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hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years

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Scattered AU Masterpost Part 2 [COMPLETE]

Due to post length limit (which is apparently a thing), this AU has been split into two parts. Find Part 1 here!

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Contributions:

- Mumbo has a pet ravager miscellaneous ideas: the ravager is actually a bit small as far as ravagers go. Once Mumbo leaves to go to the hermits, he doesnt take the ravager with him, for fear the environment wouldn't be right for it. However, the ravager follows him and Iskall, startling both when it comes running up to Mumbo. The ravager does not like any of the hermits, however it doesn't attack them because it can understand that Mumbo cares about them. - anonymous

- related to scattered au and "what if this happened to old hermits too" -- python's stuck in a death loop in a bastion (his spawn is right next to a piglin brute). he has no clue what's going on but by god, does he blame zloy - Anonymous

- Consider: Etho's mask protecting him from the flowers that gave Hypno so much trouble. - @/rayveewrites

- (Scattered AU) After Etho dies accidentally at the spawn haven, his spawn takes him to Xisuma. Xisuma is clinging to life when he gets there, and Etho only has time to grab his admin's arms and promise he'll be found before Xisuma passes away. Etho and Xisuma get a few hours together to work on getting Xisuma to the surface before Etho starves to death, and he's transported somewhere else. After that Etho makes it his mission to cycle through spawns as quickly as possible to help Xisuma and anyone else who is trapped in their spawn graveyard, no matter how much his legs start to fail him from the damage starting to linger from building into the sky and leaping off to respawn over and over. - @/petrichormeraki

- Some honorable mentions from my written summary for mumbo in the au: the illigers being terrified as he keeps coming back no matter how many times they kill him; he gets adopted by evoker; he fails at evoker magic, like so bad he cant even dye a sheep; the evoker being so done with mumbo that they beg the vex to give him magic; mumbo summoning scar when the vex get annoyed at how often he summons them, mumbo eventually summoning bdubs after scar's contract to mumbo runs out.... and so much more - @/therainofsweetmelody

- Moobloom!Hypno attracts bees - @/itsabork

- Not too long into his messenger journey, etho remembers what had happened to impulse by the time he, zed and tango had found him, which inspires him to try and die in a different way each time he sets off to find another hermit, partly to avoid becoming resiliant to certain death methods and partly for the challenge - Anonymous

- Because Doc hasn't died his death messages haven't been showing up in the chat. The other hermits don't know if he's even in the same world as them. - Anonymous

- (Scattered AU) More on the Mumbo accidentally summoning Scar thing; the summoning has "opened" the chat for them, but only between Mumbo and Scar. All evokers can call on their Vex, after all, so why not an evoker in more-or-less training? - @/petrichormeraki

- (alternate headcanon) There's so much discussion in the server, I wouldn't know where to start restating. However, I wanna mention one thing: scar spawning in xisuma's first spawn, deep in a geode down under ground. Being trapped in an endless death loop due to the warden lurking just outside the geode, forcing scar into the same loop xisuma had been trapped in so long ago. Not only does he have to deal with the separation from bdubs once they got out of the end, now he seemingly cant escape the warden's clutches.... - @/therainofsweetmelody

- Admins log who knows how long: I've finally managed to get my helmet some repairs with this I could get some plugins to start working hopefully. Considering the situation going on, I better not have derped to hard on this, not now. - Anonymous (singleplayer sleep now works)

- (Scattered AU) Because the code is glitchy for mob hermita, Jevin would spilt when injured too much. So while X and Jevin are trying to get to the surface, they encounter a dungeon or a mineshaft and Jevin gets fatally injured. X starts freaking out cause he doesent want to be alone again and he cant bear to watch Jevin die infront of him and risk getting lost and seperated and Jevin just splits, theres two Jevins now and X doesent know what to think of it.While there are two Jevins, their consienceness is split between the two and his motor skills are more sloppy and X notices and realises that Jevin loses more of himself the more he splits. So while he has a lower chance of losing Jevin to an unfortunate accident, Jevin slowly reverts to a slime the more be splits and the more be spends time as multiple entities. X worries that if Jevin splits for too long or too much, he might lose Jevin - @/itsabork

- The only portal to get out of Hels and into the overworld is an incredibly complex vault boarder line weapon built by Hels Doc and Hels Mumbo and the location of the portal is known only to a few and it changes every season. Now cue Helsknight and Wels sneaking all around Hels while trying to look for this basically impossible to find and get into way home. - anonymous

