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azirafuck · 1 year

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I'm going to say that Mr Fell absolutely does not look like he belongs in most of the radical human rights causes. He's a soft, middle-aged, middle-class man with comfy sofa vibes. A lot of new people are skeptical of him at first.

However, to those who know him, he's very passionate, willing to chip in, has an uncanny knowledge of where to get things like food and shelter for those who need it, and he always brings absolutely divine cake to the meetings (that alone would be reason to keep him coming round).

after one particular protest that started peacefully but turned into a violent riot after a far-right fuck punched someone, mr. fell brings to the next meeting this other strange middle-aged dude whose vibes are completely opposite to his. like mr. fell, he doesn't talk much. he tells them his name is anthony and ends it at that. he's weird as fuck, but no one says anything, they just care that there are an extra pair of hands to help the cause.

after all, it seems like the riots are going to be more common. they started as a peaceful group years ago, protesting for climate change and human rights, but nowadays they find themselves cornered against police and far-right movements far too often. yeah, they sure need help.

not that that skinny goth-like man looks like he could be a tank, but oh well. they learned a long time ago not to judge a book by its cover.

as the meeting progresses and cake is eaten and routes are discussed, sometimes anthony and mr. fell can be heard whispering something to each other, grin, roll their eyes, etc. were it not for the fact that mr. fell has been an active key member of this group for so long, one would start to think they were spies.

a few days later, the next protest takes place. they weren't planning on having another one so soon, but duty called after a bunch of awful, disgusting articles appeared on a very popular newspaper. on a positive note, those shitty words helped get a lot of people to march with them for their rights. they were in the hundreds, now.

the group walks down the street chanting choruses and waving colorful flags. it starts peacefully, like it always does. they want to reach the newspapers' offices situated in the middle of london, give a paper to the journalists, and hold a meeting in front of the entrance. demand to be heard, to be listened to, to stop being used as a scapegoat for the world's fear and anger.

mr. fell walks with them by the edge of the procession, his usual place. he walks with his hands behind his back, like it's a fucking sunday afternoon stroll. a man with a black mask covering his face asks him if his friend is going to show up, and with what sounds like a sad sigh, he replies, “I'm sure he will, at some point.”

the man doesn't think the sadness in his voice is due to his knowing that something bad is going to happen, he just figures he's sad because he knows anthony isn't going to come. it often happens, after all. they're used to tourists showing up to meetings and then ditching when things start to get real. same old, same old. they can't really be mad at mr. fell, they all had their dose of friends acting like they wanted to change and fight the whole world just to take everything back at the last second.

but the air is tense and heavy in the street. the humans can feel that something is going to happen, and they can't even begin to imagine just how much more mr. fell feels that.

the tension is so palpable you could cut it with a knife. it's like a bomb ready to explode. and, after a while, explode is does.

the group finds itself in front of a line of multiple police officers blocking the road. behind them, a group of far-right protesters are waving their dark flags, their idiotic and offensive banners, and chanting awful choruses with some of them raising their straightened right hands to the sky.

after some shouting and screaming and pushing from both sides, a girl from the group who can't be older than 20 is pushed to the ground by a police officer. she hits her head, and looses blood. instead of tending to her, the police officer tries to pull her by her leg to probably detain her. her friends hold her in place by her hands and arms, pulling her away from the helmeted people with riot shields and clubs facing them. in an instant, all hell breaks loose.

people are pushing the police officers away. on the other side, nazis are doing the same thing. police members are responding by hitting people with clubs and using pepper spray. later, once the time came to count the injured, the hospitalized, and the detained, it would appear obvious the police force was hitting the peaceful protesters more than they were hitting the nazis.

of course, under these conditions, it couldn't be expected from them to stay as peaceful as they were planning to.

so rocks and bottles start to get thrown and the chaos gets worse. the girl's friends manage to tear her away from the officers' grasp, and they take her to mr. fell, like they always do when someone gets hurt. no one knows how he does that, but the man always seems to be close by when shit goes down. he can be found on the outskirts of the chaos, in a covered and protected but not hidden place. somehow, he also always seems to materialize first aid kits out of nowhere, as well as water bottles to treat the sore eyes.

no one knows where he keeps all that stuff. truly, they speculated on that for months now. on the group's telegram chat (which mr. fell politely declined to join, since he “can't understand technology”) they theorized he hides big boxes of supplies on the route before the procession even takes place. in the end, though, no one really knows.

anyway.

as he medicates the girl with cotton and alcohol, which seems to stop the bleeding waaaay faster than anyone has ever seen alcohol do, anthony shows up out of nowhere.

he puts a hand on mr. fell's shoulder. he looks at him behind those weird sunglasses, like he's asking a question, or asking for permission. the bookshop owner tears his gaze away from the girl's head to look up at him, but says nothing. he looks around them, looks at the commotion, watches as a club hits a person's head, and sees another group of people running towards him with a bloody nose, a broken lip, red teary eyes. in the background, a cacophony of car alarms, screams, police sirens, insults and slurs.

he looks back at his friend, and simply nods.

in an instant, anthony takes bottles out of his backpack – which everyone could swear it wasn't around his shoulders a second ago – and starts handing them out. holy fuck, people realize, this dude brought a shitload of ready-to-go fucking molotov cocktails.

the backpack is like mary poppins' fucking purse. stuff just keeps materializing out of it. it seems unending. he's handing out bottles, lighters, rocks, umbrellas, masks. he hands a bottle to the masked man who was questioning mr. fell about his presence before, who now feels like an idiot. like an atheist who just met the grandiosity of god herself.

anthony doesn't throw a single thing, but makes sure everyone has what they need. he yells instructions, calls for weak spots, points to police forces marching their way, covers people running to mr. fell, or away.

it goes on for what seems like an eternity.

when it ends, it ends with dozens of people in the hospital. thanks to a miracle of some sort, none of them report any life-changing injury. at least, no one from the group. we're not going to talk about the nazis. they're okay, really. just not as okay as the others.

tens of people got arrested. among them, there's anthony. he's sitting with the other members of the group who didn't run fast enough, and he's sporting the only relaxed face in the sea of worried and angry ones.

after a few hours, to almost everyone's surprise and confusion, they get released. from their experience, they know they should have stayed detained for much longer. but the police officers are letting them go without question, and they sure as fuck aren't going to test their luck. so off they fuck.

outside, they're welcomed by mr. fell himself. part of the group waves hello to him before walking away, others shake his hand or hug him. truly, no one is surprised when anthony smiles at him and gives him a peck on the lips.

the group thanks them for their support and help, tells them they'll pop by the bookshop to let them know the date of the next meeting, and say goodbye. they watch the odd couple walk away hand in hand, and hear mr. fell ask anthony about prison and telling him something about a fond memory of paris.

#good omens #i DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE ANON IM SORRY #can you tell ive been rewatching zerocalcare's show on netflix for the second time today. can you.#sorry #bye #ask #anon

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yjano · 1 year

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All of me.

Part 3.

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, angst, a little fluff, smut, violence and other pairings.

Words: 5.1k

Author's note: Although this story is not related to the Duskwood game, I will add some of our beloved characters. Please read it only if you're into angst prison stories, slow burns, etc. A little hint: You will get to see some similarities to Jake and his gang from "Never The Same" fic.

I and Jake were back in the laundry room once again. Our morning had gone by pretty easy and after the regular stuff we had to do everyday both of us had been sent to the laundry room once again to get to our task of folding laundry and putting it away once we were done. I did, of course, as I was told while Jake did the complete opposite. While I had already folded two complete baskets, Jake had just been looking at me the whole time from his spot behind the counter. His back sloughed against it, and his arms crossed in front of him.

He didn't look like he was gonna do anything, and so I had already mentally prepared for the five more baskets I had to do to avoid commotion at my station. I didn't mind it, though. It kept my mind off the fact that I had to stay inside this hell hole, and it kept me busy.

"Hey doll face, did you have fun with your mom last night? It looked like both of you were crying an awful lot." Jake had suddenly asked, but I decided to ignore the comment once again.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He teased me and raised one of his eyebrows.

"I... Just missed her, okay? We were always very close. You might be used to being in here, but I am not." I whispered back, almost inaudible.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock." Jake laughed at my words.

I still kept on my task of folding the laundry when a question popped inside my head. I had no idea if I even had the guts to ask him about it, though. I still feared Jake in a way. Sure, he had his somewhat friendly moments, but he was still the guy who had killed his last cellmate. After fighting with myself for more than five minutes, I decided to take the risk and ask the question, curiosity getting the better of me.

"W-who was your visitor?" I stuttered almost inaudible without looking at Jake once. A short silence fell between us and I immediately started to think that I had fucked up big time.

"Just someone." Jake suddenly answered and a sigh of relief released my body, I hadn't fucked up. I didn't believe Jake's answer though. I had no idea who his visitor was but he wasn't just someone. You don't argue with someone like that and that someone don't give you things in secret under a table.

I didn't dare to ask any further, I knew Jake was lying to me but I also knew that I would probably end up dead if he found out that I had seen it all in the visiting room. I gave him a short nod and went on with my task without any help from Jake. He had a soft smirk plastered on his face the whole time.

After two hours all of us were released for lunch break and after completing our routine all of us walked inside the small canteen. I was once again presented with food that looked somewhat edible but nearly not as good as Jake's. To my surprise, Jake had joined me on my table just like yesterday. The guy had seated himself across from me, his plate once again filled with bread, fried eggs, and a cup of fresh orange juice.

Without any hint, Jake threw one of his slices with egg on my plate again, and just like yesterday, he got rid of the old milk in my cup and replaced it with half of his orange juice. With a soft thanks, I had eaten and drunk all of it in a heartbeat, thanking the gods for their help. I had no idea what I had done to get food for the second time from him, but I was glad I had done it.

Jake's food was a million times better than my own, and I loved every bite of it. After both of us had finished our food, we had made our way outside once again. Both of us took a seat at the wall beside each other while Jake lighted one of his cigarettes, taking deep heaves of it.

"Y-you know that they are bad for you, right?" I whispered almost inaudible at my cellmate. I had no idea where my confidence suddenly came from, but before I knew it, I had already said the words to the man beside me, and I hated myself for it. Jake started to laugh pretty loudly at my comment.

"Damn kid, you are too pure to be in here. Of course, I know that they are bad, that's why I started to smoke them in the first place."

I kept my head low, not daring to react to the comment. The short moment of bravery that had flooded over me not even two minutes ago had left me as soon as it had arrived.

"Why are you even in here? There is literally nothing I can picture you doing to end up in here." Jake suddenly asked while he took another heave of his cigarette.

A deep sigh left my mouth. There was no point in hiding the fact from my cellmate. I was pretty sure Jake would find out about it if he wanted anyway. Besides, maybe it gave me an advantage, and it would teach Jake that he shouldn't mess with me.

"T-the judge sent me here because I killed my sister." I whispered back at Jake, causing the male to fall into a huge laughing fit.

"You're joking, right? You.. Killed somebody? That's the best joke I've heard in a while." Jake laughed at me, completely not believing the fact I just told him.

"It's true, though." I whispered back, already being pretty sure that this was surely not something I could use in my advantage on Jake.

"Were they blind or something? You are way too innocent to have killed someone. What did you do to her, tickle her to death?" Jake still laughed at me.

"No... Why are you even in here if you know this stuff so well?" I suddenly asked back, another wave of bravery washed over me, and I was making use of it again. Jake slowly came back down from his laughing fit and looked with his eyebrows raised at me.

"You really have no idea who I am, have you? I'm in here for the usual stuff doll face. Armed robbery, murder, hostage, name it, and I've probably done it. Don't worry, though. I won't be in here for much longer." Jake answered in a calm and collected tone, once again taking a heave from his cigarette.

My eyes grew big at the things Jake just listed. My heart started to beat faster once again, and anxiety started to fill up my body. Who in the hell was my cellmate, and what did he mean by the fact that he would be out of here soon?They surely wouldn't let somebody go who did all the things Jake did, right?

I didn't forget the conversation we had that lunch break, but I never asked more about it either. There were a few things from that conversation that I had wanted to know, though. One of them being who Jake really was. He had said to me something about me not knowing who he really was, and it had sparked my curiosity ever since. Who was my cell mate, and why did he laugh about the fact that I didn't know him? I had no idea how, but I wanted to find out who I was actually sharing a cell with. I decided to let it rest for now, but one day, I would find out.

Another thing that had sparked my curiosity was the fact that Jake had told me that he wouldn't be here for much longer. I had no idea what he had meant by that. Was he getting released? Was he getting transferred? Was he trying to kill himself? What was is that the male had in mind and that I couldn't wrap my head around.

Of course, I was also shocked by all the things Jake had done to get in here, but I wasn't surprised. The male took hit after hit like it was nothing, so his life outside of this prison had to be pretty bad, too. A normal person could never do what Jake did.

With a soft sigh, I had finished our laundry for that day. I folded and put away every piece by myself while Jake had just been looking at me with a huge smirk on his face the whole time. At dinner, Jake once again shared his food with me. I was more than happy that I could eat something good for a second time that day. I was thankful Jake decided to share his food every time with me, and if I could guess right, it had something to do with the fact that I did his job in the laundry.

Ever since I started to do that, Jake had started to share his food with me and I would keep doing what I did right now, not wanting to take the risk of losing the good food again. Good food was rare in the prison, and I would do everything to keep it like it was now.

Dinner ended pretty soon, and all of the inmates were instructed to get back to their cells for the evening routine again. All of us lined up outside our cells like we did every night, hands in front of us, and heads down. Alle of us except Jake.

I hated it with every bone in my body. I knew that it was coming every night, but I still hated it. It was something that Jake had to do, something that he wouldn't give up, and I just had to deal with it every time he decided to do it.

"Everybody in formation!" The guard yelled, and he started to walk as he passed all of us to see if we did as we were asked.

My heart started to beat faster, and my breaths were becoming heavier with every step the guard set. Anxiety filled my veins once again, and I closed my eyes, not ready for the beating Jake was going to receive. I heard how the guard stepped in front of the two of us and halted his step right in front of Jake.

"Dalton! Why are you disobeying the routine once again?" The guard yelled at Jake. I shut my eyes from the heavy yelling in front of me, and my muscles tensed up. If I could go back in my cell right now and wrap myself up inside my way too small blanket, I would. Jake never gave the guard an answer, and it was clear that it pissed the man off even more.

"I'm so fucking done with this kid." The man grumbled low. "Maybe this will teach you that you should obey me Dalton!" The man yelled right in Jake's face. He grabbed him by his arm and shoved him forcefully in front of me. I had slowly opened my eyes to get a glimpse of all the commotion going on but I wished I had kept them closed.

"Officer Bloom, can I get some help over here!?" The guard yelled at his colleague that was probably one floor below us. I heard how the other man finished up his rounds below us, and with quick steps, he jogged up the stairs and walked over to the guard and Jake.

"Dalton again?" The man I now knew as Officer Bloom asked, and the other guard gave him a quick nod.

"We need to teach him what listening exactly is because Dalton here has clearly never heard of it." The guard laughed, and he gave Jake a harsh push forward, so he collided against the bars of the railing.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you! This is what happens if you keep disobeying the rules!" Officer Bloom yelled at the other inmates, and with a harsh shove, he brought Jake back in front of him. Without any warning, the officers baton collided with Jake's ribcage at full force. With a huge smirk, the other guard looked at them and grabbed his own baton, swinging it at full force at Jake's back. With a harsh push, Jake collided with the bars once again, followed by two new hits aimed at his chest and his shoulders.

Jake focus.

The first few hits were easy for me, I could handle them, but my body was still sore from the beating at the laundry earlier this week. Normally, I would have been able to take the hits, but I knew this time it was gonna be a challenge. One guard I could handle, but two was a whole different story.

Another swing of the baton hit me in my stomach, and low grumbles started to come out of my mouth. I hated to show my weakness, but I had no choice at this moment. Another blow at my knees sent me straight to the ground, my legs were giving out on me. My knees hit the ground, and another hit on my back forced me to put my hands on the ground in front of me so I wouldn't fall over. I now on my hands and knees on the ground grumbled softly from the repeating blows that keep hitting my body.

"Look at me, Dalton. I wanna see the misery on your face." The guard laughed at my face, and he gave me a hard slap across my face. My head snapped to the left, making me look at Mc's knees in an instant. I slowly lifted my eyes, meeting her fearful ones.

She was shaking all over the place while she tried to keep in position. I could see that she was on the verge of crying, but I had my own problems right now. Another blow in my face snapped my head back to the front, breaking my eye contact with Mc. Two more hits against my ribcage were enough to send me now fully to the ground.

My knees and arms had given up on me, and my body felt like it had been run over by a truck. This didn't stop the hits, though. I didn't know how many more hits I got, but I knew that it had to be at least ten. My whole upper body was in pain, my breathing was heavy, and my eyes were struggling to stay open. I wasn't gonna pass out, though. No, Jake Dalton was not gonna pass out. I would not let them win.

Both guards started to laugh at me, and before I knew it, I was thrown inside my cell with a lot of force. I heard how all the other cells were also closed, and I tried to get up. The ground was hard and cold, and it didn't help at all with my sore body. I felt how a rush of wind walked past my head, and a soft hand was placed on my back. I immediately flinched away from the hand and tried to sit up a second time, falling miserably again.

"Jake, let me help you." Mc's soft voice whispered from above me. I gave her a soft grumble of disapproval and tried a third time to sit up by myself.

"Jake, please, you need my help. If you want it or not." Mc's voice spoke again.

