reach. “Alfred?”

“Allow me to perform my duties.” Alfred smiled, lowering the tray in front of her. “Drink?”

“…alright, but I’ll bring the dishes back, ok?” With a grumble, she took a glass. “My mom would kill me if she found out I did nothing.”

“I’m sure we can find something for you to do.” Alfred approached the living room, peaking in. His eyebrow raised at the sight before him. “Is that Master Damian?”

“Yeah…” Stephanie admitted sheepishly. “We’ll untie him soon. Promise.”

“When you do, I would advise Master Timothy to hide his games. I do not imagine this has made Master Damian any fonder of them.” Alfred’s smile didn’t drop, amusement colouring face. “I am surprised you managed to catch him.”

“Cass, it was all her.” Stephanie shivered, not sure what would have happened if she hadn’t been around. Death. That was probably it.

“That would explain it.” Alfred chuckled softly, turning to her. He smiled fondly. “Truly, it is good to have you back.”

Something about how he said it made it all feel official. That she was finally home, after everything. Giving him a one-armed hug, she smiled. “Me too.”

#batfam #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #robin #batgirl #fanfic

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jewel116 · 3 years

Text

Nights

Tristan made yet another sharp turn racing his motorcycle through the city of Domino. To him, there was nothing like the wind violently whipping his face while the skylights passed him like a blur. It was the only thing that relaxed him after an awfully hard day at the factory. Shaking the thought of creaky machines and heavy boxes out of his head, he turns the psychedelic music up in his Bluetooth helmet. After a few minutes, he feels his body relax and starts making random turns. When riding, he wanted to go where the wind took him. So as soon as he reached an area of the city he liked, he would click on an app that gave him a random number between one and four. Click the randomizer three times and that’s how he would choose his destination for the night.

“4, 1, 4”

“Ok, good enough for me!” He thinks to himself, making four left turns almost hitting someone. “Sorry!” he yells, even though he was in the way. One turn to the right and then four more turns to the left. “Domino Bridge. Been awhile since I’ve been around here.” It’s usually a ghost town over there after tourist season and would come when he was in a particularly bad mood or just wanted to get away from any and everything. His father pressuring him to take over the factory and all the stress that comes with that responsibility. As he expected, there was no one there except a few stragglers on the bridge. Slowing down, he takes his helmet off to take in the smell of the ocean when he sees Yugi sitting on top of the railing overlooking the beach. Tristan was never really comfortable with Yugi because of his relationship with Joey. There would always be a level of betrayal there and it seems no matter how hard he tried; he would never really fit in with that group. He would see them together twenty-four seven and when he did try to speak with them, they would speak back. But it would feel more distant, as if they were trying to hide something or hold something back. Proud and stubborn until the end, Tristan didn’t have to be told that he wasn’t welcome twice. So, he just stopped trying and was back to where he started.

Distant and alone

Shrugging it off as a loss, he looks down at his phone and uses his randomizer again. The faint sound of crying stops him in his tracks as he is about to pull off in the night. Glancing back up, tears are coming down Yugi’s face. The tiniest of smirks comes across his face when he thinks of the times, he was alone thanks in part to him. It quickly goes away when he thinks about the time, he stood up for him with that bully when he had no reason to. Pursing his lips, he mounts his bike and slowly drives up to him. Just before he reaches him, the puzzle around his neck begins to glow. Tristan knows he’s not crazy and this isn’t the first time he has seen that happen. He’s weirder every time it glows and the rumors around him get more and more crazy. He had to laugh when he heard that Yugi was the one that stopped three seniors from taking their spot in the cultural festival. But nonetheless, it was grounds for him to stop and think about turning the other way. ‘He doesn’t see me, and he can’t prove that I saw him’ Tristan thinks to himself, carefully analyzing the situation.

Purple eyes are staring back at him when he finally comes to his decision to leave him there. Taken aback, Tristan figures there is nothing to lose now and rides his bike to where he is. Looking around for something to speak about, Tristan decides that silence is the best option in this moment. Tristan just leans on the railing and watches the waves go by as Yugi starts to cry again. “You like waffles?” Tristan asks, finally breaking the silence. Confused, Yugi wipes his face and stares at him, “what?” He questions puzzled by the random question. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but food usually helps any sad situation. Especially the ones that I am thinking about.” Shrugging, Tristan stretches for a second before going back to his bike. “Come on.” He called out, ushering him to the bike. “It’s better than sitting here in the freezing cold crying by yourself? Right?” Handing him is spare helmet, “if that doesn’t work then I know something that will for sure.”