- It takes a while, but eventually those outside of hermitcraft start wondering why all the hermits collectively disappeared. Sure, they started a new world, and sure they’re usually more secluded, but it’s been months. Skizz wonders why he hasn’t heard from Impulse in a while. All the legates wonder where Python went. Everyone’s confused when none of the hermits turn up to the next MCC. Things get weirder when none of them sign up for the one after. -🟣

- Ok to add on to the daisy ravenger post, on his way to 0,0 Mumbo found spawn spawn, slo when he arrived everyone had him at sword point, expecting angry illiger noises they were surprised when they herd "GUYS IT'S ME!!" - Anonymous

(Note: Hermits at the haven currently include Joe, Beef, Hypno, Scar, Bdubs, TFC, Mumbo, and Iskall, in order of arrival. XB is en route, and Etho was there briefly before dying and respawning elsewhere.)

- Pix and Zloy would be the first to notice the hermits' absence. After all, they do a weekly show about them. Maybe they just decided to have a few weeks of downtime before moving to the next Season? Though surely it wouldn't take this long... - @/rayveewrites

- because im a legacy sucker, the legates would likely be the first to notice the hermits' disappearance. between zloy being on the server, skizz being part of zits and very close to impulse, pearl knowing a few hermits, plus python literally disappearing. what they'd do about it? no idea.to keep it more on the topic of hermits though, don't think about how devastated skizz would be to find out what impulse went through. don't think about it :) - anonymous

- Hello I have produced thoughts! I don’t have room for both so I’m sending 2 asks -when Iskall arrives at the mansion all of the illagers are wary; if one of mumbo’s friends are here then he must be leaving soon. Despite their initial feelings they’ve come to care about this idiot that wandered into their house, and they’re fully aware he has no survival instincts whatsoever, so when he does end up leaving they send a ravager to keep him (and his friends, they suppose) safe -@/haworthiaace

- so like... hear me out ok what if the reason the whole world is corrupting and weird and why a lot of people are like slowly turning into mobs is because maybe this is the way the game and the mobs are turning on the hermits for like making really inhumane farms or something like that and the mobs somehow messed with the code of the world to get revenge - anonymous

- Scattered AU!! Biffa spawned very concerned and on a beach. Where is he? How did he get here? Is he alone? Well one of his questions was answered quickly as he heard a constant buzzing sound come from his communicator, upon opening it he saw probably millions of death messages. He quickly realised this was probably supposed to be a new season of hermitcraft, but he didn't really have time to think about it, night was quickly approaching and he could already see drowned swimming towards him. - Anonymous

- How many times did X die to that Warden? Maybe he develops something to counteract the Warden’s sensors, or that his heartbeat slowed down to the point that his suit can barely pick it up (therefor making it harder for the Warden to track Xisuma down). -🦊

- Etho tried his best to fight the system and not get any new features from all his deaths. But, the game has its ways. Slowly, after every death he has, the less alive he comes back. (Undead!Etho, could be ghost, zombie variant, or skeleton variant) -@/harley-the-pancake

- Other hybrid characteristics Hypno gets of the moonbloom: His ears turn into golden cows ones, the horns grow in, he gets a tail, and little flowers grow though his hair and wrap around his horns. He can also grow flowers around him as long as he has dirt, but thankfully they dont do anything beyond smelling a lot stronger and smelling very nice (and maybe a bit of evoking certain reactions, but nothing beyond what normal flowers can do, ie lavender being calming, just a bit more intense) - anonymous

- Beetlejhost ended up in the world along with the hermits, spawning as if summoned: in the middle of a circle of beehives. His spawn is in the birch forest near the s8 spawn, and his presence spooks anyone who stumbles across him. He blends in concerningly well with the black and white of the forest. Beef feels like hes being watched whenever he goes in the birch forest to get supplies, but joe never notices a thing. He teases the hybrids about their changes, leading him to get swiftly decked- - @/therainofsweetmelody

- beetlejhost spawns in a circle of beehives in the birch forest near spawn. he thinks he's invis, in reality it's just his stripes making him blend into the birch trees. he can't leave the circle of bees, ah how wonderful it is to bee bee-tlejhost - @/justme123abz