"I...don't...need...your...fucking...help..." I struggled to say, and again, my arms couldn't hold me up. I fell back on the floor.

"You clearly do need my help. Don't be an idiot and let me help you." Mc said now with a little more force. She wasn't afraid of me right now. Probably because right now there wasn't much I could do to her in my current state, so she had no reason to be afraid of me at this moment.

She softly wrapped her arms around my shoulders, helping me up into a sitting position. Soft grumbles of pain left my mouth, but that didn't stop Mc from lifting me up and sitting me up. She ignored me when I tried to push her away, and she simply didn't give me any room to do so.

Mc focus.

"Jake, please, I can help you. I was a nursing student before I got in here. Let me help you." I pleaded with the male in front of me. It was more than clear that Jake was in pain, and I wanted to help him as much as I could. It was just how I was, always helping people who needed it.

I felt how Jake stopped his soft struggles, and the two of us gave each other a quick look. With a soft sigh, Jake admitted his defeat, and he gave me a soft nod, approving me that I was allowed to help him. My eyes light up at the little nod Jake just gave me, and my eyes dart through to the room to find something I can help the male with.

My brain now in full nursing modus fell on my own blanket and the cold water from the toilet and before I could fully register what I was doing I had already drenched my blanket in the cold water from the toilet.

"Put your hands above your head. We need to get rid of your shirt and cool the bruises. That way, they won't be as bad tomorrow. They will still be bad, but not as bad as they could have been." I rambled, and with great care, I removed Jake's shirt.

Bruises were already forming on his whole upper body, covering the ones that were already there from previous beating. I couldn't ignore the fact that his body looked really pretty. Heavy muscles lined his whole upper body, and the light tan complemented them all in the most perfect way. I shook my head a little, trying to focus back on the task at hand.

That wasn't the only thing that I noticed, though. Jake's body was littered in scars and old wounds. Whatever this guy did outside of this prison, it wasn't good. I softly pushed the cold, wet cloth against his chest, earning a disapproving grumble from Jake.

"I'm sorry, I need to add a little-" I started but got cut off by Jake in mid sentence.

"Just do it, don't think. Do what you have to do for fucks sake!" Jake ordered me while he shut his eyes. With a soft sigh I got on with cooling the bruises one by one. Being as carefully as I could be. I didn't wanna hurt him, but I also knew that I had no choice if I wanted to help him. Everytime I added or released pressure on one of the bruises, Jake would grumble in discomfort, but he never told me to stop. He let me do what I had to do.

"Please try to avoid any beatings for the following week. Your body can't take them anymore, Jake." I pleaded with him while I threw the wet towel in a corner of our cell.

"I can't help you properly in here, and you're gonna need more than just a wet blanket if you keep this up."

Jake focus.

I didn't answer her, I knew she was right, but I would never tell her that she was. I saw how Mc started to climb up into her own bed, but with a quick snatch of her arm, I had grabbed Mc's wrist. The sudden movement hurt me way more than I wanted to let on, but I knew Mc couldn't be fooled.

"Stay, you don't have a blanket anymore. It's gonna freeze tonight. It's the least I can do for you right now." I mumbled almost inaudible. I saw how Mc's eyes grew big, and for a second, I saw doubt in them. Without giving her a chance to think, I started to lie down, keeping a firm hold on Mc's wrist.

"Come on, I won't bite Mc. We both need the warmth tonight." I said while I turned on my side. With great hesitation, Mc climbed inside the way to a small bed beside me. Both of us now were lying face to face with a way too small blankets wrapped around us.

Mc focus.

I didn't know how I got myself in this position, but I was way too scared to get out of it now. Jake was still holding my wrist in a tight grip and had already closed his eyes. It wasn't much later that Jake had fallen into a peaceful slumber, and I was still awake. I couldn't ignore that he looked way less scary when he was asleep, and I even found him almost cute.

I also couldn't ignore that Jake had called me Mc for the first time since I had been here. Jake had always called me kid or doll face but never by my own name. I didn't know why Jake did it, though, but I liked it. A soft smile crept on my face, and it didn't take me much longer to fall in a peaceful slumber beside Jake. I could only hope that the next day, Jake wouldn't regret his offer of sharing his bed.

That morning, I had woken up in a cold and empty bed. The warmth Jake had provided during the night had left me way too early, and I was now shivering under the small blanket. A small jawn left my mouth, and I slowly opened my eyes with slight hesitation. It was still dark outside, but I could see the outline of Jake sitting at the small desk that stood in our shared cell. It looked like he was drawing something in one of the bibles that were provided to every prisoner upon entering the prison.

I could still remember the day I received my bible on my second day at the prison. Jake had looked at it with great disgust while scolding me about the fact that I even considered reading it. He had mumbled something about the book being a book full of lies and that he had stopped believing in it after someone had died or something. I had been too scared of Jake at that point to ask him what he had meant with the statement, so I never found out why he was so disgusted by the book. With a heavy sigh, I sat up in Jake's bed, the small blanket now only covering my lap.

"J-Jake, what are you doing?" I stuttered, still a little afraid of him. I could see how Jake stiffened, and with the speed of light, the male had closed the book and put it back on its original place on the desk.

"Nothing, go back to sleep it's too early to be up." Jake grumbled back lowly while he slowly turned around.

"But you are up as well." I mumbled softly, not really daring to go against the male in full force. "It's cold without you." I mumbled again but so softly that the other couldn't hear it.

"Just get back to sleep. Don't be stupid, Mc. We all know that you need your beauty sleep. Besides, it's phone call day today, and I'm pretty sure that your mother wouldn't appreciate it if her precious little girl would fall asleep while being on the phone with her." Jake whispered sarcastically with a slight grin on his face.

I had raised my eyebrow at the remark but decided to ignore it for the greater good. With a soft sigh, I had followed Jake's almost command, knowing that there was no way that I could win. It had taken me a good twenty minutes to fall back asleep, twenty minutes in which Jake never joined me back under the blankets.

Three hours later, I had been woken up due to the heavy yelling of the guards outside our cells, and the now familiar morning routine had begun. It looked like Jake had taken my advice for once. The guy did what was asked of him, and he didn't receive even one beating in both the morning and the afternoon routine. I was glad he didn't receive any, I was pretty sure that Jake would have been a goner if he had kept up his normal routine.

What I was also glad about was that Jake had once again shared all his meals with me in trade for the fact that I did both Jake's and my own job at the laundry. It was starting to become a routine for both of us, and both of us were more than fine with that fact.

After once again completing our routine, both Jake and I were allowed to grab a phone from the wall, making us stand next to each other with phones pressed against our ears. I heard how the typical dial tone made the way into my ear, and it was short. After that, I heard the soft click of someone picking up follow.

"Hello?" I heard the familiar sound of my mother's voice say, and tears started to make their way up into my eyes already.

"Mom, it's Mc." I answered softly while a soft sob fought its way outside my mouth.

"Hey, baby. How are you? Are they feeding you well there?" My mother started to ramble while I just listened to her. Hearing her voice was more than enough for me at the moment. I kept listening to my mother's somewhat ridiculous questions that gave me the idea that my mother really had no idea what it was like to be inside a prison.

I kept humming a soft yes or no once in a while to keep her going while my vision fell upon Jake and his conversation. The male looked mad while he was whispering into the phone at the person who was on the other side of the line. I couldn't help but overhear some of it since the male was so close to me, and it made me wonder what it was about doggies, bunnies, firetrucks, and birthdays that made Jake so angry.

It made me wonder even more what the male was up to. First, the weird scribbling in the bible in our shared cell and now the completely weird phone call. I saw how Jake looked up at me, our eyes meeting each others and without thinking, I turned my head quickly around. My breath stuck in my throat at being caught, and a shiver ran across my back.

Suddenly, the guard yelled that our time was up, and with a quick goodbye, I ended the phone call with my mother. We once again had to complete our routine before we were all sent to our cells for the night. I was being the first of the two of us to step inside.

I immediately looked at my bed. A sigh of relief left my body upon seeing the freshly new blanket that had been replaced for the cold and wet one from last night.

"You seem glad you got your own blanket again." Jake softly spoke behind me, and with a quick turn of my head, my eyes met Jake's. He was leaning against the bars of our cell, his arms folded and one of his eyebrows slightly raised.

"I guess that means that you won't treat my bruises tonight?"

My mouth fell open at the statement, and my eyes grew big. Was Jake seriously asking me for help again without complaining?

"I...No...Yes...What?" I stumbled full of disbelief.

"I said... That means that you won't treat my bruises tonight?" Jake repeated with a soft smirk on his face. My eyes flickered over his face, searching for any form of doubt or the fact that he was tricking me into something, but none of that was displayed on Jake's face. With a soft sigh, I turned around and walked to my bed. I grabbed the blanket from it, and within a few seconds, I had the blanket once again completely soaked in ice-cold water from the toilet.

"Sit and remove your shirt." I mumbled while I motioned with my hand at Jake's mattress. Without any questions, he did as I had asked of him, and not even two minutes later, I was busy cooling the bruises while Jake slightly relaxed at the soothing feeling.

"Who did you call? You were awfully quiet the whole time." Jake suddenly asked, and I looked up at him for a short second before I continued my task of cooling the bruises.

"My mother, there isn't anybody else I can call, so I don't have much of a choice." I softly answered with my eyes still on the current bruise I was cooling.

"Nobody? You seemed like someone with a lot of friends to me. That one kid that everybody liked in school and never couldn't do anything wrong." Jake laughed a little before a soft grumble escaped his mouth once again due to me changing the position of the blanket.

"I was to be honest, but being sent to prison for killing your sister does an awful lot to the friendships you've made over the years. Basically, everybody left me the moment I was charged with the murder and now it's just me and my mother." I answered. I hated the fact that everybody had left me without asking me anything, but I also understood it. If it were me, I wouldn't wanna be friends with a murderer too.

"Who did you call?"

"Nobody special, just a friend from work." Jake said vaguely without continuing the conversation. I removed the blanket from his body and threw it in the corner of our cell again. I inspected Jake's upper body one last time, my fingers slowly ghosting over the now cooled bruises. A soft shiver made its way across Jake's body, and I heard how his breath was shortly stuck in his throat.

"I think that's enough for tonight. You're cold. Let's go to bed." I offered, removing my fingers from Jake's skin. It wasn't much later that both of us were laying in bed together just like the night before. Not another word was said between us before Jake first fell asleep, followed by me shortly after.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood family #duskwood fandom #jake x mc #mc and jake #duskwood fanfiction #everybyte studio

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charmixpower · 2 years

Note

Any Sky vs Riven HCs? It's always abt Riven's issues and thoughts on Sky but what about Sky's perspective on Riven?

The show made their rivalry completely one-sided and that's so unsexy of them. Mutual hatred and rivalries are so much more fun and hotter. Guaranteed

Sky and Riven's opinions eachother:

Season One;

Sky -

Remember in s2 when Sky was so mad about Avalon (before he knew Avalon was evil) he ended up in the trees with a set of binoculars. Sky has a control problem me thinks, Riven has a problem being controlled, you can see why they don't like eachother

Riven works much better when he's allowed to innovative and not stick to a script and Sky is the exact opposite, the difference is that Sky tries to make everyone line up with what he thinks is correct

Thinks Riven is both an asshole and a complete delinquent and has a BAD habit of micromanaging Riven's actions. I usually don't consider s4 canon, but with his tree business, Sky leaning over Timmy's shoulder the whole time the girls were in the game is so like him

Doesn't hate Riven but is endlessly annoyed with him. Sky puts a lot more credit to the rare moments when they have a normal conversation together. If Sky became more agreeable to Riven I think Riven would be still very wary of him, but if the reverse happened Sky would happily accept him

When Riven is manipulated into thinking Bloom attacked him, the genuine hurt on his face when he and Brandon (correctly) don't believe him is something that genuinely takes Sky a back

Is very horrified at post CT jump Riven's conviction that Sky genuinely wants him dead, because??? No??? They we're never friends but he always wanted the best for him

Riven -

Oh my god if this fucking rich boy doesn't stop pointing out his every little flaw he's going to strangle him. Correction, he's already trying to strangle him

Thinks Sky is purposely lording his superior education and natural talent over him, looking down on him, and Riven hates it, he fucking hates it so much

Riven constantly picks fights with him to prove he's good enough to not be nitpicked, be in a group with the best, and his deep seeded insecurities and inferiority complex grows with every defeat

Riven always assumes the worst in people and Sky has a bad tendency to make really bad implications without noticing, Riven is half convinced Sky is doing it on purpose. The other half of him thinks Sky wouldn't do that

Tho he respects the fact that Sky never snitches on Riven for constantly trying to fight him and other little stuff that the other nobility LOVE to get on his ass about constantly. Respect where it's due, Sky is an annoying rich boy, but he's not as awful as he could be

This is just enough for Riven to tolorate Sky in doses without wanting to murder him

Deeply deeply dislikes Sky, but doesn't actually hate him until the Trix convince him that Bloom tried to kill him and Sky and Brandon didn't believe him. That hurt. It hurt way more than Riven thought betrayal from them would hurt

This is what causes Riven to actually hate Sky. Riven has always been paranoid that Sky secretly hated him and wanted him gone, and Darcy played into his conformation bias hard

After his little hop off a tower, his tendancy to think the worst of people mixes with his depression and rock bottom self esteem, and he convinces himself that Sky hates him enough that his continued existence is annoying to him

Season Two;

Sky -

"Hey, have you eaten and gotten a full nights sleep today? The nurse said that will help your condition—"

He's channeled all of his control freak energy into care taking. His not friend jumped off a fucking tower, forgive him for being worried

Sky is a mother hen, glad to inform you of this. No one really understood this except for Bloom and Brandon (and Flora bc she's so emotionally intelligent) but now all of the guys are subjective to Sky's usually tendencies but focused around care taking

Tries to stop mentioning anything about Riven's form or technique to just give him a break

Sky is about to cover Riven in bubble wrap, please stop getting hurt, your scaring the local prince

Riven -

"Why is the rich boy pestering me?"

Thinks Sky only cares for the sake of his image and PR or only out of a misplaced sense of guilt. Cannot and will not be convinced that it's because Sky actually cares. Trust me Aisha has been trying for hours at this point

Doesn't have the energy to put up a fight against Sky's mother henning, depression gang gang, but it makes Riven spiral a bit. Tends to ping pong between being angry that he's being pitied and not understanding Sky's motivation in the slightest

Too busy being depressed and rethinking every life choice he's ever made to think about Sky too much

Season Three;

Sky -

Considers Riven a friend, they're not close by any standard, but they're buddies. They willing hang out with only one other person around. Big process from when they couldn't go three seconds without trying to fight eachother in s1

Then he gets mindcontrolled into being in love with someone, and there is soo much fucked about that I can't even get into it. So many feelings of violation

Intentionally clinged to Riven in the aftermath because Riven has gone through being in a relationship under false pretenses with some mind and emotion control mixed in (though in a very different why and under very different circumstances) and just need any help and support and thought Riven was his best bet for actionable advice and empathy

Riven -

Was very happy when Riven quickly reciprocated this and begun telling Sky all about his healing process and what Sky should expect, advice he got from professionals, and things that have never gone away

Using Riven as support untill he feels safe in his own head again

They're still not close close, but after this they can hangout one on one without it getting deathly awkward and uncomfortable. They're full fledged friends baby

Has been!! Finally!! Convinced!! That Sky doesn't hate him!! Godbless you little dumbass

Sky seems to genuinely care about him and Riven's finally willing to accept it

Sky still slips up and says things that have terrible implications, and Riven still has a bad habit of taking things in the worst possible way, but Riven makes a conscious effort to give Sky the benefit of the doubt

*pointing at Sky getting mindcontrolled by Valtor's mark* "No!! My friends people aren't supposed to go though the horrors!!!"

No one really understands the exact brand of terror not being able to trust your own actions, feelings, thoughts, and perceptions like Riven does so makes an active effort to be there for Sky during the aftermath

Like doing everything that made him feel better, telling Sky things his therapist told him before Sky was ready to do his own therapy, stuff like that. Riven knows what this was like and really doesn't want Sky to be alone though this

Bonding over trauma at three am is a very normal friend activity

Finally is able to take Sky at his word without taking him in the worst way possible, or getting defensive. There's finally a sense of trust there

#winx club #winx riven #winx sky #rus chatters #winx headcanons #winx club headcanons #asks

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parallel-selfs · 9 months

Text

Camp Vargas (Art)

Followed Mewshi Q's playthrough.

Crowley, Idia and Ortho aren't here.

Alice and Grim doesn't have to stay at Pomefiore for three days, but Vil (and especially Rook) is with them so mission failed.

"One of my club members isn't here." -Jade

"My club member isn't here yet, shouldn't we wait?" -Jade

"Hey guys!"

Jade's staring at Alice after hearing she's the record keeper, thinking to himself, "I have a member in my club, but I'm still alone during this exciting time. Tragic."

Trein, after hearing to Alice's explanation last week, tells Vargas to care for the students properly.

"Let's give them 10 minutes before checking out their progress."

"You could say that again."

"Okay, pose everyone."

"Now will you use the bug spray?"

"Don't bully my direbeast, that's my job."

"I can't remember."

"Weren't suppose to."

"Yeah, you got it right."

"Yeah, how is everything going?"

Backs away to let the students handle the fairies.

I haven't smoked meat in a long time.

(The camera's getting closer and closer from Jade's excitement.)

Damn, Jade, calm down.

