#my hand is injured so this is a little scrappy but I still think it's cute....shy blushing levi is my favorite thing to draw ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prozd · 3 years

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Bones of the Forgotten

For those unaware, when I was 12 years old, I used to write very gritty Mario fanfiction. The only reason this exists is because we hit a charity milestone for Extra Life (which by the way you can still donate to here: https://www.extra-life.org/participant/450294)

I decided to write the sort of fanfiction that 12 year old me would've enjoyed writing, so here is my love letter to my youth.

A question block can come in handy in a variety of ways. You just gotta know how to scrap it down. Easily done enough with a precision focus Fire Flower blowtorch. The first thing you gotta do is realize there's nothing bringing that sonuvabitch down; those fuckers float in the air forever no matter how much you push or pull 'em. Instead, you gotta carve off pieces from it as it's floating up there. Awkward at first, but by the fiftieth time, it's fucking clockwork.

Melt down the pieces and you've got the golden goo perfect for crafting all sorts of nasty tools. A bat made from question block has just enough lightness for a easy swing, but just enough density to still effectively break a kneecap. A blade still won't pierce, say, a Chain Chomp, but it can at least pierce most Koopa shells. Plus, some people just like the gold color; they think it looks sick.

I personally think the best use of question block goo is making bullets out of it. They're denser than most others and they maintain their speed for longer. The only downside is they stand out if you leave them in a body at a crime scene, but that's irrelevant as long as you're cleaning up your messes properly. If anyone had the time and resources to search the bottom of the sea near Rogueport Docks, I imagine you'd find a glittering trove of golden bullets scattered among the bones of the forgotten.

One of those bullets dances idly through my fingers as I listen to one of my subordinates, a Craw with the quite frankly unfortunate name of Garf, lament about his recent mistreatment by the Syndicate.

"Ishnail, they just stomped the shit out of us! Gus and I, we weren't doin' NOTHIN' and those leafy fucks attacked us. Everyone knows the Plaza's neutral territory, we gotta DO somethin' about this."

Craws get a bad rap, in my opinion. They get labeled as savage, but I've always found them to be much more thoughtful than people would assume. Even in this moment, as my eyes gaze upon Garf's tattered, bloodied vest and bandana, and his curved beak squawks in rage, I notice the slightest trace of tears at the very edges of his eyes. Aw.

"Let me ask you one question, Garf." Out of respect, Garf immediately goes silent. Again, thoughtful. "Were you and Gus carrying your spears?"

"I......I mean.....we have to, it's part of Craw culture...."

"I'm well aware, but Garf, I'm sure YOU'RE well aware that no weapons are allowed in the Plaza. I mean, at the very least, keep a goddamn gun hidden in your pocket, don't wave a fucking SPEAR around. You're just asking for the Piantas to give you a beating."

I get up from the dingy sofa I've been lounging on and dust myself off. "But I can't have Don Pianta thinking it's okay to fuck up my guys. I'll have to have a word with the ol' mustachioed fuck." I pat Garf on the cheek and wipe a tear away with my thumb. He nods in appreciation.

I motion to two of my subordinates, a scrappy looking Goomba named Goomfrey and a laidback Hammer Brother named Hamma. We step outside HQ and into the bustling, grimy streets of Rogueport's east side.

As long as I've lived in Rogueport, it's always carried the smell of the sea in the air. It's a welcome scent to me, having grown up in the Seaside Kingdom. My mom was a Bubblainian; she raised me when my deadbeat Koopa dad left us, and what she gave me was the snail shell on my back and a love for the water. Merchants shouting and the occasional "STOP, THIEF!" ring out as my muscle and I make our way through the Plaza. We pass the gallows where the Shadow Queen's corpse was supposedly hung from one thousand years ago. Fittingly gruesome lore for a city filled with murderous rat-bastards.

A sickly sweet scent starts to mingle with the smell of the sea and garbage I'm used to. It's an indication that we're entering the west side of Rogueport. Sure, it's a much tidier area than where the Robbos and I live; there may be fancy-ass things like "flowers" and "benches," how hoity-toity. You can put lipstick on a Li'l Oink, but it still smells like shit.

We walk into Westside Goods. There's no need for the customary password; Peeka, the Boo shopkeeper, knows why I'm here. She opens up the back door, and we walk up the stairs in the back alley to Don Pianta's office.

"Ishnail, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Don Pianta stands behind his desk; as much as I hate to admit it, his presence is overwhelming. "And you brought friends, too?" he notes as he sees Goomfrey and Hamma.

If you want to live long in Rogueport, every time you enter a room, you have to mentally gauge 1. the quickest way to escape, 2. who you may need to disable and/or kill to escape, and 3. how easy that's all going to be. Two giant yellow Pianta in suits stand guard at both sides of the Don's desk. A blue Pianta in a white suit, the Don's underboss Frankie, closes the door behind us.

Piantas are not easy to injure, let alone kill; I know this from years of tangling with the Don's gang. The little palm trees and skirts would make you think otherwise, but Piantas are naturally built like fucking dump trucks and hit just as hard. Hamma's a Glitz Pit fighter, and I've seen what he can do with that hammer. Goomfrey gets underestimated for his species, but his reputation precedes him; he has bitten off more fingers than your average Rogueportian. Still, a fight against four Piantas, even with my question block bullets, would be brutal. It's telling that you never see a Pianta with a weapon because nothing will kill you faster than simply their own fists.

"Your men attacked mine, Don. And for what, carrying spears? You and I both know that's bullshit."

"My men....have been on edge. Your little Bandit friends have been scuttling around, picking too many pockets they shouldn't be. Keep that shit on the East Side where it belongs, and we'll be fine."

As Don Pianta talks, he habitually cracks his knuckles. Out of all the Piantas in the syndicate, Don Pianta is truly a mammoth; his muscles are barely contained by the suit he's wearing. Honestly, if he wasn't my ultimate arch-nemesis in this town, shit, I'd fuck him. I like my men beefy.

"Alright, Don. I'll tell my boys to keep their weapons out of the plaza. You and I both know no one benefits if we fight in the streets. Bad business for both your establishments and mine. Let's keep things quiet."

"Agreed," The Don extends a giant hand. I shake it firmly.

I turn to leave with my muscle in tow. As I open the door to leave, I hear a whisper.

"Get your slimy shell outta here, you fuck."

I pause. I give Goomfrey the look, and he smirks. Goomfrey's eyes quickly dart and I know he's already memorizing every little detail about the yellow Pianta who whispered the insult. Without another word, I close the door behind me.

---

There's one more use for question block goo I forgot to mention. It's perfect for weighing things down.

I breathe in the salty seaport air; it's particularly sweet tonight. The golden bullet dances between my fingers; I know it's a bad habit, but it's fun to fidget with. It'll go to good use though. I load it into my Fire Flower pistol with a few others and carefully attach the silencer.

"Now, listen, uh...what was his name again?"

"Paulie," says Goomfrey, standing to my side with a grin.

"That's right, Paulie. I'm a pretty patient person, I think most people including your boss would agree, but I've got a real sore spot about the shell, ya know? It's just, it reminds me of my dear old ma, and I love her to bits. You understand, right?"

There is no response from Paulie due to his crushed windpipe courtesy of Hamma's hammer. Quite frankly, I'm impressed he's still conscious from the pain. He looks up at me from his crouching position eyes filled with hate, his hands and feet encased in reforged golden question blocks. Piantas are heavy, so four blocks worth is safest.

"I did promise the dear Don that I'd keep things quiet, so let's cut to the chase." I point the gun at his forehead and before he can react, I fire three shots. There's no need to prolong this shit; I'm not a sadist. Hamma and Goomfrey pick up the body and toss it off the port into the sea.

"For what it's worth, boss," says Hamma in a low, pleasant baritone. "I like your shell. Looks good on ya."

"Aww, thanks."

#mario #fanfiction #charity #paper mario #thousand year door

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alderaani · 4 years

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Family

Summary: Rex wakes up after leaving Saleucami to find Cody at his bedside, and has to grapple with meeting Cut Lawquane and what it means to be a clone. Gen fic, 2.4k of brother feels.

Part of my series 100 clone centric prompts, or readable on AO3 here.

A/N: Look nothing breaks my heart more than when Cut questions Rex about duty and he is SO quick to start talking about protecting his hypothetical children. I’ve been staring at this fic for three days and getting fed up of writing it, u know when you’ve just been staring at words so long they stop being words? So here it is, and i hope you like it!

The medbay lights were low when Rex woke. He knew where he was even before he opened his eyes, lulled by the ever-present rumble of the engines and the sharp smell of antiseptic. And sure enough, the Resolute took gentle shape around him, turning from smear to ship once he’d blinked the sleep away. His eyes always felt dry and sensitive after sedatives, painfully tight around the edges. For a moment he lay perfectly still, letting the galaxy trickle back in, sense by sense.

The bleep of a monitor, the stiff, starched edges of the sheet tucked up round his body. A warm, solid weight wrapped around his hand, the rumbling sound of someone snoring, the unnatural dryness of his mouth and the lingering taste of bacta on his tongue.

He looked down, then smothered a laugh. Cody was crumpled like discarded flimsi in a chair next to his bed, hunched so that his head and upper shoulders were wedged close to Rex’s thigh over the blankets. His nose was scrunched with sleep, the force of his soft snores dislodging the curls on his forehead with each puff of air. He still smelt like blaster residue and dust, and his cheek had left dark smudges on the sheet. There was a discarded datapad next to his head, glowing with soft blue light as it announced the arrival of several new messages. His hand was the heavy weight that Rex could feel, wound tight around his own. Cody had split his knuckles again, the skin around the thin cuts raised and puffy and glistening with freshly applied bacta.

Rex wasn’t sure when he’d gotten here, but it couldn’t have been too long, or someone would have bullied his brother into at least hitting the freshers.

He couldn’t remember making it to the rendezvous, the memories buried somewhere under the jarring bolts of pain from his chest and the way his arm stung like a nest of hornets as the nerves healed. Telling General Kenobi that he’d been on the mend hadn’t been a lie, per se, but even Rex could admit that he’d perhaps been stretching things. It was at least reassuring to know that he’d not fallen off his eopie and collapsed in some unremarkable patch of Saleucami’s farmland.

Rex stared around the familiar bay, struggling with the rush of relief and discomfiture that spread through his body. Nothing was out of place here; he could look around and know exactly what to expect, from the barracks to the bridge. He wanted to let it settle him the way it usually did, to let relief seep into his bones at another mission fought and – well, not won, but survived. This time it wouldn’t quite come.

It wasn’t because he’d been injured. That had happened more times than he had fingers. Maybe it was because The Resolute was the closest thing to a home that he had…and for the first time in his short life, he couldn’t help but find it a little lacking. He’d come back. That much was true, and he was glad of it. But there was some part of him that was still stranded on that farm on Saleucami, rooted there in the sound of children’s laughter and the humming of insects in the fields. He could still feel the pale sun beating down on his face, taste the sharp wind on his tongue, and was surprised to find it bound up in a small ache in his chest.

The blaster bolt would scar. So would this feeling. But neither would ever fully go away.

When Rex had told Cut that he’d never really thought about the names they gave each other, the individuality it bestowed upon each clone, he’d been telling the truth. It had simply never been a priority beyond a fleeting thought. There were always more important things to think about; they all knew that each brother was different, beyond name, station, hair colour or designation. To clones, those distinctions they chose for themselves were sacred. And that had always been enough, until now. The sight of one of their own framed in a farm-house door, children round his feet and a whole world under them…the possibility of it sat irreversibly inside him, a Pandora’s Box he’d never known could be opened.

Maybe he’d never thought about it before – but on some level now he always would.

That terrified him.

“Rex’ika?”

The fingers around his palm flexed, dragging him back to the present.

He glanced down to see Cody’s eyes fixed on his face, puffy but alert, his cheek creased where the sheets had pressed into them. His ori’vod jerked frantically into motion, pushing upright with a groan. Rex didn’t even have time to speak before Cody’s fist was colliding lightly with his shoulder.

“The kriff d’you let yourself get shot for?”

“Good to see you too, vod,” Rex grumbled, rotating his shoulder for show then actively wincing when the motion sent streaks of pain skittering from the crater in his chest.

He knew that Cody had seen it, because instantly his hand pushed him back firmly into the pillows, like if he didn’t hold him still Rex was going to try and escape somewhere.

“I’m alright,” he said after a moment, patting Cody’s hand a couple of times before his brother deemed fit to let go of him.

“Oh yeah? Because five hours ago you said that and then fell flat on your face.”

Rex grimaced. He couldn’t refute the claim because he didn’t know any better, and sadly from the bits of the journey he could recall, collapsing at the end of it was a distinct possibility. There was a familiar pinch between Cody’s eyebrows as he hovered, ready to manhandle Rex again if he felt it necessary. It was an expression that Rex knew intimately, because it only appeared when he’d worried him.

He’d been a scrappy cadet; never allowed anonymity because of his hair, defiance and recklessness had been a kind of defence mechanism. If he was going to be singled out, he could at least control the way it happened. The fourth time he’d been made to run so many laps that he vomited, he’d looked up, panting, to see Cody’s pinched face staring back. The commanding batches were only meant to supervise the punishments of the younger levels, but Cody had reached out a hand anyway and hauled Rex to his feet. He’d been the one to teach him that there were better ways to make himself untouchable.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Rex said, swiping his tongue over his dry bottom lip. “Tastes like Kix gave me the good stuff.”

Cody rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching into something fond. “He’s gonna kick your shebs, and I’m gonna let him. You should’ve seen his face when the General said you were on your way. The hells were you thinking, di’kut? We could’ve sent an escort.”

Rex felt his answering grin slide off his face at the thought, uncertainty settling back into his belly like lead. An escort would have had to come to the farm, and in turn would have seen the deserter. Some not insignificant part of him felt almost affronted at what Cut had done, even as he didn’t regret keeping his secret. It ground against what they’d been taught about themselves, against what had been built into their DNA. It didn’t matter whether they liked war the same way it didn’t matter whether they liked the colour of their eyes. It was what it was.

But Rex could comprehend turning his back on that, even if he didn’t understand. What was harder to fathom, with Cody’s hand anchoring his own, palm sweaty with relief that his ori’vod wouldn’t voice, was being alone. The idea of saying ‘family’ and not meaning a face just like his own. The thought of being cut off from the vode, from the invisible threads of brotherhood that transcended them all…it was an alien thing, sharp and unpleasant.

“It was for the best,” he said to Cody, a beat too slowly. “The farmer who put me up…he wasn’t the friendliest sort.”

Cody’s gaze sharpened. “Anti-clone?”

Rex very nearly laughed. “No, just the over-cautious type. He didn’t want the war on his doorstep.”

Cody paused for one very long moment, surveying Rex with eyes that always unearthed everything he wanted to hide. He would have been more worried, had he not been quite confident that Cut Lawquane was unpredictable.

“Then why are there hand-print bruises on your neck, Rex?”

Reflexively, Rex reached for his throat, running his fingers gingerly over the puffy skin. He hadn’t realised that they were there, but immediately the sensation of dangling by his throat came back to him.

“I got throttled by a commando droid, that’s why. Turns out the farmer didn’t get a whole lotta say about some landin’ in his field. We handled it.”

Cody swore, his hand tightening around Rex’s again. “Just couldn’t miss out on the action, could you vod’ika? Gettin’ shot wasn’t enough?”

Rex grinned, shrugging a little. “How else am I gonna give you grey hairs? Me ‘n Wolffe have still got that bet going about which marshal commander it’ll be first, you or Fox. And I’ve gotta make up for the whole Senate somehow.”

“Unbelievable,” Cody growled, shoving Rex’s hand away and running a hand over his head. “Throwing the odds is illegal, Chakaar. What did he wager? Corellian whiskey? Koon always sneaks him the best shit.”

Rex snorted, wrinkling his nose. “Hardly. As if I’d risk my shebs for a drink, Kote, it’s for the glory.”

Cody leaned back in his chair, face still a picture of outrage. Rex knew that in any other scenario he’d have already been in a headlock, and grinned smugly at the fact he was currently untouchable.

“Yeah, well, next time you don’t hafta try so hard,” Cody muttered. “Or you’ll bypass grey hairs and push me straight to heart attack.”

“That still counts as a win.”

Rex knew he fully deserved the punch that Cody landed on his leg, covering his mouth to muffle the laugh that wanted to burst out of him. The rest of the bay was surprisingly quiet, the lighting low and soft. The vast majority of the beds were empty, the few other occupants sound in either natural or induced sleep. Cody probably should have gone to alert the on-duty medic that he’d woken up, but instead the silence lapsed on between them, Cody’s eyes crinkling soft at the corners again in that unguarded way that Rex missed from their youth.

After a moment Cody’s pad chirped from between the disturbed sheets, a gratingly cheerful sound that never heralded anything good. Rex watched his brother sigh and pick up the offending item, scrolling and clicking through notices as the tension crept back into his face. Cody had always been like that – ruthlessly efficient, wickedly shrewd, a ship against which the rest of them could weather all storms. Any clone who’d ever met him knew what class he was destined to go into, and when he’d been promoted, the only person who’d been surprised was Cody himself.

There was a pride in that, Rex reflected; to excel so thoroughly at the purpose for which you’d been made. But there was no choice in it either, and it was an odd thing, to look at Cody for the first time and find it a little jarring that he couldn’t picture him as anything else.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Cody had looked up from his datapad with one eyebrow raised. Then he sighed again, jabbing at the screen grumpily. “I swear Bly waits until it’s my night cycle to send me forms on purpose.”

Rex watched him type for a few more seconds, then looked down at his hands.

“Have you ever thought about the end of the war?”

There was a long pause, hanging stunned in the air between them. Rex twisted his fingers together then looked up, feeling oddly vulnerable. Cody’s brow was lifted in a rare moment of unguarded surprise, before his eyes narrowed, searching Rex’s face.

“…no, I suppose I haven’t,” he said eventually. “General Kenobi theorises that it’ll hinge on –“

“No, I meant – have you ever thought about what we’ll do after.” Rex said softly.

Cody blinked a few times then leant back in his chair.

“After?” The word curled uncertainly off his tongue, an awkward shape in his mouth. “Don’t you think we’ve gotta win the damn thing first, Rex’ika?”

Rex shrugged, feeling his shoulders creep up round his ears the way they always did when he was nervous. The words almost stuck in his throat, scraping raw as he pushed them out, unformed and fledgeling.

“Yeah, of course. But…all the same. For some of us there will be an after. Commander Tano talks about it sometimes – getting back to all the things she did before.”

That did make Cody smile, a little fleeting thing. “General Kenobi does too. He had to put all his plants in the Temple gardens, says he misses them.”

“Have you ever thought about going with them?”

Cody’s eyebrows jumped again, a rare, blank look on his face that made Rex feel better and worse all at the same time. “Can’t think why the Jedi would need clones around in their Temple. What’s this really about, Rex?”

Rex let out a breath, a long gusting sigh that peeled out of his ribcage, and fixed his eyes back on the ceiling. “Staying with that farmer…eating at his table, sharing his food. Talking to his kids…it just made me wonder, you know? What that might be like.”

Cody snorted, but his eyes were impossibly warm as he scrubbed a knuckle over Rex’s short blond hair. “You? A farmer? Didn’t you kill the plant Kenobi got Skywalker for his lifeday?”

Rex batted him away. “That thing was already dead when he brought it to me. And to be honest, the eopie they lent me stank. But…his kids were cute. Real big eyes, you know?”

The corner of Cody’s mouth had ticked up again as he settled himself back down with his datapad. “Tano and Skywalker not kids enough for you?”

He ducked the fist Rex shoved his way, chuckling, and they settled back into a docile quiet, Cody confused, and Rex unsure how else to put his feelings into words. How it wasn’t just the farmer, or the kids, or the land. Just the new, frightening possibility that one day they might be his to take. Rex felt the drowsiness creep back in on him, cresting and falling in a wave. He didn’t fight it, twisting down into the sheets and letting the soft tapping of Cody’s fingers on glass lull him on. When he reached the precipice of sleep, hovering somewhere above a dream, he felt his brother’s hand squeeze his one more time, then heard him speak.

“I guess I never have thought about it, vod. But you’re right. Maybe it does sound nice.”

taglist // @nelba @iscream4clones @bad-batch-of-fics @leias-left-hair-bun @majorshiraharu @simping-for-fives // join here

#captain rex #commander cody #saleucami #star wars clone clone wars #star wars #the clone wars #the deserter #cut lawquane #alderwrites #cc-2224 #ct-7567 #tcw

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lassieposting · 3 years

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If you’re still doing the getting together ask could I request Saracen and Dexter???

I’m bored, so. Send me two (or more) characters for a headcanon on how I’d have them get together

god so. dexter can't stand saracen when they first meet.

like, dex is the second one in after erskine. So when he becomes one of what will eventually be the dead men, it's the original three - skulduggery, ghastly and hopeless - plus ravel. Dex is the youngest by a mile at 17 - he lies about his age to enlist - but he's scrappy and streetwise and has a relatively sensible head on his shoulders, so he's doing well as a soldier. Skulduggery was the one he was really itching to meet - the youngest general in 300 years, the miracle soldier, the living skeleton - but it's ghastly who actually brings him in, ghastly who saw a scared kid with the potential to be a warrior, ghastly who tried to convince him to go home and offered to teach him to box when he refused, ghastly who introduced him to the others.

Skulduggery does not have flames for eyes, does not glow with holy light and, as far as dexter can tell, does not have any extra special fancy magic nobody has ever seen before. A little bit of dexter is disappointed, but skulduggery is still the most intimidating person he's ever met - he only says four words to dexter the first time they meet: "You're in my way." - but dexter gets the impression that this is someone to whom bloody murder comes as naturally as blinking. His induction into the group is a gruelling three week mission to the scottish highlands, which he's fairly sure is supposed to put him off, but it doesn't.

And things go great, until saracen turns up.

Now, dexter has never really had much to do with The Aristos™ before, unless you count pickpocketing them and legging it with their valuables. But he knows that technically, both skulduggery and erskine come from very wealthy, landed families, and hes spent plenty of time with them, so he thinks he knows how rich people work. and like...yes, ravel has a tendency to be a bit stuffy and pompous, but the fact of the matter is that they've both spent over a century slumming it in the army - skug, especially, likes to lead from the front and lives the same way his men do. They've lost a lot of the inherent prejudices and snobbery that comes with being nobility in the 1700s. So nothing about either of them prepares him for saracen rue.