- Beetlejhost doesn't mean to be mean, really, he just has really, really bad timing. This includes seeing a pollen-stained Hypno and, with his gravelly voice, immediately say "Woah! Someone had some fun in the sun! Tell me, did you spend a week rolling in dandilions or do you just like the color yellow?" This does not go over well - Anonymous

- Speaking of hybrids, Xisuma spawned in a Wardens den right? Well unlike the other hybrids, Xisuma has been changing too but its been slow. Every time he spawned back in that place, on the warped ground, he's changed. He doenst notice the dark starts to seem less dark, until noises get louder, until he's more sentive to it then he noticed, he gets stronger and breaking though the stone with his bare hands seems a bit easier, its not until he finds Jevin and he points out the glowing horns (1)peaking from his temples when his hair is pulled back hastily that he realizes that something has gone horribly wrong with him. Thankfully Jevin helps ground him before he can freak out, so he shelves it for later, once they're out of this cave. The warden that once was down by his spawn is no longer there btw, disappeared. The horns grow slowly, and soon glowing vein like markings appear as well. (2) - Anonymous

- Okay, Xisuma, we established he spawned in the deep dark, right? As time goes on he adapts to the dark. The skulk sensors grow on him. However as time goes on, they not only grow on him, but become a part of him. His footsteps quiet to near silence, and he can feel sounds. He certainly isn't how he was when he entered, at first glance he might even be mistaken for a warden. - Anonymous

- Tango is the only hermit other than Mumbo Daisy kind of likes. Tango thinks Daisy is absolutely adorable, and Daisy does like the positive attention(and the treats). - Anonymous

- When tango meets mumbo’s pet ravager he loses his mind, he tried so hard to get the decked out ravagers to like him and then mumbo just waltzes in riding on one of the things! He ends up hanging around her a lot and eventually forms some sort of relationship, although not as close as he would like (he also gets a little more sympathetic once he sees the effects the evokers had on mumbo, he figures the guy earned a pet ravager) - @/haworthiaace

(Hermits now at the spawn haven, in order of arrival: Joe, Beef, Hypno, Scar, Bdubs, TFC, Mumbo, Iskall, Tango, Impulse, Zedaph. XB is en route, Wels and Hels are traveling through Hels to get there, Ren, Doc, and Grian are attempting to get there but their success has been limited so far)

- Scattered!AU: Idea that Ex is the ONLY one that knows what is going on and how to fix it perhaps (maybe 'cause of having been banished to the void for so long)? That's why he's trying to find X. - Anonymous

- Admins log: day 1006: Me and Jevin finally see sunlight, and I've managed to get the clock function on my helmet working, finally. As we're on our way to the surface, I only hope that I can find someone or something to help guide us to where we need to go, but unfortunately I've lost all signal to chat, and I think we're next to a woodland mansion. I think I've derped up this time.

- Dear Xisuma, if you see this message then the log is working, also fixed the clock in your helmet it's been 50 days, not 1005. I was about to leave with Iskall when I noticed you and Jevin outside with a few, erm, "buddies" of mine you two where passed out and I managed to stop them from killing you with Daisy, my pet ravenger. I'll explain everything later and spawns in the village are working, finally. I recommend not moving much and work on the data packs for a bit before you do anything elseExplanation log to Xisuma part 2: Sorry if the last one got cut off abruptly, apparently there's a limit to these messages. Any way please take care of yourself. Sincerely, your pal Mumbo Jumbo

- Admins log, day 51: I first want to say thank you Mumbo for bringing me up to speed and explaining why and how me and Jevin are here, next I want to say that these logs may slow down for a bit, I'll be working on some maintenance for some packs. I still don't know why this is happening, I now hope this is a wicked nightmare and not our reality. Hang on I see something over there it looks like, wait let me ju- Voice logs are off for the moment.