"Thank you." (I find Jade giving food to Yuu cute)

Why do you have a glass vial on you?

"Or Grim doesn't pay attention whatsoever."

Has a heart attack.

"What?"

"Because you're easy to scare."

"Malleus, what the fuck?"

"Are we sleeping outside again?"

(Malleus, no!)

Wakes up annoyed.

"Yeah, but we got to bear it." "Grim, how dare you."

Listens mindlessly.

Chuckles at Grim.

"Grim? Grim, where are you?"

Tries to clean the direbeast up a little bit.

"Thanks for letting us have some."

"I didn't see anything, but considering there was two phantoms in those mines, I'm concerned."

"Two phantoms?!" -Azul and Vil

"Kalim!"

"Jade, what the hell, why are you telling a story like that?"

"That does the opposite of calming someone down. We're well aware of the dangers."

"All I got is dad jokes, Kalim. It's the best I can do."

(Like fighting Vargas)

"No, I'm not risking you getting eaten again."

Even though she's a part of it now, she still hates it because "aw, yes, let's traumatizes some teenagers for character development."

Sighs. "Let's get this over with."

"We were in our tent just winding down when we suddenly heard shouting and something darting out of the cottage Vargas was in. We looked inside, and he was gone!"

"It ran so fast, we couldn't see it well. I believe I saw horns and that was pretty large."

"I mean, it makes sense to ask."

Covers Grim's mouth and whispers to him to be quiet.

"Vargas is missing and the place he was staying at is turned upside-down. Also, Vil, didn't you see something in the mines?" (Seriously, use that to your advantage)

Points out the appearance of the creature Vil saw and the appearance of the creature Alice described being different. "There could be two monsters out there, or more for all we know." Really making herself look frightened.

"I appreciate the offer."

"Be careful, guys."

"But he doesn't have his magic pen."

(I would jump Azul if I was there)

"We're the record keepers, where do you think we were?"

Chuckles at Vil's comment.

(Vargas is having this conversation while being paralyzed on the ground)

"What the fuck?" "My son!"

"Really, Azul?! Vargas and Grim just got kidnapped and you're worrying about a badge?!"

"Jade, I'm going to smack you."

"Azul, I'm going to smack you as well."

"I want to get my cat back."

Fair.

Looks around while they find Grim and Vargas.

Oh fuck!

"Grim!"

Immediately grabs Grim. (F u, Jade, my direbeast.)

"You're being very casual despite your students fighting for their life."

"Let me guess, they're not actually in dangerous and you didn't tell us the whole plan."

In the darkness, yes.

Alice is walking away while they talk. She wants to shower and crawl into bed.

She ratted them out to Trein, he is very disappointed.

(Vargas, don't do that, it's unsettling)

Vil and Trey were suppose to work at Mostro Lounge next month, aka May, but Book 7 happened in May.

#twisted wonderland #alice #facts about alice #twst event

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freebooter4ever · 2 years

Text

Ha, okay i'll bite. @soft-and-exhausted Trigger warning for stupidity and...bears...i guess..under the cut

#and my step brother who fought a bear in a cave up in canada once

So keep in mind that i only ever met this step brother once - he was six years older than i was and had long since moved out by the time my mom got together with his dad, so all these stories were told to me second hand by my stepdad (who was the BEST btw) and i'd just sit there listening in teenage awe at the vaguely godlike figure my step brother represented. He was (is?) a quaterback down south somewhere, he was a total asshole with a huge ego that was unfortunately somewhat warrented because he also just was That Cool. One time he got lost in the desert for a few days (because he got angry and went on a ‘walk’) and scared the shit out of his dad, but that's another story.

ANYWAY from time to time he'd go up to the vancouver area of canada to wander the wilderness or whatever it is egotistical manly men do up there (fishing?) because...i dunno...i guess washington's wilderness wasn't wild enough for him. And from what i remember he always did this alone - probably because of the whole asshole thing (he had a ‘difficult’ personality). He also wasn't completely stupid, he and I both grew up in roughly the same area of the northwest and its hard to grow up there and not absorb at least a little bit of hiking skills. At some point in one of his canada trips he found himself in a cave - i can't remember if he was sheltering there overnight or for a storm or what. But as it turns out this cave also had *gasp* a BEAR. Who would have thought!

Yeah the bear was not happy. My step brother did not die, nor was he maimed, but he was hurt. The way his dad tells it, it was a full on battle for the cave, and his son didn't have a gun or anything (bear spray doesn't work just as a fyi for anyone reading this looking for real tips), but he stiILL WON. Which is insane. And did not help with my step brother's ego, I'm sure. We were all obviously very glad that he did not get eaten. But also the whole story smacked of stupidity and easily avoidable dangerous situations.

To contrast, my dad the hiking fanatic who has been over aLL of washington including rainier...has met a bear close up exactly ONCE. Unlike my step brother, my dad hikes alone (or with me) because he is shy and desperately terrified of most conversation. But it is definitely still a choice and not one i would reccommend. My dad didnt even tell me this story till long after it was over and he brought it up on a different hike we were taking together, completely casually as if near-death-experiences were normal. Apparently he'd been hiking alone on either mt defiance or granite (i cant remember which) and he only made it to the fields of bear grass. You must understand, when hiking in the northwest the mountains are literally covered in pine trees so it isn't until you hit a certain elevation that the tree cover starts to thin. And at that elevation you also get this magical beautiful plant ‘bear grass’. I bet you can guess why people call it that.

So my dad is walking along, fully aware that its bear season and the bear grass is high, so he's being extra cautious. And sure enough he sees a small dark lump a few feet away from the trail near a bush. His first reaction was ‘aw cute a baby bear’ but then his intelligence kicked in and he started looking around and sure enough he saw the mama bear...on the opposite side of the trail. In order to continue to the top of the mountain my dad would have had to pass between the mama bear and the baby bear.

Yeah my dad is not stupid, he turned around and went the fuck home lol. Be like my dad, don't fight bears. Live to climb the mountain another day.

#Journal shit

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

Text

Chasing a New High

Adrian stumbled through the woods ungracefully. For someone with his skill set, he was gangly and unsure of his more casual movements. He passed a small cabin in the woods, halting in his tracks. The lights were on.

“Perfect!” He thought.

Adrian was quick to hide against the back wall, surveying the building. It would be easy to get inside. Whoever lived here was dumb enough to leave their window open. Adrian could smell the scent of a fresh pie from the window sill, and he had to admit, it smelt amazing. He hasn’t eaten all day. He could surely steal a bite.

As he heard footsteps disappear further into the house. This was the moment Adrian slipped inside. This pit stop wasn't originally in the plan. But one more couldn’t hurt. It was remote enough that he wouldn’t even have to put that much effort into hiding his work. He slipped into a room, hearing your footsteps grow closer.

Your humming quickly filled his ears. He wasn’t sure if he recognised the song. His brain focused for a moment, taking the time to enjoy this, and learn fun little things about you before he made his move. He wracked his brain for the lyrics, but it seemed you would bless him with the answer. You walked over to your stereo, hitting play on the song.

The tune filled the air, gracing the vast open space with its sounds. He listened with intent as you sang along, growing closer out of pure instinct. Your voice was angelic. He almost regretted what he was soon to do. Almost. Adrian watched in awe as you effortlessly waltzed your way around the kitchen. Hips swaying to the music and feet carrying you with such Grace, he was almost certain you had to be a ballerina.

You knew your way around, and why wouldn’t you, this was your home after all. Totally unaware of the presence looming just beyond your sight. It was adorable, by his standards at least. And mesmerising. Surely he could get a closer look. What were you cooking? But Adrian was your opposite, and he quickly realised his mistake.

The crescendo of the music died down, and the loud crash of a metal bowl hitting the marble floor almost made you jump. You trained with such force, Adrian was sure you’d break something. Your eyes widened upon meeting his, the knife in your hand clattering to the ground. Adrian watched for a moment, wondering if it would sink into the delicate flesh of your foot. But he quickly gained his bearings, remembering what he was here for. He couldn't back down now, you’d already seen him.

In the moment that you were distracted, glancing after the knife to be sure it didn’t hit you, he struck. Before you could blink, his body collided with yours, bringing your spine up against the sink with a harsh crack. A hiss escaped your lips, and his hand suddenly found its way to your throat. You’d be easy enough to strangle, you were small, not much of a threat. Probably couldn’t put up much of a fight he thought. But Adrian wasn’t prepared.

He’d done this many times before, moving from town to town, picking off a number of its citizens. Spanning from the most deprived to innocent like kittens like you. He got his kicks, either way, feeling the different types of high each kill brought with it. Killing bad guys, well it made him feel good, superior. He was doing the world a favour, nobody would miss them. But killing an innocent, god, it made his nose bleed and his mouth water. The adrenaline didn’t set in as much, allowing him to take his time and just enjoy the art of it all.

He awaited a scream, a cry, a plea for your life. But it didn’t come. He almost didn’t hear your reaction, it was soft, breathy.

“Did you just moan?” He asked, bewildered.

Your face flushed, unfathomably embarrassed. Your eyes were screwed shut, and your hands braced behind you on the sink, protecting your spine from being crush further. You shook your head, scared to know how he’d react.

“Use your words Kitten.” He purred, enjoying this more than he should.

When you didn’t respond to his teasing he got annoyed, squeezing your throat tighter. He shifted his grasp to move his hands into a more proper position, and in the process his thumb lightly brushed the centre of your throat. A shiver ran down your spine and you moaned once more as he pushed down. Adrian simply grinned, looking down at you.

What was an innocent little pet like you, doing with a guy like him. Screw the lack of adrenaline, he was feeling a different type of primal urge now. He used his other hand to lift your chin to look at him.

“Open your eyes.”

You did as he asked. Adrian swore he could have gotten lost in them. Your pupils were blown wide in fear, or maybe pleasure. Was it both?

“Now when I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Am I understood?”

“Ye-yes sir!” You stuttered out.

Adrian let out a gutter sound, like a mix of a growl and a laugh.

“Like a deer in the headlights, you know, you’d look good splattered on my windshield.” He said.

He excepted you to squirm, for your brain to catch up to what was really happening, to how much danger you were truly in. But you held his gaze, not an ounce of discomfort in yours. You shook your head.

“You disagree?”

“It’s too impersonal. Not your style.”

How interesting. What a confident statement to make. You didn’t even know his name, yet here you were bravely making assumptions.

“My style.”

“You’re choking me in my own kitchen. I knew you were watching me you know, you could have chosen any time to strike. But here we are.”

You were bluffing. You couldn’t have known. Of course, Adrian had fucked up, knocking over that bowl of food, but you couldn’t have to know what was in your house.

“You’re lying to me Kitten.”

A smirk stretched across your beautiful face. You brought your hands up to where his met your throat. Your mind finally catching up with you. He watched curiously as he allowed you to remove his hands from you. You calmly turned around, washing something in the sink, almost as if he weren’t there. You had a rag. He raised a brow to you.

“We’ll that mess you made isn’t going to clean itself up.” You sighed.

You were disappointed in him. He stepped back, allowing you to cross the kitchen to the spill. I mean where would you go. He was sure he was faster, stronger. You hadn’t armed yourself with a weapon. He stood over you, watching you clean as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You know, I’ve been watching you too.” You hummed.

This put his brain on high alert. He would have noticed someone watching him, especially someone like you. Even in a crowded room, he would have picked you out from the rest.

“Your kills have gotten sloppy recently, where’s your head gone?”

Genuine concern, is that what he was hearing. This had to be a dream, he must have zoned out on his walk home. That’s it, a fantasy. The only thing that would make sense of this.

“Adrian.” You warned, you tone suddenly cold.

It sent a shiver down his own spine. You knew his name.

“Now when I ask you a question, I except an answer. Am I understood.” You quoted him.

What on Earth was happening.

“I dont know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m still standing, we’ll, kneeling, proof that you’ve lost your- muchness.”

“My muchness?”

“You’re usually much more, muchier. Extravagant, calculated, unhinged. You’ve been everything under the sun, but merciful, that’s new to you, isn’t it?”

He nodded. Sticking a rouge vegetable cutting into his mouth.

“You’re different.”

“On the contrary, I’m exactly how I always am. Im just better at going unnoticed.”

Adrian needed to shift the conversation, he needed to be in charge again.

“Why were you watching me?”

You sighed, pushing yourself onto your feet and discarding of the messy towel. You brushed a few crumbs off your apron.

“It’s not often a serial killer moves to our small town. I don’t usually have competion.”

His eyes widened. He’d pegged you wrong completely. You weren’t innocent, far from it. More akin to a lioness than a house cat.

“Didn’t you used to be a hero Adri? What changed?”

You cornered him against the wall this time, pressing up on your toes to truly admire his face up close.

“Decided it wasn’t good enough to just help the government and wanted to go off killing on your own. Picking your own prey is invigorating isn’t it?”

It was his turn to silently nod, he choked back spit as his head tried to catch up with his body. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with you now. If you were competition as you stated, surely he’d be better off with you dead. But looking at you, that wasn’t an option. You were too interesting to kill now.

Your hands found there way to his throat, tracing the outlines of his viens with your delicate fingers. Your fingernails were sharp, you kept them that way on purpose. You slowly trailed one of your nails down his jugular, small bead of blood bursting forth on his warm skin. You suddenly pulled him by the shirt closer to you, Adrian felt dizzy. Not from the force, but from how close he was to you. It was intoxicating.

“I could teach you, you know? Would you like that, Puppy?”

He nodded desperately, his pants suddenly feeling way to tight for his liking.

“Use your words, Pup.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Your giggle was like music to his flushed ears.

“Good boy.” You purred, liking a stripe from his collar bone to his ear.

A stuttered breath left your mouth as his blood melted onto your tongue. He could feel your breath on his neck, and it caught his in his chest.

“They always taste better when they’re aroused.” You whispered.

They, who was they? What were you? You couldn’t possibly be human, how else could you have such a hold on him.

“But your my dear sweet boy, taste mouthwatering. Would you care to try?”

Before he could even ask what you meant, your mouth hungrily attacked his own. You bit at his bottom lip, causing him to gasp and open wide. You fought his tongue for dominance, and won. It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. Adrian was simply too stunned to function. He could taste himself on your lips, and he finally understood what you meant. His blood was sweet, like honey.

You pulled away, a satisfied smirk on your lips.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner Adrian, I’ll get to tell you all about who we’ll be having as our main course!”

An: ahhh I don’t know how to feel about this. This was fun to write, and I hope it’s just as fun for you all to read. Poor Adrian has no idea what he’s gotten himself into with this one.

#cannibalism #cannibal reader #Adrian #adrian chase #adrian chase vigilante #vigilante #vigilante x reader #Adrian chase x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x cannibal #slasher boyfriend #slasher couple #Spotify

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 17: Talking (Alt Prompt: The Talk)

AO3

First

Tim walks into the kitchen, blinking sleepily at his little sister. He glances over at the clock on the microwave, blinking again to make sure that he hadn’t misread the time. Five thirty in the morning, and she was baking cookies. He clears his throat, smiling apologetically as she jumps.

“Sorry Mari. Early morning?” He asks, moving to get coffee and noting that the pot was already half empty.

“More like, late night.” She corrects. Tim frowns. Her summer in Gotham was supposed to be relaxing for her. It was supposed to be a way for her to be a kid again. Instead she was making cookies by herself at five thirty in the morning after not sleeping. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he was determined to figure it out. There was no way he was going to make her deal with whatever this is by herself. She has backup now.

“Did you want to talk about it?” He offers, leaning against the counter, drinking his coffee quickly to try and wake up more.

“Not really. Kinda just wanted to stress bake.” She says quietly. He nods. Sometimes it was hard to talk about things. That’s okay, he can look into it later.

“Well, I’ve gotta go work on some things in the cave. Did you want to come with?” He asks, refilling his coffee. She frowns, looking at the bowl in front of her.

“Can you wait like, five minutes? I just need to get these ready to chill.” She says, gesturing to the bowl. He nods, watching as she zips around the kitchen as if she’d grown up in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure why she’d been up baking so early, but he was determined to help her. As much as he avoided sleep, he knew it wasn’t exactly healthy. Probably shouldn’t encourage his little sister to do the same thing.

---

Bruce walks into the theatre room, frowning when he sees Dick and Jason, but no Marinette. That was odd. She hadn’t been in her room either. He decides to check the kitchen next, knowing his daughter enjoyed baking. Walking into the kitchen, he’s surprised to find it empty as well. Glancing at the coffee pot, he notices it’s nearly empty, but still on. Which meant Tim had been up to get coffee recently. Flipping the pot off, he turns and starts towards the Batcave. Perhaps Tim knew where Marinette was. Walking down his usual entrance, he’s unsurprised to see Tim working at the computer. What he hadn’t expected, however, was Marinette curled up in a chair next to Tim, sleeping.

“Tim?” Bruce calls, catching his son’s attention.

“Oh, hey B.” Tim says, not looking away from the screen.

“Is there a reason Marinette is sleeping in a chair instead of her bed?” He asks. He knew she had a nightmare last night, but he had assumed she’d fallen asleep with Jason and Dick in the theatre room. And if she hadn’t, he’d at least expected she’d return to her own room. Not the Batcave. While some of his sons preferred the cave to any of the other rooms in the manor, he’d hoped his daughter was different. That he had at least one child willing to live in the house instead of the cave.

“I’m sure there is. And I’m going to find out.” Tim says, leaving Bruce with more questions than answers.

“Okay. How long have the two of you been down here?” He asks. Tim stops typing, glancing down at his watch before looking back up to the screen.