Saracen is your quintessential 1700s rich boy. He bought his commission - as opposed to skug, who enlisted with ghastly and came up through the ranks - and he arrives to meet with skug and corrival wearing a spotless uniform like a toy soldier in a shop window. His tent is obnoxiously elaborate, he has a wagon and horse to store it and his belongings, and the first thing he does is hand dex his bags like he expects him to set the tent up for him. Dexter looks at this gorgeous, glamorous man and then at skug - who wears battered leathers and gets into fistfights and sleeps outdoors with the rest of them without complaining, and wonders how on earth these two people came from the same sort of family

And - it's not that saracen intends to be offensive at all. He's very much attracted to dexter and wants him to like him. He's very jovial and friendly and he even makes skug laugh on occasion, which is a superpower in and of itself in the post-death, pre-vile days. But he's also kind of entitled and tends to be a bit superior, and he's one of those people who just...talk, and don't necessarily think too much about how what they say will sound before saying it.

For example: the case of the lost necklace. As a young boy, Dexter pickpocketed a locket from a distracted young nobleman, and gifted it to his mother, so she could feel like a lady. When he signed up to fight, his mother gave him the locket to wear and made him promise to bring it back to her when the war was over. During one mission Dexter ends up spending the night with saracen in his stupid fancy tent, and when they're postcoitally lazing, saracen mentions that he recognises the locket, a gift he'd bought for his sister - he knows the inscription written inside. Dexter is mortified, but saracen shrugs it off and casually reveals that when he'd realised it was gone, he'd simply commissioned another one. "You can keep it," he says magnanimously, before making a very off-colour joke about how after that performance, dexter certainly earned it. Dex, who has had to sell sex a few times to put food in his siblings' mouths, does not take this well, and things are complicated for a while - he's frosty, but saracen seems to like that, and they keep ending up in bed together and then bickering and ignoring each other and then repeating the cycle.

They have moments of tenderness, though - occasional at first, and then more often as the years go by. Saracen teaches Dexter to read and write, and learns how to scrap and play knucklebones in return. They drink together and tend to each other's wounds and try to figure out what the fuck is going on between skug and ghastly together, unaware that skug and ghastly are doing the same about them. Saracen dresses Dexter up in his fancy clothes and teaches him to walk and talk and dance like a gentleman, both of them howling with laughter the whole time, and then strips the fancy clothes off him and tells him he prefers him without them. They trade stories, and slights, and sweet nothings, amd over the years they become...something to one another.

And then there's Siberia, the mission to assassinate a man so terrible his own people called him "the butcher". Something goes wrong, they're forced to scatter, and when they meet back up at the rendezvous point, they're a man down. Saracen is missing.

Dexter is absolutely frozen with panic, and he doesn't know why. Skulduggery handles it with the same cool, detached competency he always has in a crisis, and the others seem to take their lead from him, but all dexter can think of is saracen, captured and injured and terrified, and how they've all heard that nobody survives the butcher's interrogations for more than 48 hours. The teleporter arrives to take them home, and they refuse to go, and somehow dexter stumbles through the next three days of searching for saracen in a blind fucking haze of fear, sleepless and sick to his stomach, chewing his nails down to the quick.

It's saracen who finds them, in the end, limping towards them sporting little more than some gnarly bruises, missing his jacket and wearing someone else's trousers. Dexter dives on him as soon as he's within arm's reach and they go down in the snow and he's crying like a child and as soon as they're done kissing he's smacking saracen in the chest, suddenly furious, snarling, "never do that to me again! Never do that to me again!" right up until skulduggery gets hold of him under the armpits and drags him off. That night, after the story of saracen's incredible escape has been told and retold and expanded with each telling, dexter tries to tell saracen how worried he's been, how scared he was, how he thought they might never see each other again. But he cant find the words, and he keeps stopping and starting and getting frustrated

And in the end, when it's clear dex isn't really getting anywhere with this, saracen puts his head back down in dexter's lap, shuts his eyes and says, "ah, shush. I love you too."

And they leave it at that

#Anon #fire message #skulduggery pleasant #sexter #vexrue #sp headcanons

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tansypoisoning · 4 years

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Scrappy Doo

You got in trouble often, and it showed. Worse than every bruise and cut, though, was your front door neighbor’s concern. He didn’t know you; he was too busy to know you. You wished he would stop pretending he cared so you could move on with your life in peace, and never have to deal with intrusive thoughts of what it would be like to have a room in his heart.

Me, writing fluff? More likely than you think (and yet not that likely). This is my entry for @jtargaryen18‘s “30 Days of Chris” I’m just trying to branch out a little, and since J’s fics tend to end up being really sweet even if they don’t start that way… Well, I thought I’d go for some sweetness too. Ended up calling out myself in this xD. Anyway, I would appreciate if you guys let me know if you think this is okay. Don’t judge the name too harshly please xD

Fandoms: MCU

Genre: Fluff? Hurt/Comfort? Things you wouldn’t expect from me, I guess.

Ships: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3166

Warnings: Mentions of violence and injury, some blood, non-graphic descriptions of wound dressing

The bits of bandage and specks of blood in the sink were piling up worryingly fast. You had looked at them to take your eyes and mind of the gash in your arm, but you reckoned you should’ve just closed them.

“One of these days you’re going to lose your head,” The woman in front of you grumbled as she weaved needle and thread through your flesh “and I’m not going to put you back together, I swear.”

You tried to tell her ‘If anyone could it’s you, Molly’, but the stiff thrown pillow stolen from her couch so you’d have something to bite muddled the words to the point none of them were recognizable.

You ground your teeth on the linen with every new puncture, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter like a lifeline. It hurt, but you’d be okay. You’d been through worse. Your love of hiking, parkour, urban exploration, political activism and doing good recklessly (emphasis on the reckless bit), meant you often found yourself beaten and bruised and wounded and just fucked up in general, but it was all worth it. Just last week you’d rescued a woman’s purse! Molly didn’t share your enthusiasm.

“I should really charge you for this,” she complained. She said it every time you showed at her doorstep, and every time she would put you back together free of charge.

Nick by nick, all your wounds were dressed and you were good to go. You dropped the pillowcase in the washing machine before making your way to the door.

“Seriously, you gotta start being more careful.” Your friend called. “I get that you can’t always help it, but…. jumping on a rusty ladder, are you kidding me?”

“I can’t make any promises!” You smiled sheepishly and she rolled her eyes “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate it.”

She sighed, but her lips curled upwards nonetheless “Yeah, I know. I expect to see you again in a week.”

“You know I’ll visit regardless!”

“Hopefully not bleeding!” She yelled just as you turned around to jog back to your apartment complex just across the street. The walk was familiar, if a little uncomfortable. Your bruised legs hurt as you climbed up the stairs, but you were smiling all the way.

You had just shoved the key in the lock when the door across from your place opened, and someone behind you sighed.

“Again?”

You whirled around on the balls of your feet, arms raised in preparation to salute the other person on the hall with you.

“Hello, captain!” You greeted cheerfully, resting your hand against your forehead.

Captain America’s look of disappointment could make just about everyone wilt, and you weren’t the exception. In fact, maybe you were even weaker to it than the average person.

“What happened this time?” He asked.

“Urban exploration,” you said, your voice losing a considerable amount of volume and enthusiasm “I was on some ladders when they broke down.”

The lines of his forehead deepened. No, this wasn’t disappointment; it was concern. That was somehow worse.

Who the hell was he to be concerned about you? He didn’t know you; he was too busy to know you.

“I’m okay, though. Nothing broken or anything.”

“You got stitches.”

You shrugged. “Stitches, schmeeches.”

He didn’t find it amusing. “And you’re still going on these expeditions alone.”

“Well, who else am I gonna do them with?” Most of your friends lived too far away, and the ones who lived near had no interest in your little misadventures.

Steve didn’t answer. He likely didn’t have an answer, but he also didn’t have the decency to wipe that look of faux worry off his face.

“And how are your expeditions on the culture going?” You used his silence to direct the conversation to a more pleasant topic.

You didn’t know much about Captain America – he didn’t really let himself be known – but living across from him had given you some insight on his life. Given he’d been stuck on ice for seventy years, it was no wonder he’d needed help to acclimate to the radically different world he had woken up in. He got used to the social and political changes with surprising ease, and it didn’t take him long to acquire a passable understanding of current technology. What he struggled with was pop culture.

You had been his media dealer for a few months now, supplying him with an endless stream of movies, series and music (some of which of questionable legality, but he didn’t need to know that). He had told you of his difficulty finding some of the things people had urged him to look into, and you offered to help him with that. You used the opportunity to introduce him to some things that you liked, because it was always nice to have another person to talk to about these things.

“It’s been going,” he said, and you were happy to see his expression softening “slowly, but it’s been going. Thank you for the Prince songs, by the way.”

“You’re so welcome,” you answered with a grin. He had initially given priority to media other people had suggested to him, but he’d been getting around to your things in the last two months or so “Have you watched Mr. Rogers Neighborhood yet?”

“Not yet.”

“You really should. Fred Rogers might be the one person who beats Steve Rogers at the whole ‘being a good human being’ thing.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m putting it off,” he smiled, but it was short-lived as he stopped to clear his throat. “I gotta go now.”

“Okay,” you nodded and stepped back to press your back against the wall. The hall was almost too small for the two of you. “Gotta rush to save the World, huh?”

“Something like that,” he said as he moved toward the stairs, but he turned back to you as he reached the railing. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You recoiled at his words. “Sure.” You answered stiffly, then rushed to open your door before he could say anything else. You didn’t need this. This fake concern, those empty words… You much preferred hostility, that was at least less confusing, less painful.

It really was stupid of you to nurture such a silly crush. Steve was just your front door neighbor. The sooner you accepted that, the better.

Molly wasn’t home, and she wasn’t picking up her phone. Where the fuck was she? It’s not like she had an obligation to help you out, yes, but… She always did help, and now she had to pick the worst possible moment to go M.IA.

The walk up to your apartment was familiar and painful. You were worried about your right arm; it wouldn’t move, and whenever you tried to touch it, it hurt. Could it be broken? You hoped not, but if anyone could be sure, that person was Molly. And she always picked up.

Your key was in your backpack, so you had to take it off before you could open your door. You tried to be quiet, but when the strap brushed your injured arm you couldn’t help but yelp.

Your neighbor’s door opened instantly, and at such a speed you felt the air in the room being rearranged. Steve’s gasp behind you only made you feel worse.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” There was a pause and then a hand was at your right arm, squeezing it as if to turn you around. You were loathe to show any weakness in front of him, but it hurt too much. You howled, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, and Steve let go. He walked around you, coming to stand in front of you. He didn’t look angry at all, just deeply concerned.

Great. You didn’t need this shit on top of everything else.

“Steve, let me get into my home.”

“Where’s Molly?”

“I don’t know,” you whined. It was getting harder and harder to keep the little composure you still had “Please let me in, Steve.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” His voice brooked no arguments, and something about it was too much for you.

You broke down with one sob, then several more, and the look on Steve’s face only grew more worried. “I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“I’m paying,” he said, and you were about to tell him no, but he didn’t give you the chance: “This is serious. You can’t wait this out. I’m taking you and I’m paying for it. Do you need me to carry you or can you walk on your own?”

You wiped at your tears with your good hand and nodded. “Yeah, I can walk.”

You followed Steve out of the building, pausing ever-so-often. Steve would wait for you whenever you did, not once complaining or frowning. He helped you into his car and buckled you in.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” He asked once he’d settled in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t want to.”

He took a deep breath as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t press the issue. You didn’t want to talk about the incident, but you didn’t know what else to talk about, so you kept quiet. Steve didn’t speak much either, occasionally asking you for updates on your state, but otherwise letting the radio do the speaking for you. The songs playing were ones you’d recommended to him, you noticed.

The trip to the hospital was longer than the waiting in the lobby, and thankfully that wasn’t very long. Steve remained outside while you were being patched up. You were glad for it. Having to explain your wounds to the staff was already bad enough, you didn’t need him to hear it as well.

You left the hospital in bandages and with a cast on your right arm. Despite the weight of the plaster, you felt a hundred times lighter, knowing you’d gotten the care you needed for free. Steve didn’t share your enthusiasm. He sighed when he saw you walk out of the room, and you felt your smile slip just a little.

The two of you were quiet when you entered the car. Steve drove in absolute silence for about two minutes before you thought to thank him – and you really were thankful, but thanking him almost seemed a waste. He looked so frustrated, just like everyone else when it came to you. Reckless, hasty, imprudent, you should just know your limits and not go past them. You should just stop doing the things that made you happy and the things you felt were needed because you would get scratched in the protest. That’s what everyone said. You couldn't imagine a super-human who put his life in graver danger every day being any more understanding.

You were about to bite the bullet and thank him, but Steve opened his mouth before you could: “You’re kind of like Scrappy Doo.”

“What?” All your previous feelings of goodwill vanished from you like the air in a popped balloon.

“I started watching some of the cartoons you-”

“I’m surprised you’re even here if I’m such a burden.”

It was his turn to look incensed. “What are you talking about?”

“Scrappy Doo. Am I seriously that much of an annoyance to you?”

“No!” He took his eyes from the road for a brief moment to direct them at you. “I was making a reference. Isn’t that what people like to do nowadays?”

“You compared me to a character everyone hates.”

“I don’t. And I don’t know why anyone would.”

“That’s not-” Your words didn’t come to you as fluidly as you would like them to. “It doesn’t matter. He’s an annoyance and only ever makes things worse.”

“Is that what you think of yourself?”

“No, that’s just what everyone else thinks of me.”

You looked at the rear view mirror to see him frowning. “Who told you that?”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” Of course he didn’t. If you were a nuisance to normal people, imagine how pathetic you must’ve seemed to someone as strong as Steve.

“I-” Whatever he was going to say he interrupted with a shake of his head and a sigh. “I shouldn’t say you remind me of Scrappy Doo. Rather… you remind me of me.”

It was your turn to frown. “You?”

“Before I was recruited for the serum program, I used to be very small. Short, frail… that didn’t stop me from getting in trouble whenever I saw injustice. I thought it was wrong to let bullies go unchallenged, even though I knew I couldn’t win. I always had to get rescued, but I kept doing it because I knew it was the right thing to do.”

“And then you got jacked and that helped a lot.”

He laughed. “I’m way better at doing helping out nowadays, but even so… I don’t think you’re an annoyance. I worry about you because I used to get in the same sort of trouble. I ask you to be careful because I’m afraid you won’t come back home one day.”

Your heart leaped in your chest, and then you remembered you had been there before. That wouldn't be the first time someone pretended to care for you on a personal level, then abandoned you when it wasn’t convenient anymore.

“You don’t really know me, Steve. I get if you’re worried about me just like you’re worried about everyone else, but I would rather… It feels fake, you know? Like you’re just helping me because I’m right there, and if one day I didn’t come home you’d just go on worrying about everyone else.”

“No, I-” He started, then cut himself off to huff. “I can’t talk about this while I’m driving. Hold on.”

You were quiet as Steve turned into a side street, darker and quiet than the one you were on. He looked around until he found a place to park, and then turned to you once the engine was off and the key was out of the ignition.

“I do care about everyone. If I was neighbors with someone else and they got hurt as often as you, I would worry and I would help them however I could, but I wouldn't feel the same way I feel about you. If you suddenly didn’t come back I- Why would you think I don’t care?”

“I just don’t see why you would. We only talk when we meet in the hallway, and you don’t look at the things I reccomend you, because you never talk about it.”

“I was watching Scooby Doo when you showed up.” Steve said, and there was an edge of frustration to his voice “Whenever I’m home I’m looking at the things you gave me. I don’t have as much time to learn about the things you like as I wish I had. I don’t have as much time and energy to know you as I wish I did. And you-” He stopped himself and shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t want to do this when you’re injured.”

“No, tell me.” You and Steve were finally conversing rather than exchanging pleasantries. Now that you were being honest with each other, you didn’t think you could go back to how things were before. “I told you I wanted honesty. And whatever it is you’ve got to say, I bet won’t hurt more than this fucking thing.” And you pointed at your injured am.

He hesitated. He looked back and forth from you to the windshield, then swallowed hard before proceeding. “You put up a wall. I couldn't get you to talk to me about your injuries for months, and every time I ask you to be careful, you brush it off. It’s like you don’t want me to know anything about you.”

You considered his words for a second, then your own feelings for a moment longer. You couldn’t pretend it was just because you didn’t want to be a burden. “This is going to sound weird, but I’m scared I can’t trust you?” You turn to him. His brows are scrunched together, and he almost looks to be in pain. “I know, right? If you can’t trust Captain America, who are you gonna trust?” Your chuckle sounded hollow to your years.

Steve shook his head as his right hand moved from the wheel to latch onto your left wrist. His hold was gentle, and you knew you could pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t want to. “I thought you disliked me.”

His words sent a shock through you. Dislike him? How could he think that when the truth was the exact opposite? Then it dawned on you that you really had avoided him. Whenever he tried to get you to open up you deterred his efforts, like you really didn’t like him, like you didn’t want to know him. You did, you just… You were just afraid of what could happen if you let him in too deep.

“That’s funny.” You said, even though it wasn’t. “I was so scared you wouldn't like me, or you would stop liking me, that I didn’t even give you the chance to do that.”

He was quick to respond: “No. I could’ve talked about different things-”

“It wouldn’t have worked.” You said. The words came to you easily, products of an epiphany rather than a thought. They’re not a product of your own reason, rather a universal truth. “It’s not your job to chip at my barriers. I was avoiding you, I was fighting this. Why would you keep pushing if I gave nothing back?”

“I don’t know why you put up walls.” Steve’s fingers skimmed against your skin. Was he still afraid his touch wasn’t welcome? “You must have your reasons, and I’m not going to ask them. I want to be someone you can trust, but I can’t make you trust me. Do you think… Do you think we could make this work? I’d like to get to know you, if you’re okay with that.”

You pulled your hand from his. His shoulders slumped, but he looked up when you entwined your fingers with his. His surprise was evident, and behind it, subtler, there was something else. You didn’t know what it was, but something in his expression sent your heart fluttering.

“I would like that too.” You said, smiling at the same time he did. “And you can let me know when you’re free so we can watch some series together, and you can explain to me how the hell you don’t hate Scrappy Doo.”

He laughs and squeezes your fingers in his. His touch is reassuring, and you feel nostalgic. You remember your childhood bedroom, and being snug under covers while a hand ran through your hair. Safe. That was the last time you had felt this safe.

#30DaysofChris2020 #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #mine

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thepartyresponsible · 4 years

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welcome to the all fluff, all the time network. i said here that i was taking prompts, but i neglected to mention that i’m writing all of them as fluff. or as close to fluff as i can manage, anyway.

this one’s for the anon who asked for jason with anyone with the prompt “please don’t do this.”

it’s a standalone piece of a much longer hockey au. endgame is jason, bucky, and frank.

---

“Please don’t do this.”

“Oh,” Jason says, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Jason,” Bucky says. He leans over, as close as he can get. He’s pale, a little wide-eyed, bottom lip red from his attempts to bite back the pain. “Come on.”

The trainer doesn’t look up from carefully rotating Bucky’s arm, checking the range of motion, but Jason knows damn well that the little frown on his face is not good news.

They were on Injured Reserve together, him and Bucky. Back when Jason first got traded, when he showed up with – no shit – hundreds of stitches in his throat and exactly zero endearing personality traits. Barnes had been quiet, distracted, kinda lost in his head, but he’d always been so Goddamn nice. From day one, when Jason showed up exactly like some prissy, sullen bastard who’d never been traded, never expected to be traded, never wanted to suit up in anything other than Bats’ black and gold, Barnes had treated him like he was something worth keeping around.

And here they are, five games into Barnes’ big comeback, and Brock fucking Rumlow just took a swipe at Bucky’s freshly-healed arm.

Castle’s out sick, or this would be his responsibility. Hell, if Castle were playing tonight, Rumlow probably would’ve kept his fucking hands to himself.

The Avengers don’t need an enforcer. That’s not Jason’s job. But Jason considers himself a well-rounded player. He can fill in where he’s needed.

“I’m gonna fucking do it, Buck,” Jason says, eyeing his route, sighting his target. “I’m definitely gonna do it.”

“Todd,” Coulson says, tone kinda sharp but not angry like he means it, “we don’t need any theatrics right now.”

“Philly,” Jason says, “Philadelphia. Cream Cheese. All I’ve got is theatrics.”

Coulson sighs and turns his eyes skyward. He keeps Jason on the bench until the Avengers score on the power play, and then he sets him loose. As far as Jason’s concerned, that’s practically a benediction.

Thor heads in for a change, worried eyes pinned on Bucky, and Jason’s over the boards and racing up the ice a full two seconds too early, like too many men is a summation of his recent dating history and not a perfectly fucking legitimate penalty.

Not that his behavior would indicate he gives a good Goddamn about taking penalties right now.

He does – and he hopes Bruce notices this when he watches the tape later, hopes Alfred appreciates the depth of his personal growth – wait to drop his gloves until after Rumlow calls him a pretty boy and a bitch and a coward who lost his balls. He waits, like a professional, until Rumlow’s own gloves hit the ice before he throws a mean, messy uppercut directly to his throat.

Rumlow’s a good fighter. It’s why his fans love him. He floods his Instagram every summer with pictures of himself shirtless and sweating in a boxing ring. Jason shouldn’t know that, probably, but it’s not like he’s ever had a problem compartmentalizing I wanna fuck you and I wanna fuck you up when he needs to.

Rumlow fights like someone who knows how, who learned in a ring with his knuckles taped or behind a school with someone to hold the other kid’s arms back. He knows to go for weak points, mainly. It’s served him well so far.

Jason hasn’t been in a fight since the one that damn near killed him. And he never had any formal boxing lessons, but he grew up doing his best not to get stabbed to death in Gotham’s back alleys, and the result of that practical training is a fighting style Roy Harper once fondly described as honey badger on a life-altering hit of PCP.

Jason’s swallowing blood when it’s over. His knuckles are fucked, and there’s an unfriendly tingling in his gumline that suggests his emergency dentist might be about to earn herself another tropical vacation, but Rumlow’s flat out on the ice, and he’s bloodier than Jason, and that’s all that matters.

Jason goes, easy and compliant, when the linesman pulls him away. Wide-eyed and innocent, who, me? all the way to the bench because maybe it’ll make the officials more lenient. It must work well enough, because they both take five minute majors, but Jason dodges the instigator penalty, saved by Rumlow’s notorious willingness to fight anyone smaller than himself or maybe by the mercy of officials who just watched him slam his stick against Bucky’s arm like he was trying to split firewood.

A five minute major with 4:38 left in the third period. So that’s the end of Jason’s game, then. Worth it.

Bucky isn’t on the bench when Jason gets skates up, but Wilson gives him an approving clap on the shoulder as Jason shuffles toward the tunnel, and it settles Jason enough that he gets all the way through the trainer’s pestering, weathers them checking his teeth and patching his knuckles, and then walks himself to the locker room before his lungs forget how to process oxygen.

“I asked you not to,” Bucky says, long-suffering but still so fucking nice. He wraps his good hand around Jason’s neck and tips him forward. “Breathe.”

“Fucking,” Jason says, as he tries to focus on a sane breathing pattern. “Fuck you, Buck. I wasn’t gonna—we just got you back.”