Yugi can’t explain why he, without explanation took the helmet and did exactly what he asked him to do. He had never been on a motorcycle before, especially with Tristan. Tristan was ok in his book. He didn’t dislike him, but they were not close to each other, more just friends of friends. After Joey straightened him out about bothering him, he became more and more distant until it seems that he and Joey never talked at all. Yugi tried not to get involved in that because he felt a little guilty for breaking them up. No matter how many times Joey tried to convince him of otherwise, he knew that he was the rift between the two of them. Maybe that was better or worse, but Yugi knew it wasn’t his place to say anything. “Hang on, sometimes I ride a little fast”. Tightening his grip around Tristan’s waist, Yugi is thrusted backwards when Tristan revs the bike.

Weaving through the narrow space between cars at the speed they were going was enough to make Yugi laugh through his helmet. “Faster!” He screams, losing his grip on Tristan, “Not too much faster! You don’t want motion sickness” Tristan chuckled, looking back at Yugi who is waving his hands in the air. He has no choice but to smile because he remembers when brother took him for a ride on his bike for the first time. It’s a feeling that you never forget, no matter how long you have been riding. “Hang on tight!” He orders, before lifting the bike on one wheel going the same speed. “Woo!!!” Yugi screams from behind him. “Having fun?!” Tristan screamed through the sound of engine, slowing down before motion sickness kicks in. “Woo!!” Yugi says again looking around at all the buildings and lights. “Totally! We have about another two hours, so get comfortable” “Two hours?” “You don’t have anywhere to go do you?” “No, I don’t but…” Yugi pauses before answering. “Don’t you have a curfew or something?” “Hell no. As long as I pay my dues at the factory, never show up late and do my work. My father doesn’t care what I do.” Yugi just nods and leans forward, resting his head on Tristan’s shoulder. “You’re adrenaline’s wearing off, isn’t it?” Feeling his eyes get heavy, Yugi’s grip on Tristan lessens again. Grabbing Yugi’s hands, he secures them around his waist, so he doesn’t have to drop his speed.

“Get a nap, I’ll wake you up when we are there.”

“Wake up, we’re here” Tristan announces, lightly shaking his shoulder. “Onoki’s. One of the oldest hole in the wall diners in Japan. Not to mention, the best waffles!” Tristan explains, catching Yugi before he trips over the bike rack next to them. “You sure it’s ok to leave your bike out here? It’s pretty deserted out here.” “Yea, Onoki knows me and the bike so it’s fine. Take this before you go in.” Poking the tiny white pill from its silver package, “it’s so you don’t feel sicker later on.” Holding his hand out, Yugi takes the pill and the bottle of water Tristan offered. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.”

The grease sizzling on the frying pans and plates slamming on the linoleum tables is about the only sound you can here in the place. Founded in 1975, the owner Onoki took a trip to America and after he had a taste of their secret waffle recipe; he never looked back. After begging and wrestling with the owner over the recipe. Even going so far as to attempt to break into the man’s house for it, Onoki came back to Japan; opened his place and has been in business ever since. Sliding into one of the silver and red booth, slightly warm from the last patron; Tristan waves over one of the waitress. “Miss, when you are ready, we are too.” Sucking her teeth, the tiny waitress sighs and grabs one of the plastic menus and makes her way to them. Checking his bank account, he grabs his leather wallet and pulls out a fifty. Tristan would always have to deal with waitresses like this when he was working as a waiter. But usually when they had an attitude, the customers would feel it and he would have to pick up the slack when the customers wouldn’t leave tips or never come back.

“What do you want?” She spits, rolling her eyes with her hands on her hips. They messed up her vibe with the cook and she was not too happy. “We want waffles, hash browns extra crispy, lots of butter packs, bacon, eggs, the toast that comes with it and a huge pot of coffee. Oh, and please don’t forget the creams and sugars as well”. He asks as politely as he possibly can, waving the fifty between his fingers so she can see it. “All for my new favorite waitress, if you can get it to us in less than ten minutes.” The grin returns to her face as if the cook didn’t exist. “Coming right up!” The curvy girl shrieks, knowing that’s going to be her best tip of the night. “How do you do that?” Yugi whispers, clutching his head in his hands. “Do what?” Tristan questions, glancing around at the many photos on the wall. Some dated, some newer with musicians, guitarist mainly and some other well-known celebrities. “Get people to do what you want like that?” Scoffing, he leans back in his seat. “I’ve been a waiter on the side for a while and on nights like this, all people want to do is groove and be anywhere but work. I get where she was coming from. It’s no big deal.”