- all one anon

- mooblooms spread the flowers that enraptured hypno. now that hypno is a moobloom hybrid, he can make people "hypnotizd"! he doesnt like to, but if the spawn ever gets attacked, the hermits are winning easily. - anonymous

- I like to think that at some point when there's a significant number of healthy hermits at 0,0 they start group searches to find the rest of hermits - anonymous

- After awhile, if they can't change the spawn of everyone, they begin securing all the spawn points to everyone, so if their bed is ever destroyed in the future, they won't end up in a death loop again. They secure the death loop spawn points first. - @/ciaravixen

- For undead Etho: I know that ghasts aren't technically undead mobs, but they're basically ghosts and that's what I feel etho is becoming?He's leaving his mortality behind bit by bit as he ceases to care about death and starts to use it as a tool instead.One day he'll respawn without a body at all - @/draconic-dreams

- This is just a thought. Sand cant be good for Iskall's mechanical parts, and its not like he has anything to fix it. Does he have to wait to find doc to be able to have hope of fixing himself? - anonymous

- Jellie had spawned in the village that cub and xb had come across, so when xb heads to 0,0 he takes her with him (she'd be safer in the overworld than in the end, after all). Its quite a long journey, and she makes for good company. -@/supertiny-tins

- Grian, Doc, and Ren fianlly start heading out to 0,0. Its a long journey, they decide in the end to leave their beds behind at the cabin in case any of them die so none of them end back at their orginal spawns. they would of just made new beds every time but the lack of suplies and resources near by has been low oddly enough. Doc manages to push aside most of his fears to help Grian and Ren, who are weaker, but he keeps his distance whenever he can. They make many hastily built huts as they go 1most nights are spent sleeping on hard ground, later straight up blocks of wool they find but not beds, just wool is better then ground, and it doesn't do the weaker hermits any favors but it works. There are many close calls, but they manage to avoid death, mostly due to Doc. Along the way they start to find signs of other players, coble in places it shouldn't, a rare torch, half mined trees, but no hermits. They still have a way to go, but they're getting closer to the others and safety. 2 - anonymous

- Etho once found himself spawning in the middle of an ocean with nothing and no one in sight except of course... A faint trail of lights dancing beneath the waves... Pulsing and glimmering, almost in a rhythm, something so fascinating, so... So... He was meant to be doing something...? It was... Important... At least... It might have been... It's all.. Kinda hazy... It couldn't have been more important than the lights, nothing was more important than the lights... They were so beautiful... He could watch them all day... Etho never noticed how he slipped beneath the waves, nor how the glow squid's glittering eyes had turned upon him, coiling a tentacle around his waist as it dragged its prey deep into the depths, his eyes hazed with green, he never even noticed his lungs burning for air.And he never remembered drowning after he respawned. - anonymous

- Impulse actually punches through the Nether roof so they can traverse more safely to coordinates given to them by Etho. They leave trails of blocks so they can make their way back, of course. - @/rayveewrites

(Evil X is now hiding out in a cave near spawn)

- Shattered!AU: I see everyone's Warden!Xisuma heacannons and I give you Axolotl!Xisuma. Think about it he's been hanging around with them and Jevin in the lush caves so maybe he's becoming more like them. (Frills, a more pink-ish tint to his skin, the ability to breathe underwater, etc.) :D (Is this because the thought of him having Warden traits is terrifying to me? Maybe. Is it because I think he deserves to become something not scary after his whole ordeal in the Deep Dark? Yes.) - anonymous

- Ever since getting out of the loop, Impulse has had a horrible inner conflict between his guardian side being instinctually drawn to the water, and his human brain being deeply terrified of ever being submerged again. - @/asexualbert

- Because I absolutely adore Daisy, more headcannons for Daisy.Daisy will occasionally just pick Mumbo up gently with her horns when she thinks she isn't getting enough attention. Daisy has a bell collar, because she kept scaring hermits by following Mumbo silently. Daisy is more okay with Iskall than most other hermits, though still doesn't really like him. - anonymous

- Though I'm a sucker for angst, what if Impulse was saved by a dolphin pod or something instead of transforming into a hybrid (or after transforming if Guardian!Impulse is cannon). :3 I can picture dolphins don't take kindly to the Guardian Mobs, might even find them as prey if anything since they're fish. (Guardian!Impulse wouldn't count since they're smart enough creatures to tell the difference.) - anonymous

- Prob a bit early for epilogue stuff but I like to think that, once all the glitches are fixed, that those that became hybrids and would prefer to be back to normal get changed back. - anonymous

(Shade note: Personally, I'm a sucker for stories where the characters adjust and learn to live with the unexpected changes to themselves rather than having them magically fixed, but this option is certainly still here for the people who find it appealing)