He feels like his throat is closing up.

It’s the blood in his mouth, he thinks. And the blood he saw on the ice. The crowd, roaring like that. Bloodthirsty.

They’d been thirsty like that in Gotham when he squared off against Bane. Biggest fucking guy in the league, and there was Jason, scrappy and pissed off, fighting Bane because Bruce wouldn’t.

He’d known he was gonna get hurt. He’d been ready for that.

It was an accident, what happened. Bruce didn’t mean it, and Jason’s heard, if you watch the footage, you can see Bane trying to stop it, his giant hands grabbing for Jason as he falls.

Jason’s never watched it. He doesn’t need to see himself catch Bruce’s skate blade with his throat. He lived through it. That was enough.

“I had to, Buck,” Jason says. He’s got his head propped against Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky, because he’s a nice guy, because he’s a good teammate, is running his hand through Jason’s incredibly disgusting, sweat-soaked hair. “He hit you, and Frank’s not here, and Rogers can’t leave the crease, so--”

“You’re sweet,” Bucky says, which is something no one has ever said to Jason.

“Had to,” Jason repeats. Because it’s not about being sweet. It’s about making sure everyone knows what’ll happen if they hurt his people.

“My arm’s gonna be fine,” Bucky says. “They took some x-rays, just to check. But it’s gonna be fine.”

Jason breathes out, and his lungs remember their function, and he can breathe again. “Good,” he says. He scrubs at his face. His hands barely come away bloody at all.

“Shit,” Bucky says, with a heavy sigh. He takes his hand out of Jason’s hand, slides his fingers carefully along his cheek to his jaw, and then he lifts Jason’s face toward the light. He frowns at the split lip, the forming bruise. “Frank’s gonna kill me.”

“What?” Jason says. He runs his tongue over his lip, and Bucky’s eyes track the movement. There’s a weird, wrung-out feeling twisting in the pit of Jason’s stomach. “I’m the one who didn’t— he just whacked the shit out of your arm, Buck. Right in front of me.”

Bucky smiles at him, crooked and a little rueful. He stares at him for a second longer, and then he pulls back. There is, faint but still audible, the roar of a hometown crowd getting a victory.

Well, they were up 4-1 when Jason went after Rumlow. Whatever Bruce, and Tim, and all of Gotham’s management think, Jason isn’t incapable of growth. He’s getting better. He is learning, finally, to pick his battles.

Maybe all he needed was to get the fuck out of Gotham. And someday he’ll probably even feel alright about being wrenched out of his hometown and discarded like trash down a storm drain.

“You should take a shower,” Bucky tells him. “Put some ice on those hands. The guys’ll wanna buy you drinks.”

After Jason’s second-to-last fight in Gotham, he watched from the penalty box while the other team scored the goal that won them the game. Bruce was so mad that nobody in the locker room spoke a word afterwards. Nobody talked to Jason at all.

After his last fight in Gotham, the Bats traded him while he was still in the hospital.

It’s been a long damn time since anyone bought him drinks after he fought for his team. Since back before Roy was traded. Since way back in the early days, when he was a rising star instead of a letdown and a liability.

“You think so?” Jason says, biting back a smile. “No shit?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. He’s smiling when he does it, so there’s no sting to it at all. “Go get cleaned up,” he says. “No one’s gonna let you in a bar with blood on your face.”

There are bars in Gotham that wouldn’t recognize him any other way. But Jason’s starting to think – with a stupid, flickering hope he’d left for dead years ago – that maybe things will be different now.

#writing #fic #fill #hockey au

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politicalmamaduck · 5 years

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Reylo Fic Recs: Modern AU

The Other Promise by @kuresoto

Rey knows she's not normal. Why else would she be subjected to four foster families before she aged out of the system and took life into her own hands? It could have (definitely does) something to do with the fact that she can see how long people have to live.It doesn't bother her (much) anymore, and with her being--well, her--she's resigned herself to working in a morgue for the rest of her life where the only people who keep her company besides her boss, are the dead. No friends, no family. No one.But everything starts to unravel when a new neighbor moves in next door. The walls she's built come crumbling down for the uniquely handsome man who always wears a three-piece suit, complete with a pair of leather gloves, regardless of how hot it is.The chance encounter turns into frequent run-ins, with the single most important factor that had ruined any relationship she ever tried having in the past being absent. He has no life timer.

Where No Thing Gleams by @maq-moon

An online DNA test sends Rey on a whirlwind journey across Europe. When she hits a roadblock in her travels, the enigmatic Kylo Ren offers to solve all of her problems. The catch? She must simply go on one date with him.Or so she thought.

The Skeptic and the Medium by @shelikespretties

Rey Niima fought for a logical, no-nonsense life as a scientist and skeptic of all things that go bump in the night. Kylo Ren is a famous medium for whom bumps in the night show off. So of course they have to make a Netflix special together.

Dear Mr. President by @shmisolo

Dr. Dameron shifts and slides a manilla folder across the desk to her. “Under ordinary circumstances, I’d let you keep the folder. I hope you’ll understand why I can’t do that this time around.” She opens it and stares.She stares and stares and stares.Dr. Dameron has to be kidding. There have to be hidden cameras here, this has to be some elaborate prank. That’s why it’s him here and not Dr. Wexley—that was his name. Dr. Wexley. But instead of getting to her feet and tossing her hair and saying he was cruel for playing with her heart like this, all she does is ask, blankly, “So...Ben Solo is my soulmate? Our new president is my…” She swallows.And Dr. Dameron nods.

Carry In My Core (That Voice I Adore) by @shmisolo

Starring in her first opera would be stressful as is, but Rey, always one to outdo herself, just had to go and make things even more complicated with Kylo Ren. It’s hard enough looking him in the eye, much less pretending to be in love with him. She can make it through this. She has made it through worse. She can make it through this.

the star to every wandering bark by @abstractragedy

There is something else as well, an instinctual drive that’s making him go, almost calling Ben to Takodana; much like an idea for a novel, a terribly persistent and gnawing thought at the back of his mind that will not go away until he does something about it.A change of scenery is always good for one’s mind. By alternating one’s perspective the reality might change as well.--When Ben Solo travels to Takodana in the name of his second novel, meeting an impossibly intriguing woman named Rey wasn't exactly what he envisioned. But the universe has a funny way of working things out.

Yichud by @shmisolo

Mazal Tov - The expression comes from the Mishnaic Hebrew mazzāl, meaning "constellation" or "destiny". Borrowed from Yiddish מזל־טובֿ (mazl tov), from Hebrew מַזָּל (mazál, “star, constellation; fate, luck”), from Akkadian (manzaltu [UD.DA]) + Hebrew טוֹב (tov, “good”); literally “good stars, good luck.”

crossfade (cursed and blessed) by @shmisolo

The Talmud states that on Purim one is to drink to the point of not knowing the difference between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai.” In other words, you’re supposed to get so blitzed you can’t tell your friends from your enemies. Rey and Ben might be taking this a little too literally at Leia’s annual Purim Party.

Convergence by @kuresoto

Other, also known as ‘soulmate’ for people who wanted to believe. Not everyone had an Other, and the only way to find your Other was by saying their name. When that happened, memories of their life, where they grew up and the steps that led them to you, would be condensed into a single flashback that passed in a blink of an eye. The fact that someone had said Rey’s name and didn’t bother approaching her hurt, especially since she had a good idea why. Her parents tossed her aside when she was barely five, so she shouldn’t be surprised that her soulmate had done the same.

Siman tov u’mazal tov by @shmisolo

“I didn’t get to have a big wedding,” his mother had told him when they’d finally spoken about it. “I was pregnant and it was a lot and your dad and I just got married. It’s my time. I’m having a big wedding.” She sounded nervous, almost defensive, as though a woman who is nearly sixty doesn’t have a right to want a big wedding. She wasn’t no young blushing bride. She has a thirty-year-old son for god’s sake.But his mom was going to have a big wedding.And Ben had taken a deep breath before saying what he’s sure Leia was even more nervous about hearing.“I’m not sure I’m coming.”

How Our Song Goes by @lariren-shadow

Rey is a struggling student who would love to have at least some money to save rather then just paying her debts. Kylo Ren would love to get his trust fund, the only problem is there's a clause in it that states if he wants it now he has to get married.Rey is willing to be Kylo's bride to her own cut. The only problem is that they'll have to make their relationship look real to everyone else.

Puppies by @lariren-shadow

On a crisp autumn day Rey and Ben meet in the park while walking their dogs. Things don't exactly go smoothly.

burn sky until you see lines by @solikerez

He writes a letter for every time he feels like the world is shattering around him, and it is still not enough.

306.73 or: How to Woo a Librarian by @reylotrashcompactor

She was back again. Ben called her The Scavenger in his head because she liked to pick collections dry. (Though he knew from her library card that her name was Rey. Pretty.) There wasn’t a pattern to her hauls, only that she’d take almost an entire shelf with her in that ratty little messenger bag and leave him to pick up her mess. But, Ben didn’t suppose he was fooling anyone but himself: he had it bad for the Scavenger and she was back. He’d talk to her tonight. He would.

What you don't know by @thewayofthetrashcompactor

Rey wants to see the local haunted house and drags her reluctant boyfriend and friends along with her. It's not quite what she expects.

Between Sky and Sea by @moonshotsandarchimedeslevers

When Rey finally set out to find her parents in the innumerable islands of the Jakku Archipelago, the last thing she expected was a mysterious stranger to drop out of the sky with his story of hidden treasures and secret wonders.

Blades Crossed by @the-reylo-void

Notorious figure skater Kylo Ren has had a rough few years; once a decorated competitor, now it's hard to say what he's losing faster, sponsors or partners. With Nationals just six months out and no qualified partner on the horizon, Kylo finds himself begrudgingly skating with college hockey phenom Rey Kenobi, a scrappy forward coming off injured reserve who doesn't know a lutz from an axel. It's only for six months, but family drama, a twisted coach, and a budding closeness to his new partner ensure that this will be the most eventful competition season of Kylo's career.

it's you and me (i know it's our destiny) by @shmisolo

It’s just a kid’s game, he thinks when jealousy pangs in his heart. But it’s more than just a kid’s game.It’s Pokémon. It’s the only good thing in his life.

happy cockus day by trasharama

She prefers the nip of New Hampshire winters, heavy winds blowing in her hair, being bundled up in three layers with pens whose ink freeze fast and thaw slow. She loves warm buildings, and Christmas breaks, and slurping down huge bowls of ramen in the evenings, but being on the ground, a clipboard in her hand, boots on a voter’s doorstep? That’s where she knows she belongs.So there are a lot of things going against Rey Johnson’s introduction to Ben Solo, his moody personality probably the least of her worries, since he’s the reason she’s not outside, making some sort of tangible effort to get his mother elected as president.

A More Perfect Union by fangirl_outlet

Rey, new to DC, tags along to a stuffy networking event with her friend -- they're both poor and, hell, there's free booze. Ben, a recruiter for the lobbyist firm he works for, finds the intern with the soft voice and angry eyes a fun challenge -- especially when he finds out she works for his estranged mother Senator Leia Organa.

Spending Valentine's Day Solo by @jyn-z-solo

She places his scent—woodsy and warm, like sandalwood and ginger—before she recognizes the large, gloved hand outreached to steady her or the sleeves of his black wool coat. “Rey,” he blurts out—is the pink on his cheeks from the chill outside, or is he blushing? “Ben! Hi!” She’s trying desperately to sound nonchalant, but at the rate her eyebrows continue to rise, they may end up past her hairline. “Wha… What are you doing here?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

Unshakeable by @shmisolo

Rey is performing in another fucking musical and Ben goes to see it.

My own modern AU fics:

what is past is prologue: Reylo in Washington, DC

A collection of my Tumblr-based Reylo fics set in Washington, DC. Prompts and prompter will be in chapter titles.

My other fic rec lists:

#reylo #rffa writers #fic recs #modern au #fan fiction #my writing

169 notes · View notes

puddygeeks · 4 years

Text

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 55: Vɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ Bʏ Aɴʏ Mᴇᴀɴs

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Settled in the sunshine of the courtyard, I enjoyed the bustle of activity around me, whilst safe in the knowledge that I didn’t have any current responsibilities or risk of surprise attack. It was relaxing to be around familiar faces and to have the time to reflect on my feelings. My time with Arlo gave me little time to think and I relished in the opportunity to let my guard down for a while. I jumped at the arrival of Bellamy, who smiled warmly down at me.

“There you are, Trouble. So, I managed to get access to the training space for this afternoon and the trainees have been told that you’re offering a session. They’re actually pretty pumped. You still feel good enough to instruct?” He investigated with an obvious enthusiasm in his manner and I raised my brows in surprise. Immediately I regretted not discussing a time frame when I’d agreed to this favour and took a moment to gather my words.

“I didn’t expect to be doing that today, but...sure, I can do it for you.” I answered with a forced smile and mentally tried to assure myself that I was able to teach despite the dull ache in my ribs. He looked momentarily concerned as he examined my face and stepped closer to place a hand on my arm in a protective gesture.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do it if you’re in too much pain.” He enquired with his brows knitted tightly together and I could tell that he was analysing me for any signs of weakness that I might be burying. I shook my head in defiance and hoped that my well-practiced in control act would be enough to fool him. “Alright. You’ll be training with me, so don’t worry about getting hurt.” He revealed in a tone that he clearly intended to be reassuring and I couldn’t help a wry smile at his plan.

“Aww, that’s sweet. You didn’t want me beating the snot out of anyone else, huh?” I taunted deviously and his brows shot up in surprise at my brazen attitude. “So selfless.” I teased with a playful prod at his ribs that caused him to flinch reactively and he scoffed with a subtle fondness in his eyes as he shook his head at me.

“Very funny.” He commented with his charmingly wonky smile that made my heart leap and I basked in the warmth of our banter. It was refreshing to indulge in flirtatious teasing after such intensity with Arlo and the contrast only increased my appreciation of my relationship with Bellamy. His eyes grew serious as he viewed me and I recognised a genuine worry in his posture as he cleared his throat to speak again. “You’re teaching them to fight someone bigger, especially men. Did you honestly think that I was gonna risk any man in this camp hurting you?” He detailed with just a hint of aggression in his voice as he glanced around us as if analysing for any potential threats and I chuckled at his protectiveness. It was entirely unnecessary but I was flattered by his determination to shield me from any harm; it was frustratingly romantic.

“Well, you just make sure you don’t go easy on me, alright? They need to learn and they can’t do that if my assistant is too afraid of injuring me to properly participate. Think you can do that?” I probed with a brow raised at him in suspicion and he fidgeted on the spot in a display of discomfort that he tried unsuccessfully to hide behind a forced display of confidence.

“Sure.” He answered firmly and I shook my head at him in disbelief. I could already recognise that he was reluctant at this suggestion and my mind began racing with all of the potential ways in which this could be disastrous for our relationship. I felt a panicked tug in my chest that screamed to rescind my offer and as I met his eyes, I knew that he could sense my unease. “Don’t worry Inds. I’ll do whatever you need to teach them. Now come on, we should get there early to set up.” He excused before encouraging me to follow him and I quashed the feelings of dread that he would be overly gentle with me.

We entered a space that Bellamy had clearly been using for guard training for a while and set up soft items to break the fall to the ground, amongst other methods. When people began to enter, I was stunned at the number of trainees who had turned up for me and found myself wracking my brain for ideas. I wished that we’d had the time to practice together, so that I had a course prepared for them but quickly realised that Bellamy was likely counting on my impulsivity. I was relieved when he took the lead to address the gathered crowd and instructed them to pair up to practice their usual drills so that I could observe the technique that they were currently using.

I noticed that much of the methods that they had been taught depended on core strength and easily understood why the females of the trainee guard had expressed concern for this. Instructors that were built like Lincoln and Bellamy were clearly used to having superior strength, but for the average female in our camp such as myself, this was not something that we could rely on. I worried that if they were to come into contact with grounders, who fought viciously, or a well trained force such as the guards of Mount Weather, these manoeuvres would be insufficient. Mentally, I scanned through the memories of my own experiences in an effort to uncover specific teachable information and as mentioned by Bellamy, I focused on the fights that I’d barely scraped through with my life. The methods that I had resorted to were likely more extreme than anything that leadership would consider as a regular curriculum, but if Bellamy truly wished for me to be honest about the reason for my survival, I knew that these choices were the key. I glanced over at him, prompting him to call the class to attention and cleared my throat nervously.

I found myself glossing over the lessons of my fathers in my memory that had shaped me into the survivor that I had become, combined with the self defence books that he’d left behind that I’d studied for exercise.

“Alright. Welcome to fighting like a scrappy lunatic 101.” I opened in a light hearted manner, earning several chuckles from the audience and a sly smile from Bellamy as he remained beside me protectively. “Some of you may not realise yet that I have zero formal training, and no ‘official’ techniques that I can teach you, but you asked for me so here I am. Mostly, I think I’ve been selected because I’m small, but somehow still alive and you are all trying to figure out how. Honestly, it’s a mystery to me too! But we’re gonna work through it together.” I announced in a jesting tone and was glad to notice that the group seemed to be relaxing into my approach to teaching. They glanced between each other with excited smiles and their positive reactions allowed some of my nerves to dissipate.

“Let’s start with what I can offer. You’ve all been trained to be guards. You’re mainly planning to be there as a deterrent inside of camp. You have guns which you expect to be able to use and so you’ve learned to fight in a certain, morally acceptable way. That’s fine and absolutely useful knowledge to have. In fact, 90% of the time that will be enough for your roles. But as those of you who have been on the ground for long enough know, there’s always that 10% of the time where Earth bites you on the ass and you have to do whatever it takes to survive. I’m here to teach you for that 10%.” I revealed as I wandered from side to side in front of my gathered audience and managed to pick out the faces of Harper, Monroe and Raven in the crowd, who all smiled widely at me with a pride that made my stomach flip.

“I’m gonna be honest with you guys: if you’re ever in a situation where you have to use these things, you’re in trouble. The person you’re fighting against isn’t going to care that you are a young woman, smaller than them, potentially unarmed or maybe even captive. They will do anything necessary to survive and you need to be willing to do the same. If you’re not comfortable with that, there’s the door. You can leave now.” I explained in a firm, cold manner and allowed several minutes of tense silence to pass for my potential trainees to make their decision. When the group remained unchanged, I peeked over at Bellamy with a thankful smile and felt a hint of confidence bloom in my chest. It was strange to acknowledge that there were more people in camp than just Bellamy who believed in me and I became determined to be worthy of their faith.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple. I want you all to look at us. Really assess the two of us. If we were in a life or death fight, it should be obvious that Bellamy has a powerful advantage over me. These are the kind of odds that I want you to stand a chance at overcoming.” I stated as I faced Bellamy and he chuckled at me, whilst a few of the audience scoffed in disbelief. Their doubt was unsurprising, as I understood how impossible that would seem but since I had landed on the ground, I’d proven repeatedly to be able to overcome odds that I would never have imagined. I glanced over their nervous faces with a resolute smile and decided in that moment that I would imbue some of the lessons I absorbed from my late fathers books.

“If you’re faced against an opponent that you can’t overpower, never tell yourself that’s the end. Instead, you’re going to focus on using everything that you have available to you. You’re going to fight smart, rather than strong. They will have already decided that they can beat you just from looking at you. They’ll be overconfident and they’ll expect to win out of brute force. Use that to your advantage.” I explained to the enthralled crowd, as excited whispers began to spread between them and took a deep breath to prepare myself for the next step. “Alright big boy, let’s start with an example. Come at me.” I ordered as I strolled over to the crash mats and squared my shoulders. Bellamy raised his brows at me with uncertainty, his back turned to the crowd to address me.

“What?!” He hissed as his eyes widened in shock and I felt my stomach flip with dread at his reaction. “Indie, I thought we’d be slowly demonstrating techniques, not actually sparring?” He breathed quietly, careful to keep his voice gentle enough that he would not be overheard as he neared me and I sighed in disappointment. Despite my initial reservations, I had forced myself to believe him when he promised to do whatever I needed and I couldn’t help feeling somewhat frustrated in his lack of trust in my abilities.

“The technique relies on surprise. I can’t demonstrate that properly if I tell you what to do. Now come on, you said you’d do whatever I needed.” I argued with exasperation as I crossed my arms at him and he shifted awkwardly on the spot. He glanced back at the waiting trainees and then returned his attention to me with a conflicted expression. “Bel, either you can spar with me or I’ll have to ask Lincoln, and you know that he won’t be delicate.” I muttered in a low enough volume that only he would hear and he grimaced at this threat. We both knew from our separate experiences of training with Lincoln that he was highly proficient at simulating the power of a real fight within a safe environment and we had several times left these experiences with injuries from our own overexertion.

He finally nodded in bitter agreement and reluctantly strolled over to take a position opposite me. As we waited to start, I noticed that his brows were deeply furrowed and knew that he was crucially afraid of hurting me. I hoped that once he realised that I could hold my own he would relax and steeled myself to prove that I didn’t need protection. After a few moments of hesitation, he struck forward clumsily and I bounced lightly on my feet to manoeuvre out of his path. He almost sprawled onto one of the crash pads before he managed to save himself and I continued to flow quickly out of reach of his half hearted attacks. I kicked forward with enough power to knock him without actually causing any injury and his eyes widened in surprise as the impact pushed him aside. He stepped backwards to gain some space to recover and in quick succession, I trod on his foot and then struck rapidly at his throat. He gasped and lunged forward in an attempt to grab me, but I bounced out of his reach easily again. This time he was unable to recover from the momentum of his attack and crashed into the ground in a rather ungraceful movement. I turned back to my audience, who were watching with a mixture of disbelief and admiration with a smug smile.

“Alright, let’s break down the important information from that: the bigger your opponent is, the slower they will move. In order to counter that, you should always remain light on your feet and move constantly. You can tire them out this way, whilst also remaining outside of their reach. If they are taller than you, they’ll have longer arms which means they can usually land a hit on you before you can even get close to them. Stay at a distance until you are ready to strike and as I just demonstrated, allow them to use their own momentum against them. When you do move from defensive to offensive, make good use of your legs as they are longer so you’ll have a better chance at reaching past their guard without whilst still maintaining some space for yourself. In order to maximise the power you can put into those strikes, you need to practice your kicks and strengthen those leg muscles. Find your usual sparring partner and see how those moves change your fights.” I summarised and they eagerly spread out to begin practicing these new techniques together. I wandered over to Bellamy to assist him to his feet and he viewed me with a fresh amusement.

“Well, now all of these fights make sense! You’re a sly little fox.” He commented as he pushed me playfully and I giggled at his reaction. My chest swelled with relief as I noticed that he seemed to have relaxed as I had hoped and I was proud that I’d managed to hold my own against him. Despite the fact that I knew Bellamy would never intentionally hurt me, I had to admit that he was still a formidable opponent due to both the size/strength difference and his experience as a guard.