“Order up!” the waitress chimes, straightening her bright-green skit. Tristan clicks the power button on his phone. “Nine minutes. Perfect.” Sliding the fifty towards her, she snatches it before he has the chance to change his mind. “Holler if you need anything.” Her chocolate brown eyes are tracing Tristan’s body up and down, loving what she sees. “Will do.” Tristan nods, winking at her before she leaves. “She just wants another tip Yugi, you see how she was just looking at me.” Tristan leans forward and whispers. “Oh! This looks amazing!” The huge waffle with Onoki’s logo written across the middle was enough to make Tristan’s mouth water. When he first came across this place, he didn’t believe the hype that everyone was making about these waffles. The patrons laughed and made sure to record the moment on their cellphones. “Ring the bell! Ring the bell!!” They chant to him. The bell meant that someone had just been made a believer of the waffle. Peeling the packet of butter, Tristan starts to go to work when he notices that Yugi still has his head on the table.

“Not to get in your business or anything but aren’t you diabetic? Motion sickness and that are not a good combo. Just saying.” Yugi shoots a look towards him in pure shock. There should be only a handful of people that know that. “How do you know…” “For someone so small, you speak loudly. I overheard you teaching Joey how to give you the needle if he needed to. There was something about a pump too, but I walked away after that.” Shoving a forkful of waffles in his mouth but trying not to laugh at Yugi’s face, pours a cup of hot coffee and slides it towards him. “Drink something at least.” Staring at the cup, Yugi sits up a little and glances down at his side. Tristan can’t see for sure but assumes it’s his insulin pump he’s staring at. Shrugging it off, Tristan reaches into his backpack to pull out his manga. He didn’t know what Yugi’s problem was or what was possessing him to stay here with Yugi on his night ride. But he was not going to do was sit there and talk to himself.

“Is that Oishi?” Yugi beamed, filling the cup with hazelnut creamer and one sugar. “Yea, what’s it to you?” Shifting uncomfortably in the booth, Tristan usually keeps his personal tastes of manga to himself. “I love that manga! The food always looks amazing, and Hiro always has the craziest recipes!” “I finally managed to make the lemon breakfast cake with the homemade frosting for it! It took me two tries because it was too tangy for me, but I finally got it the way I wanted it.” He’s been cooking ever since he could remember. His mother figured that if he wanted to be a good husband, then he needed to know how to properly take care of a woman other than physical needs. “Did you try and make it in the kitchen lab?” Now it was Tristan’s turn to be surprised. “Yea...” “I thought that was you. I was doing some late-night studying and usually I get one of the cookies that are left in there for me. Then I saw you staring at one of the iPads for the recipe.” Tristan has been using that lab for the last year now. When he needs to avoid the stares and rumors from his classmates, Tristan goes to the lab. At first, he was sneaking in there during lunch hours. But he was caught by their teacher who was experimenting with a recipe he was going to use later in the year.

Mr. Sato explained that he was once young and similar to Tristan. So, he made him a deal. If Tristan could successfully prepare whatever dish that was placed in front of him; he would not only be able to use the lab. But could get an extra copy of the key so he could use it whenever he wanted. As far as Mr. Sato was concerned, it would be better for him to be in school versus out in the streets like he previously was. Tristan wasn’t given the fair shake that his classmate was given, and he was sympathetic to that.

“The mint chocolate chunk cookies on the red rimmed plate?” Sinking in his chair, Yugi shakes his head with a small grin working its way to his face. “Yes, that’s that very plate. You’ve been making those for me? Making the notes with it to?” Hiding his blush, Tristan turns his attention to the window and the partygoers stumbling to get to the nearest afterparty. “I didn’t make them for you. I made them for whoever wanted it. Didn’t know it was you” He snarls at Yugi. “I understand Tristan” raising his eyebrow up at him. He would never say it but those encouraging notes really helped him when he first completed the puzzle. There were moments when Yugi would lose significant blocks of memory and time. Suddenly, people would look at him as if he were a danger to them or as if he wronged them somehow.

Gaming and studying were the only two things that got his mind off of that. His new friends were a huge help for him but sometimes, all he needed was equations and games to ease his troubles. One night, when he was walking down the narrow halls of the school, the moonlight illuminating the hallway; he was starving. The small of fresh chocolate chips stopped him in his trackers, leading him to the source. Twisting the gold doorknob slowly, he pokes his head through the door. ‘So far so good’ he thinks to himself, pushing the door further in. Flipping the white switch, warm lights bring the room to life. The kitchen lab was one of the oldest rooms in the school that was next on the list to be remodeled. Three white, well-loved ovens were lined up against the wall side by side with cabinets, sinks and drawers around each one. Sewing machines along with many sheets of fabric around each one is on the other side of room just below a twenty-inch tv. Sitting next to Yugi was a plate of cookies with a crumpled piece of notebook paper under it.