“Little under two hours.” He replies, jerking his head towards Marinette. “Think that’s also the only sleep she’s got all night, so probably best to leave her for a little longer.” Bruce frowns at this. Sure, he knew that she had a nightmare last night. He knew it was bad enough that she had sobbed into his arms. But had she really avoided sleep after that? Was it really that bad? She didn’t want to talk to him about it last night, but maybe she’d talk later today. He wouldn’t push her, lord knows that any child of his isn’t going to take well to that, but maybe she’d talk to

him now. Hopefully the nightmare would now be far enough from her mind that she could talk.

---

Marinette gasps, sitting up so quickly that she manages to flip the chair she’d fallen asleep in. She hisses in pain as her head bounces off the stone floor. So much for being the holder of the Miraculous of good luck.

“Did you just fall out of your chair?” Tim asks. She glances up at her brother, who had apparently left for another cup of coffee.

“No?” She says, smiling awkwardly from the floor, where her limbs are currently entangled with the chair. Tim shakes his head and snorts, sipping from his mug.

“Whatever you say Mari.” He says, walking over and sitting back in his chair, going back to his work on the computer.

“What time is it?” She asks, carefully untangling herself and getting off the ground.

“Mmm, around nine.” He says, not looking away from the screen.

“In the morning?” She asks, knowing it was completely possible for Tim to have worked nonstop in the cave.

“Yes.” He says, shaking his head. “B wants to talk to you, by the way.” He adds.

“Oh. Okay. Am I in trouble?” She asks, suddenly self conscious. It was the first time anyone in her family had had to deal with one of her nightmares. Usually, Tikki was the one to wake her up and calm her down before she attracted an akuma.

“Of course not.” He reassures her. “He’s probably in his study.”

“Oh, good, okay. Well, I’m gonna go talk to him. Please take a break, Tim. I know you haven’t eaten anything today. You can’t run on coffee and spite, trust me, I’ve tried.” Marinette says, grinning at her brother before using the tunnel that connected straight to the study. She still hadn’t figured out the many rooms of the manor, but the maze-like setup of the Batcave was something that she’d figured out easily. Taking a breath, she knocks on her side of the Grandfather clock, waiting for a response.

“Come in.” Her dad says. She walks in, grinning at the exasperated look on his face.

“Hi dad!” She says cheekily, plopping down onto one of the couches.

“Is there a reason you didn’t use the actual door?” He asks. She shrugs.

“Why get lost in the manor when I can just use the secret tunnels from the cave?” She asks. He sighs.

“I still don’t understand that, but alright. How are you feeling this morning?” He asks, his face turning serious. She smiles, but it’s forced now. She didn’t want to talk about this. She really didn’t want to talk about this with her dad, who would surely never give her permission to date Adrien if he knew. Not that she needed permission, but it would make it easier not having her dad against her.

“I’m fine!” She says, keeping her plastered on smile.

“I talked to Tim this morning.” He says, instead of calling her out. Well crap.

“Oh really?” She asks, silently cursing Tim. Or, wanting to anyway. But she wouldn’t because she knew he meant well.

“He said that you hadn’t slept last night. I know you didn’t want to talk to me about your nightmare last night, but maybe now-”

“No. No, I’m fine. It’s fine.” She rambles, cutting him off. He frowns.

“Marinette, I’m not going to be angry with you if that’s what you’re worried about. You had a nightmare, and it has clearly left you shaken.” He says. She huffs, running her fingers through her hair exasperatedly.

“I just- I can’t tell you. If I tell you, you’re going to be mad at someone and I don’t want you to be mad at them.” She explains, wincing as his face darkens.

“Did someone hurt you?” He asks, his voice the coldest she’s ever heard.

“Dad-”

“Did someone hurt you?” He asks again, cutting her off as he stands up.

“Not on purpose.” She insists, wringing her hands together.

“It doesn’t matter if it was on purpose, Marinette! This person hurt you badly enough that you had a nightmare about it. Bad enough that you were sobbing, that you couldn’t go back to sleep. I don’t care if it was on purpose or not, Marinette, that person does not deserve to be anywhere near you.” Her dad says, his face and voice hard as stone.

“But Dad, it really wasn’t his fault-”

“His?”

“Yes, Dad, he was akumatized.” She says, watching as he unclenches his fist and collapses back into his chair. “So it wasn’t his fault.” She adds, frowning as he shakes his head.

“Why didn’t-” He pauses, seemingly recollecting himself. “Why isn’t there a story on it?” He asks. She frowns.

“Story on what?” She asks.

“A story on Adrien being akumatized? Why isn’t there any record of it?” He asks. She jerks back like she was slapped. How did he- world’s greatest detective. Of course.

“He doesn’t know.” She says softly.

“How?”

“One of the Miraculous users is Bunnix. She holds the Miraculous of time, and is able to time travel. It was about a year ago, she came and grabbed me and took me to the future.” She explains, avoiding looking at him. She didn’t want to talk about this. It was the talk that she’d been avoiding, no matter how many times Tikki assured her she could talk to her dad about it. Or her brothers. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. But now she had to.

“In the future, Adrien and I had been a couple. He found out my identity as Ladybug, and I’m not exactly sure how it came to it, but for some reason, Hawkmoth targeted us. He was able to akumatize Adrien while he was Chat Noir. He….he became Chat Blanc. The complete opposite of Chat Noir.” She says, watching her hands as they shake in her lap. He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “He still had the power of destruction but with the help of the akuma...it was awful. His power became unlimited. He blew up the moon.”

“The moon?” He asks.

“Yes.” She says. “He also flooded Paris, destroyed the Eiffel tower, and killed both Hawkmoth and future me. That was why Bunnix needed me. I had to fix it. But she wasn’t able to stay with me, so I had to fight him alone. And I didn’t know that he was Adrien then, but he was still my partner and he kept calling me Marinette and he told me that it was our fault. That our love did it to the world. And it hurt, Dad. It hurt that my best friend destroyed the world because of me. Because of us.” She says, voice breaking as tears fall.

“Marinette, honey, look at me.” He says softly. She looks up at him, surprised to see that he had moved to kneel in front of her. “That was not your fault. And you should not have had to go through that by yourself. That was wrong of Bunnix. It was not your fault.” He reassures her. She lets out a sigh of relief, throwing her arms around him and crying into his chest just like she did last night.

“Father, have you seen- what did you do to Marinette?” Damian asks, barging into the room. Marinette snorts, her cries quickly becoming laughter as she catches a glimpse of her little brother’s face. His usual scowl had become full of anger before flickers of confusion flit across as she laughs.

“I’m sorry, petit oiseau. I’m okay now. I just had a nightmare last night and Dad asked about it.” She explains, knowing that Damian hated being out of the loop.

“Tt. Very well. I was trying to find you to see if you would like to accompany me to the park with Titus. Alfred said that I cannot go alone, and you are the least annoying possible companion.” He says. Marinette smiles. Ever since she’d been hit by the de-aging akuma, Damian had wanted to spend time with her and Titus together. She assumed it was the best way he knew to bond with her without sparring (which her Dad had banned for the moment unless he or Dick were able to supervise, honestly you break one little display case).

“I’d love to. Could we come back to this later?” She asks, glancing at her Dad who had moved to lean against his desk. He sighs, but nods.

“Yes. Keep your phones on, both of you.” He instructs. She nods, grinning before pulling her brother after her. They couldn’t keep Titus waiting, after all.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @stainedglassm @laurcad123 @vixen-uchiha @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

18 obikin!! Amnesia fics are super fun 🍆

18. One of them wakes up with amnesia (Option A because two people sent in this prompt number and I liked both ideas I saw for it enough to not want to pick) this involves an Obi-Wan that got deaged as well as lost his memories so he's Phantom Menace Obi-Wan. no i will not be explaining. hand wavey drabble fic writing.

The man has not stopped staring, but something in his intense gaze makes Obi-Wan feel safe. Almost. Well. On edge, yes, but. Protected. He has the strange feeling that he’d rather be under this man’s stare than anywhere else in the entire galaxy.

But he knows he’s never seen this man before in his life, the same way that he knows he’s twenty-five and that Qui-Gon Jinn is his Master, that he’s a Jedi knight-in-training, that he hates teas with mint leaves in them, that he’ll never say no to a drink with Quinlan, that--well.

He supposes none of that stuff could be true anymore. Vokra Che, who’s a grown and certified healer master now, had told him what had happened. An older version of himself had touched something he wasn’t supposed to. The closest translation they could find to the runes on the object was that it would transform the user back to their most balanced state. Obi-Wan’s had, apparently, been at the age of twenty-five. He hadn’t recognized the name Anakin Skywalker. He had never been to Naboo.

He throws the rest of his drink back and waves to the bartender to pour him another. He’d gone straight here from the Halls of Healing. He’d had a shadow the entire way, but the man has yet to try to talk to him at all. It’s infuriating.

His Padawan braid swings into his field of vision for a second. He tosses it over his shoulder. He’d been told. Qui-Gon had died. Obi-Wan wants to not think about it at all.

There’s a brush of a Force presence that’s both familiar and completely foreign next to him. The man has finally moved to his side. Obi-Wan’s jaw ticks at his continued reticence, the way he’s observing him but not talking to him. It just simply won’t do, but Obi-Wan isn’t feeling his kindest. He doesn’t want whatever this man is offering him with his silent, dour stares and his suffocating Force signature that keeps trying to tangle itself with Obi-Wan’s own. It’s rude is what it is.

He waves down the bartender and orders a drink for the man. “If you got mint, put it in,” he tells the woman who raises an eyebrow but shrugs, one pair of her arms busy with the drink. When she gives it to him he slides it to the man next to him without even looking at him.

“What--” the man asks. “I don’t--”

“You do tonight,” Obi-Wan says bracingly, throwing back half of his own drink. “We’ve both just lost our Masters, haven’t we?”

The man beside him flinches as if Obi-Wan had skewered him with his lightsaber.

“You are him, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan lolls his head to the side to look at the man threw half-closed eyes. “My padawan.”

“Anakin,” the man says so quietly it’s almost lost to the noise of the bar. “I’m Anakin Skywalker, yeah.”

Obi-Wan takes a drink reflexively, humming in disbelief. “You don’t look like it,” he says consideringly. At Anakin’s confused look, he elaborates. “You don’t look like you could have ever been a Padawan.”

The man pulls himself up, face darkening at the perceived slight. It’s almost too easy to rile him up, but now that he has, Obi-Wan finds he has no interest in fighting this man. Quite the opposite, really. That’s...something. He can’t tell if that emotion comes from him now or the older version of him.

Either way, Obi-Wan has no desire to stand in the way of whatever storm this Anakin is building up in his head, so he turns to face him completely and pushes both hands into his blond hair, raking down the scalp gently before collecting the strands into a poor imitation of the Padawan ponytail. “That’s better, I suppose. The hair threw me off.” He lets go slowly, making sure to tug at one of the strands at the last second.

Anakin has a very strange look on his face, but he’s definitely not angry anymore. He’s even shielding much more tightly now. Obi-Wan smirks into his glass as he takes a sip. He definitely remembers that trick.

“Do you know who cut it?” he asks, catching sight of the end of his braid again. The drinks are going to his head much more quickly than he had intended. Must be all the trauma his body has gone through in the past few days. “My braid.”

“I.” Anakin stutters, caught off guard. “You did.”

Obi-Wan feels like laughing but also a bit like crying. There’s a terrifying emotion rearing its head in his chest. It threatens to swallow him whole. “Well, I suppose I never liked to stand on ceremony.”

“You cut your braid in the fresher and then called me in and braided mine,” Anakin says distantly, as if caught up in the memory. “You wouldn’t let me hold it. I thought you were so mean. But I understood at my Knighting Ceremony. It was a part of me in my hand, a...starmap of all the places I’d been and the things I’d learned during my training. And there was only one person I wanted to give it to in the whole galaxy.”

“Did you?” He asks, taking a sip to hide how important the question is, how devastating the answer could be.

“Well. Yeah. But I guess I don’t know if you kept it,” Anakin cuts his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s and runs his fingers up the long stem of his drink.

Obi-Wan chokes on a laugh. “He definitely did.”

The other man’s face settles into a frown. “You don’t know that. You’re not him.”

“I’m enough of him. I’ve got--some feelings. In my head. Impressions.”

“Of me?”

“Of how he felt about you.”

Anakin’s eyes widen and then narrow with a sudden intensity that makes Obi-Wan want to shiver. It’s like being in the eye of a storm. His hold on the delicate glass in his hand becomes dangerously tight as he leans forward into Obi-Wan’s space, as if he can’t get close enough to him.

“What do you feel when you look at me?” he asks almost breathlessly. Obi-Wan blinks, trying to figure out if he’s being seduced or not. It’s sort of working. It’s all that focus, directly on him. Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind if that’s how the night ended. But sleeping with his former padawan who he can’t remember right now doesn’t seem like the best decision he could make.

But Anakin had liked it when Obi-Wan tugged at his hair. He’d arched closer to him. And now, the distance between them has been eaten away until they’re almost pressed chest to shoulder.

“Safe,” he decides to say, even though the word feels too small. “Sad,” which is mostly true but also an oversimplification. It’s a sort of nostalgia mixed with sadness, mixed with acceptance and resignation. “Warm,” because even after being denied entry to Obi-Wan’s mind, Anakin’s force presence has curled around Obi-Wan’s like some sort of krayt dragon, content to wait and guard and treasure. He leans forward, just until his mouth brushes against the skin of Anakin’s ear. “Coveted.”

Anakin definitely shifts at that, and when Obi-Wan pulls back enough to see his face, his pupils are blown wide.

Swallowing a grin, Obi-Wan swallows the rest of his drink in one go. “Drink up,” he tells Anakin in his most demanding tone, reaching into his pockets to pull out his older self’s credits to settle the tab. “I want to go.”

Anakin obeys immediately, making a face at the taste.

They’re out in the street within a few minutes, Anakin smacking his lips as if still trying to rid himself of the flavor. “I just don’t know why you had to order me that,” he complains, falling into step on Obi-Wan’s right.

Obi-Wan pauses and leans against the very unsanitary wall of the building, spreading his legs wide enough so that Anakin can come in between them. The man doesn’t seem to notice anything different, just steps a bit closer as a crowd of loud party-goers makes their way past them.

“I wanted to see if I liked mint,” Obi-Wan shrugs, raising his hand to rest on the skin of Anakin’s neck. He can feel the way his pulse is beating incredibly fast.

“Why would my drink help you with--”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. He commends his older self for being able to teach this idiot anything, even though he seems to have skipped over important lessons like Recognizing When You’re Being Flirted With.

Before Anakin can finish the thought, Obi-Wan twists his other hand in Anakin’s robes and pulls him forward until their lips are a hair’s breadth apart. “May I kiss you?” he asks because it’s only polite to.

Anakin’s eyes widen and then fall shut as he gives a little nod, finally stepping forward until their bodies are pressed completely together.

At least someone, although he doubts it was the older Obi-Wan, taught Anakin how to kiss. Obi-Wan’s toes curl in his boots as Anakin takes control of the action, moving his hands so one’s pressing against the wall behind them and one’s running up his scalp. Obi-Wan takes his time licking into Anakin’s mouth, allowing Anakin to explore him in return. One of them moans, which seems like as good a time as any to break the kiss.

“Well?” Anakin pants, diving in to place a short kiss onto Obi-Wan’s lips. “What do you think?”

The short answer is that Obi-Wan isn’t. He noses back towards Anakin’s mouth hopefully, sliding his hand down from his neck to rest on his hip.

“About mint,” Anakin elaborates when Obi-Wan doesn’t respond immediately.

“Inconclusive. Need more data,” Obi-Wan tries to kiss him but Anakin’s smiling too hard.

“Then next time you can get the awful drink, and you can get me the Alderaan Sunset,” Anakin is complaining, but he’s laughing too and that’s nice. Obi-Wan thinks that making Anakin Skywalker laugh is one of the best feelings in the galaxy, and he thinks his older self would agree, if the warmth sparking up in his very soul means anything at all.

#asks #my fics #writing #tarantasina #i'm sure eventually they get obi-wan back to normal and he's just sooooo embarrassed that he got drunk and decided to seduce anakin #but like it worked out #anakin makes fun of him too until obi-wan remembers that he kissed back #prompt fill

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simplee-dreaming · 3 years

Text

Lift Your Spirits

A/N: I'm very tired but I had to get this idea out. It's probably a load of nonsense but I hope you like it anyway.

Word count: 1094

Summary: (Set during Civil War) The reader is confined in the compound with Wanda and Vision.

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

“B4.”

“Hit.”

“B5.”

“Hit.”

“B6.”

“Hit.”

“B7.”

“You’re cheating!” You cried in frustration.

“Cheating?” Vision asked.

“You’re clearly using your powers to see through my board,”

“Why would I need to do that? The answers are written all over your face,”

“Well then you’re reading my mind or something,”

“I don’t have mind reading powers, Y/N. Now, I think you have something to say,”

You sighed.

“You sunk my battleship. Congrats, you win,” you said, sarcastically.

You stood up from your chair at the table and went to collapse onto the sofa. You winced in pain as you tried to lie down.

“Y/N, be careful,” Vis said.

“I am being careful, that’s why I’m here aren’t I?” You responded.

“You sound like you’re not enjoying yourself,” Wanda said, sitting opposite you.

“Oh yeah, it’s great fun being confined to this facility with a broken rib and a fantastic losing streak at board games,” you responded.