“You didn’t really think that I was going swing for swing with all these big guys, did you?” I teased with a wink and he shook his head at me with an awestruck smile. For the first time, I considered what he had imagined to be the events of my previous fights and his disbelief finally seemed to make sense to me. “You only know a few of my tricks, don’t get too confident. I’m still gonna kick your ass.” I taunted as I crossed my arms at him confidently and a subtle snort escaped as he burst into chuckles at my small stature.

“Alright Xena, I won’t be so easy on you now.” He remarked with a smirk and I felt my stomach fizz with appreciation at the fond nickname.

Once I’d wandered the room to observe their practice and corrected any developing mistakes, I returned to standing at the front of the space. As one of the recruits attempted to use a tackle that they had been taught in a previous session, my memory was jogged back to the self defence books that I’d studied in my cell when I became paranoid about our new classes. It seemed like a lifetime ago, sitting in the dark cell on the Ark and obsessively attempting to prepare for some unknown threat so that I could protect Octavia. I ran through the limited information that I remembered and considered which of it would be most beneficial to fill the gaps in their learning. I gathered up the group and Bellamy patiently ran through moves slowly as I explained them. Once we’d finished, I addressed them in preparation for another round of sparring.

“So, you want to take advantage of areas of weakness. Those are the nose, eyes, throat, kneecaps, feet and, on men especially, the groin. Never underestimate the power of a good kick to the balls!” I instructed, to which Bellamy flinched nervously and several trainees laughed. “Don’t forget to use other parts of your body than just your fists. The heel of your hand can give a nasty strike, especially if you’re hitting upwards. Also, your elbows, your feet or your knees if you’re kicking. Don’t be afraid to get creative.” I listed as the trainees nodded in response and I could already recognise the confidence that developed in their posture.

“What I want to demonstrate is how when it gets desperate, you need to get creative. Brute strength isn’t everything, use your mind to outwit them.” I announced to prepare them for the kind of scenario that I was aiming to simulate, before turning back to Bellamy with a nod. “Alright. This time, I want you to pin me down.” I ordered nervously, expecting for him to argue but instead he threw me a suggestive look that broke some of the tension of my dread.

He swiftly tackled me to the floor and despite being prepared for it, the power that he was able to command still surprised me. I wiggled manically under his heavy hold and when I was unable to easily free myself, I resorted to forcing my knee into his side. He flinched, releasing one of my hands, which I used to jab into his armpit and loosen his grip on the hand that was still trapped. Whilst he was distracted, I barged my shoulders forward into his to shove him off me and crawled onto my hands and knees in an attempt to escape from him. Bellamy rushed after me and pulled me into a hold that although tight enough to be uncomfortable, would not actually choke me. I recognised this brace from the students and knew that it was crucial to teach them how to escape it. I made a few gripes for his face or neck, but was unable to reach him from the position that he’d contained me.

Mentally, I imagined that this was someone who truly meant to kill me in order to force my mum instincts to take over and without thinking, I bit into his hand, earning a dramatic yowl. The moment that he released some of pressure in shock, I burst my way out of his restraint and pinned him to the ground with my hands lightly on his neck. We were interrupted by a round of applause and some cheers, which broke us apart. We helped each other to our feet and brushed ourselves off as the noise faded out.

“Did you just bite me?” Bellamy breathed in a mixture of shock and admiration as his mouth fell open.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was this not the right place for me to do that?” I asked suggestively and caught several giggles from nearby girls. A subtle smirk spread across his face, despite his attempt to bury it and I thoroughly enjoyed the way that his eyes studied me with a fresh excitement. Reluctantly, I tore my attention away from him and returned to facing our audience.

“The unfortunate truth is that when it comes to life and death, there are no limits. You need to be willing to do things that you never imagined you could do to another human being. Don’t be afraid to bite, scratch, pinch, spit or even pull hair if you want to. These things may not be high impact attacks, but they’ll come in handy when you’ve got no other options and will usually shock your opponent enough to give you a chance to escape or strike properly. Once you’ve managed to catch them off guard, make the most of every moment that you earn with surprise. Now, we’re going to run through some simple tackles and holds that you can use to manipulate their strength and momentum, so you’re not dependent on your own muscles.”

***

The rest of the session passed quickly and the students left in high spirits. It was shocking to me how well the lesson had been received and I found myself pleased that I’d agreed to the unusual request. I sourced an ice pack for Bellamy and he took it from me with a disapproving smile. Although relieved that I hadn’t seriously injured him, there was something amusing about witnessing him struggling in the aftermath of fighting me and I recognised from his expression that this was a highly unexpected result for him. Movement to my side drew my focus and I turned to find an unfamiliar face studying me with an entertained admiration.

“So, you’re the infamous Indigo that I keep hearing about! You’re exactly as described, that’s a rarity.” She crooned with a wide smile and I stared back at her in uncertainty. “Oh, I’m Gina. Raven, Harper and Monty have been telling me all about you.” She explained as she held her hand out and I shook it awkwardly. “Well, I’ve managed to get a little info from this one too whenever I can get him off the topic of guard duty. You’re pretty much the only other thing he’ll talk about.” She added with a playful wink and I glanced over at Bellamy fondly. He cleared his throat and tried to avoid meeting my eyes in embarrassment.

“Yeah, he’s definitely a bit of a workaholic.” I agreed as I looked poignantly down at Bellamy who simply rolled his eyes in response. “It’s nice to meet you. I heard you’ve been getting to know some of the others. It’s comforting to know that someone’s keeping an eye on them whilst I’m gone.” I replied casually with my hands in my pockets and she smiled warmly in response. She had curly brown hair and large, honest eyes. I couldn’t place what caused it, but there was something trustworthy about her and I immediately understood how she’d been able to integrate with my little family so easily.

“Yeah, they’re all great people and it’s clear that they’ve been through a hard time. I didn’t come to Earth until the Ark, so I want to do anything I can to help now that we’re finally here.” She revealed with an earnest attitude and I was surprised by how immediately open she was. It was clear that she had a strong work ethic and I was impressed by her willingness to contribute. She glanced between Bellamy and I, seeming to suddenly realise that she was interrupting and shuffled awkwardly on the spot. “Anyway, I’ll let you be. You’ve had a busy day. Hit me up if you want to hang out, it would be nice to spend some time together.” She suggested with a friendly smile before wandering off and I glanced over at Bellamy with confusion.

“You get used to her. She’s a nice girl and she wants to help. We could do with more like that.” He commented, before getting to his feet with a groan and I chuckled under my breath at him. “Jeez Indie, when you said you were gonna kick my ass I didn’t think you actually meant it.” He breathed in a dramatic manner, causing me to snort in laughter.

***

After a comforting night snuggled up with Bellamy, I felt recharged enough to manage some check-ins on people and wandered into the courtyard. I was in the process of navigating to Jasper and Monty’s dorms when Councillor Kane blocked my path.

“Indigo, I was hoping to catch you before you left camp. Could we talk?” He asked with an overly friendly smile fixed in place and I shuffled on the spot with uncertainty. Until this point, I’d really only seen him from afar and had made a significant effort to keep it that way. I was surprised to even find that he knew my name and realised that I couldn’t have remained as far under the radar as I believed I had.

“Umm, sure? What can I do for you Councillor?” I enquired with my brows furrowed together in confusion and he put a hand on my upper arm to lead me aside. Immediately, I was uncomfortable with the contact and shrugged him off with more aggression than intended.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” He remarked as he led me inside and I felt nerves building in my chest as I followed behind him. Despite Bellamy’s frequent comments about his trustworthiness, I couldn’t help feeling as if I were in trouble and a voice at the back of my mind urged me to turn tail and run. As his boots echoed through the halls of the Ark, I was struck with a strange sense of deja vu from the day of my arrest, causing a wave of nausea to wash over me.

When we arrived at a small doorway, Kane stepped aside and gestured for me to enter first. I examined him suspiciously before I passed and the moment that I stepped inside I found Abby waiting with her usual serene smile. Her presence was immediately reassuring and I felt my shoulders drop their tension. We waited silently for Kane to join us, closing the door tightly behind him and then settling into a seat beside the familiar Chancellor in a carefree manner. Abby cleared her throat to draw my cautious gaze away from my detailed assessment of Kane as I tried to anticipate his intentions and as our eyes met, she smiled fondly.

“I’m sorry for the secrecy, Indigo. We wanted to be sure that this meeting was private and as unbiased as possible for you. As I’m sure you can imagine, we have a great deal to manage in setting up a sustainable community here. That’s what we’ve brought you here to discuss.” She addressed me with a calmness that demonstrated how well she had grown into her new role and I glanced between them with a baffled expression.

“With all due respect Chancellor, I’m not sure how that involves me?” I suggested with my best attempt at a well mannered tone and Abby’s smile grew into an amused grin. She peered over at Kane, who regarded me with a curious interest and seemed pleased to be given the opportunity to lead the conversation.

“We would like to establish a stronger alliance with the grounders. The ceasefire has been a blessing, but we need to negotiate trade and open communication with the Commander. For the time being, the most correspondence that we receive from her is permission to leave Arkadia for supplies or patrols.” He revealed with an evenness to his voice that almost made his suggestion sound reasonable, but I couldn’t contain a disbelieving scoff as I stared back at him. “That’s where you would be involved. I understand that you have been training with a grounder and integrating with their lifestyle. We’d like to utilise your experience to help us to plan our strategies and to approach the Commander. In order for us to properly receive your input, we would like you to join our council meetings.” Kane divulged and I felt my mouth fall open in shock. I gaped at the two of them for a few moments as if awaiting a punchline, but when neither of them spoke I found myself stuttering for words.

“W-what? Are you insane? I-you-what?!” I spat as I continued to gape at them and they simply calmly smiled back, only further fuelling my exasperation. “I know that negotiating the ceasefire was a hell of an achievement, but this is a completely different level of cohesion that you’re aiming for here. We’ve managed to earn the respect of one or two grounders for a couple of our people, but even they still view us as a whole as dangerous, clueless children compared to them. Our partnerships with Indra and Arlo were hard fought. We couldn’t do anything on a large enough scale to impress them all. It would never work. We would need individuals to be willing to change, to work with grounders, study with them, respect them and honestly I don’t think there are many people here with the grit to do that.” I stated in a frustrated rant as I reflected over my own initiation and the gruelling tasks that I’d undertaken since. There were very few people that I could imagine being willing to endure that kind of process and even fewer grounders that would offer the opportunity. I shook my head at the thought and Kane observed me with an unexpected understanding in his eyes.

“Indigo, I know that a lot changed whilst you were captive in Mount Weather. When you were taken, you and the rest of the 100 were at war with the grounders and you emerged to find that we allied to free you. It must be disorientating.” He commented and I rolled my eyes at him, feeling patronised. “Whilst you were there, the grounders came to Arkadia for a joint training session under the Commanders orders. It was chaotic, but it demonstrated to me that we could help one another and that the Commander was open to this possibility too. An alliance could be mutually beneficial. We just need your help to convince them of that.” He presented his case calmly, even in the face of my reactions as I began to pace in front of the two of them and only stopped to fix them both with a scrutinising look.

“Why me?” I asked in an accusing manner and they looked to each other awkwardly. “Octavia has been partnered with Indra for far longer. She has a close link to the Commander and she was here during this training session that you were so confident in. Surely she’s a better match? Or hell, Lincoln?! He’s been a grounder his entire life. Octavia and I pale in comparison and he has been an advocate for peace in the past. I can’t think why in the hell you would bring this to me?” I probed with annoyance growing in my voice as I listed points and Kane seemed to pass the responsibility of answering this question to Abby.

“We already asked Octavia. She was quite clear on her thoughts of who ‘her people’ were.” She answered quietly and a coy smile spread across my lips at this information. “And Lincoln still has a kill order on his head. Although he would be, and had been, useful for advice, he would not be able to participate in any meetings with the grounders.” She clarified as if this were an obvious disadvantage and I scoffed loudly at the incredulous implication.

“Meetings with the grounders? You want to send me out to discuss an alliance with people?!” I exclaimed, hardly able to believe what I was hearing and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Kane seemed to be highly amused by my behaviour, rather than frustrated as I would have expected. “Have you completely lost your mind, Abby?” I argued, whilst she squirmed awkwardly in her seat under the intensity of my gaze.

“Take some time to consider it, Indigo. You don’t need to make a decision right now. Our next meeting is tomorrow.” Kane interrupted and I turned to face him with a stern scowl. “I remember your case and imprisonment. It was a tough one to follow the law on. You had a hard life on the Ark. You could be more here, just give yourself the opportunity.” He appealed in a manner that was likely intended to be understanding and I felt a passionate rage boiling to the surface as my hands tightened into fists at my sides.

“You don’t know shit!” I snapped, before quickly reminding myself that I couldn’t allow my anger to control me any longer. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, then fixed Kane with a glare that would destroy a lesser man with it’s pressure alone. “I don’t need time to consider it. The answer is no. You can find someone else to be your scapegoat with the grounders.” I growled as I sharply turned on my heel and swept from the room.

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strvwberryblcnde · 4 years

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👫 preston & scout

send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons i have about our muses’ relationship.

i cn imagine them somehow being wrangled into babysitting fr her sister bethan one time n.... she has three kids who r all young (like 6, 7 n 7 bc she had twin boys then a girl) n they’re all a handful in their own way. the boys r SO boisterous n loud like they’re truly feral n the girl is very.... like scout bt..... an outspoken n absolutely fearless version...... the only time she’s quiet is when she’s reading a book. anyway. i cn see scout n preston being run RAGGED hving to look after these demons like the boys wld slap mud prints onto the wallpaper..... they’d pull drawers out looking fr their confiscated toys when they misbehaved n cutlery wld crash bc it’d fall on the floor... they’d run away frm the scene of this crime after..... bebe scout wld be like..... UR THE UGLIEST BOYS I’VE EVER KNOWN..... AND I HATE U!!!!! hurling crayons at her brothers fr their mischief... n scout n preston wld have to somehow neutralise all of this chaos. it wld be exhausting. i cn anticipate it mounting frustrations n tensions to the point where scout n preston might even bicker between themselves jst over stupid stuff like scout being like preston u can’t give them chocolate before they’ve had their dinner n preston being like cmon.... let them live a little...... this isn’t a dictatorship... n scout being like do u WANT them to b bouncing off the WALLS???? literally like a married couple.... they’d finally manage to put them to bed in bethan’s room (which ws renovated into a room w three beds fr them to stay in when bethan needs help aka needs scout to babysit) n scout wld usher preston frm the room to let them settle n once she thought he wasn’t watching she’d tuck each in n kiss their heads n be like love u hell spawns. then she’d go dwn n eye preston on the couch frm the doorway like >_> bt still go to get them a beer each..... i cn picture literally by the time she returns frm the kitchen preston being asleep bc the children r relentless.... n even if they’d been bickering a bunch scout wld roll her eyes n kind of smile abt it n swig her beer then put it dwn n grab a blanket n carefully tuck it over him so he didn’t catch a cold in their drafty house w a faulty boiler.......... sickening.

this is related to scout’s nephews n niece again bt in summer they always play in the yard w the hose n i can picture scout n preston having like.... a fight in the morning mayb n her storming dwnstairs n leaving him to get dressed n leave or whatever jst childishly........ n then by the time he got down if it ws summer the kids wld be prancing around outside n shrieking up a storm as scout sat angrily in a fold out chair watching over them........ mayb they’d all b like PRESTON PRESTON STAY N PLAY n he’d be like i’m gna head home............... n they’re like NO PLAY W US PLAY W US n one of the boys even sprays him w the hose. mayb preston wld join in playing w them just picking him up n pretending to fling him around n they’d all be laughing n screaming n scout wld be a tiny bit mellowed by this bt still stubbornly clinging to being mad...... her niece is like SCOUT PLAY WITH US PLAY WITH US n she’s like maybe in a bit. i cn imagine preston spraying her w a little bit of water frm the hose to b childish kind of joining in w the kids being a nuisance n scout being like WTF??????? n then snatching the hose off him n spraying him bk n it just breaking into an all out war where they’re trying to get the hose off each other n both end up soaking wet n she breaks n laughs n he’s picking her up as the kids all cackle n scream. their fight jst somehow resolved in the space of half an hr when they were jst on the verge of another stupid breakup............. this tumultuous relationship........ no wonder their friends r sick of them.

scout’s dad is...... certainly a character n she hasn’t heard from him in yrs bt he made a big reputation fr himself in town to say the least.... was just in w some rly shady ppl n always fucking everyone over fr his own selfish agenda.... truly jst a liability to b associated w nvm to have as a husband/father so the wilders rly.... went thru it a bit w him. it ws like being buckled into a rollercoaster. nw he’s been gone a few yrs they’ve managed to pick up some of the shrapnel he left behind bt there’s still pieces n tht’s evident in the fact tht every so often guys he used to run w will come knocking trying to shake them dwn fr debts Poppa Wilder still owes them. he’s on the run frm the law nw n they hv no idea where he is bt they still have to deal w these repercussions. anyway. scout is very much like... I Will Deal With Everything In The World On My Own bt with luca in prison, jasper out n about all the time n rarely home sometimes bc he’s a free spirit, her mum working long night shifts n sleeping thru the day n her sister bethan being moved out w kids a lot of the time it’s..... just scout in the house which she wld never admit gets rly lonely after growing up w a big hectic family. i cn imagine one of these guys waiting fr scout after her shift at the diner n just asking her again when he’s gna get his money n her being like fr the last time idk where my waste of space father is!!!!!! n he wouldn’t make a threat or anything bt he knows where they live so tht night i feel like scout wld be kind of nervous n peering out of the curtains a lot jst On Guard in case he shows up to take wht he’s owed by fleecing the place or smthn. mostly paranoia idk if he actually wld bt. scout wld just be kind of scared sleeping there alone n even if she’d wna deal w it on her own i feel like she’d put off contacting preston until pretty late when she’d eventually snap n just be like. can u stay over tonight? n she wouldn’t text it either which is kind of unusual fr her bc she mostly texts bt she’d wna hear his voice to calm her a little i think. again none of this wld b verbalised she wouldn’t even tell him abt this situation bc she tries to be independent as possible n not rely on anyone else fr anything bt......... it would calm her down a lot when he arrived n ws sleeping nxt to her. i feel like his laidback attitude is quite gd for her in tht respect like it has a soothing effect at times..... others perhaps not bt <3 miley cyrus life’s a climb.....

i feel like her ex............. wld not be happy abt scout dating preston. he’s quite a loose canon / volatile character n jst............... scrappy.......... n antagonistic sometimes...... not the worst bt definitely not the best! honestly i feel like if he ever bumped into preston he wld maybe even pick a fight w him except he wouldn’t mention scout he would just act like it wasn’t related bt it Would Be. if preston ws injured in any way via this then i can’t even express hw furious scout wld be she’d actually lose it a bit.... KJGFKHFKGHSFKGHS hell hath no fury like a scout wilder scorned <3 she’d nurse preston better if he had a bust lip or whtever (she’s quite gd at doing these things after yrs of living w reckless brothers who were always getting into fights n also hving a mother who’s in nursing n taught her first aid etc) n she literally wld refuse if he tried to be like i can do this myself she’d b like SIT. DOWN. stomping around the place grabbing her supplies n being so angry until it actually came to like.... dabbing his face where she’d b extremely gentle. stark contrast. she’d keep ranting abt how she was gna confront her ex fr it n even if preston was like just leave it she’d refuse at first then eventually be like ok :) w a tight lipped smile bt. the next day bc she knows where her ex hangs out she’d storm up to him on the street n jst fking RIP him a new one she’d b fully shouting at him unleashing such an ungodly rant w no fks given to who was watching..............if it was in a tv show i’d imagine her rampage all silent as opera music plays over the top n she’s jst yelling in slow motion as a child across the street gasps so loud at the multitude of swear words raining in his direction.... honestly i cn imagine this getting bk to preston w how public it was bt i get the feeling tht even tho he might’ve been like nah leave it he wld find her unbridled wrath funny n know it ws rooted in hw protective she is of those she loves which. as reluctant as she ever likes to admit it definitely includes him at this point.....

#scout wilder | preston reid #meme #hallcween

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

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Au where Reggie finds a way to turn the power-suppressing stuff in Vanya’s pills into a serum or something to use as a punishment for the others? Like if Five decides to do something to take the attention off of his siblings again (I love that idea which I’m pretty sure you came up with) and as a punishment Reggie uses that for a while? Or maybe just to keep them from escaping punishment? Or if a villain got their hands on the serum to use against them?

coming back up here after writing and a general disclaimer because somehow i managed to twist this prompt into badass Vanya and exploring Five’s influence on Vanya in this au it’s wild okay but what I wrote -

OKAY oh man this is Awful and i hate it you have a wonderful evil mind

here’s the thing: there’s nothing that scares a superpowered person more than being powerless. I have atla on my mind thanks to my last couple of posts but like, take for example when the gaang was on the run from Azula in her tank - she had Ty Lee with her, a chiblocker, who scared the pants off of them precisely because she could take away their bending, their power.

And Reggie having something he could take away their power with?? oof. Their power is like,,, another limb to them. Something inherent and natural. Cutting them off from their power is to carve out a piece of themselves - Vanya was essentially drugged her entire life because to cut off her power he had to cut off her emotions like daMN

so Reggie has this serum that can temporarily make the kids what they fear most: it can make them ordinary

(Vanya is held up as an example all their lives about what happens if you’re ordinary, if they aren’t good enough, Vanya is at the bottom of the pecking order and scrapes by for survival in their house ignored and for the most part alone. All of the siblings fear sharing her fate)

the only one who would welcome it are Klaus and Ben, who have always feared their own powers. Klaus is the one Reginald would never give it to, because when all else fails you can be assured that he will never make life easy for Klaus. Ben probably has only had it used sparingly, if Reginald was afraid that Ben was out of control or about to injure/kill one of his siblings.

The others though? Terrified. Luther without his strength, Diego without his supernatural ability to curve knives, Three without her rumors, and Five without his jumps - and I honestly think Five would be the most frightened of all

Five is the one we see who uses his powers the most in the show I believe. He doesn’t just use it in combat situations like his siblings, but in normal situations as well. His is not a combat power.

Reginald has often framed punishment as training, and so he still does it. He takes their powers and dumps them in a situation and he says get out. survive. you can’t always rely on your powers. and the siblings have to learn to get along without them

Luther makes sure that his body is strong with or without his powers - he can’t carry the same weights as he could with his powers of course but he can do enough that he doesn’t feel completely helpless. Diego learns to use his knives and not just throw them, learns how to slash and turn his body into a weapon whether he has projectiles or not - and when he’s without his power he hones his aim regardless. He can’t curve the knives, but he can still throw straight on and that isn’t nothing. Allison learns to manipulate without her rumors, learns how to look at people with such big sad eyes with just a hint of tears and lie through her teeth, learns how to turn people against one another using nothing but her words.