“Don’t study too hard or next time there will not be any cookies.” Yugi folds the note and puts it in his right pocket. “Wonder who left these?” Shrugging, he reaches for one of the cookies and takes a small but tentative bite. When that chocolate and his taste buds collide, he has no choice but to go for seconds and eventually thirds. “These are amazing! Tastes professional!” Yugi grabs the plate and closes the door behind him, shutting the light off. Little did he know, leaving Tristan in the dark in the orange supply closet where the teachers kept the knifes and older pans and tins. “Look, you look like you are done and doing better now. I know a place where you can get the latest Oishi if you want? It’s not too far from here and we can spend the night. Blankets, cots and even a change of clothes if you want. You down?” Tristan asserts, rising from his seat after finishing his plate.

“Yes.” There he goes again, saying yes to this kid without even thinking about it. He doesn’t know Tristan and knows that he doesn’t like him. Tristan could be trying to set him up for something bad. Yugi’s heart tells him otherwise, however. His heart is telling him that Tristan might be…rough around the edges but he’s not a horrible person. He wouldn’t have defended him in the past if he felt that he was anything other than that. “I’ll show you a series just like that and maybe some others too while we are over here. You’ll love it” Tristan says with more energy than before, feeling excited to show something he loves to someone else.

Flashing, multicolored lights are shining in Yugi’s face as he reads the sign above them. “Bonsai” “Yep! They have a new net room which is so much bigger than the booths that they usually have. I mean don’t get me wrong, it does the job. But I want to get really comfortable, especially since my eyes start to get sore after about the fifteenth manga.” Following the taller teen, he notices a sign for a strip theater next door. “I’ve been to that, and I’ve actually seen better. The skyrise parties are the best of the best. Even have a few celebrities there once in a while. I’ll have to take you sometime if you interested.” Tristan explains, ushering him to follow him up the green carpeted stairs to the lobby. A pale, young woman wearing a navy-blue dress with the Bonsai name tag looked up when she heard the door swing open. “Hey Akemi!” Tristan smiles and greets when he sees her. Akemi knew that Tristan was a regular and tipped well when he was there. It wasn’t until he protected her from three guys that tried to attack her during one of her shifts, that she decided to look out for him. Pulling out his membership card, Akemi waves her hand at him. “Don’t worry about it! Enjoy your night!” She does a double take when she sees Yugi by his side and giggles. “Akemi! Get your mind out of the gutter.” “I did not say anything!” She teases, sitting back down on her stool. “I felt it. It was all in your mind!” He replies, waving at her for a final time. “Don’t mind her Yugi, she always does me like this.” Tristan explains, “Always accusing me of something!” Making sure she heard that last part, Tristan adds a tip to her account on his phone app.

Yugi nods his head at the woman, who blushes when Tristan isn’t looking at her. Leading him through the corridors of the room, Yugi can’t help but think this is a hotel versus a manga café. “Feels like we are at a hotel and not a café.” Yugi commented when he saw the shower signs and blanket compartments outside of each room. “That’s because in a way it is. It’s pretty new and is really for travelers who want to save some money. The booths were ok for just a few hours but now that I’m here more often because of their new shipment of books, it’s worth staying a night or two to enjoy them.” Yugi couldn’t help but agree. The chairs were soft enough but for the amount of time he spent reading, he needed something softer for his back. “The one I went to had an open bar and hookah in the very back for older guests.” “Really? I need to go to that one…. Have you ever had a drink?” Yugi shakes his head blushing, looking down at the signs on the grey hardwood floors. “It’s cool. Let me know if you ever want to go out like that. I can get you a good fake id and they will none the wiser. Cost about two hundred but I can get it to you for half.” Smiling, Yugi can’t help but think about the kind of trouble this kid must get into all the time. He just casually speaks about fake id’s and running off to who knows whereas if he is talking about a bright, sunny day. “Tell me, why are you trying to help me? I know you don’t really like me that much.”

Surprised that Yugi of all people is getting straight to the point, he stops where he is. “The truth is that I really don’t know. You’re right, I don’t really like you because you took my only friend from me. But when I saw you crying, something in my spirit told me to try and help you. I took you here because it seems like we are into some of the same things. Remember, though, you chose to follow me. You could have gotten a bus and gotten home but yet you are still following me. Why is that?” Yugi remains silent and walks shoulder to shoulder with him.

“Because my spirit said the same thing.”

#ygo fanfiction #yugi moto #honda hiroto #tristan taylor #spikeshipping #nights

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