Tony Stark had confined you to the compound after you had broken 2 ribs during the fight in Lagos. You were healing well but he didn’t want to risk you injuring yourself further. Wanda was also confined to the compound after the US government denied her a visa after labelling her a weapon of mass destruction. To make sure neither of you escaped the compound, Tony enlisted Vision to supervise you both. You were fine with being stuck with the two of them, it was just the “being stuck” part that you hated.

“I’m so fed up, I wanna be out there. I wanna fight,” you complained.

“Mr Stark has instructed me to keep you both here until further notice,” Vision re-informed you. He was stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner. “Wanda, does this taste okay? I want to make something that will lift your spirits,” he said.

Wanda stood up and went over to him. She took a spoonful of the broth and sipped it.

“Spirits lifted,” she said, nodding.

“In my defence, I’ve never eaten anything before so…” Vis began.

“It’s perfect,” she interrupted.

“Ugh, get a room,” you scoffed. They both turned to look at you.

“Maybe you should try some of this to lift your spirits,” Wanda said.

“I’ll just wait until it’s served, thanks,” you replied.

“I understand you’re frustrated, Y/N, but there’s no need to be rude,” Wanda said.

“I’m not being rude! I just can’t be arsed to get up-ah!” You winced in pain as you tried to adjust yourself.

“Here, let me help,” Wanda said. She sat next to you on the sofa.

“Help how? No offence but you can’t exactly heal bones can you,” you responded.

“No, but I can help numb the pain,” she said. Wanda lifted up her hands and wiggled her fingers. Tiny red sparks jumped around the tips of her fingers.

“Is this gonna hurt?” You asked.

“No, it’ll help for a bit,” she said. She placed one hand very gently on your ribs, careful not to hurt you. The tiny red sparks jumped between her hand and your ribs now. You jolted.

“H-hey, what are you doing?” You said.

“Is it numbing the pain?” She asked.

“Well yes but-ah!” You yelped, jolting again.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”

“No, it just-ah! It just….it tickles!” You said, biting back a giggle. She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Oh?” She responded. Her fingers danced a bit more and the ticklish sensation doubled.

“Wahanda, wait! Noho,” you giggled. She wasn’t hurting you, but she applied enough pressure to really make it tickle.

“Is it helping?”

“Nohoho!” You giggled.

“No? Oh dear, maybe I’m not doing enough,” She placed her other hand on your stomach and her powers started to tickle again. You grabbed her wrist with your hand.

“Wahahanda, please!” You cried. She had you cornered on the sofa so you couldn’t move.

“My, you really are ticklish!” She teased. She wiggled her fingers a little more and you collapsed into giggles. Vision stopped what he was doing to observe.

“Stohohohop,” you shrieked as the sensations increased once more.

“I’m just trying to help, not my fault you’re so ticklish!” She said. She applied a bit more pressure so it tickled even more but didn’t hurt.

“Wahahahanda! Plehehehease!” You pleaded, tears starting to form in your eyes. She noticed your desperate state and slowly released her hands. Your ribs felt numb so you couldn’t feel the pain as bad as before.

“Did that help?” She asked. You nodded in surprise.

“Did you tickle me on purpose?” You asked. She winked and nodded.

“You little…” you reached over and squeezed her side. She squealed and slid away from you.

“Pardon me, but, um, what was that?” Vision asked. You both looked at him.

“You never seen tickling before?” Wanda asked.

“I am familiar with the term, but never seen it with my own eyes before,” he replied. Wanda turned to you and raised her eyebrow. You nodded as if you were communicating telepathically. She slowly stood up from the sofa and walked over to Vision.

“So, tickling is basically when a person as sensitive as Y/N laughs at the smallest touch on their body,” she informed him.

“Oi! I’m not that sensitive,” you replied. She turned to you and tilted her head to the side before looking back at Vision.

“Y/N is a prime example of someone being extremely ticklish,” she said, turning back to wink at you. You sighed.

“So, Vis, have you never been tickled before?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Hm, I wonder…” pondered Wanda. She reached over and poked Vision in the side. He looked down at his side then at Wanda.

“Yes?” He asked. She poked him again and he responded the same.

“Hm, maybe you’re not ticklish,” she said.

“I doubt that, try his stomach,” you said from the sofa. Wanda spidered her nails across his tummy. He flinched a little but made no sound. She hummed curiously again and reached up to tickle his neck. He twisted and let out a tiny squeak.

“What was that?” He asked.

“You’re ticklish,” she said.

“Oh. Right,” he replied. She looked at you and you both laughed.

“Don’t worry Vis, we’ll soon find your weak spots,” she teased.

After dinner, you and Wanda teamed up to try and find all of Vision’s tickle spots but had awful luck. The night ended with Vision discovering just how ticklish you and Wanda both were.

Safe to say that being confined with those two wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

#tickle fic #avengers tickle fic #ler!wanda #lee!reader

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pekotranslates · 3 years

Text

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 40-52

Disclaimer: Also, I started this for fun so that my friends who don't have access can read it. I'm just another fan like you. With that said, I do try to be as faithful to the original source material as possible, and for those of you who can read Japanese, please support the author by buying his book.

Not everyone agreed with Chief Zonder's decision. The elderly—a major force in the village—began to make noise. They seemed to take a liking to Zangan's longevity exercises, and regretted not being able to memorize what was taught to them. They wanted someone to check if their poses were correct, and wished to learn the remaining exercises he was supposed to have taught them.

The village chief paid a visit at dinnertime.

"Hey, Tifa..." he said with a sullen expression. "Will you teach the old folks how to do Zangan's exercises properly?"

"Why Tifa?" her father asked. She just knew he would ask.

"Because Zangan named her. Told me that if we ever needed someone to mentor us, Tifa would be qualified. Said that she had the most controlled form* out of everyone who gathered there that day.

Kata, which means “form” in Japanese, is the term used to describe specific sequences of motion that are used to practice technique and execution in martial arts

It pleased her knowing that someone spoke of her like that when not in her presence, but it also caused her to be slightly embarrassed.

"Zonder, don't get my family involved."

"Aw, c'mon! I'm already in big trouble as it is. The old folks just won't let it go!"

"Hmph!" Brian Lockhart snorted. He enjoyed seeing the village chief squirm. She couldn't tell whether or not they actually got along with each other.

"Tifa, what do you think?"

"I'd just be teaching the elderly people those exercises, right? If that's all there is, then I'd like to try."

"Tifa..." her father began, but he swallowed back his complaint. He knew that it wasn't good for her to have too much time on her hands. "Well, if you're gonna do it, then do it right."

While preparing breakfast, Tifa heard a knock at the door, and opened to a woman’s face she barely recognized. It was an elderly woman called "Mon Amie" who was an aunt of sorts to Chief Zonder. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight that it looked like her eyes were being pulled straight up!

"Good morning to you. It's been a long time, Tifa. I heard that Zonder told you all about it. How about 2 gil per hour?"

"Sorry?" She had not heard about any renumeration.

"Well, you are thirteen now. Not a little girl anymore, so that doesn't cut it for you, eh? Alright then, how about 4 gil?"

"No, I don't want any money."

"That won't do. We are taking this very seriously, and you will be properly paid for your work."

No matter how much Zangan trusted her, would she really be up to the task? But, being able to earn her own money sounded very appealing, as if a whole new world had opened up to her.

Mon Amie took Tifa's silence as her wanting to bargain for higher wages.

"6 gil."

"Alright. 6 gil it is then."

"Brian never did leave the village. He wanted to keep Thea all to himself." Mon Amie suddenly brought up her parents during their exercise routine at the public square.

"Really?" said Tifa, adjusting Mon Amie's arm posture. She needed to get her to straighten her back and push out her chest a bit more for the desired result.

"She was quite the popular one, that child."

It wasn’t very pleasant hearing her mother being called "that child", yet Tifa encouraged her. Listening to the elderly tell old stories was a part of her job. The responsibility she felt from receiving wages tempered her patience.

"You should leave the village," said Mon Amie suddenly. "Doesn't it sound like fun going around to different places with Master Zangan?"

"It sure does."

"Alright, you don't have to play along with me. No need for you to learn things like that. Just think about it carefully, okay? Something needs to change for women here in Nibelheim."

Tifa silently nodded as she propped up Mon Amie's arm.

"There weren't any women around in my day who held this kind of thinking. But that Strife girl”—she was speaking of Cloud's mother—"tried to leave. Not sure if it's because she hated it here, or if she dreamed of going to the big city."

Mon Amie abruptly altered her pose, ruining her base form.

"To the traditional Nibelheim women, she seemed pretty unconventional. We all refused to accept her ways, but secretly felt the same. Even though we scolded her, deep down inside we were cheering her on. We even felt jealous of her for carving out her own path. Perhaps she changed something in us, little by little.”

Tifa lifted up Mon Amie's knee. "Up high like this. Thank you."

She supported Mon Amie as the woman’s body rocked back and forth.

"But Claudia remained in the village, didn't she?" said Tifa.

"Well, that’s because she fell in love. You see, a man traveled here. Claudia was helping out at the inn at the time. She must have been taken in by the outside air he brought with him. And he was a pretty fellow. I’m sure you see it when you look at Cloud. That boy got the best of both his parents!”

“Right…”

“But, just like the wind, he just couldn’t keep still. Not sure if Cloud learned how to walk yet, but around that time he told her he would go to the mountains, but never came back. They found his belongings though. His body probably got eaten by monsters. You were lucky you didn’t meet the same fate.”

Tifa braced herself. Was she going to bring up that incident?

“Cloud egging you on to climb Mt. Nibel… Maybe that was in his blood.”

Mon Amie’s body began to sway. Tifa had stopped holding onto her causing her to lose her balance. She couldn’t regain her footing in time, and fell flat down on her backside.

“Alright then," said Tifa. "Now let’s use the opposite leg. Please lift up your knee.”

Tifa held out a helping hand to her, but Mon Amie refused and got up on her own.

“Quite strict for a pretty face.”

“That’s because I get paid 6 gil to be.”

Before long, she became more attentive. She noticed Mon Amie lifting up her other knee, but it was at the wrong height again. While Tifa helped her to adjust, Mon Amie said, “You really don’t remember anything? You know, about that accident you got into?”

She was eight years old when she got into that accident on Mt. Nibel. Cloud was with her. The villagers chose to believe the story based on Emilio and the others’ testimonies, and nothing else could be said about it. Tifa really couldn't remember what happened.

"No, unfortunately not..."

Whether the elderly came to her for exercising or just to chat, it was tougher than she had imagined. Her father laughed at her and said he wouldn't have anything to do with them, even for 100 gil.

They never listened and were set in their ways, even the ones who kept away and smiled modestly at her. They just had a different view on things, and sulked if nobody paid them attention.

The topics they discussed also surprised Tifa, and sometimes hurt her too. She disliked whenever they brought up how her body looked so grown. There would be someone who sensed her discomfort or resentment, and would try to change the subject, but then it would turn into whom she should be with and things of that nature.

So, all things considered, Tifa preferred hearing them going on about herself rather than her father’s failed romances, or whom her mother used to hang out with before she got married to him. To the elderly townsfolk, her father and others his age were still “the village youth”.

After her day finished and she was about to go to sleep, she thought to herself that maybe there would be a time when she would be the one telling someone else about what happened today, or about some news she heard from another person. Telling the same stories over and over again, everyday just like the next, until she, herself, became just a relic of an era in village history.

※

“They confused me at first, but I got used to being around them, and then it wasn’t so bad anymore. That feeling of wanting someone to talk to—Everyone has that,” explained Tifa.

“So that’s where you learned to entertain guests? From spending your time talking to old folks?” asked Barret.

“Possibly. Maybe that did me good. More and more of the elderly signed up, and they started calling their morning gatherings the ‘Calisthenics Club’.”

“It’s like that at Seventh Heaven too,” said Barret with some intensity.

Aerith urged him to talk.

“It used to be just a small shop owned by this one gramps, but when Tifa started working there, the business picked up. Men crowded the place. Know what I mean, Red?”

“What I’m more interested in is what happened to Zangan afterward? I can sort of imagine based on your fighting style, Tifa...” said Red XIII.

“You’re right. There was a little more that happened before I got to where I'm at.”

※

A month passed after the start of the Calisthenics Club. All morning Tifa would teach the exercises and set aside time for her reading and arithmetic. The afternoon she'd go to the mountains and work hard towards building up her strength and stamina, and then would return home before sunset so her father wouldn’t worry. At night she would examine Zangan's writings and practice her form, reviewing the materials over and over again so as to not overlook anything.

One day, she received a letter from Emilio. He wrote about the fast-paced lifestyle in the big city, and told her about everything he found perplexing: arguments he had had with people, things he ate, the social inequality, and their differences in moral values.

“But whenever I get discouraged, it’s you I think about, Tifa, and then I imagine that day when I’ll come and get you. I'll write to you sometimes and teach you about the city, so you won't be so confused when that time comes.”

Who do you think you are? That's how she honestly felt reading the letter.

Zangan appeared, acting as if nothing had happened. He knocked on the door just in time to greet her father and asked for his permission to call Tifa out, and then led her to the river where they first met.

“Master Zangan, please let me be your student. I want to be stronger.”

“That’s exactly the answer I was looking for, but what’s the matter, Tifa? I sense your impatience. Why are you in such a hurry?”

“That’s not it!” she replied, but felt self-conscious. “No… It’s because I got that letter from my friend.”

“What kind of letter?”

“I think it’s because I don’t want to lose. I don’t want to lose to anyone who left the village.”

“Hmm. My hand-to-hand combat techniques are not meant to be used to make you feel superior to others.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. But the answer to that can only be found through diligent study. All right. I will acknowledge you if you pass my test.”

“Test?”

“Show me everything you’ve learned from Volume 1. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

Tifa performed a sequence of forms from the physical training method.

“One more time, from the beginning.”

“Okay.”

This time Zangan interrupted with instructions.

"Check the book to see the direction your palms should be facing."

Tifa crouched down over the book and flipped through the pages. The form was wrong from the very start. Should have been above not below.

“I was wrong.”

“Try again.”

When she extended both hands and slightly shifted the direction of her palms, she felt a different set of muscles tingling.

“Everything from the Book of Secrets must be obeyed. Don’t try to interpret it another way or decide that your way is better. While disciplining your body, you must learn to be faithful to your decisions. If I take you in as my student, you will become stronger. So, you must cultivate your mind to control that power. The greater and stronger the power to handle, the greater the responsibility of its owner. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The second time around, Zangan pointed out any minor mistakes she made. Each time she would have to go back and confirm with the Book of Secrets before advancing, which made things take twice as long. Fatigue built up in her arms and legs.

“Alright, now relax and close your eyes. Focus your attention and check the condition of your body. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“My upper back… I wouldn’t say it hurts but it feels like it’s burning...”

She slipped her right hand underneath her left armpit until it touched the lower part of her shoulder blade. Digging her fingers into it felt good.

“Hmph!” Zangan gave a satisfying nod. “That’s your shoulder blade. What you’re pressing into is the trapezius muscle. Surrounding it is your deltoid, infraspinatus, psoas minor and other muscles. The second volume will teach you how to train each one of those muscles on your back,” he said, while holding out a booklet to her. It was Volume 2.

“If you want to live your life with pride then pay close attention to your back. Squeeze your shoulder blades together, chest out. Walking through life with a beautiful posture is also part of your training.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s get started. Well then, onto Volume 2, No. 2-1-1, scapular push-ups.”

Zangan immediately prostrated himself on the ground, and lowered his chest. Tifa hastened to follow his example.

“All you're doing is supporting your whole body with your arms. Concentrate on your shoulder blades. Rotate them outwards—protract, retract, protract.”

It was her first time experiencing those movements. How was she supposed to move to protract her shoulder blades? She couldn’t picture it in her mind. Glancing over at Zangan she noticed he was rotating his shoulders outward, something her cat, Maru, often did.

“You look like a cat,” she said.

“Right. There’s a lot we can learn from cats.”

She focused her attention on her scapula, going up and down, until the repetition of movements were drilled into her body. Zangan rose and watched over Tifa for some time before clearing his throat.

“Good!”

The movements were subtle but still made her perspire.

“That’s because the muscles across your back are wider. Moving them increases the blood flow and raises your temperature, so that’s why you’re working up a sweat.”

After completing Volume 2, Tifa was sweating profusely. She felt unthinkable pain throughout her whole back.

“Alright, any questions? If you do, now’s your chance.”

She wanted to say, yes, but nothing came to mind at the moment.

“If not, then we’ll move onto Volume 3.”

“Huh?” she couldn’t help but shout. Her whole body was screaming in pain. Zangan ignored her and continued.

“Volume 3 is for chest and abs. We’re going to train your front body. The pectoralis major muscle is roughly divided into three parts: upper, middle and lower. There are several different ways to effectively train it, but I’ll teach you the basic concepts.”

“Alright…”

“At your age, your overall motor skills are complete, and in that regard, you excel. You haven’t had any special training, have you? If so, then you must have been born with this. Treasure it.”

“I will.”

She felt energy pour into her body. Perhaps listening to Zangan talk with a relaxed mind helped her to recover from fatigue.

“After a while, we’ll concentrate on building your muscles. But you will not be using any equipment except your body. We won’t be using barbells or dumbbells until you’re much older. Besides, our Zangan-ryu hardly finds them necessary. That is because I prescribe individual fighting styles that suit each of my students. You don’t need arms built like logs or a bulky chest. What you need is to build up a fighting style that will utilize those reflexes, that body, and your speed. Well, what do you want to do? Shall we call it a day?”