And Five? Five learns to escape, learns how to twist and pop his thumb from its socket to maneuver handcuffs from his wrists and how to snap zipties and use every object in the room as a weapon and a tool. Five is scrappy, he doesn’t go down easily.

It would change them. It would change all of them. Luther is so rarely punished that it hardly matters, but the threat looms over his head nonetheless and it makes him wary of Reginald in a way that show!Luther is almost incapable of being.

Diego on the other hand is probably more sure of himself, more careful with his abilities. He knows exactly what his body is capable of and what he demands of it, and he’s maybe a little more hostile to Vanya. Because he knows what it is to be powerless, and he thinks she has no excuse for not being useful.

Allison doesn’t use her powers as much to get what she wants in life, and in fact almost takes a ruthless sort of joy in figuring out just how far she can push without her powers. It’s a safety net for her, but she doesn’t jump to it like she did in the show’s past. Maybe this Allison didn’t rumor her daughter, she instead knew exactly what to say to distract Claire and snap her out of tantrums. She and Patrick probably still divorced, but she probably has partial custody. On the other hand, she doesn’t have the same repulsion towards her powers show!Allison does either and is quicker to use it when she deems necessary and words fail her. (“I heard a rumor,” Allison says, cutting through Vanya’s protests easily because this is for her own good, “That you didn’t want to see Leonard Peabody again.”)

Klaus hates his father even more for having something that could provide him the much needed relief that Klaus has to go after drugs to even attempt to replicate and instead of giving it to him, Reginald refused. Reginald held the keys to Klaus having restful nights and days without the dead screaming in his face, and Reginald wouldn’t give it to him. So yeah, Klaus hates Reginald a whole lot more

Five is more desperate. He jumps, that’s what he does. It’s backing him into a corner, a bird of prey grounded and wounded who will last out and attack at the first provocation. Fight or flight, and with his option of flight stolen from him Five fights. He’s more ruthless, more dangerous, more terrified because can you even imagine what would happen if the Commission got their hands on that serum? Because Five can. He has nightmares about it that he wakes up from, hands flexed into claws because if necessary he’ll rip out someone’s throat with his bare hands. This is not a Five who draws the line at biting, this is a Five who barely even has a concept of a line.

This is a Five who jumps to the future and who only halfway planned to come back, this was a Five who wanted to time travel to any period where Reginald Hargreeves didn’t exist and who wanted to know he could take himself before he took his siblings. This is a Five Hargreeves who didn’t ask permission. Because telling Reginald things is giving him something to use against you, is giving him something to take away from you. This is a Five that vanishes in the night with no explanation, save for a whispered plan to Vanya in the middle of the night.

Vanya never tells her siblings what she knows. She tries, once, she approaches them all shy and nerves and they brush her off and something inside of her is so cold cold cold and she turns on her heel and walks away from them. They don’t even notice her leave, and Vanya keeps the secret of Five’s ability to herself.

She still makes the sandwiches, because Five said he planned to come back and get them. Planned to pull them away. Because even Luther couldn’t force them back to their father if there was no Dad to go back to. But he doesn’t come back, and Vanya knows that something must have gone terribly wrong.

(Five would have come back, if only for her. She knows that in her bones. Because Five is more vicious, and more protective, and he knows what it is to be powerless. He taught her grapples and how to break holds in the middle of the night on her bedroom floor, taught her how to throw a punch and hold a knife, taught her how to pick a lock and break zipties. He taught her all the things he’d had to teach himself when his option to run was taken from him. He taught her all the things he’d learned to do when he was normal, like her.

“Vanya,” He’d told her so very seriously, “Vanya, you listen to me. All of us are ordinary, it’s only what we can do that is extraordinary. Take that away and we’re just like everyone else - but that doesn’t mean we’re weak. Now try again, break out of my hold. You can do this.”

Vanya remembers the look in his eyes, wild and furious. A falcon forced into a songbird’s cage. “If you have the chance,” He told her, “You run. You run, and you don’t look back.” And Vanya gets the feeling he isn’t just talking about a theoretical villain attack, but she never does get the chance to ask for clarification.)

The others assume Five made a mistake with a jump, got lost in the in between, and Reginald puts up that portrait of Five with its cold unfeeling eyes that are so very wrong because Vanya knows Five and he’s never been cold. Five was only one letter away from being fire, all passion and furious determination and always so very very hungry for more. He’d made that cold cold cold part of her thaw, just a little bit, when she was around him. And now he was gone and she didn’t even have that comfort.

Vanya waits. She grows up. She stops leaving the lights on and leaving out peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. She watches Diego’s powers get taken and she thinks you’re like me, now. you’re ordinary. but that doesn’t mean you can’t do extraordinary things.

The team comes home without Ben and all Vanya can feel is cold. If I’d been there - she thinks, because Dad makes her watch the footage. He calls it a thought exercise, to pinpoint where he siblings went wrong. She watches Ben die over and over again and she wonders if her father even realizes the cruelty.

Vanya hits 18, and she leaves. She’s been preparing to leave for a good long while now, not that anyone notices. She’s invisible in the household, she’s ordinary. She’s beneath notice.

(Right up until the day she leaves, she keeps practicing late at night in her bedroom. Reminds herself how to get out of restraints. How to throw a punch. Goes back over all the lessons that Five had given her, and more that she discovered on her own.)

She takes her violin and she auditions for an orchestra, and she’s good. She practices, she’s technically perfect. She doesn’t get first chair though, because there isn’t passion.

(She wonders, if Five has taken up an instrument - how would he play? She thinks he would have gotten first chair, would have brought fire and fury into his playing. She thinks of her metaphor of him as a bird in a cage, and she thinks - why does the caged bird sing?)

She also signs up for self defense lessons. Signs up for karate. Signs up for kickboxing. She’ll never be a master of any of them, but she doesn’t need to be. She just needs to be good enough. Good enough to get away, good enough to surprise someone. One of her teachers compliments her on her ability to break holds, the way she throws a punch, and she suddenly misses Five with such ferocity it frightens her. Because usually she’s so very very numb.

She writes the book. It isn’t anything like the one she could have written. This is a book that lifts her up, a book where she says that everyone is ordinary to start out with. But everyone is capable of extraordinary things. She tells the world about her siblings, about Luther who so rarely gets punished. About Diego who sneered at her even as his powers were taken, even as he was put on the same level as her. About Klaus who turned to drugs and Ben who died and Five who vanished and left a hole in her life.

But it’s Allison who left her the most important lesson: how to recognize subtle manipulation. Because an Allison that doesn’t rely on her rumors is still manipulative, but in a more quiet and careful sort of way that twists you up inside if you listen to her for too long.

She goes to the funeral because she wants to, not because she feels like she has to. She wants closure, she wants to look at the urn that contains her father’s body and realize that he can’t poison her anymore.

She’s there when the world splits apart in the courtyard, and Five drops through. And he looks up with fire in his eyes, raw and frightened and there’s an almost euphoria that she recognizes from when one of Five’s plans, one of the risky ones, worked. Even though his mouth says shit.

Klaus asks if anyone else sees little number Five but Vanya is already moving, pushing past her shocked sibling as she pulls her brother (he’s so small, she forgot how small he was even back then - he always seemed larger than life in her memories) and she smiles at him and says simply - “It worked.”

And Five pauses and looks at her even though their siblings clamor for answers in background, and he looks so sad that it almost penetrates the cold cold cold numbness wrapped around her heart. “No.” He tells her, “It didn’t.”

They go inside and Five makes his sandwich and they demand answers and Five gives them freely. He traveled in time. He traveled to the apocalypse. He got stuck. He made it back. He’s back in his 13 year old body.

(there’s no Reginald to tell them that time travel messes with the mind, because Five never mentioned it to him. There’s no reason for Vanya to doubt her brother’s truth.)

“Your power is spatial jumps.” Luther says, dubious, his arms crossed over his chest.

“And yours is stupidity,” Five shoots back, and it makes Diego snort with laughter. “How do you explain this then? What, dermatologists just hate me? I look fucking thirteen, Luther. If I couldn’t time travel I would be twenty-nine, like you.”

and there’s no real response to that

They go outside to the funeral, and Diego picks a fight with Luther, and Vanya is moving forward before she realizes, before anyone realizes, before they can stop. Allison calls out with fear for her ordinary sister, Klaus shouts in alarm, and Vanya?

Vanya flips Diego over her shoulder and he crashes into the wet ground.

She looks up into the astonishment on her siblings faces and the pride on Five’s. “You’ve been practicing,” He observes, smiling with just a few too many teeth. A predator’s smile.

Vanya smiles back, more softly. “I bet I could take you.” She tells him, ignoring their siblings still in shock around her. (Why shouldn’t she? They ignore her.)

“After we stop the apocalypse, I’d like to see you try.” Five offers back and Vanya nods and the deal is made. Because Five knows the power of what ordinary people can do when backed into a corner. He was the Commissions best not for his powers but for his creativity. He rarely jumped in the apocalypse or the commission, too many lost calories and energy, too much of a risk when those powers could be taken from him at any time

(Reginald cut off his powers in the middle of a jump once, and Five had fallen to the floor and vomited up everything in his stomach it was so painful. Tears streaming down his face as he retched, unable to even stand. Five is careful, after that. So very very careful.)

Vanya leaves to go home apologetically - she has to practice the violin and has kickboxing practice tomorrow and then she has a new student. Five waves her off and says he’ll catch up with her after her gets a cup of coffee. She gives him her address and they part ways.

He shows up in her apartment with blood oh his collar and a knife wound on his arm and Vanya fetches her med kit and feels rage chip away at the cold around her heart. “Did they die?” She asks him simply.

“Yes.” Five tells her, tilting his head to one side and examining her face as though he’s not quite sure what to make of her. But that’s okay, she not quite certain what to make of him, either.

He tells her about the eye, and when she tells him she can cancel her lesson he shakes his head. “I can go alone.” He tells her easily, “If all else fails I think I still have some blackmail material on our siblings - perhaps Allison would be useful in this endeavor.”

So Vanya stays behind, she opens her door and ushers Leonard Peabody into her apartment. She sees the way he ducks his head bashfully, the calculating glint in his eyes, and she thinks snake. But Vanya didn’t survive Reginald’s household by being dumb. She smiles and nods and ducks head shyly right back and wonders if this man had anything to do with her brother showing up in her apartment bleeding.

Later, when Allison expresses concern, Vanya doesn’t say anything against Leonard. Because despite everything, she loves her sister. And it would hurt Allison if Vanya told her that of course she didn’t trust Leonard, because Leonard was like Allison. Calculated words and actions, wondering just how quickly he could make her break.

“I heard a rumor that you didn’t want to see Leonard Peabody again.” Allison tells her, a regretful look on her face and Vanya nods blindly and tells her sister that she actually thinks seeing Leonard again would be a mistake.

But her sister is out of practice, and Vanya never forgot about the lessons she was taught as a child. Allison doesn’t word her rumor carefully enough. It doesn’t change anything.

Vanya already didn’t want to see Leonard again. He’s slimy in a way that makes the cold cold cold around her heart flex with distaste. But Vanya has so rarely gotten what she wanted in life, and she is more than used to pushing past her dislike and discomforts to get things done.

She sees Leonard again. She’s made many mistakes in her life, but she wants to know what he’s up to. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer - isn’t that the saying?

so when her medicine goes missing after Leonard is in her apartment, Vanya thinks on it. She tracks down her brother, and asks him his opinion. It’s the only one she really cares about, after all.

“What kind of medicine is it, again?” Five asks, brow furrowing as he realizes he’s never asked that question before. It didn’t seem important. Vanya had taken her medicine for as long as Five could remember - it was just… part of her.

“Anxiety medication.” Vanya tells him demurely, hands flexing at her sides.

“Can you get more?” Five asks.

“It’s automatically refilled for me.” Vanya says, frowning now. “It arrives by mail, but now that I think about it I don’t think I ever provided an address after I left the manor.”

They exchange a significant look. However, Five figures that this is a mystery for after the apocalypse is stopped and Vanya agrees. “Can you last without them?”

Vanya nods. She can last most things. She lasted 17 years in the manor, after all.

She sees Leonard again.

(Allison doesn’t bother to ask after him after the rumor between them. Allison is confident in her powers, far too confident. Vanya simply doesn’t bring him up again, and the issue is put to rest between them.)

Vanya juggles her time between her life, her brother, and trying to figure out what Leonard Peabody is doing, what he wants from her. He tells her she isn’t ordinary, and she thinks what’s wrong with being ordinary? It doesn’t mean i can’t do extraordinary things. She thinks of a bedroom in the middle of the night, blood dripping down her brother’s wrists as he teaches her with steady hands how to pick locks. (“If you can be where people think you can’t reach,” He told her, eyes watching where his blood dripped onto Vanya’s carpet, “Then you can pull things off they don’t think possible. Pulling off the impossible, Vanya, is never an ordinary act.” and she believes him.)

Leonard grows more confident as she doesn’t push him away, and Vanya can feel something inside herself cracking. It’s like ice breaking up after a long and hard winter, as the cold cold cold she has grown so used to… snaps. And she waves her hand, and streetlamps are crushed as car alarms go off as they feed into the loop of street noise-anger-Leonard prodding-loud loud loud

She tells Leonard she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, her having powers. But she looks at the unholy glee he can’t quite disguise behind his eyes, the excitement in his voice, the pushing for her to try, and she thinks this is wrong.

She goes to find her brother, and shows him. She tells him about the cold cold cold and how she’s off her medicine and she didn’t realize but there was lava hiding beneath the sheets of ice and she feels rage. Because she knows what this is. She knows what has been done to her. She’s seen her father take away her siblings’ powers all her life, as punishment, on a whim, for training. Why would it come as any surprise that he tried to take away hers?

but there’s a relief because Five matches her fury, inch for inch. If Reginald wasn’t already dead, it’s fairly obvious that he wouldn’t have survived much longer regardless.

“You haven’t changed any.” Five tells her, fierce as anything. “You haven’t changed. What you can do has changed. But you’re still my sister. You’re still Vanya.”

And that lays to rest a fear she didn’t even know she was holding onto. She is Vanya. She plays the violin. She’s top of her kickboxing class. She’s a part time instructor now teaching women self defense. She has six siblings. She teaches children how to play an instrument. She is an ordinary person, who is capable of extraordinary things. She’s just a little more capable than before.

The magma settles, just a little. It’s odd to be running so hot after so long of being cold.

“I went to the Commission,” Five tells her, holding out a scrap of paper with the name Harold Jenkins written across it. “Want to help me save the world?”

They loop in the others. Luther protests, but Diego is conspicuously silent on the matter. He remembers Vanya flipping him in that courtyard. They don’t tell the others about Vanya’s powers. (It’s like Vanya not telling them about the time travel, they ignored her and dismissed her and she’s not quite as quick to trust them as she had been as a child. She’s not a little girl, anymore.)

They go to the police station. Diego gets the file. The open it up and there’s a picture of Leonard Peabody and Allison gasps and Vanya thinks oh. This is what’s so wrong about him. A liar who can shed one identity like a snake shedding their skin. This is what I saw.

And Vanya is with them. She calls Leonard on the phone as Allison watches with wide eyes. Vanya brings up the magma boiling inside of her to her voice, coloring it with hurt and fury that she’s feeling, really feeling, as she fabricates an argument with her siblings and asks for Leonard to please pick her up. He agrees with barely disguised glee, and Vanya shoves down the wave of of hate-horror-make him pay that bubbles up in response to the man who dared think he could use her

(she isn’t stupid. neither is five. they share a look, because Leonard Peabody doesn’t have access to the kind of arsenal that could end the world. but he’s purposefully put himself in Vanya’s path, and Vanya has powers that they don’t know the full extent of just yet. in another life, Vanya is a bomb and Leonard is the one to light the fuse. in this life, Vanya won’t let him get that far.)

it’s anticlimactic, in the end. Leonard comes to pick her up, getting out of his truck and running towards her with concern on his face that sits like an ill-fitting suit. Five jumps behind him, and he is deadly and furious and loves his sister. Leonard-Harold, whoever he is, doesn’t see it coming as Five reaches and twists and there’s a snapping noise and suddenly they have a body on their hands.

They go to his house, and they find Reginald’s journal sitting there with the incriminating writing on its pages, and then they go home.

And then Five sits on the couch and flips through the journal and tells Vanya exactly what her powers are, as recorded by Reginald Hargreeves. And the others are there, and they can’t believe it - because she’s Vanya. She’s ordinary.

Vanya crosses her legs and stares her siblings in her eyes, “I’m still ordinary.” She tells them, because that’s what she believes. Allison’s rumor when she was four still grips her, but Allison has never been especially careful about her wording and Reginald didn’t know any better. “I’m still ordinary, but ordinary people can do extraordinary things more often than not.”

And Vanya thinks, and she smiles. Because the first chair in her orchestra played with such passion and beauty that it could move someone to tears. And wasn’t that extraordinary? And the women who taught her kickboxing was the mother of five children and takes night classes because she still wants to get her degree, and isn’t that extraordinary? The woman who Vanya taught how to break a man’s wrist the other week has been pale and frail looking but she’d looked Vanya in the eyes with such fierceness as she told Vanya in no uncertain terms that she was never going to allow someone to touch her without her permission again, and that strength was extraordinary.

April 2nd is the most beautiful dawn she’s ever seen, and she tucks Five against her side as he sobs and sobs. He’s so broken now, her brother, but she doesn’t love him any less for all his sharp and jagged edges. He came back and he stopped the apocalypse, and he’s her brother.

She isn’t cold anymore, and the heat hurts, but she’s carried a lot of pain in her life. This is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. She’s angry, yes, but she’s in control.

“Hey Five,” She gets her brother’s attention. She knows him, she knows that without this driving him he’ll feel so empty. So isn’t it fortunate that she has just the project for him? “Do you remember, when we were children, and you would teach me how to fight?”

“Yeah.” Five says, scrubbing a hand angrily at his eyes like he thought his tears were a weakness.

Vanya smiles at him, “Feel up to teaching me again?”

Because Five needs a purpose, and Vanya needs control, and together they can figure out her powers she knows they can. And if they mend their family at the same time, if they learn how to exist together again, then maybe everything will all be worth it.

“But for now,” Vanya says, “I think I’m kind of hungry. Anyone else want to order pizza?”

And Klaus raises his hand up and Vanya sees his new tattoo and the new ghosts behind his eyes and wonders if she should ask. Allison nods and stands up to go grab the phone. Diego shrugs and Luther looks shocked. And Five gives Vanya the smallest and most fragile smile she’s ever seen, and she smiles back at him.

The stopped the apocalypse.

Now they just have to figure out how to live again.

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faofinn · 4 years

Text

Toto, I Have A Feeling We’re Not In Kansas Anymore - Whumptober Day 20

@whumptober2020

Fao had been too young to lead when his father died. In immensely suspicious circumstances, Tomas had taken over the running of their land. They'd always looked after a large portion of the North of the kingdom for the king, James acting as Lord. Only a young boy when his father died, Fao was in no state to lead that many people, and so Tomas took the lordship, surrounded by suspicion and distrust from the people.

Hellbent on bringing the kingdom to its knees, Tomas shaped Fao into a killer, a weapon for his own personal use. The year he turned 21, Fao had had enough. He hated working against the kingdom his father had loyally served for his whole life, and so he reached out to the king.

A good friend of his father's, Fred welcomed Fao as a ward of his household with no hesitation. Fao was honest about his actions, and swore allegiance to the crown. After a year of close observation, Fred was happy he'd proven himself loyal, and assigned him as the personal guard for his son. Six years his senior, Fao found the crown prince a challenge. He had seemingly no regard for his own personal safety, and Fao lost track of how often he'd injured himself in the past four years that he'd been protecting him.

Finn often tested the boundaries placed upon him, trying to escape from under Fao's watchful gaze. It became almost a game, trying to escape from him and cause whatever mischief he could. Fao's training came in useful, tracking the younger boy down and usually intervening before he'd caused too much trouble.

Fred was more than confident in Fao's abilities, though his queen still held her doubt. It wasn't Fao she held such distrust for, but his uncle. It was no secret that he'd been after the crown, and the rumours that he'd take anyone down that got in his way held more than a little truth. James had been proof of that.

Still, Sheila enjoyed Fao's company, came to know him as more of a son than anything, and she knew the men in her family regarded him highly. He was charismatic and easy with the people, earning their trust a little too quickly. The rest were highly suspicious of him, all too aware of his uncle's plans.

Fao was called into Fred’s office one morning, his wolfdog at his heels. Arrow followed him everywhere, with thick dark fur and bright amber eyes, he stood as tall as Fao’s mid thigh.

“Your Majesty?”

"Faolan. Good morning." Fred smiled warmly. "I trust you are well?"

“I am, yes.” He said, dipping his head. “How can I be of service, sire?”

"Pleased to hear that. I need somebody to accompany Finn on his travels. He has insisted it be you."

“Of course. How long does he anticipate he’ll be gone? I ought to prepare…”

"A week, I should think." He shrugged slightly. "The Westons have requested him."

Fao dipped his head again. “Of course. I’ll make my preparations, unless you had something else for me?”

He hesitated, waving the rest of his men away as he beckoned Fao closer. "I expect this to remain private. Nobody is to know the route you are to take, and I'd advise staying off the main tracks."

“Of course, sire. I know a way where we won’t be seen. So long as Finn follows my instructions, there’ll be no issue.”

He was dismissed after that, and quickly set about making his preparations for the journey. They’d leave at first light the next morning, and so things had to be ready. Requests were made, his weapons were cleaned, and he woke well before the dawn that morning.

Feet light on the stone floors of the keep, he made his way to Finn’s chambers. After a moment’s hesitation, he knocked hard on the door.

"Who is it?"

“Fao! Are you ready to go? The horses are waiting.”

There was a heavy groan from Finn's chambers. "Must we leave so early?"

“Yes, unless you want to be killed on the roads. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

“Leaving this early may possibly kill me.”

“If you’re not ready soon, I may kill you.”

“Then kill me.” Came the retort.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. Come on, we’ve not got all day.”

“Help me with my bags then? I’m not fully dressed.”

Fao sighed, and pushed the heavy doors open. “I’ll load the horses.”

“That’s what you’re paid to do.” Finn joked, pulling his top over his head.

Fao rolled his eyes, and shouldered a couple of bags. “Technically, I’m paid to keep you alive.”

“Well isn’t that boring?”

“For you maybe.” He grumbled. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Please don’t be. I don’t want your father to kill me.” Fao muttered, and headed out of Finn’s chambers, laden with bags.

Finn kept his word, for once, sneaking around the back of the quarters and to the stables. He seldom used the main entrances, much preferring to find his own way there. It worked better for when he would sneak out in the middle of the night, but that had soon been stopped when Fao had arrived.

“I can hear you coming a mile off!” Fao called. “I have your horse, come on.”

He groaned. Fao could hear a flea a mile off. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes. Just waiting on you.”

Finn mounted quickly, gathering the reins. “You know, you ought to relax a bit. It’ll do you no good to be so serious.”

Fao checked over his sword before he mounted his own horse. “I wouldn't have to be so serious if you weren't so much of a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?”

“Yes, a nightmare. I swear you'll land me in an early grave.” Fao grumbled, nudging his mare with his heels. They needed to get moving, the path he intended to take was difficult, they needed to make the most of the light.

Finn turned in his saddle, grinning at Fao. “Well, I might as well live up to my reputation, then.”

“And I thought working for my uncle was bad.” He muttered, though he was grinning. As much as Finn wound him up, he was family. More of a family than he'd ever had.

He clicked, kicking his horse into a canter. In the complete opposite direction Fao had been heading in.

Swearing under his breath, Fao urged his own horse on and easily kept pace with his ‘brother’. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” He hissed, reaching out to grab Finn’s reins. “Do you want to die?”

His horse spooked slightly, rearing and threatening to dump Finn. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Oh, do you truly think I'd kill you?” He muttered angrily. “I'd like to keep my head on my shoulders, thank you very much!”

Finn collected Toren, pulling up alongside Fao. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, if we must.”

“Thank you. By the Gods, I don't get paid enough for this.”

“You mean to say that you don’t enjoy my company?”

“Not when you fuck about and refuse to listen to me. Your father will kill me if any harm comes to you.”

“I disagree. My last one wasn’t killed by his hand.”

“By fucking yours, probably.”

“Watch your tongue or you just might.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'd like to see you try.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Come on, we've a lot of ground to cover.”

“How long will it take, using this route of yours?”

“As long as it takes.”

“I’d hoped to be with Jess by nightfall.”

“That shouldn't be an issue.”

A smile played on his lips. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I knew you'd be eager to meet with her. Have time alone, hmm?”

The constant teasing and ribbing got Fao distracted from his carefully planned route, and it didn't help that Finn was determined to go astray. It was the way he was, and Fao had planned for it, but it was still a real pain to deal with. Arrow trotted alongside them, and suddenly stopped dead, his hackles raised. Frowning, Fao dismounted and drew his sword.

“Show yourself!”

“Fao, just ride. No point stopping at everything he stops at.”

“I trust him to warn me of-” Fao’s words were cut off by the the figured the burst from the shadows, and sword met sword with a metallic clang.

“Finn!”

He fumbled for his own sword, his horse stepping out of the way. They’d planned for things like this and he knew in situations where there was a high possibility of him getting injured, he was to flee. The older he’d become though, the less he did that. Fao was more than just his father’s ward. He was basically a brother.

The fight was quick and scrappy. Their opponents knew exactly what they wanted, though, and that was Finn. Fao struggled to defend him, and when one lunged at him with a dagger, he didn't even think before he pushed him aside.

It made its mark easily, biting through leather and flesh, and Fao knew it was bad.

“Fuck!” He spat, though managed to parry back and kill the last bandit.

He sunk to his knees, hands pressed around the wound. “Finn, I need your help!”

Finn swore, hurrying to Fao's side. “Gods, what the fuck.”

“I know, I know. There's bandages in my saddle bags, we'll bind it and then pull it. I'll get you to Jess tonight.”

“I’m not worried about Jess. I'm worried about you.” Finn retorted, but moved to Fao's saddlebags and found the bandages. “These?”

“Yes, quickly. This is agony.”

“Alright, alright. What am I doing?”

“Bind tight on either side of the blade.” Fao said, showing Finn as best he could. The younger man did as he was told for once, wrapping the bandages tight either side of the blade.

Once it was done, Fao groaned. “Pull it, and then bind it tight over the top. Ignore me, just bind it as tight as you can.”

As Finn pulled the knife, Fao’s jaw clenched so tight he was concerned he'd break his teeth. He swayed a little, woozy and in pain, but managed not to black out.

“Keep binding, keep binding. Tighter.”

Finn tried, he really did. “Now what?”

“You'll need to help me onto your horse. I can't ride in this state.”

They struggled, but Finn got Fao up behind his saddle, the older of the two of them leaning heavily on his shoulder and back.

It was well after dark when they reached the Weston's, and the moment Fao's boots hit the ground outside the keep, he was out cold.

#whumptober2020 #whumptober #no. 20 #toto i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore #they look so pretty when they bleed #field medicine #medieval #SWORDS #stabbing #Faolan Blackwood #Finn Daniels #Finn is An Ass (TM)#fred daniels #ambushed #bandits #attacked #sword fight

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gwaciechang · 4 years

Text

Love Run (5/10?)

“And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay”

We’re officially halfway and they haven’t even technically kissed yet. This was supposed to be soft fucking. What. The. Fuck. Happened. To. My. Life.

At this point I don’t think there are any more spoiler warnings for Stan Lee’s Lucky Man, because we’ve deviated too much from the plot. So, just standard trigger warnings for Bobby Hayes’ general life. And also for a traumatic flashback nightmare.

“Thank you,” you whisper against Bobby's shoulder. You feel him nod, and you wish you could see his expression, but you want to keep your head here. Besides, his face would probably break your heart more, since it usually does.

He pulls away suddenly, and you try not to miss the feeling of his arms around you. “I’m going to clean these up,” you say, taking your empty plates to give yourself something to do. “The saran wrap is on top of the microwave. Cover the leftover noodles with them. But don’t put them in the fridge, I’ll do that.” You don’t want him getting upset with your fridge more than necessary.

You put the used dishes in the dishwasher and the pots in the sink, and Bobby starts to clean them without asking.

“So, how did you like the noodles?” you ask, standing as close as you dare.

“They’re good,” he says without emotion. “They’re your favorite?”

“Yeah,” you laugh at the memory. “It’s the first meal my brother made, and when I was recovering, it was one of the only things I could keep down. Probably because my mom used to make it when I was sick. I don’t know what came first, actually, me liking it or people making it for me when I feel sad.”

“Do people make it for you a lot?”

You shake your head. “It’s hard to tell someone how to make it. There’s no actual measurement in a lot of Chinese cooking. You just do what feels right. No two dishes are the same.”

Bobby grimaces and resumes scrubbing the pieces of burnt meat and garlic. You try not to take his displeasure personally. He’s probably not used to things not being exact and measurable.

“So, I’m going to brush my teeth and go to bed, unless you need anything?” you say when you’re finished with the three pots you used for the noodles.

Bobby shakes his head, on his fifth scrub of his pot. There’s no reason you can think of to stand so close to him now, so you take a paper towel to dry your hands.

“Good night, um, stay awake tight, and don’t let the bad guys in? Never mind, this wasn’t funny,” you head to the bathroom.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he says, suddenly standing up straight. You can’t help but notice that he’s actually quite tall and broad.

“Thank you,” you hope you’re not grinning too widely. “I hope you know the feeling’s mutual.”

“I do,” his voice is insistent. “I saw it.”

And you’re too tired to deal with these feelings, so you go to bed. It still feels too big and empty, and you wish he were here, but before you close your eyes and drift off, you wonder which ‘he’ you’re referring to.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to the smell of coffee and eggs. David must be home early, and you're so giddy with excitement that you leap out of bed.

“David! I didn’t hear you come-”

Bobby stands frozen next to the stove, a plate of scrambled eggs on each hand.

“Shit, right, I forgot,” you rub your eyes.

“It’s fine," Bobby’s smile is forced, and you would rather stab your eyes out than see it again. “I made breakfast,” he keeps his eyes firmly on his plates as he sets the table.

“Yeah, I could smell it from,” you gesture to your room. He's unhappy.

You stare at the eggs and think about how to word it without wounding his nearly-nonexistent self-loathing further. “I bought this apartment with my ex,” you say. Great, failed step one.

“David?” Bobby rubs at his chest. You wonder if his injuries are bothering him, and you figure you might as well go all in. “Yes. He was my dealer.”

His openmouthed gaze would be funny in any other context.

“I got better, he didn’t, and sometimes I feel like I failed him. I know that’s ridiculous, and I can’t stop anyone from making their choices. I just wish I knew how to mute that voice in the back of my head that says he’s my responsibility and I failed him.”

“Is that why you invited me to stay with you?” Bobby's voice is high. “So you could do it right?”

You shake your head. “I think I recognized the same quality in you,” you’re not sure how to say this in words. “When I'm scared, or I feel helpless, it’s easier to take care of someone else, because I still haven’t figured out how to mute that voice in the back of my head that says I don’t deserve to be taken care of, so taking care of someone else is the only way to give me a sense of accomplishment that I did something worthwhile.”

Bobby stands up and walks to your bedroom. Great, what the fuck did you say this time?

He comes back before you have time to devolve further than that, holding his bag of heroin in his hand before pressing it into yours.

“I know you don’t like how it smells,” he says apologetically, “but I want you to have control over this. I trust you to make the best decision for me.”

“Bobby, can I give you a hug?” your voice is so shaky, it’s a wonder he hears you at all.

And you find yourself pressed to that wonderful chest again.

Pretty soon, it’s time to go to work for the first time in nearly a week, because while your boss is understanding, a whole week is a long time to be suddenly short staffed when you’re not even injured.

But you’re still worried, because Bobby’s going to be all by himself at the apartment all alone, so you make sure he knows exactly how to reach you if something bad goes down, a list of emergency contacts, where the emergency exit is and how to get down into the downstairs balcony through yours if he has to make a fast getaway.

He has to calm you down when you’re about to cry, and it's the fact that he’s singing a pop song while he taps his fingers against your cheek that snaps you out of it.

“Sorry, I just really, really don’t want to leave you alone,” you sniff.

“I’m sorry I can’t go to the bar,” he bows his head.

“Don’t be,” you tell him. “It’s not your fault they’re so crowded and noisy.”

“I’ll come pick you up,” he takes both your hands in one of his. “I-I’ll take the bus, and I’ll walk you to the stop and wait with you so we can take the bus back together.”

It occurs to you that Bobby is just as nervous about letting you out of his sight as you are, if not more.

“I’ll be okay. My coworker’s giving me a ride until the street gets fixed. Besides, you've seen me defend myself. I can be pretty scrappy.” As a child, you got into a lot of fights. Angry violence was your default response to a lot of things back then. Apparently, it still was. You wipe your hands on your pants even though you know there’s no brain matter on them.

“Get a nice rest, okay?” you put one hand over his and squeeze before letting go. “I’ll see you in eight hours. Don’t stand by the window watching me leave.”

But of course, you see him still at the window, watching you, when Cassie comes to pick you up.

“So, you want to tell me why you’re smiling like a total moron despite having killed a man less than a week ago?” Cassie teases.

You turn your smile into a frown as you give her shoulder a fake punch.

You're a little surprised at how smoothly work goes. You don’t have a panic attack thinking about the smell of brain fluid, you don’t even feel stressed when the complaints start coming in that you’re going too slowly thanks to your shoulder. Not that the complaints are taken seriously, Cassie even snaps at some of the patrons when they tell you to hurry up. The shift goes by in a flash, and you’re in good spirits when you get back to your apartment.

As expected, Bobby is asleep. His face is soft and boyish, like every single wall he built to keep out the world that hurts him was torn down. You can’t resist tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and his head chases your hand for a little while before he settles down. There's a line between his eyes now, so what choice do you have but to put your hand back and lie down?

You notice the smell of laundry detergent. Of course, Bobby would wash your sheets before he slept in them. You’re a little embarrassed at how long it's been since you did. Living with a someone so neat was definitely going to shame you into developing better cleaning habits, if you two didn’t kill each other with control freak tendencies first.

You don’t think about this long. The room is filled with his soft breathing, which soon becomes your soft breathing, which soon becomes silence. Which soon becomes the sound of metal crushing skull, and you wake up screaming.

When you wake up in the morning, it's because the smoke alarm went off and definitely not because you want to throw up. You yank the blankets off, too scared to even shiver in the sudden cold, and run into the hallway just in time to see Bobby cursing and dumping something into the trashcan.

“What the fuck?” you see him flinch, and you know your tone’s too harsh, but the nightmares are far too real, the adrenaline’s ebbing, and you just cannot deal with any more stress right now.

“I’m sorry,” he swallows. “I wanted to make you breakfast again to make up for throwing up on your bed, but you don’t have a toaster, so I tried to make it in the microwave, but all the buttons are in Chinese and you have a different brand of margarine than I use.”

“That’s because I use actual butter, fucking christ!” you stomp over to the microwave, grab a paper towel, and yank out the grill that’s covered in melted bread to toss it in the sink. Except it’s not a paper towel, it’s your only apron, and now it’s got a big burn on it.

“Goddammit!” you toss the apron on the floor, and it lands in a gray smear of brain matter that can’t possibly be there. You move to cover your eyes so you don't see it, but there are suddenly hands clenched tightly around your wrists, forcing them apart.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand. Your heart beats faster. This is wrong.

“I-I thought you were going to scratch yourself”" he says, voice plainly terrified.

Your voice is ice cold, “If I scratch myself, Bobby, that is none of your fucking business. You’re not here to take care of me, you;re here because you couldn’t cut it making a living on your own. You’re so-”

You both vomit in unison. At least it stops you from speaking. You recover fairly quickly, but as the physical nausea recedes, a new form takes its place.

“Bobby,” you reach for his shoulder, but he flinches back, so you put your hands in front of him where he can see them. You have to move them again rather fast, because he doesn’t stop, not even when his stomach is empty and all that's coming up is bile.

This close, you can see the sweat stains on his pajamas, and you put one and one together to realize he's still detoxing.

You wipe your mouth and pop in some gum before sliding an arm across Bobby’s trembling body to help him off the floor. “Okay, I can’t pick you up, so you're going to have to walk to the bathroom under your own power, but you can lean on me, and I’ll draw you a bath, okay?”

“Don’t need,” he says between gagging fits. “I need a hit, please. I know you have it somewhere.”

“You trusted me to do what’s best for you, remember? So I'm going to do that.”

“You hate me,” Bobby’s voice and eyes are filled with tears. “Everyone hates me, so why not just let me die?”

“Fuck,” you wonder if you’ve ever hated yourself this much. Maybe when you first woke up and realized you’d made yourself incontinent with your drug use. “I don’t hate you,” is all you can say.

“I make your life harder. I made you keep my drugs while you’re recovering. I ruined your refrigerator-”

“Fuck my refrigerator, okay?” you lower Bobby to the floor and start to fill the tub with hot water. “And nothing I said was meant for you. I just had a nightmare and I took it out on you, that’s unfair of me.”

His face crumples further. “You have nightmares because of me.”

“I have nightmares because a man tried to kill me and didn’t stop until I killed him first!” you snap. Bobby flinches, so you soften your tone.

“I’ve never cooked with anyone before,” you admit. You try to keep your hands in sight, so he knows while he probably can’t control himself that you’re not touching him anymore. “And I don’t think anyone’s ever sang to me before. Bobby, you make my life better. You make me better, and I’ve only known you for three waking days.”

There, the water’s warm enough now. “Come on, you have to get in and cool off.”

He clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut, but he lets you remove his sodden shirt and jeans. You realize he’s soiled himself at some point, so you have to remove the rest of his clothing. You only leave him alone for one second to toss his soiled undergarments in the garbage and wash your hands, but when you come back, there are tears glimmering down his cheeks.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you grab your bodywash and a sponge, then squat next to him. He shivers, even though the water’s hot, when you touch him. The tears don’t fall any less often, and you put your apologies into your work.

He’s half asleep when you’re finally finished, so you simply wipe him down and tuck him in the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and you’re not sure which is worse, that he’s still apologizing to you despite your awful words, or that he apologizes in his dreams.

You don’t think you've ever been so simultaneously relieved and regretful to go to work. It seems everyone can tell you’re distracted, and finally Cassie drives you back home an hour early.

He’s still asleep when you get back, for which you’re both grateful and terrified. The cherries taste like ash in your mouth, but they're a fast source of calories so you can get to bed as soon as possible and lie awkwardly and stiffly so that no part of you is touching him.

You’re just starting to drift off when he wakes up. He notes that you put him in a ratty pair of pajamas, and he turns so red that you can see it in the dim light.

“You have to really love me to do this,” he says in awe, echoing your own words back to you.

“You weren’t screaming about how much you hated me. I was doing that,” there’s so much self-loathing in your voice that you almost expect something to drip off your tongue.

Bobby makes a deeply wounded noise and curls toward you. You wrap your arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, now that he’s awake enough to hear. You would need to apologize every day for a year to fully express how sorry you are.

“I’m sorry,” he starts to withdraw, and you instinctively hold him tighter. He practically burrows into you at the contact, and you realize that he wasn’t pulling away because he didn’t want to be touched, but because he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be touched. So you touch him everywhere you can reach, running your hand from the top of his head all the way down his back where the ridges of his spine stick out to much, nuzzling the junction between where his collarbone is too prominent, and cupping your palm on his bony cheeks.

This time, when you wake up from the nightmares, he kisses you on the forehead and soothes you back to sleep with his hands in your hair.

#lucky man fanfiction #bobby hayes #joey i am literally begging you not to look through this tag

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theshatteredrose · 5 years

Text

Turquoise Lotus Father (Treasure Seekers Saga 2) - Chapter 11 - Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction

AN: Right, long chapter to mark my determination to return to updating at least once a week. Now, we’re getting to the fun stuff :3c Enjoy~!

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet

Chapter 11:

“You’re back!” Faelen greeted them the moment Drayce and the others stepped into the foyer of the Crescentia. He hurried straight over to Drayce and looked up at him with expectant and concerned eyes. “Are you all right? Did you meet those bandits?”

“Unfortunately, we did,” Drayce answered before a smile tugged at his lips and he revealed a small silver token. “Fortunately, we got the token. Is everything all right here?”

Faelen looked at the token for a moment, clearly relieved. He spent another moment to ponder Drayce’s question. “Ah, well, there was a strange noise outside,” he replied as he tapped his cheek. “But when Ashton went out to take a look, he said there was nothing there.”

Drayce felt a spike of concerned. “Really now?”

He was sure it was nothing. And Ashton had been around treasure hunters and the art of treasure hunting for years to know to keep himself out of trouble. But Drayce couldn’t help but feel a prang of concern at the thought that there could have been a bandit sneaking around outside.

They couldn’t put it past those bandits to try something like that.

Drayce kept a firm hold on the token as he shrugged off his shield and set his cannon aside. As he turned to go up the stairs, he was stilled momentarily when Ashton appeared. The dedicated caretaker looked relieved to see them all returned safely.

There was a hint of worry, though.

“You’ve returned quickly,” he pointed out with a subtle hint of curiosity.

“Hey Ash,” Drayce returned before he showed him the token. “Your invention with Zohar worked a treat.”

Ashton smiled at that as he reached the bottom step. “Good. After the stunt they pulled, they deserved to be tricked themselves.”

Indeed. While Drayce didn’t like to lower himself to their antics, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right? And it was just punishment for scaring Faelen like that.

“Everything all right outside?” Drayce asked when he remembered what Faelen informed him. As he turned to give Ashton his full attention, his gaze fell upon his right hand. Where a make-shift bandage was seen. The bandages reached around his palm and knuckles. “Did…something happen to your hand?”

Was he hurt? When did he get that?

Ashton instinctively hid the injured hand behind his back. “Ah, just cut my hand while in the kitchen, don’t worry.”

“I’ll have a look at it later,” Fiorello piped up, yet sounding dismissive at the notion, too.

“Sure.” Ashton, too, seemed rather unconcerned as he simply shrugged. He soon folded his arms across his chest as he turned to give his attention to everyone within the foyer. “I assume you won’t be heading back in the labyrinth today? Why not head to your rooms and get out of those adventuring clothes. We’ve got a long day in the library, it seems.”

Drayce gave a small chuckle at that. “We sure do. Shashi is sure to be happy with our bounty.”

As everyone ventured up the stairs, Ashton stepped to the side. And Drayce waited for everyone to move on before he turned to give the green-haired man his attention once more. He was about to ask if his hand was really ok and to relish in the opportunity to chide the dedicated caretaker about being careful for once.

However, Ashton turned to him first and gave him a rather serious look.

“We had to tell Caelem and Tokala about the existence of the Cursed Blade,” he unexpectedly told him. “It appears the two blades are intertwined. We couldn’t research and talk about one without the other.”

Drayce knew that they would have to tell the two everything soon enough. “No, that’s fine,” he said as he moved toward the stairs. “How did they take it?”

Ashton walked beside him. “They were surprised before growing worried. Especially with these bandits now involved.”

Drayce couldn’t help but clench his hand tighter around the silver token. “Yeah.”

“You wish to head straight to the library?” Ashton asked him as they reached the third-floor landing. “Or to your room first?”

“Just let me drop of my jacket,” Drayce replied, already shrugging off said article of clothing. “And my armour. Shouldn’t keep Shashi waiting too long. I’m sure Faelen has already rushed ahead to tell him, so I can’t weasel my way out of this one.”

That got a short laugh from Ashton. “The map activated, so he’s aware of a token being discovered. But you’re right. He’s going to be coming after you if you don’t show up soon.”

Well, he’d better hurry to his room as not to keep the equally dedicated sigil specialist waiting!

Ensuring that he had a tight grip on the token still, Drayce broke into a light jog to his room. He ducked in to throw his jacket onto the foot of his bed. He spent a minute hastily unclasping and virtually kicking off his armour and shin guards. Dressed in his cameo pants and a black sleeveless top, he broke into another half jog as he left his room.

He reached the stairs around the same time that Blayke did. Though his friend was free of his armour, he still had a slight scowl on his face. No doubt still pissed off after he confrontation with bandit Keita in the labyrinth.

“Ah, you’re back!” Caelem exclaimed with relief as he greeted them on the top step. He paused in front of Blayke and looked between him and Drayce with his ears folded back slightly. “You’re ok, right?”

The scowl on Blayke’s face soon disappeared and he gave Caelem a small, reassuring smile. “We’re fine, don’t worry.”

Salim walked out of the library at a more leisurely manner. “Met some bandits, huh?”

That scowl made a prompt return. “Same shits as yesterday,” Blayke muttered.

“But we got one over on them this time,” Drayce replied as he moved to walk into the library. As he reached the threshold of the doors, Salim unexpectedly pulled him aside.

“Hey, quick question. That guy,” he said in a hushed tone and motioned toward Ashton with a tilt of his head. “Are you sure he's just a scholar?”

Drayce blinked in confusion. “Huh? Ashton?” he turned to look over at the other man, finding him speaking easily with Shashi in the library. “Something wrong?”

“It's just...I dunno,” Salim admitted awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head. “I just feel as though I should ask him to spar with me or something. I've been around pugilists my whole life, and he totally just feels like one.”