“No. Please go on.”

She didn’t want to disappoint the first person who had managed to earn her respect.

“Yes, that’s the spirit! Alright. But we’ll stop here for today. Let’s call this current level of fatigue your limit. Keep it in mind. You have a long way before you can try to challenge that limit to surpass it. Continuity is more important now than ever.”

On their way back, a realization came over Tifa regarding Zangan’s test. It didn't annoy her. If her father tried to make her work like that she’d probably stop talking to him for three days in a row. With those thoughts in mind, she walked her teacher back to the inn.

“Say hello to your father for me.”

As she stood in front of her house she could smell the scent of spices in the air. Spices that her mother liked to use in her best recipe. It was her father’s favorite dish, but since Tifa didn’t really like it, it was hardly ever served at the dining table.

She opened the door and said, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.” Her father, dressed in an apron, peeked out at her from the kitchen.

“This smell… Huh? Is it mom’s?”

“I was really craving it... Oh, but I made something else for you.”

She was filled with remorse. She didn’t like the way he looked or the tone of voice he used when trying to gauge her mood, but it was all her fault for making it that way.

Novel by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by pekotranslates

Proofread by Eerie

#ffvii #ff7r #tifa lockhart #traces of two pasts #aerith gainsborough

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aarons-main-blog · 3 years

Text

I changed my mind, and decided to que this up immediately after posting the first one. I won't be home when you see this because I'm attending a funeral, but tell me what you think of it and I will see you when I get home!

Note: this was made on Google docs mobile, so when I get a chance I will actually use tab instead of just paragraphs.

"Wars, you said you knew the area!"

"I thought I did, but this is sure as hell not the same way I remember! Those ruins we passed back there? Those are completely new to me! This forest? I don't even recognize half of these plants! We should have reached a town hours ago!"

"Hey, stop fighting, you two, or-"

The group Link had been following for the last few hours came to a halt as the one with pink-tipped hair argued with the one with a blue scarf. He couldn't tell if they were a threat yet, they just seemed like lost travelers. Then again, that was the main way the Yiga clan tried to trick him.

Pinky and Wars kept arguing, until finally the smallest one in rainbow colors seemed to snap. "How about we admit it. We are lost, and just happened to find something that reminded Wars of home. It was NOONE's fault, because we ignored the obvious signs something was wrong. Now, we are lost in the middle of a forest, and unless you have an idea of what we should do, then SHUT UP!"

The group all seemed shocked by his outburst, Link and the rainbow included, and once they all seemed to get over it, the kid apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell."

The oldest one, probably the leader, said, "No, it's ok. Today has been a long day, and everyone seems on edge. Perhaps we should set up camp early, does that sound good to everyone?"

The group nodded collectively, and started to set up in the clearing that could barely fit all of them. The one in a green tunic and no pants volunteered for the night's first watch, and while it wouldn't be for a while, they seemed relaxed a bit more by the fact someone was willing to do it.

Link, who had been hiding a good distance away from them, stood up. He got a stealth potion that would last him a few hours at least ready, then decided he would investigate that night.

As the sun set, an awful smell enveloped the forest. "Legend, what did you do?!"

"I don't know! It was fine a minute ago!"

"It's smoking! How did you burn SOUP of all things?!"

"I didn't burn it, it just got too hot!"

"Because you ****ed up, Legend! That's literally how things burn up!"

"Wind, watch your mouth."

Link had just come back from following the path the group of strangers had taken, looking to see if they dropped anything interesting, when he heard the commotion. It smelled like burning hair or that one shrine he had found with the awful cook. Maybe they were cousins?

As Link got closer to get a better look, he saw four people standing around a large cooking pot with a brown/green liquid with chunks in it. Pathetic. Are all of them as bad cooks as that one? Link was amazed they had survived however long they had been traveling.

Pinkey poked the 'soup' with a wooden ladle. "It's still edible, look, the vegetables seem cooked enough."

"With all due respect, I don't know if I would want to eat that," the kid in a blue shirt said with a grimace. "I don't know if anyone else would either."

The old one took the ladle and used it to try a small sip of what they were calling a soup, and his face scrunched up immediately.

"Uh, Time?" The blue kid tapped the man's shoulder.

The man swallowed the drink, coughed, then said, "It is… certainly better than last time."

A few of the others gave their opinions, from encouraging to neutral, before deciding it was better than nothing.

None of them looked that happy about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what theoretically could have been called dinner, the one in the green tunic, which Link had identified as being named "Hyrule," started circling around the camp, gradually making them larger and larger before returning close and starting again. Near the middle of the third round, Link drank his stealth potion and snuck into the campsite.

There was a young adult in tan with a tall belt, there was a boy in blue(wind), there was a kid in rainbow, there was a young adult with a wolf pelt on his shoulders, still on in his sleep for some reason, there was one in red with pink hair tips(legend), and then there was the leader. Link got a good look at him. He had a fancy set of armour, a big sword, a bad eye, but the strangest thing was he had familiar markings covering his face. They were almost the same…

As the ones Link saw in nearly every mirror, looking right back at himself.

"Time?"

Link turned towards the voice to see the one called Hyrule looking at him. He had to play this right. "Yes?"

"Oh, thank the goddess. What are you up to?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I was going to see if you wanted off early." This was dangerous. If he realized the real Time was sleeping soundly next to him, he would wake up all the others, and then he'd have eight grumpy travelers armed to the teeth on his trail in seconds.

"You sure that's ok with you?"

"Yes, get some rest."

"Thanks, Time," the boy said with a smile. "I will."

Link somewhat directed Hyrule towards the opposite side of where Time was. He was extremely lucky the fire was ruining the boy's night vision.

"Time?"

Link stopped and turned his head a bit. "Yeah?"

There was a pause. "Thank you for being here for us."

Link smiled. "You don't have to mention it," mimicking the somewhat fancy way he had heard Time use words. "Goodnight."

Hyrule mumbled it back, seemingly exhausted from the travel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Hyrule woke up feeling well rested. The birds were singing a song only they knew, the trees provided shade from the early morning sun, the wind rustled leaves and bushes softly, and a nice smell emanated from the cooking pot.

Wait, did someone cook something edible? Hyrule shot up, feeling excited to see what had made someone unlock their inner cook.

"Hey, mornin, Hyrule!"

"Goodmorning, Wind! What's cooking?"

Wind was grinning like an idiot. "No idea, but none of us made it, that's for sure! Four woke up and saw it cooking, then woke up the rest of us, except for you and sky. Time says you didn't wake him up for his shift, so we thought you could use some re-"

Hyrule was confused. "Wait, what? Run that by me one more time."

Wind's grin fell just a little bit, before coming back up. "Four woke up first, saw something was cooking, and woke everyone but you and sky because we thought you must have kept watch the whole night. Is that not what happened?"

"Yeah, Time said he couldn't sleep last night, so he took over the watch early for me."

Time, who had been listening in, said "I think I would know my sleep schedule better than you would. You didn't wake me up last night, and I didn't wake myself up, that's for certain."

"Then who-"

Four hit the pot a few times. "Breakfast is ready, guys!"

The questions could wait. Nobody had had a good meal for at least a week or two, so they were excited to try the mysterious meal.

It. Was. Delicious!

After discussion, it was determined to be a mushroom, meat and rice based meal. The meat used was probably venison, and a high quality type at that. It was served with some mushrooms nobody recognized but everybody loved, and a strange rice they couldn't find an exact comparison of.

Idle conversation was of generally positive things and how beautiful the world was. All of their problems seemed far away, and the day promised to be a great one. As the last of the food was eaten up, and the bowl was starting to be wiped as clean as it would get, Twilight brought up the question on everyone's mind.

"I wonder who made this for us."

"Maybe it was a ghost!" Wind exclaimed.

"Maybe it was a passing traveler?" Four said at the same time.

Legend laughed. "It was not a ghost, you idiot!"

"You don't know that," Wind huffed. "I met a ghost once, she was nice!"

"You did NOT meet a ghost!"

"Yeah I did!"

"Cut it out you two," Time said with his signature 'stop' look. "Whoever did it, they must have been a nice person. Don't argue about things this good, ok?"

"Ok!" Wind said. Legend just scoffed.

Nobody noticed the person sitting on top of a tree, fiddling a strange ocarina.

I hope this was ok! I will be the first to admit my writing style isn't the best, but I think this is one of my better works at the moment. Comments and criticism is appreciated, and I may edit this if I find stupid things I want to change/fix. I should be home Friday, probably Thursday afternoon. Anyway, see you next time!

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gunpowdville · 3 years

Text

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED], Chapter 2

chapter: 2/2

relationships: Drumbot Brian-Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum, Nastya Rasputina/the Aurora

Other things: genderfluid Tim, she/her Tim, he/fae Marius, temporary character death, possession, canon-typical violence. but mostly literally just silly self-indulgent fluff.

chapter 1

ao3

Read here below the cut >:}

The Rec Room: Tim, Lyf, Marius. All 10 still alive. (a few minutes before It is released)

Lazy days on Aurora are hard to come by, and when they do happen, they are spent most often by complaining about how boring lazy days are. Some, however, can find content in the slower days spent in relative peace and quiet. Case in point: the three currently buried in a pillow nest in the middle of the rec room floor.

The situation is this: the pillows and cushions from the furniture all stripped away and stolen to build a comfortable arrangement on the floor. Gunpowder Tim, in simply a loose blouse and leggings, hair braided elegantly over one shoulder. Lyfrassir Edda, in what is undeniably one of Tim’s waistcoats, perched in between the gunner’s legs, having their hair braided by her deft hands. Marius von Raum, sprawled across Lyf’s lap, waving his hands about animatedly as he talks.

“You left out the best part,” Tim says as Marius finishes relaying the story of how fae and Raph had joined the crew. “You forgot to mention the bit where Bri gave the two of you an actual job interview. And how, upon being asked your greatest strengths, you said, and I quote, ‘I’m hot.’”

“You did not,” Lyf looks utterly scandalized. “At a job interview?”

“You forget, love, that the job fae was applying for was being a Mechanism,” Tim points out, running her fingers through the former inspector’s hair. “The criteria is pretty much being able to play an instrument and willing to do crime.”

“Speaking of,” Marius says, batting aimlessly at Tim’s face where it peeks at him over Lyf’s shoulder. “It’s a shame that we only really have two or so songs together, Tim. We should get to sing together more.”

Tim nods in agreement. “We’re simply too powerful together.”

“I’ve been thinking of trying to get Jonny to let the three of us sing Blood & Whiskey,” Marius admits, then frowns. “Oh, wait, sorry Lyffers, I forgot you sound like a drowning cat when you sing.”

“I do not!” Lyf flushes scarlet, turning their face away from Tim’s raised eyebrow.

“You’re right, sorry, it’s more like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.”

Lyf makes an attempt to hit Marius lightly, but the violinist just catches their hand and kisses the back of it, grinning wickedly.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you sing,” Tim says slyly, tying off the braid and leaning forward so she can rest her chin on Lyf’s shoulder. “Would you sing for me?”

“Do you enjoy the sound of a drowning cat playing a kazoo?” Lyf asks her.

“Well, not exactly…”

“Then according to Mare, you do not want to hear me sing.”

Tim pouts, showing off her mastery of sad puppy dog eyes. The overhead lights glinting off the metal make them sparkle, creating a masterfully alluring wide gaze. “Please? Just a bit? For me?”

It is next to impossible to argue with those eyes, especially once you’ve already fallen hard for the person making them at you. With a sigh, Lyf squeezes their eyes tight shut and awkwardly sings a few lines of Blood & Whiskey. It sounds, as promised, like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.

Tim manages to hold a straight face for roughly three seconds before guffawing with laughter, burying her face in the spot between Lyf’s shoulder and neck to smother her cackles.

Lyf breaks off, turning their head slightly with a gently irritated eyebrow raised at their partner. “Are you finished?”

“Sorry,” Tim gasps between giggles, nuzzling further into their neck, failing miserably at trying to stifle her mirth. “I- I just- I didn’t expect it to actually sound- like that- I’m- I’m sorry-”

“I told you,” Marius crows, grinning up at Lyf and Tim with triumphant teasing fire in faer eyes. “Wasn’t I right?”

“You two are very rude to me,” Lyf huffs, sticking their nose in the air haughtily. Tim lifts her face from their shoulder and noses their jaw, murmuring something about drowning cats and how they have never sounded more attractive. Lyf pointedly ignores her.

“Aw, hey, don’t be like that, fairytale,” Marius heaves himself into a sitting position and catches the former inspector’s face in his hands. “Y’know we’re just teasing you ‘cuz we love you, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,”Lyf sighs, giving in and letting faer kiss them.

“Sappy,” Tim comments, earning a petulant finger from Marius. “Also, fairytale?”

“They’re my fairytale,” Marius declares proudly, and Tim pouts. “What am I, then?”

“You,” Lyf contemplates, turning their head to meet Tim’s metallic gaze with their own iridescent one. “You’re my battle cry. You’re the song I sing for strength when I can’t find it. You’re my declaration to the world that I will not stand still and break. You’re the inspiration that keeps me fighting. My battle cry.”

“Well,” Tim blinks, making a valiant attempt to keep her voice steady. “Hey now. You didn’t have to go and do that to me.”

Lyf’s brow furrows, concern instantly evident in their features. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, goddamnit, you said everything right, you- fuck.” without another word, Tim fists a hand in the front of their shirt and pulls them into a kiss. “I fucking love you.”

Lyf’s (no doubt sappy as all hell) response is cut off by Marius, who groans and rolls out of their lap with a huff. “If you two are going to be like that, I’m leaving.”

“You started it,” Tim points out, “but whatever, more Lyf time for me.”

Marius sticks faer tongue out at her as fae leaves. “Go see if Bri’s made me any munchies!” Tim calls after him, before turning back to her partner with a decidedly malicious smirk. “Now, where were we?”

They are interrupted not long after by Brian, who comes barging into the room without preamble, zeroes distractedly in on the pair of them, says “Oh. Hello, dears. Have either of you seen an unidentifiable mass of sentient ooze? Slightly larger than an octokitten? It ate Marius,” and then hurries out the opposite door.

Tim and Lyf glance at each other, attempting to register his words. “Wha- Brian, what?”

But the Drumbot has already disappeared down the corridor, leaving the two of them to scramble to their feet and race after him, their questions landing on ignorant ears.

Nastya, the corridors: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

Nastya spends her lazy days with her girlfriend, most of the time. She enjoys the quieter hours when she can work on repairs, listening to Aurora tell her stories or complain about whatever is on her mind. This particular lazy day, the engineer is sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the corridors, right outside Jonny’s room, her hands deftly working at the wires beneath one of the wall panels. Aurora is telling her about a new program she and Ivy are working on, a sort of virtual reality experience for the shooting range that will ‘revitalize the excitement of warfare’, in her words. Nastya listens intently, interjecting with questions when she has them and praise when it is deserved.

As she finishes up, carefully replacing the wall panel and smiling softly at Aurora’s petulant complaints, something drops from the air vent above her. She takes a smooth step back as the thing falls to the floor with a wet thwack. At first glance it resembles an octokitten, but as it unfurls it reveals itself as more of a dark glistening lump, tendrils of gooey flesh extending across the floor toward Nastya.

“Well, hello,” The engineer says, tilting her head to study it. “What are you?”

That is the cake our Drumbot and his science officer made, Aurora answers for her. Don’t touch it.

“This is a cake?”

I believe it was supposed to be.

“And what is it now?”

Decidedly not a cake.

It’s at that moment that Ivy comes racing into the corridor, breathless and looking faintly annoyed. “Ah. Nastya. Good. Have you seen-” her eyes drift to the thing at Nastya’s feet. “That.”

“I am certainly looking at it right now,” Nastya says in response, nudging a toe forward to poke at it. Ivy throws out an arm to stop her. “Do not. Unless you want to get eaten.”

Nastya raises an eyebrow and quickly steps back, just as an octokitten meanders into the area, approaching the blob with a curious ‘mrrp’. Ivy dives for it, but the creature is much faster, latching onto the octokitten in a second. But instead of eating it, the thing seems to melt into it, turning it a darker color.

“Hm,” Ivy hums curiously. “That’s new.”

The possessed octokitten zeroes in on Ivy and Nastya, yawning wide to show a lot more teeth than should be able to fit in its mouth.

“Run?” Nastya suggests, watching the kitten start forward on uneasy tentacles.

“Run,” Ivy agrees.

Jonny & Ashes, the shooting range: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

The shooting range is one of the few rooms on Aurora that isn’t quiet on lazy days. This day is no different from any other in that regard, with the sounds of gunfire and cackling echoing from behind the wide open door. The quartermaster and the first mate are both in there, trapped in a pointless competition to outshoot each other. They have done this many times before, and who wins changes nearly every time. But it’s an excellent way to distract and relieve stress, and Jonny had noticed Ashes appearing down earlier, so he had suggested a shooting competition. He never said that he was doing it to cheer them up, but he’s pretty sure they’ve caught on to his intentions.

“I kicked your ass harder than Brian got his ass kicked in that sun,” Ashes remarks, standing over Jonny, who lies prone on the floor. Jonny groans and sits up, shoving his singed hair off of his forehead. “You cheated.”

“Says what rules?” Ashes snorts, reaching down to help him up.

“It was a shooting match, O’Reilly, not a goddamn grenade match.”

“Your screaming was hilarious, though.”

Jonny scowls and flips them off. Ashes laughs and slips another grenade into their pocket, a little something to save for later.