“Oh...?” Drayce didn’t know what a pugilist felt like. Ashton had always been ol’ Ash to him. Placid, if a bit too dedicated to the role of caretaker. But definitely a friendly, reliable guy. He couldn’t really imagine him as a scrappy brawler.

Not that it would matter to him if he was. He just…couldn’t really picture it.

“Good to see you’re all back in one piece,” Shashi greeted as Drayce walked inside. “With a token at that.”

“Yup,” Drayce grinned as he revealed the token in his hand. “Did the map activate just like last time?”

Shashi nodded his head. “Yes, briefly. May I see the token?”

Drayce promptly handed over the silver token to Shashi. “Of course. Here.”

Shashi carefully picked up the coin-like token and raised it a little higher to allow him to inspect it more clearly. He examined it for a few silent moments before he made a soft sound of curiosity. “Interesting. There is a unique brand of mana here.”

That was likely the reason why Zohar and Kamali were able to hone in on the source of mana and find the token under a short amount of time.

“Kamali, help me with the sketching,” Shashi requested as he headed over to the large wooden table in the middle of the room, where the map and the myriad of books were found.

“Of course,” Kamali replied as he moved to follow his brother.

The brothers spent a moment to clear area around the map. And to grab the necessary writing materials. Shashi turned toward Drayce suddenly and presented the token toward him. “Drayce. Could you do the honours?”

Drayce was somewhat surprised, but he soon deduced that it was the best. He did something similar with the parchment containing the Moon Legacy. And while they weren’t sure what was contained within this parchment, it would be best that Drayce be the one to activate it. Just in case something untoward happened.

Better him than one of the others.

“Sure,” Drayce dutifully replied as he retrieved the token and stood before the map. “Where should I place it?”

“The map reacted from the bottom left hand corner,” Shashi explained. “Try placing it there.”

So Drayce did just that. He placed the token, with the lotus engraving face up, upon the corner of the parchment. He pressed the token down with his index finger. And as soon as the silver coin touched the parchment, the lotus symbol glowed a gentle light blue.

The light then dissipated quickly, flowing outwards over the parchment. It spread out in a spiderweb like fashion, allowing for symbols that were both foreign but somehow familiar to appear in the soft, pulsating light.

Both Kamali and Shashi furiously sketched the symbols upon their notebooks. But all too soon, the light faded out. Only the black grid pattern was left upon the parchment.

From how things appeared, there were indeed four tokens in total. One for each corner. In order to see the entirety of the map, they needed all the tokens together.

“I think that’s the best we’re going to get for now,” Drayce said as he slowly raised his hand and pulled back from the parchment.

“I managed to catch a few symbols,” Kamali said as he kept his gaze upon his notebook, already making a few notes of his own.

Shashi, too, was assessing his sketches. “As did I. Unfortunately, I am not adept at reading ancient therian. The best I could do was to sketch the symbols.”

“That’s more than enough,” Drayce reassured. “Anything at this point will be helpful. So other than the map activating briefly, how goes the research?”

Shashi put down his notebook only to pick up another, quickly flipping back through the many pages. “We did manage to find some more information. Caelem was the one to discover it first. He’s quite the researcher himself.”

Drayce immediately turned to give Caelem. “Awesome, great job, Caelem.”

The therian was quite obviously pleased at the praise. If the straightening of his ears and the light, excitable flush to his cheeks was any indication. He really was quite the adorable guy, huh? He certainly was enthusiastic. Good to see!

“It seems that the Turquoise Lotus Father is the one to have created the Shining Lotus,” Shashi nonchalantly explained.

Too nonchalantly for such an important piece of information! So not only did he wield the Shining Lotus, he actually created it?

“For his brother’s sake,” Caelem continued eagerly. “And to prevent others from being hurt.”

Shashi nodded his head as he slapped shut his notebook and folded an arm across his torso. “Yes. That is his sole and only reason for becoming a masurao.”

Caelem eagerly nodded his head once more. But then he paused and he stared down at the ground before him with a contemplative expression. “That’s…the true path of the masurao, isn’t it? To fight for others.”

Drayce’s eyes softened. “It is a worthy cause.”

A small smile made its way upon Caelem’s lips as he lifted his head to look toward Drayce. “It is.”

Hm. Not only was Caelem learning more of his ancestor, he was learning more about himself. And his role as a masurao. Which was the reason why he left his village to go on a journey of his own.

Drayce was honestly happy for him.

“Of course, that’s the laymen terms of it,” Shashi stated idly as he set his notebook aside just to pick up another one. “I’d like to know how. Specifically, how he was able to create such a weapon.”

“I’d like to know, too,” Caelem admitted.

Well, that was a hint that they both wanted to return to researching if he had ever heard one.

Drayce left the token upon the map and took a step back so that he wouldn’t get in the way of the enthusiastic and devoted researchers. Shashi and Kamali were sure to be busy inspecting the markings they had sketched from the map, while Caelem was to be looking for more information on his village’s founding father.

The best thing that Drayce could do for the time being was to check on his maps of the second floor. And mark down where they discovered that token.

As Drayce stepped through the library doors, he unexpectedly found Tokala sat at the top step of the stairs. He had his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He looked rather…glum, for a lack of a better word. Not something Drayce had seen from the bubbly therian before.

To say he was a little bit concerned would be an understatement.

“Hm? Tokala?” Drayce questioned as he approached the therian, prompting the other to abruptly sit up straight and turned his head toward him. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Tokala immediately insisted, though it did sound more like an answer out of reflex instead of true honesty. Thankfully, Drayce didn’t have to press him and he sighed quietly as he turned his gaze back down the stairs. Yet, he wasn’t actually looking at anything. Just gazing off into space, lost to his thoughts.

So Drayce sat down on the step next to him.

“It’s just…there’s a lot happening here, huh?” Tokala finally spoke. “It’s kinda overwhelming.”

Ah. To an outsider, the task of treasure hunting and gathering of information, sometimes shocking information, could indeed be overwhelming and puzzling. Not to mention that the necklace Tokala had for so long was the key they needed to begin the search of a mythical (or possibly dangerous) weapon created hundreds of years ago.

His search for answers to his origins resulted in him learning about someone he never knew existed. And was likely to wonder why or if he had any connection to said important figure.

“It can feel that way sometimes,” Drayce comforted.

“Do you think I could be from Caelem’s village?”

“I don’t doubt it.”

A truly confused and sombre expression appeared on Tokala’s face and he hugged his knees tighter. “So why…?”

Drayce couldn’t give him an answer. Just a possibility. Or assumption. Or just a guess. “Maybe it was a desperate attempt to protect you?”

Tokala rested his chin atop of his knees, seemingly pondering that notion. He then turned his head toward Drayce, his cheek resting against his knees. “I’m…glad that we ran into you in the labyrinth. It could have just been me and Salim. Those bandits…”

Drayce had allowed that thought to occur to him, too. “I’m glad that we ran into you two, as well.”

A rather sad smile made its way to Tokala’s lips. “…Salim will do whatever it takes to help me. Protect me. But…I’m tired of him getting hurt because of me. But…I also feel bad about dragging you into this, too.”

“Hey now, you didn’t drag me into it,” Drayce promptly insisted as he pointed toward himself. “Treasure hunter, remember? I’d stick my nose into it regardless. This way just ensures that we’ve had a head start and everyone is as safe as they can be.”

That made Tokala relax and a genuine smile appeared. “…Yeah. You’re…really nice.”

“I’m only doing what’s right,” Drayce insisted.

Tokala unwound his arms from his legs and allowed them to stretch out upon the stairs in front of him. He was clearly relaxed and reassured by Drayce’s words. Which Drayce was truly relieved about.

“Your guildmates seem really nice, too,” Tokala added.

“Yup,” Drayce promptly agreed. “I'm a lucky guild leader, that's for sure.”

“Caelem and Faelen are welcoming,” Tokala continued, that genuine smile still upon his lips. “Are they related?”

Drayce shook his head. “Nope, just have similar names.”

Tokala made a sound that was almost akin to a giggle. His became quiet, however, as another look of contemplativeness appeared upon his features. “...I never really had much interaction with Therians before.”

“Because you grew up in an Earthlain village?” Drayce asked with a curious tilt of his head.

Tokala nodded his head. “Yeah. And...”

“And what?”

“W-well,” Tokala stuttered, suddenly appearing uncomfortable as he drew his legs to his chest once more. “My parents, I mean Sal's parents, were protective because there were...certain groups that would, ah, gather Therians and sell them off.”

Gather…?

“What? Slave traders?” Drayce questioned, eyes wide.

Tokala gave a skittish nod of his head. “Y-yeah. Fur traders, too.”

Drayce felt a knot of disgust along with sheer protectiveness appear in his stomach. “That's...”

“But Salim's family are all pugilists!” Tokala exclaimed allowed, purposely but falsely jovial. “So, I was fine, you know? Sal is really strong.”

Good. Any slave trader or trafficker deserved to have the snot punched right out of them. And then some sense punched right into them.

Bandits were bad enough. But traffickers. Those…were just sickening.

“How about you? You want to become a pugilist?” Drayce asked in an attempt to both push back his protectiveness and to change the obviously unsettling subject.

“Huh?” Tokala murmured, surprised by the question. He looked forward into the empty space in front of him as he pondered what he had been asked. “W-well, maybe. I don’t really like confrontation, though. I wish everyone could just get along, you know?”

“Absolutely.”

Nothing wrong with being a pacifist.

“Drayce! Tokala!”

Drayce jumped slightly at the sound of Caelem’s excited voice. He instinctively pushed himself to his feet and turned to regard the animated therian as he approached. “Hm? What’s up, Cal?”

“I just found some information on Tokala’s necklace,” Caelem blurted out as he showed him an open book that he held.

“What? Really?” Tokala asked as he jumped to his feet, too.

“Yes. It’s called the Scarlet Lotus,” Caelem explained as he read from the book. “And it was created by someone called Sorataki.”

Tokala’s eyes widen in excitement. “W-who’s that?”

But Caelem shook his head slightly in disappointment. “Unfortunately, I don’t know exactly. He’s someone close to the Turquoise Lotus Father, though. I thought that maybe that was his brother’s name, but now I’m not so sure. “

Tokala seemed to…deflate upon hearing that. His shoulders sagged and his ears flattened worriedly against the top of his head. “…Could they be the one that wanted to find the Cursed Blade?”

Caelem, however, shook his head again. No disappointment this time as he trailed a fingertip over a paragraph in the book he held. “No, I don’t think so. As I said, he appeared close to the Turquois Lotus Father. It says that he shared a close bond with the both of them after the war.”

Tokala perked right up again. “Really? So my necklace is called the Scarlet Lotus? What’s it for?”

“I’m looking into that, too,” Caelem promptly replied as he half turned to head back into the library. He paused, however, and turned to give Tokala a curious look. “Do you want to help?”

“Ah, sure!” Tokala replied with a slight moment of hesitation.

“Have fun, you two,” Drayce simply encouraged, gaining a happy smile from Caelem and a quick look of gratitude from Tokala.

Drayce took to the top of the stairs as the two therians hurried back into the library. And he soon found himself falling into thought.

Interesting. A third party involved in this? And he made the Scarlet Lotus. That pendant was the key to the small treasure chest that was hidden in a music box. That Sorataki being was likely instrumental in not only creating that chest, but possibly aided in the sealing or hiding of the lotus blades.

“Drayce.”

The sound of Shashi’s voice promptly pulled Drayce from his thoughts. And he blinked in surprised when he found the purple-haired celestian right in front of him. “Yeah?” he asked rather dumbly.

Shashi quickly handed him a parchment. “Here. I did a quick sketch of what appears to be a map. I noticed a slight anomaly in this upper corner. Perhaps if you took to it with one of your maps, you might be able to predict where the next token can be discovered?”

“That’s a good idea,” Drayce said as he quickly took hold of the parchment and immediately studied it with his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll do that. I need to mark down where he found today’s token, too.”

Shashi nodded his head. “I shall return to work, too.”

“Shashi, wait,” Drayce abruptly called to him, prompting Shashi to pause mid move and regard him with a curious tilt of his head. “There’s something bothering me.”

“Hm?” Shashi turned to give him his full attention.

“It's about the lotuses,” Drayce began. “I've noticed a small discrepancy. From research, it's believed that the Shining Lotus was created in response to the Turquoise Lotus Father's brother being used as a Despot General, right? But the Cursed Blade was created out of jealousy for the Shining Lotus, right? Then how or why was the brother used against his will?”

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on one’s point of view, Shashi nodded his head and folded an arm across his chest as he held his chin in thought. “I've noticed that, too. It is entirely possibly that there was another blade that took possession of the brother. Or, the Cursed Blade is the blade responsible, and there is even a darker blade out there somewhere.”

Drayce roughly ran a hand through his hair. So, he wasn’t just misinterpreting or mishearing information. “So, it's possible that we're dealing with three blades?”

“Quite possibly,” Shashi answered simply, in his usual straight forward fashion that Drayce was honestly very thankful for. “That’s something I’ve picked up, too. And it is bothering me. There has been a vague insinuation of a third blade. And by piecing everything together, there had to be one. But what happened, I don’t know.” He abruptly dropped his arms to his sides. “I will keep searching.”

“Ok,” Drayce returned simply, knowing that there was little he could do to stop him. Even if he really wanted to. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Shashi simply nodded his head in acknowledgement before he turned and re-entered the library swiftly. And Drayce turned to head on down stairs to his room to retrieve his own map of the second floor.

He quickly entered the room and snatched up the map, his mind promptly drifted back to all the information he just learnt. His short conversation with Shashi indicated that sigil specialist hadn’t spoken to Caelem about his concerns. Especially not to Tokala. The mentioning of a third blade would likely be overwhelming for the two.

They didn’t even know if there was a third blade. Best to find solid information and evidence before making any decisions.

And the best thing Drayce could do was to inspect his map. And hope to find something useful.

Returning upstairs and making his way to his office, Drayce quickly gathered a few old parchments and documents he had inspected previous, before he settled himself into his chair. He was likely to be there a few hours.

With the parchment Shashi gave him, his own map, and another older map that seemed to hold dimensions similar to that of the second floor sprawled out on his desk, Drayce began to search for a pattern. A clue of some kind that could help him with his next move.

Two tokens weren’t enough to establish a pattern, that was an unfortunate fact. They found the first token near the centre of the map, within a well-used gathering spot. And the one today a few pathways from there, not at a gathering spot.

The best he could do was guess that another could be found further north. Near a lush area of greenery, yet somewhere not obvious at first glance. Yet, that wasn’t a guarantee, either. Someone else could have picked it up and dropped it elsewhere. A curious animal or monster could have picked it up or buried it. It might not even be on that floor anymore.

They had been both lucky and unlucky so far.

Still…his gut instinct told him that the third and fourth token were somewhere on the second floor. Waiting to be discovered. Activated after the music box was discovered, and the small treasure chest opened.

Drayce leaned back into his chair and stretched his arms over his head. It was getting dark. He had no idea how many hours he had spent in his office. If he didn’t make an appearance downstairs, or at least show himself in front of Ashton, said green-haired caretaker would come after him.

And he was not in the mood to be flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, thank you very much.

Setting his work aside for the time being, Drayce placed his hands atop of his desk and heaved himself to his feet. He was somewhat surprised that Ashton hadn’t come to check in on him. Though, he was likely attempting to keep an eye on the other researchers of their guild. And maybe keep watch over the Crescentia itself out of sheer protectiveness.

Stepping out into the hallway, Drayce was honestly rather surprised to find it so dark.

“Huh?” he uttered aloud as he glanced in the direction of the library.

The doors to the room were closed, surprisingly. And the lights were off. He couldn’t see any illumination from under the doors. He had figured that Shashi or even Caelem would still be inside the room, roaming the aisles, inspecting the shelves for information. They couldn’t do that with the light off.

The again, maybe Ashton got to them and ordered them to get some sleep. He was, ah, very persuasive after all.

It was likely just his paranoia talking, but he better just take a quick peek inside and check to see if anyone was inside. And to check on them if they were. And why the light was off.

Drayce quickly made his way over to the library and opened one of the doors. “Hey?” he called into the darkness. “Shashi, you here? I know you guys can see in the dark, but isn’t this pushing it?”

No response.

Huh…there didn’t appear to be anyone inside. So maybe Ashton got to them after all.

Just as that though entered his mind, Drayce felt a presence suddenly appear right behind him. That presence was unknown to him. He didn’t recognise it at all.

Before he could turn around, the presence behind him lunged forward to slip their arms around him, and to place something soft but moist against his mouth. “Wh-Mphf!”

Drayce instantly reacted, reaching up to tug at the leather-bound hands that pressed that cloth firmly and roughly against his nose and mouth. He knew that he needed to make some noise, to alert someone. He, unfortunately, took a deep breath in surprise from the sudden assault. And when he did, he felt immediately nauseous.

And dizzy.

C-crap…there was some kind of sleep toxin on the cloth? Who-?

“…I’m sorry…” a soft, wispy voice filled with guilt whispered into his ear.

That voice…an apology? Was that the…harbinger bandit?

Unfortunately, Drayce’s vision began to grey out and his world tilted in ways he hadn’t experienced before. He was vaguely aware that he was slipping, in both the hold of his assailant and in consciousness.

He felt himself slump to the floor before everything went dark.

#Etrian Odyssey #etrian odyssey 5 #turquoise lotus father #the treasure seeker #Angelward Guild #fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

cottontail20 · 5 years

Text

In Happy Times, Our Love Does Grow, Chapter 17: Almost Kiss

Summary: After the incident at the Mall, Wanda tends to Vision's injured hand.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20601530/chapters/50638862

They didn't stop until they reached Vision's House. It hadn't occurred to Vision to take Wanda home first, and it hadn't occurred to Wanda to ask him to. Somehow, Vision's home had become a safe place for them both.

It was only once the car had stopped and they had both got out that Wanda allowed herself to truly take a breath. The situation had been just a little too similar to the struggles of her youth. She and Pietro desperately running after they had snatched a loaf of bread, or an apple.. But then she looked at Vision's hand, and her own troubles rushed away.

A bruise was blooming across his knuckles, and one had split open, steadily oozing blood.

"Oh Vizh.." Wanda felt a lump in her throat, unable to keep from thinking this was her fault. But.. No. She had to stop letting past bad decisions define her present. Still, she worried for her friend. "Your hand.."

"Oh.." Vision looked at the injuries, slightly surprised.

"Come on.." She pulled Vision towards the house. "I'll help you get cleaned up." --

Wanda sat Vision down, nursing his injured hand, while she dug through his bathroom cupboards for disinfectant.

"Where's Viv?" Wanda asked. Finding the disinfectant, she poured a little into a dish of warm water.

"At a playdate with Cassie. Scott should be dropping her off in a bit."

"Okay.. can you move your fingers properly?"

"Yes" Vision nodded, after an experimental wiggle.

"Good.." Wanda fetched a cloth, and began gently cleaning the cut on his hand.

"Wanda, I.. I'm sorry.." Vision mumbled, wincing slightly at the sting.

"You're sorry?" Wanda gaped at him. "For what?"

"Making a scene.. ruining your lunch.."

"Vizh, no.. What you did.."

"You must think I'm quite the brute.."

"No, I think he deserved it.. What you did.. That's just about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. No one's tried to defend me like that since my brother died."

"I just didn't like hearing you spoken to so horribly" Vision blushed a little. "He was.. he was being..

"Un nemernic." Wanda didn't often slip into her native tongue, but with Vision, she felt comfortable enough to do so.

"Hmm?"

"An ass hole, Vizh. He was an ass hole."

"Well.. yes" Vision chuckled. "You know.. I have never punched someone before."

"You wouldn't know it" Wanda smirked. "It was a good shot."

"Your brother.. Pietro.. Did he punch people often? I only ask because, well, you seem to know what you are doing with this type of injury."

"He did.. He had to, sometimes, where we grew up.. He didn't usually come off as well as you have. Pietro was scrappy, but he wasn't really a fighter. He could run, though.." Wanda smiled wistfully. "When Pietro ran, there wasn't a soul who could catch him."

"I wish I could have met him" Vision smiled softly. "You speak of him so fondly."

"He was.. special. If you keep this clean, it should be alright. It's not deep.." Wanda set aside the cloth to look up at him, and her breath caught. Had he been that close the whole time?

"Thank you, Wanda.." Vision's breath seemed to catch as well, although Wanda may have imagined it.

Wanda swallowed.

"Vizh.."

"Yes?"

"W-What were you going to ask me? Before.." She was still holding his hand.

"Oh.." Vision blushed. "I was.. I w-was.. I was going to ask if you would like to.. Maybe.. If you would like to go.."

He was so close. If Wanda leaned in, just a little she could be.. So she did, and Vision did too, and they were so, so close.. their lips almost..

The front door opened.

"Daddy, I'm Home!"

Wanda dropped Vision's hand and they sprang away from each other.

"Up here, sweetheart!" Vision called, his cheeks red, then turned back to Wanda. "Vivian wanted to know if you would come trick or treating with us Tomorrow night."

"Oh.. right" Wanda blinked. Somehow, that didn't feel like what Vision was asking at all, but what else could it have been? "Sure, I'll come trick-or-treating."

"You will? Yay!" Viv ran into the Bathroom at exactly that moment. In her childish innocence, she didn't question Wanda's presence. However, she did notice something else. "You're red again.. I'll go get juice pops!"

Wanda watched Viv fondly as she raced off, not noticing that Vision was watching Wanda herself with the same fond expression. --

Early the following evening, Wanda returned to Vision's House, finding Vision in his full 'The Vision' suit and make-up. That suit really did not leave very much to the imagination, and Wanda couldn't help blushing, just a little.

"Hey, Vizh."

"Hello, Wanda." Though she couldn't see it, he was also blushing beneath his make up.

Neither one of them was sure whether their almost-kiss the day before had actually happened, or they were just imagining it.

"Wanda!" Viv happily ran over to greet her. Like on her Birthday, Viv was wearing make up similar to her Father's, and a cape.

"Hello, Fata dulce" Wanda crouched to the little girl's eye level, running a hand through her hair. "Are you a superhero like your Daddy?"

"Uh-huh.." Vivian looked Wanda up and down, confused. "Where's your costume?"

"I have it right here" She patted the bag dangling over her arm, and looked up at Vision. "Is it alright if I change in your Bathroom again, Vizh?"

"Of course." --

Once Wanda had changed into her Scarlet Witch outfit once again, they headed out. The streets were filled with children in costume, clutching rapidly filling bags of candy. Wanda had never been trick-or-treating before. It wasn't a tradition in Sokovia, and she and Pietro had been too old to partake by the time they made it to the U.S. But now, with Vision and Viv, she was quite enjoying the experience.

"Thank you very much, Ma'm" Vivian waved, at the elderly woman whose house they were just leaving, smiling sweetly as she skipped away back to the sidewalk.