The trapdoor in the ceiling of the shooting range drops open, and Raphaella tumbles through, falling head over heels and landing neatly on her feet with a dancer’s grace. “We have something of a problem.”

“Yeah, Ashes just fucking blew me up,” Jonny complains, and Ashes rolls their eyes. “You’re fine.”

“You’re fine,” Raphaella says at exactly the same time, and Ashes shoots a grin at her. “Anyway, Bri and I may have done… something.”

“You may have done something,” Brian argues, breezing into the room with Tim and Lyf close on his heels. “I take no responsibility.”

“Can we please go back to the part where it ate my boyfriend?” Lyf demands, causing Jonny’s eyebrows to shoot up practically to his hairline. “Someone’s eating boyfriends?”

“The octokittens are possessed,” this is Nastya, squeezing past Brian through the door, tailed by Ivy.

“Possessed?”

“Possessed,” Ivy confirms, to Brian’s incredulous outburst.

“D’you mean those octokittens?” Jonny asks, pointing to the door. Sure enough, a gaggle of octokittens meanders through, moving a bit unsteadily, oily dark colors writhing beneath their skin.

“That looks like- that’s-” Lyf’s eyes go wide as they stare at the kittens. “What the fuck is that?”

“It was supposed to be a cake,” Brian says mournfully.

“It ate Marius!”

“It’s technically your child, Lyf,” Raphaella pipes up. “The compound I used to make it is based on your blood samples.”

Lyf just stares at her.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Ashes remarks. They crouch down and flip open their lighter, holding it in front of one of the kittens’ face. It flinches, then snarls and shoots toward them, latching onto their foot, its jaws opening far wider than they should be able to. They try to kick it off, but its tentacles appear to have melted onto their skin and are slowly eating through. With a squelch, the odd entity detaches fully from its octokitten host, who blinks and scuttles into the corner.

With a pained grunt, Ashes drops their lighter onto the thing on their foot, successfully setting the thing alight. It recoils and retreats to the center of the floor, squelching in a frantic circle. It leaves behind nothing left of the quartermaster’s foot, and Ashes stumbles and is caught by Jonny, who steadies them and shoots a murderous look at the flaming blob.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ashes hisses through their teeth, pain evident on their features. “Goddamn. What the fuck, you two.”

“Again, I take no responsibility,” Brian insists. Raphaella sticks her tongue out at him. “You are a bastard and a traitor and I never loved you anyway.”

Brian blows her a kiss and a wink.

“Interesting,” Ivy interrupts, pulling out a notepad and writing something down. “It appears fire is ineffective.”

This gets everyone’s attention directed back to the creature, which is indeed decidedly not dead or incapacitated in any way. It isn’t even on fire anymore. And it looks angry.

“You’re kidding me,” Ashes growls, staring at the thing with disgusted fury.

“Run,” Tim suggests, pushing Lyf gently out of the way as the thing focuses on them and begins to move forward. “Split up and run. It can’t get all of us at once.”

Jonny nods and dutifully starts off out of the room, taking Ashes with him, holding them up as they limp and curse. Ivy and Nastya shoot off in another direction, Nastya scooping up the disgruntled left-behind octokitten as she goes. Raphaella grabs Lyf’s wrist and pulls them up through the ceiling trapdoor, ignoring their startled protests. That leaves Tim with Brian. She turns to him, poised to ask what the plan is, but hesitates when she sees Brian standing there, head cocked to one side, staring blankly at the empty floor. The bifrost cake-creature is nowhere to be seen.

“Brian?” Tim steps forward, reaching out and resting a concerned hand on his shoulder. “Bri? You good?”

Brian’s head lifts, slowly, in an uncharacteristically stilted motion. His eyes are… wrong. Something is moving in them, and if Tim looks closely she can see it oozing from the corners. Oh. Oh no.

“Fuck,” she breathes, stumbling backward and reaching for a pistol. “Not Brian not Brian not Brian.”

The thing in Brian’s body smiles, forcing the expression onto the Drumbot’s face. It takes a step forward. Of course, it’s at that moment that the Toy Soldier decides to make its first appearance.

“Sorry I’m late!” It announces as it steps into the shooting range. “I was in the middle of a delightful painting using the blood from that corpse Jonny dragged onto the ship the other day! I didn’t want to leave it for too long in case it was ruined! Anyway, I heard there was a crew meeting?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that painting,” Tim says, momentarily distracted. The Toy Soldier claps its hands together excitedly. “Of course! I’ll set up a viewing!”

Tim grins. “Lovely. Now, what do you know of possession?”

“Well, it depends on what kind!”

“Um,” Tim glances back at Brian and whatever is piloting him, who has stopped in its tracks and is watching the exchange curiously. “Well. Would you.. Happen to know anything about possession by.. Cake?”

In the brief pause that follows, the thing inside Brian appears to give up on its curiosity and steps forward, opening his mouth. Tim frowns at it for a moment, confused, and then she sees the soft glow building in the back of the Drumbot’s throat. “Oh shit.”

Tim & The Toy Soldier, just outside the shooting range, 9 left alive, 1 footless, 1 eaten

Tim grabs the Toy Soldier and pulls it with her as she bolts to the door, just as a jet of flame shoots out of Brian’s mouth.

“Since when can he do that?” she yelps, flattening herself against a wall to avoid being scorched.

“Oh, that is interesting!” TS declares, peeking around the doorframe. Tim nods. “So. To catch you up. There’s some sort of Bifrost related demon-creature loose on the ship, it is currently inside Brian’s body and appears to be controlling him. Fire can’t kill it. Oh, and it ate Mare.”

The Toy Soldier nods, bouncing on the balls of its feet. “So?”

Tim blinks, then shrugs. “We kill it, I suppose. At least get it out of Brian.”

“How do we do that?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!”

Another jet of flame shoots past them, followed by what sounded oddly like a frustrated grunt. The thing still hasn’t actually followed them into the hall, which is a good sign, if somewhat nonsensical. Tim flinches further back instinctively, feeling the heat in her eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confesses. “I don’t know how to get it out without opening Brian up, and he won’t like that. And I can’t even get close to it when it’s breathing fire at us like that.”

“Hmm,” the Toy Soldier hums a thoughtful note. Tim bites her lip, thinking, then lets out a soft laugh. “I’m glad I’m here with you and not Nastya,” she tells TS. “She’d probably suggest kissing it.”

There’s an awkward clank from the shooting range, followed by the sounds of a struggle. Tim glances at TS, who shrugs. “I could kiss it!”

“Could you?” Tim frowns again. “I mean.. I suppose it would just be kissing Brian, wouldn’t it, unless.. D’you think that would work? The kissing?”

“Possibly!” the Toy Soldier sounds positively thrilled about the prospect. “I’m very good at it, you know!”

“I feel like making out with the eldritch blob possessing our crewmate is a bit extreme,” Tim says, peeking around to corner to see what’s happening in the shooting range. What she sees gives her pause.

Brian seems to be fighting back against the thing holding his body hostage. He’s standing in the room where they left him, and every so often he takes a jerky, strained step forward, like he’s having to force himself to step. Although in this case its more likely that he’s trying to stop himself from taking a step. He looks pained, and Tim feels that familiar protective rage rising in her, that feeling of no he’s mine you can’t hurt him. All thoughts of kissing fade away, and she steps out, pistol in hand, and marches back into the shooting range.

“Brian,” she says, and the Drumbot’s head lifts slightly, his eyes still leaking sludgy iridescence. “Bri. Hey. I know you can hear me. Uh. I’m going to do something, and it might be.. A bit uncomfortable for you, but it will hopefully work out in the long run. So do me a favor and… stop fighting it for a moment? Just a moment.”

Brian gives her a wary look, but nods stiffly, clearly using every bit of control he has left. Then he lets go. His face goes blank, and his mouth opens, that glowing heat making another appearance. With a grimace, Tim lifts her pistol and fires.

The bullet flies true, carving straight through the flamethrower mechanism in the back of Brian’s throat and exiting out the back of his head. There’s an inhuman screeching sound, and Brian jerks once as the creature, with its main source of power destroyed, crawls out of the hole left behind.

Brian shudders once, then raises a hand to touch the new hole in his head.

“You alright?” Tim asks, stepping forward. “You.. you?”

“I’m fine,” Brian reassures her. “That could have obliterated my vocal cords, but I’m alright.”

“You’re welcome,” Tim says, tossing her braid back over her shoulder smugly.

“I don’t want to ruin the good mood,” TS says, peeking into the room curiously. “But, where did it go?”

Tim and Brian both freeze, locking terrified eyes. And then the lights go out.

Raphaella, Lyfrassir, Nastya, Ivy: In the dark. 9 left alive, 1 eaten, 1 footless

When the lights go out, someone screams. It’s Lyf. Raphaella shoots them a glare over her shoulder, aware of their ability to see in the dark.

“Sorry,” they whisper. Raphaella frowns. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” they admit. “It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Aurora?” That’s Nastya’s voice, coming from just ahead of them. She sounds worried. “Aurora, please say something. Please tell me if you’re hurt. Aurora?”

“Nas?” Raphaella moves forward, stretching a hand out until she bumps into the engineer’s shoulder. Nastya grabs her hand and gives it a quick squeeze, an indication that she’s here and she’s alright. “Raph, good. Is Lyfrassir still with you?”

“Right here,” Lyf says, still whispering. “Where’s Ivy?”

“Here as well,” the archivist pipes up from the other side of Nastya. “Everyone’s okay, as far as we can tell, Aurora simply.. Stopped.”

“Do you think it got to her?” Lyf asks, shifting nervously behind Raphaella.

“It better not have,” Nastya snaps, her concern for her girlfriend evident in her voice.

Raphaella squeezes Nastya’s shoulder and looks around, cursing the fact that she hasn’t given herself night vision yet. “Ives, can you get ahold of Bri?”

Ivy nods and closes her eyes, typing out a message to Brian in her brain. After a moment, she nods again and announces, “He’s alright. Tim and the Toy Soldier are with him. It took control of his body, but they got it out of him and he’s barely hurt.”

“That’s good!” Raphaella exclaims, giving Nastya’s shoulder another squeeze. “That means Aurora should be fine, once we get it out of her!”

Nastya nods, expression growing determined. “How do we get it out of her?”

“Um, I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Lyf says, sounding a bit shaky. “But there is something wrapped around my leg.”

They sound afraid, but not panicked or in pain, which causes Raphaella to frown. They don’t even sound urgent. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine, it isn’t hurting me. It’s more… it’s like it’s hugging me.”

“Didn’t you say you made it out of their blood?” Ivy inquires, and Raphaella nods. “Perhaps it recognizes them as one of its own.”

“I don’t like the implications of that,” Lyf says quietly, then gives a determined shake of their head. “Right. Now is not the time for a Bifrost-related panic attack.”

“We can use this,” Raphaella perks up suddenly. “We can use your connection to it, Lyffy, to… something.”

Silence falls as the four of them think on it. And then Ivy speaks up. “I have something from Brian. He met up with Jonny and Ashes, and Jonny has an idea. He just needs us to lure it into something smaller and able to be picked up.”

“Can we do that?” Raphaella glances to Lyf, who nods. “Great. Let’s go.”

Lyfrassir, the kitchen. Same situation.

The kitchen is dark and eerie when Lyf enters, stepping carefully over the seething tendrils rising from the floor, grabbing at their legs. It’s almost possessive, the way it reaches for them, curling around them with its oozing tentacles. They can almost hear it talking to them, in their head, whispering mine mine mine. It terrifies that, but they shove it aside to think about later, once they’ve got this dealt with. Instead they focus on locating something small and liftable to lure the thing into. They find something almost instantly.

As they approach the object they’ve chosen, their Bifrost-enhanced eyes land on something in the middle of the floor, a moving shape.

“Hey, babe,” they say, stepping lightly over the half-formed Marius Von Raum to the counter.

“Hi,” fae groans, conscious enough for at least that. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lyf replies, placing their hands gently on the object they want to bring the creature into, watching it curl up around their arms and moving down the walls toward them, chasing the contact. “And… there we are.”

In a flash, Jonny comes pelting into the room. He grabs Small Brian the electric mixer from Lyf’s hands, and as the lights come on he races down the corridor, and the sound of a door sliding open can be heard.

“What did you do?” Brian demands as the first mate reappears, smugly dusting off his hands.

“Tossed it out the airlock,” Jonny grins.

“Right, ‘cause throwing all our problems out an airlock always works,” Ashes snorts. Jonny frowns. “It does.”

Tim shakes her head. “Oh, you are so lucky I can’t roll my eyes too hard without fucking up my face, D’Ville.”

Brian looks gutted. “You- you threw- Small Brian?”

Jonny freezes. “Oh- oh shit, Bri- I didn’t- Shit shit shit.”

“We’re getting it back,” Brian says, folding his arms and glaring. “As soon as Aurora’s recovering, we’re getting it back.”

“How do we know that that thing will die out there and not just… devour a star system?” Lyf asks. Jonny shrugs. “That’s not our problem.”

“I… fair enough,” Lyf sighs, and casts a last look toward the airlock before going to help Marius up.

Brian & Raphaella: Everyone alive and well

They get everything on the ship back in order quickly. Marius is back, and is being regaled with the tales of what he missed by Lyf and Tim. As soon as Aurora is ready to move again, Brian takes her to pick up Small Brian, and he carries the mixer reverently back to its place in the kitchen. “You’re a hero,” he whispers to it, before kissing the top of it lightly. He then gathers all the ingredients to make another cake, a real one this time.

Just as he’s setting up to get everything made, Nastya comes marching out of the corridor from where she’s been checking up on Aurora, a flamethrower in hand.

“Right,” she says, firing up the weapon. “Where are the fuckers who got my girlfriend possessed?”

Raphaella and Brian glance at each other, knowing this was coming. With a grin, Raphaella runs over and grabs Brian’s hand, pulling him after her down the hall and away from the vengeful engineer.

Nastya curses and follows, and Raphaella lifts off the ground, sweeping Brian into her arms bridal-style to easier carry him. He yelps, and then laughs, twisting to look down and watch Nastya chase after them, looking furious.

Raphaella rounds into a tight corner and sets down, letting Brian back on his feet. They’re both giggling, and Brian buries his face in her shoulder, grinning widely. She kisses his hair and strokes it lightly, running her fingers around the edges of the hole in the back of his neck.

Nastya finds them like that, rounding the corner and hefting her flamethrower with a malicious glimmer in her eyes. “There you are,” she hisses, and this time there’s nowhere to run.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Raphaella murmurs to Brian as she pulls back, and he takes her hand.

“Love you always,” he replies, and she leans over to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”

And together, they face their fate.

36 notes · View notes

mavda · 3 years

Text

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) | Ch.7(4) | Ch.7(5) | Ch.8(1) |

Ch.8: Without you (2)

Lord Minato finds Hinata crouched over her husband. With chakra veins popping out near her eyes, using her technique to release and control the unruly chakra inside Naruto's body. Her eyes scan Naruto and her hands move steady and fast, without missing a beat.

"Lady Hinata."

She keeps on working without raising her eyes, "Yes?"

Minato sits beside Naruto and steals a glance to the plate near the lady, half-eaten. Minato sits silent, then looks over Naruto’s body. His son is starting to look a little leaner now, although nothing to worry about, Sakura reassured him… yet. His eyes travel then from the hands pressing over Naruto’s chakra points to reach Lady Hinata.

“You haven’t eaten.”

Hinata presses her lips together, she keeps on releasing chakra points. “I did.” She doesn’t look away, and decidedly doesn’t look to the plate she knows is half-full near her. Her appetite is almost non-existent now, but out of fear of people worrying over her she hasn’t shared her situation. It seems her time’s up.

Minato stares at his son’s face. They have talked about Lady Hinata, him and Shikamaru, Sakura, even Kiba and Sai. Out of respect and worry they have let her do as she wanted, but surely there is a limit to this, too.

“You look like you’ll faint any minute now,” he shares, without a hint of accusation in his voice.

She doesn’t respond, Minato knows this will be received with opposition so he looks to his son for strength. “I will have to ask you to stop using your technique on Naruto until you regain your strength.”

Hinata stops mid-movement, feels too shocked to look up. “W-what?”

“You look like you’ll fall over any minute now, it is not healthy.”

Hinata sits on her heels, brings her hand to her thighs and looks up after releasing her technique. She feels hurt, betrayed. She’s helping.

She’s helping… right?

“N-naruto-”

“Would agree with me and you know it.” Minato doesn’t look at her, his eyes are glued to his son, “when has he ever wanted to put you under distress?”

Hinata opens her mouth to answer back, say something and fight for her right to help her husband in any way she can. But her lower lip trembles, “I-” she shudders.

“I know,” Minato says, stronger this time, “that you are doing this to help.” He looks in her direction, but doesn’t look at her, “but… don’t put yourself under… this amount of stress. I know you’re worried, Lady Hinata, but-”

“It’s b-been s-six days…”

Minato nods, slow, lazy, because he doesn’t want to agree. “I’m not saying you can’t do it, all I’m saying is take care of yourself first and then-”

“Does this… does t-this help?”

Minato takes a moment to choose his words, because Lady Hinata is so obviously under stress that he wants to-

“At all?” she adds.

“Yes,” he answers immediately and then regrets it the second after. “It helps in the long run, yes, but now… now it’s just his body making sense of the mess I left inside of him.” He doesn’t want to even mention the idea that by releasing the chakra points inside of him it might cause Naruto’s body to have a harder time to acclimate to the swirl of chakras inside. He wonders, but he hasn’t shared that with anyone but Shikamaru. They don’t know though. They don’t know so they don’t say anything.

Hinata nods to herself. Thank the gods. At least… something.

The days have come and gone and come and gone and she just wants this to be over. The hope she started with, that Naruto would wake the next day, and then the next day, and then… her hope is dwindling and she's scared and yet she doesn't say much because if she speaks it aloud then she's making it real.

And she can't handle that.

"What a-about Naruto's g-godfather?"

"He's coming."

Hinata frowns, he's been coming for a while now. "W-when will he-"

"A month if he's fast, if everything goes according to plan."

Minato can feel Lady Hinata tensing, without looking at her, without being close to her. He knows. She's imagining herself waiting for that long of a time… he understands.

"Lady Mito…" Hinata says in a daze, her brain is just trying to find a solution to this whole ordeal, desperate to find an end to all of this. "She s-said she could t-take the Be-"

"It's too dangerous." Minato shakes his head. Gods, he has gone through this with Mito enough already, she shouldn't have said any of this to the lady. Especially now.

Lady Hinata bites her lips in an attempt to stop herself from speaking, but even Minato can see that his answer is far from ideal. "She shouldn't- she shouldn't have talked to you about that."

"I-if it could h-help…"

"Lady Hinata… Mito, she- this whole scenario is so uncertain and its cons surpass the pros so heavily that the clan has decided not to go for it. It is not worth it."

His wording is awful, he realizes, the moment Lady Hinata's face hardens and she looks down. So Minato keeps on talking.

"There is a chance, just a chance, this could work. But then what? Sealing the Beast inside Naruto again would kill him and we don't know whether Mito would make it until a new vessel is born. And if it doesn't? There is a chance it doesn't work, too, and then Mito dies and Naruto dies because his body won't be able to take the Beast again, and there is no new vessel and we have the Nine-Tail Beast roaming around, without a chance of controlling it." His breathing is labored and his voice has risen in volume and Minato hates the thoughts that now swirl inside of his head. "And… that doesn't even matter because Naruto won't accept her offer anyways."

Hinata bites down the need to say that now Naruto can't say whether he accepts the offer or not, because Lord Minato's reaction is enough to tell her that they have talked about this before. And Naruto has surely made his decision clear before.

Hinata begins to think that maybe she somewhat understands Lord Minato's resignation back when they came back from the arena. A conclusion to the many emotions that flow within when facing this situation. So little can be done that resignation is all that's left.

Hinata looks at Naruto, who sleeps peacefully, and caresses his blonde hair. "Will he d-die when they take the B-Beast from him then?"

"No," Minato brings his head up, lets it fall back, "I mean, now. If we took the Beast now, or say, five years from now, he would have a healthy although shortened life. But it just… don’t think too much about it, please, Naruto won’t do it and,” he breathes out, remembers the many discussions late into the night with his son. The hushed whispers, the pleas. “It is dangerous for him, he won’t be able to go through with another full sealing of the Beast.”

Hinata thinks of Lady Mito, of her statements, and then about the information Naruto has shared with her regarding him as a Beast Tamer, “because he’s a m-man?”

“No.” Minato concentrates on a frayed thread on his clothes, “his lifespan is shorter when compared to a female vessel, yes, but whichever case, no vessel has ever been able to withstand sealing the Nine-Tails twice.”

“But L-Lady Mito-”

“She’s a special case,” Minato sighs, “she… her husband was a genius and he basically restored the energy she had spent sealing the Nine-Tails.”

Hinata frowns and stares and her mind is trying to process this information. “You c-can?”

“Not us, not anybody that has tried it, either. Not me, not my master, no one. We have the knowledge, we just can’t put it into practice, and I will say it now, do not hope for that to work. Mito’s husband was in a league of his own.” Minato knows, holding those parchments where the technique was written down, with careful annotations to whoever would read it in the future. It looked like a gift. It’s a mockery. “Mito married Hashirama Senju, Lady Hinata.”

Hinata can’t help the shock on her face. The strongest man the current world had seen, the man that stopped the war between clans fighting over the Beasts. The man that handled the Nine-Tails without having to use a vessel.

"I didn't-"

"It is not a secret, but it's not something that's easily found either. He… he had a gift with chakra manipulation and his techniques… he just could do it, and he did it. And even with that, undergoing the sealing of the Nine-Tails again could kill her. It's just not worth it."

"You… said, you had t-the technique w-written down…"

"Believe me, Lady Hinata," Minato feels he could laugh out loud at this, "we have tried everything to see if we could use it. It didn't. It won't. Please… just do not think about it as a possibility."

They remain in silence then, and Hinata drags her fingers over Naruto’s cheek. A caress.

"We have to k-keep treating Naruto with the H-Hyuga t-technique."

"My lady-"

"It doesn't h-have to be me. Neji… he's still a-around, is he not?"

⁂⁂⁂

Neji follows a man called Sai to a room deep into the compound. Close to the one where Lady Hinata rested back when he was escorting her.

She waits for him with her back straight, her eyes fixed to the floor.

"Lady Hinata," Neji greets.

"Plase t-take a seat."

There are few explanations and even fewer glances from her. She explains that he will have to keep close to her, as all he sees from now on is confidential. He nods and keeps quiet, and Lady Hinata says everything she had to say.

"Have you… h-have you been w-well?"

Neji can't help the smile that tries to creep up on him. "Yes, Lady Hinata. I was able to find work in the outer compounds, I have been able to live without worry while I was away."

Hinata keeps her face blank, but the tone in her voice, the way she has to force her eyes to keep away from him. He's glad.

The sliding door opens and Sai enters, a letter in his hands. Neji frowns and even Hinata shows signs of surprise.

"A servant came to give this to you, my lady, it's addressed directly."

Hinata cocks her head in confusion. She has never received a letter while she was inside the Uzumaki compound. She doesn't remember ever receiving a letter while she was in the Hyuga compound either.

Neji half stands, one knee on the floor. "My lady."

Sai gives him a glance, but doesn't do more.

Hinata takes the letter in her hands and Neji catches the seal on the letter. He stands, "My lady," and Sai grabs him by the collar.

“I would advise you to keep seated.”

But Neji can’t keep his eyes from the letter. “My lady,” he struggles, but Sai doesn’t move, “my lady if you would please hand me the letter.”

Hinata frowns and looks at Neji with growing frustration, “It is a-addressed to m-me.”

“Yes, but,” Neji places his hands in Sai’s shoulders, in an attempt to let him know he means no harm, that he is not a threat, “then, if you could hand it to Lord Minato, to Lord Shikamaru, even, just- please-”

Hinata can’t explain the growing need inside of her to go against whatever Neji has asked her to do. A mixture of late rebellion and the need for something to just go how she wants it to go without worrying about anything else. She opens the letter in between Neji’s pleas, “Sai,” and now she has more questions than ever, “let N-Neji go.”

Sai lets Neji free but the man stands there, watching as Hinata moves her eyes across the message, realizing who sent it and why. Neji can only think of how much this rests on Lord Minato’s and Lord Shikamaru’s shoulders, they ought to have done a better job.

Hinata stares at the letter, looks at it from top to bottom, turns the page and plays with the seal, “What… what d-does this m-mean?”

Neji sits on the floor again, “I think you should talk with Lord Minato first, Lady Hinata.”

“Well, I’m a-asking y-you.”

Neji remains silent and Hinata doesn’t know what comes over her again, but there is so much anger inside of her, and the letter in between her hands makes her so confused she knows if she doesn’t get an answer now... “It’s- it’s an o-order.”

Both Neji and Sai steal a glance at her, but then Sai stares back at him and Neji tries his best to concoct some sort satisfactory explanation regarding-

“N-now.”

It takes Neji two seconds to remember where it all started, “Lord Naruto received a letter from Lord Hiashi and he asked for my help.”

There, enough of an explanation.

“Did you… did you c-copy my handwriting?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Lord Naruto requested my help.”

“...why?”

“He… he did not want for you to feel burdened.”

Hinata could ask again what he meant by that, but it’s obvious. As she read the letter, as she heard Neji answering her questions. Her father wanted to know information regarding the Uzumaki clan, information regarding her relationship with Naruto, information regarding how soon she thought she could bear an heir.

What was strange was her father letting her go without a word. She didn’t… she didn’t think twice about it, on the one hand it made sense, he had never cared too much about his daughters, so Hinata had thought he would ask a favor of her years from now, but… of course he wouldn’t, and yet she didn’t care. She had felt glad he had cut communication with her.

He hadn’t.

But because Naruto saw her relationship with her father he had kept her away from it.

“Sai… please g-guide Neji to his r-room.”

The men leave and Hinata reads the letter again, folds it and puts it in its envelope. She walks to the room where Naruto is immediately after.

⁂⁂⁂

Lord Minato accepts the letter without a word and when Hinata asks him about it he answers without doubt.

“Naruto… He didn’t want you to keep in contact with your father if it wasn’t good for you, so he called for Neji, asked some questions and then decided that all letters from your father would go through him first. I guess… this whole ordeal has made keeping track of things more difficult and without Naruto overseeing things...”

“I understand.”

Lord Minato puts the letter away. “If the letters were different than what they were he would have given them to you directly, ask for forgiveness… it just…”

They were never letters in which he cared for her, Hinata realizes. She nods.

“Will you answer the letters from now on?”

“No… let’s have N-Neji keep a-answering them.”

Hinata can feel Lord Minato’s eyes on her, “I am sorry we kept this from you.”

“No… I really u-understand.”

“Naruto, he…”

“Please,” Hinata closes her eyes. She knows. She knows.

Lord Minato keeps quiet until Neji arrives, Sai in tow.

Naruto lies on his futon and Hinata rises to move away from him, leaving a space for Neji to kneel beside him. “Y-you already know h-how to do this, s-so…”

Neji gives Lord Minato a bow before kneeling. Lord Naruto looks leaner than before, and Neji feels somewhat distraught at seeing him so defenseless. A man who seemed to be able to move mountains, now unable to wake up.

Leaving Lady Hinata behind.

Neji activates his technique, chakra veins popping around his eyes and then he stops immediately, whips his head around to stare at Lady Hinata, who looks at him back filled with confusion.

“N-Neji?”

Neji turns back, concentrates his technique on Lady Hinata’s body, then does a search around them, the room, the building, the gardens, the whole inner compound. Right now, in the room, there is only him, Lord Minato, Lady Hinata and Sai guarding outside. Whatever he says won’t be heard by anyone else. And yet when he turns -his technique released- he whispers.

“Lady Hinata… you’re pregnant.”

#naruto #naruhina #fanfic #fanfiction #Hinata Hyuga #Naruto Uzumaki #beast tamers #ch.8 #part 2 #Also I forgot to mention it last chapter but did you know that Kushina is not in fact Mito's daughter??#She's just a member of the Uzumaki clan I don't know why I had it in my mind that they were related by blood lol #Of course in here they are actual mother and daughter but just in case you know I'm letting you know (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)#Thank you so very much for the likes and the reblogs #I read the tags (づ￣ 3￣)づ #also #again last chapter I wrote chapter 7 part 5 when it was chapter 8 part 1 #I don't even know man lol #take care and see you next week!!

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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since its may, you know what that means mermay, imagine being a fisher person that some how gain the attention of giant shark mermen, always following you no matter how far you go, just to get you're attention

I did make this a bit of a Pirate AU for My Hero Academia, if only because I can’t resist the temptation to shove Siren!Todoroki into every oneshot I can. Roll with it. The ends justify the means.

Title: Stranded.

TW: Implied Drowning, Blood, Physical Violence and Mentions of Canabilism.

Loneliness could do strange things to a person.

A month ago, you wouldn’t have considered yourself much of a dreamer. You would’ve laughed off the idea of sea monsters and fairies and anything could only be verified by a handful of eye-witnesses. You weren’t the type to talk to the walls or gaze out into the sea with anything more than mild loathing, and yet, you’d only refused to acknowledge Shoto’s existence for a day or two, three at most. Maybe he was a figment of your imagination, maybe he wasn’t. At the moment, he was real to you, and that was all that mattered.

If he was a hallucination, he was a lovely one. In the dim light of dusk, rays of orange and pink spread across his scales, just beginning to glow in the soft darkness. He was a predator, judging from the fiery red dotting his otherwise stark-white form, and a rather efficient one at that, the sharpened teeth poking out from thin lips always varnished with the blood whatever he chose to bring you, that day. Mindlessly, you leaned over the side of your lifeboat, letting your fingers skin through the surface of the water, drawing Shoto’s attention. You watched as he began to circle the disruption, a strong tail propelling him ever-closer. He wouldn’t attack, you knew that, by now. You almost wished he would. An injury would be proof of his existence, even if it came in an unpleasant way.

Just as Shoto was about to break the surface, a voice drew you to the other side of the rig. “The minnow’s back, isn’t he?”

You frowned, slightly, scanning over Katsuki. He was leaning against the opposite side of the lifeboat, eyes shut and head tilted back, his white tunic unbuttoned to escape the heat. Back on Izuku’s ship, the two of you hadn’t been the best of friends, but relationships didn’t matter when you were fleeing a sinking haul, attempting to escape a water-logged grave by whatever means necessary. He wasn’t bad company, either, just… quiet. Skeptical. You couldn’t blame him, you were a stranger as much as he was. “You really shouldn’t call him that,” You mumbled, turning your attention back to the swirling colors. “He hunts for us. It’s the least we could do to be nice to him.”

That got you a glance from the corner of his eye, but you were preoccupied, by then. Shoto had gotten over his initial shyness, and after a thorough investigation of your raft, he was making himself comfortable in the palm of your hand, rubbing his cheek against your skin in a sloppy attempt to gather as much affection as he could. You guessed he had to be partially human, in that aspect, desperate for intimacy from any source that would be willing to give it up. You just smiled, petting through long, wet hair as Katsuki shifted behind you. “It’s an animal who found someone to scratch behind its ears. It probably thinks it can, like, lay its eggs in you or something.”

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes towards Shoto. He mimicked the gesture, poorly, and you ruffled his hair as a reward. “Do mermaids lay eggs?”

“Hell if I know,” He grunted, beginning to sit up. “And hopefully, we’ll be rescued before either of us have to find out. If the fucker’s even real.” The boat rocked as Katsuki stood, carefully making his way to your side. The lifeboat dipped, but the wind was dead and the waves were calm enough for him to lean over with you, watching as Shoto temporarily drew back, slitted eyes flickering momentarily towards your companion. The bioluminesce below his pale skin grew a little brighter, and clawed hands came up to take your wrist, clinging to you protectively. You laughed, and Katsuki bristled, as put off by this action as any other Shoto had taken. “Because we are going to be rescued, soon, and your little pet isn’t coming with us.”

You didn’t respond, not verbally, but he must’ve seen the concern that spread over your expression, the doubt. There was a sigh, exhausted and drained, but soon, Katsuki’s head was resting on your shoulder, a small, reassuring sign, one that went further than any words of affirmation he could summon ever could. “It’s going to happen,” He assured, that mocking drawl absent from his weighted tone. “I know this trade route like the back of my hand. Eventually, a merchant is going to pass by and we’ll be on-track for the nearest island. We can figure things out, from there.”

“That, or our supplies run out, and we have to draw straws to figure out which one of us gets eaten first,” You counter, only half-joking. “I’ll even give Shoto one of your kidneys.”

“Fuck off,” He spat, but he was grinning, an elbow soon jabbing at your ribs. “You’re eating the fish before you’re eating me.”

Something in Katsuki’s voice must’ve bothered Shoto, the creature’s tail beginning to move a little faster, churning the water around him. He let go of your arm, sinking just below the surface, but he didn’t move to swim away. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was pouting, getting ready to throw a fit like an unattended toddler. You nudged Katsuki’s side, nodding towards Shoto’s oncoming tantrum, hoping his goodwill would last. “You should try comforting him, this time. I think you two would get along, if you made an effort.”

He grunted, shooting you a glare, but with only the slightest bit of reluctance, he was rolling up his sleeves, mimicking the way you traced your fingertips over the surface, trying to lure Shoto upward. There was a moment of stillness, Shoto looking towards the display wearily, and you opened your mouth, prepared to tease Katsuki for the cold dismissal, only for your breath to hitch in your throat before the words could ever make it off your tongue. Without warning, Shoto lunged forward, his jaw closing around Katsuki’s wrist and jerking him over the lifeboat’s wall, or attempting to, at least, Katsuki barely catching himself. Reflexively, you scrambled backward, attempting to keep the raft balanced, but there was little you could do to help Katsuki as he grappled with the creature, cursing and clawing blindly, fighting, only inspiring Shoto to be more bold with his efforts. There was a hollow thud from the bottom of the boat, a final, wordless scream from Katsuki, and he was dragged into the sea, a cloud of something cloudy and dark following the pair as they spiraled downward.

You were too stunned to act, for a moment, but reality hit quickly and it hit hard, your heart racing as you frantically searched the water for a sign of either man. There was a faint light in the distance, but it was distorted, deep, already leagues away from the surface, and the only traces of Katsuki were scraps of clothing and strips of disembodied flesh, torn loose in the struggle. Time seemed to slow, your breathing labored, halting completely as Shoto rose back to the surface, alone.

Painfully, painfully alone.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, but Shoto didn’t seem to care, staring up at you expectantly. If he could smile, he might’ve, but you couldn’t seem to focus on the thought.

Not when those jagged, awful teeth of his were coated in a fresh layer of red.

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