"So polite. Thank you, young lady" The woman gushed over Viv's good behaviour, then smiled at Wanda and Vision. "Your Mommy and Daddy are doing a wonderful job with you!"

"Oh, I'm not.." Wanda blushed.

"We're n-not.." Vision sputtered.

"I'm just a family friend.." said Wanda.

"Oh.." the woman looked puzzled.

"But thank you anyway" said Vision with a slightly awkward smile.

"Remember to stay close, Fata dulce" Wanda called after Viv, not thinking of the fact that this was a rather maternal instruction. "We don't want to lose you."

"I'll remember" Viv promised.

The elderly lady gazed after them, still quite confused. Wanda and Vision didn't realise that they'd been holding hands for the last three blocks.

#scarlet vision #ScarletVision #scarlet vision au #scarletvision au #Scarlet Witch #wanda maximoff #vision mcu #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #viv vision #Avengers #MCU #avengers au #mcu au

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enchantedbride · 5 years

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Chrom/Joanna - Revelation;Beginnings

Tagging: @radiantfluff, @alovestruckmouse, @theautisticselfshipper, @hinatas-wife, @curiousobsession101, @blackquills-wife

Summary: The story of how Joanna was initially recruited by Chrom into the Shepherds.

Notes: Takes place before Sumia and Robin/Reflet are members of the Shepherds. (This is more of a rough idea and I may revise/flesh it out later, but I wanted to get the general gist of what happened out there.)

...

Rhea was a sleepy little village in Northern Ylisse. Most of the time, it was peaceful and a refuge along the road that connected to the main way to Ylisstol, the halidom’s capital. For several years now, it was the place where Joanna had made her life and called her home. She was able to practice trade as an apothecary, healing the villager’s ills and injuries. In the couple of years or so, she’d even taken on an apprentice to help her with the work, and in time she had become well acquainted with the people there.

How she had been so lucky to find such a place full of kindhearted humans, she didn’t know. But she had been more than happy to care for them. They in turn, were more than happy to have her and would even help her keep the shop well stocked with supplies.

The only regret that she had in the matter was that she had to keep certain things to herself, and that she couldn’t simply remain here forever. Well, not without certain secrets being revealed.

But, in the meantime, she would stay as long she could. Today would not prove a peaceful day, however.

Joanna had dressed, hiding the ears that gave away her true nature under the cloth wrappings she wore day in and out. ‘It was part of her practice of religion’- it was always the excuse she gave for them, and it was one that was respected more of the time. She had then proceeded with preparing and eating her breakfast, followed by the necessary preparations to open the shop.That of course included checking stocks and attending to the animals she kept for medicinal use. But, she was disturbed to find that her apprentice, George, had not come in yet. By now he was usually here, ready to assist in the final checks before opening shop.

That’s strange, she thought. Usually if he’s ill he’ll send word. Is everything alright?

Joanna thought to don her mage’s cap over her head-wrappings, perhaps put together a small kit in case George was in bed ill. If the boy would not send her word, perhaps she would go to him. The shop could afford to remain closed for a little bit.

However, she started to hear noise from outside. From the sounds she could discern shouting, and clanging of steel. Her heart began to beat a little faster, anxiety beginning to bubble up in her stomach. Is that the sound of... fighting?

“What’s going on?” she asked aloud, jumping to search through her things for a spell tome. Was there trouble going on outside? Is that why George wasn’t in yet?

She then heard closer sounds, the stamping of feet and the sound of breaking glass. It was coming from the front of the shop, and that only heightened Joanna’s anxiety on the matter. Her hand found purchase on a Wind tome on her bookcase, and she opened the book, readying her hand to cast a spell just in case.

“George? Are you there?” she called out. The mage quietly stepped through from the back towards the front of the shop, listening carefully. Unfortunately, things became uncomfortably quiet inside at that moment, though she could still hear sound from the outside.

“George? What’s happening? Is everything alright?”

She fell silent once more, listening for even the slightest creek of the wood. Joanna stopped short of the doorway leading to the front counter, her eyes falling closed as she listened.

Very faintly, she could hear the subtle huff of someone breathing. She opened her eyes, spying a cast shadow from the other side. The inky silhouette of a horned humanoid form stretched to her feet. She could also see the faint outline of her shop’s window broken.

No, that most definitely wasn’t George out there.

Joanna took one step forward, beginning to recite the incantation. As soon as she looked up, she recognize the form of a tall and muscled man with an animal pelt draped over his head readying a weapon.

“That’s far eno-”

Joanna continued the incantation, extending her hand to unleash a whirlwind that pushed the strange intruder back towards the shop’s front window. She gave him no time to get another word in as she recited another incantation, another blast of wind pushing him back once more with enough force to force him out into the street.

In the light of day that came through, Joanna could see much more clearly what she was dealing with.

Just outside, the village was under attack from a group of brigands, and it seemed one of there lot had found his way to her shop.She could hear the shouts, and see wisps of shadows dancing from the alleyways across the street.

“Argh!” The brigand attempted to regain his composure as he picked up his weapon, a hand axe, and tried haphazardly to swing. “Of course I’d have to deal with a village wench who can fight back! Come’ere you-”

“I don’t think so,” she retorted as she ducked under the attack and send another gust of wind towards him. “Away from me, ruffian!” This time, the wind sent him flying back into the side of another building, giving him a large smack before he tumbled to the ground unmoving.

Joanna didn’t bother to check too closely to see if he was dead or simply incapacitated. On short glance it seemed like he might be the latter, but she had more important things to worry about.

She briefly looked back, seeing the shop was in worse shape than she thought. In addition to the broken window the storefront had been messed with. Things were tossed on the floor and supplies were scattered. Her main concern above all, however, was people.

I have to fight, check on the others and save who I can. That’s why I learned magic after all, she thought to herself. There are times like this I wish I could use my dragonstone though.

And George... she hoped he was alright in all of this, wherever he was.

“This way! We’d better hurry, I heard a window break.” Joanna perked up and turned towards the sound of another unfamiliar voice. She kept her tome at the ready, anticipating what was to come. “Keep your distance!” she warned. “If you mean to harm me or the people of this village, I won’t hesitate to strike.” “Oi, lads! This way.” Another voice called from behind her. She knew it would be dangerous for her to be fighting on both sides. Joanna turned around with her back to the shop, stepping back a few paces as she looked from side to side. I might very well be outnumbered if I’m not careful, she thought, possibly even surrounded.

“Joanna! Master Joanna, are you hurt?” She knew that voice. “George!” she called out impulsively, hearing him in the direction she heard the first unfamiliar voice. “I’m alright, but what about you?” Surely enough, from around the corner came the scrappy looking young man she recognized as her apprentice. His red hair and simple tan vestments were in disarray, and he had the expression of utter worry etched into his features. He swiftly came to her side, clutching his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. “Scared half to death. If it weren’t for... the Shepherds... I’d be a dead man.” Joanna’s eyes widened. “What happened? Were you attacked, George? Are you injured?” “Thankfully no. Like I said, I was saved in the nick of time. I told ‘em I was worried about you and I came with their Captain to help.” That must be who I heard before.

“Shepherds you said?” The name seemed familiar. There had been talk of a royal militia or sorts by that name that traveled the countryside and helped the citizens of Ylisse. But, she had not encountered them as they were too recently formed for her to have passed them in her travels. “Yeah, that group of nobles who roam the land helping where they can.” “There aren’t just nobles in our ranks, although it certainly started with a few from the noble houses. Mostly because that’s who I knew at the time.” There they are. Joanna looked behind her apprentice to see who it was who had spoken. A flash of dark blue caught her eye, causing her to instinctively lean to the side to get a better look. Approaching from behind George appeared to be a man somewhat taller than him, wearing ornate and vividly colored clothing, whites accenting deep blues, with trim of silver and gold. A sword hung in its scabbard at his side. He certainly dresses like a noble, although the lack of a sleeve on one side is a bit odd, she observed of his garments. He also had a shock of blue hair on his head and eyes to match in shade. After a quick once over, she guessed were she human he’d be only a few years her junior. Of course, in reality the gap was quite more vast than that. What was she now... 1500 or so? Sometimes it was hard to keep track, especially going the the measurements used by humans. “So you must be the Captain then?” she asked. “I must thank you and your fellows for looking after my apprentice. I was worried when he didn’t show up to help this morning. But I’m glad he’s safe.” “Yes. We were lucky we got here when we did,” he replied, looking over a moment at the brigand lying face down on the ground. “Although it seems we’re more lucky still you’ve been able to fend off some of the brigands yourself.” “Just one so far. But, I know how to fight, sir. I was trained in magic and it was during that time I learned by trade as an apothecary,” she explained. “Are there any wounded of yours in need of help? Perhaps I can grab some Vulneraries from the shop.” “We have our own stock. But we may have need of them later,” he gently declined. His eyes temporarily flitted to the shattered window and the mess therein. “I’m sorry for the damage. But as long as you weren’t hurt, that’s what matters.” “Yes. A window can be replaced in time and a mess can be cleaned,” she agreed. “If that’s the case then, perhaps I can help you clear this lot out?” She paused for a moment, realizing she hadn’t properly introduced herself. “My apologies. If my apprentice hasn’t told you already, my name is Joanna. Might I know yours or will ‘Captain’ suffice?” He smiled briefly, seeming amused by her lightly teasing remark. “My name is Chrom. I certainly would welcome the help, Joanna. A trained mage can certainly be a formidable ally. But be on your guard. Even brigands shouldn’t be taken lightly.” “Of course not.” She took a deep breath, keeping her tome open and at the ready. I’ve dealt with their like enough times on the road. I know what to do. “Well then, Captain Chrom. I suppose we should go.” She turned briefly to George, who still looked fretful. “George, you need to get somewhere safe, why don’t you-” “Well! Look at what we’ve got here boys,” called the other unfamiliar voice. “A pair of mice along with one of them blue bloods who think they can come in here and disrupt us...” This mouse can turn into a dragon as big as a house. It was a shame she couldn’t just intimidate him with that. No, she had to keep undercover. But fight to rid the village of this menace? She could do that.

Captain Chrom proceeded to unsheathe his sword. Surely enough, in a mater of moments, a group of the brigands swarmed in. None hesitated a moment, coming in for an attack hard and fast.

“At ‘em, lads!” “George, run!” Joanna hurled another whirlwind, batting back the swath of them and slowing their approach. Her apprentice was reluctant to follow her command however.

“But what about you?” “I said I know how to fight. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’m a trained mage and have a trained soldier at my side. Now, go!”

Hesitantly, George looked away, searching for an escape route before he acted at her insistence. He vanished from view, leaving her alone with the captain as her ally against the gang they faced.

A sphere of air began to gather in her hand as she prepared to attack again, trying her best to dodge the swings of axes and swords alike. Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough for one and she was sure that she was to take a blow. Instinctively she shut her eyes and put up a hand in defense.

But the blow never came, instead replaced by the screech of steel grating.

She looked up to see that the captain had come to her rescue, pushing back to give her some room.

“Captain Chrom! You have my thanks yet again.” Another wind spell from her whipped past him and hit the brigand, sending him hurtling into the side of her shop with a loud crash.

“It’s not trouble. We’re not done yet, though.” Chrom quickly felled another of their enemies that was closed in, bringing down his blade in a powerful arc that for a moment captured her gaze. He moved with a certain swiftness and power she’d scarce seen in humans, even ones of good strength and military prowess.

The gruff shout of another brigand attempting to get the upper hand on her broke the spell however, and she loosed her magic on them the same as the rest that came in her path. During the flow of the fight, she failed to notice her cap knocked from her head. Swings made at her also left scratches in her clothing, including her head-wrappings. “We should try to cover ground. We should make sure the other villagers alright.” Joanna piped up as she took a step and keep up her elemental barrage.

“Good idea. The rest of the Shepherds could probably use our aid.”

The two of them each attempted to carve a path, and they managed to moved down the street until they turned to the next over.

Slowly, the number of brigands dwindled, either defeated or compelled into a fearful retreat. Eventually they reached another cluster of them, engaged with what seemed to be another group of combatants. They stood out among the lot, even from the villagers who had tried to take up arms. Some were obviously soldiers, fashioned in bright armor and atop horses, while others seemed to be dressed in rather well-made and vividly colored attire with staves in hand. Joanna even managed to spot the familiar black robes and pointed caps of of a pair of mages among them. The rest of the Shepherds, no doubt.

The group was quite able against the brigands on their own, but Joanna did not hesitate to follow Captain Chrom’s lead in lending a hand. He continued to display incredible speed and strength, and an impressive persistence. She did not relent in her attacks either. Wind cut through and tossed brigands every which way. Joanna paid no mind to the fact that a strike from the enemy had left a strip of fabric in her head-wrappings loose. Though it still clung to her head until she sent another powerful blast of wind hurtling towards what remained of the lot. Lances and swords clashed against axes. Fire and thunder crackled from fingertips. Slowly but surely those that meant harm to the village were either subdued or relenting and retreating into the shadows. In the din of it all, Joanna failed to noticed the slip of cloth and the feeling of air against her ears. All that mattered was driving the brigands back.

The last of them were overwhelmed by the combined mind of the Shepherds against them, and in a flurry of blows the chaos settled.

Joanna’s first thoughts were of George and her fellow villagers. There was no doubt the village elder would have been a prime target, as well as anyone who could have been used to coerce those who could put up a fight into submission. There would be injured, and there would be a trail of destruction to survey.

“I need to head back to my shop... and I need to find George,” she thought aloud. “Healers can only work on so many people at a time, but I can provide tonics and vulneraries in the meantime to help treat the injured...”

“Master Joanna! There you...” She heard George call to her from one of the side alleyways before his voice trailed off.

“George! Good timing. Did you keep yourself safe?” He emerged approach with an elderly woman that Joanna recognized as the village elder, Guinevere. George looked rather surprised and concerned, and she feared something might be wrong.

“I’m fine! Elder Guinevere took those who couldn’t fight into the shrine to Naga since it’s a sturdier and safer structure.” He replied. “We came to see if you and the Shepherds were alright...Master Joanna... you’re...”

“I’m...?” Joanna frowned, confused by his hesitation. But after a moment, a gust of wind whisked past her, tickling her bare ears and causing them to reflexively twitch. Her eyes immediately began to widen as realization dawned on her, and she dropped her book to cover her ears. “Oh gods! No! No no no no no!”

“Well, I’ll be!” The elder attempted to hurry past George to get a closer look. “Our village apothecary is a dragonkin! No wonder you don’t appear to have aged a day since you got here.”

“Hold on!” She could hear the voice of Captain Chrom behind her, followed by a couple sets of footsteps approaching from that direction as well. “By the gods! You’re saying Joanna is a manakete?”

“I-I’m sorry...” Joanna began back away from her, starting to quickly devolve into a panicked state. “I’m sorry!” She felt fear and dread starting to swallow up her thoughts. Even if they’re not, I’ve put these people in danger now. If word gets out that a dragon lives here, they might become a target to slavers. I’ve put myself in danger, too! You careless, stupid air for brains!

“You’re sorry?” Elder Guinevere grew closer to her as well, feet shuffling in the dirt. Joanna felt a hand reach out and attempt to comfortingly press against her back. “My dear girl, no. Please, it’s all right...”

Joanna jerked away from her, startled by the sudden touch. “No! Don’t touch me!” she snapped. After a second however she realized she sounded more aggressive than intended, and for a moment in her state she attempted some level of calm. “...I don’t like being touched, Elder. Not without warning or permission.”

“Oh, dear! I’m so sorry. I forgot. I will try better to remember.” The elder immediately withdrew her hand. “Is there something I can do to help you, Joanna, dear?”

Joanna shook her head, coiling away ashamedly. “No. There isn’t anything you can do, elder. I’m sorry. This is all my fault, I should have been more careful...”

“About what? Hiding your true nature?”

“Yes!” Soon the footsteps of the captain and the others with him stopped. Joanna jerked her head away from them too.

“My dear. In Ylisse we worship the Divine Dragon, Naga. Dragonkind are more than welcome-”

“With all due respect, Elder Guinevere, you don’t know what we face,” Joanna retorted. In the midst of her fear and dread, she took umbrage with the elder’s well-meaning but uninformed remark. “There are still people in Ylisse and beyond who hate us, even as they praise Naga after all she did for humankind. Or they see what few of us remain as prized trophies. And they’ll not hesitate to kill whomever stands between them and us. I couldn’t let myself be captured or let anyone suffer for my sake. I just want to be free and for my friends to be safe.”

“That’s... oh Naga’s breath, that’s awful! Most folk don’t hear anything of how dragonkind fares now that there are so few left. I’m so sorry, dear.”

“It’s truly terrible what you’ve had to live through if this is true. But is it freedom if you must spend your entire life in hiding?”

Joanna recognized that it was Captain Chrom who interjected.She hesitantly looked over to see him approaching. A mixture of concern and amazement were evident in his features. Trailing not far behind was an older heavily armored knight with a stern expression and a young girl with blonde pigtails and a bright yellow dress. They were probably fellow Shepherds of his, were she to guess.

“Maybe not. But what choice do I have? I must run and disappear and hide again, or doom this village to be targeted by slavers.”

“There’s always another choice,” he gently rebutted. So, he’s an idealist, she observed. She had to admire young ideal sorts, untainted by time and trauma. Hopefully, he would keep that outlook, even were dark times to visit him. “I’m sorry, Joanna. I can’t stand by and do nothing in light of what you’ve said. But even were that not the case, you were a great help to my Shepherds and your village both. I am indebted to you, and I would see that repaid.”

Hesitantly, she attempted to meet his gaze as best she could without making herself uncomfortable. “You’re very kind, Captain. But I’m afraid I’m uncertain what you have in mind. Unless you plan to petition the Exalt for protection on my behalf.” She began to lower her hands away from her ears reluctantly. “I’m tired of running, Captain.”

“Well, maybe you don’t have to this time. Not if you’re with me.” He paused for a moment, before extending a hand and smiling. “You’re a clearly talented mage, Joanna, and you care for the well being of others. My Shepherds could use someone like you.”

“You’re...? You want me to join your militia?” Joanna blinked. “Wait, are you using my circumstances as leverage to get new blood for your army? Because if so...”

“No. I wouldn’t ever press someone into joining the Shepherds,” he replied with both firmness and reassurance. “I can still offer you protection should you refuse. I will see to it that both you and Rhea are safe from slavers, you have my word. And I will speak to the Exalt about the plight of your people.”

“Yeah, we promise we’ll help no matter what! But it’d be nice to have you along if you do join up.” She heard the girl pipe up from behind the captain. Joanna looked over, seeing she was clearly in awe and eagerly wanting to approach her. She felt both a mixture of flattery and mild annoyance, though she was fairly certain the girl meant well.

“You’re very kind,” she replied, feeling herself coming down a bit from her panic. “Though being able to speak with the Exalt would be a tall order, would it not? Then again, George mentioned members of your royal militia were nobility. I suppose it’d be easier for you than some others.”

“It would be much easier than you think,” the knight behind the captain remarked. “After all, milord is the Exalt’s younger brother, you see.”

Joanna paused, stunned as another wave of realization hit her. “The Exalt’s brother... then you’re a prince?”

“That would be the case,” Chrom confirmed, perhaps with the slightest hint of laughter at the end of his agreement. “As prince, I myself can confer royal protection. But I can also speak to my sister about the plight of dragonkind.”

“I could too, in theory,” added to the blonde girl. “But he offered first. But just so you know I’m willing to put my weight behind it too. We’ll make sure any idiot who tries to enslave you or hurt your village will be in big trouble.”

So the girl must be a sibling of the Exalt as well, then.

“I... I don’t know what to say.” Joanna found herself having trouble processing what was happened. “B-but who will run my shop if I’m gone? And the building has been damaged! What about the animals I use for my work? Who will look after them? Would I be able to return to Rhea if I choose?”

“Master Joanna! I can take care of the animals! I’ve gotten the hang of it by now and can run things here, I think,” George finally piped up, “You’ve taught me well. And I reckon after all the years you served as our apothecary and helped us I think people around town would be willing to help rebuild the shop. Wouldn’t they, Elder?”

“They surely would. Joanna has been a friend to our community for years. And you have also stood up to defend us now.” The elder turned to the manakete. “We are indebted to you as well, my dear. For all you have saved, through your medicine and your bravery today. You will be missed if you go, but you won’t just be helping us if you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“The prince of Ylisse has offered to speak to the Exalt on your behalf. If you go, you might get the chance to speak to the Exalt yourself. And if you fight for the crown, you might just save a lot more than just our little village as well as yourself. Others across Ylisse may have yet need of you,” explained Elder Guinevere.

“This is true,” agreed the prince. “This all depends on what you wish to do, Joanna. You may have been pressed into certain choices in the past. But I promise you here, this is a choice you are free to make as you wish. And I can assure you, if you join me, you are still free to return to Rhea later. It’s all your choice.”

Joanna looked away, her eyes fixed to the ground. “My choice?” She clenched her hands, her face twisting in serious contemplation. Silence filled the space, until she moved to recover her tome from the ground. She blew on it, dusting off the dirt from its cover. “I want to be free, and I don’t want to hide. Maybe if I walk a different path I can change things, for myself as well as for my people, and the people here I call my friends.”

“So does that mean you’ll come with us?” asked the girl, now known to Joanna as princess.

“It seems l have very little to lose and much to gain if I do. I don’t know if this is fate or coincidence. But it is fortuitous nonetheless,” Joanna replied. “Captain Chrom, or prince as it were. I wish to make some preparations and speak with my apprentice and check on some people in town before I go. But... I will go with you and your compatriots.”

“Lissa!” The princess corrected. “...My name is Lissa. The big guy here is Frederick. This is going to be amazing!”

“Thank you for joining us. I daresay I never thought I’d meet one of your kind. In this matter, I feel inclined to agree with milord Chrom. Though, I am concerned about how much will be put into protecting Rhea. But... I may have a suggestion on the matter.”

“A fair concern, I must admit,” Joanna remarked. “But you are welcome, Sir Frederick. It is nice to meet you, as well as your highness Princess Lissa.”

“I would certainly welcome a suggestion if you have it, Frederick. But in the meantime...” He extended a hand out to Joanna, waiting to see if she would take it. “You may make any preparations you need, Joanna. We may have need to stay here for the eve before setting out.” He smiled genially.

“Which you are certainly welcome to, your highness,” the elder briefly interjected.

Joanna slowly extended a free hand, giving Chrom’s a firm shake.

“I look forward to working with you, Captain Chrom. You seem the very trusting and generous sort. That definitely is a point in your favor with me.”

“Well, some would say too trusting,” Chrom replied with a laugh as he briefly glanced over as Frederick, “But I am glad. I hope one day you will not only count us as allies, but as friends.”

“A warm sentiment. I hope it proves true in time.”

#branded by divinity (chroanna)#tales of a magus (fanfiction)#verse (awakening)#exalted lord (chrom)#the draconic apothecary (joanna|awakening)

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