- For the scattered au, after the numerous frozen deaths Grian's gone through he starts hearing voices from the snow, even from within Ren's cabin. A snow golem forms after a wandering trader drops a pumpkin and watches from outside the cabin, deciding to guard the place after taking a liking to Grian and Ren. - anonymous

- When Etho became fully ghost, it hit hard. BeetleJhost saw this, and after a while decided to teach him how to show his form and speak. It takes a lot out of him, but it’s worth it. His friends deserve that closure. (Listen, I was expecting angst, I just wasn’t expecting that much angst.) - @/harley-the-pancake

- Mod Shade, I want you to know that angsting ghost!Etho that hard was entirely on you. I was picturing him clipping through blocks and dropping items at inconvenient points, not fading out of existence entirely. - @/draconic-dreams

- Possible explanation for everything going on in Scattered:Players were never supposed to be so powerful; in the natural state of Minecraft they're just another mob, albiet one that can craft and use any tool.But the Players weren't satisfied with that. Everyone from the admin of the smallest server to the mythological ‘dev team’ has been imposing little changes on the world since its inception, slowly tweaking it into a better environment for Player-kind.A single spawn at the world's centre. The ability of Players to chat from one end of the world to another -- even across different worlds. Even natural regeneration, an ability unique to the rarest and most powerful of mobs. As time marched on, Players not only unlocked these things but began to take them for granted, drawing far away from the behaviour of normal mobs. This became normal. Players continued to create datapacks and run commands that tweaked the very nature of the world. -@/draconic-dreams

(Shade note: Perhaps it was just a random glitch, one fundamental line of code removed to shift the balance of power. Or maybe it was orchestrated, but by who and for what purpose? Either way, it will take the Hermits a while to realize this, and even longer to fix it...if they can at all.)

- Jessasin spawned in a mesa biome, of course he's confused on how he got there and why he's in this random vanilla world and not his usual modded world, but both questions got pushed aside when the death messeges arrive. He exploared the area gathering as much recourses as he can and goes off too find someone, anyone really. - @/ghan-does-things

- hello! I discovered the scattered au literally yesterday so sorry if this is something that has already been gone over but I had an idea about bdubs, what if his constant exposure to the void and surviving on nothing but chorus fruit for who knows how long made him slightly enderman-y? 1/2 (sorry, couldn't fit the whole thing in one ask)Like nothing obvious at first, but making eye contact makes him agitated and snappy, touching water makes his skin tingle and if you look at him in the dark his eyes seem to have a very faint pink/purple glow about them? Maybe the other hermits swear he's taller than he was the last time they saw him? And the tips of his fingers are blackened, he assumes due to frostbite, but it seems to gradually be making it's way further up his hands? again sorry if this has been gone over already 2/2 - @/plantichu

- Okay so after Welsknight and Helsknight manage to get past the crazy vault door in Hels, not sure how but it probably involved a lot of cussing on Hels part and Wels saying that he never wanted to look at redstone ever again. The portal takes them to the overworld near Xisuma and Jevin. - anonymous

- (scattered au) The first set of non hermits to join this corrupt world are two strangers that apparently came from infinity's grasp. The good news they both spawned at spawn, bad news the brought the tnt duper flying machines, good news that everyone was able to calm them both down. Now the fun begins. Tldr Illmango and Methodz finally get out of the infinity portal. - anonymous

- Loving the Scattered AU. Late to the party, but was looking at the wider MC community reaction to the Hermits vanishing. Once it's clear something bad's happened, would the Legacy crew and whoever else (former Evo squad members like Martyn and Jimmy as well, if they notice Grian go dark) take steps to find out what happened? Would they go to the MCC server (it's kind of a nexus between worlds) & get Noxcrew to try "pinging" the HC server? Would X & other admins see it but be unable to respond? - @/wixelt

- I dont know if anyone has mentioned it but uhhhh, guardian xb? he was a guardian hybrid before everyone got scattered like Ren was already a wolf/dog hybrid. iirc xb spawned in a desert which would be a very interesting place for a guardian hybrid to spawn - anonymous

- Etho has been so, so desperate to avoid dying the same way twice, to stay himself. He hasn't drowned that many times, he thinks. Surely, surely he's starved more often? There's a strange feeling of deja vu hanging over him when he respawns in the ocean, though he can never understand why. Each time the squid finds him, he drowns a little slower, and each time, he glows a little stronger.And he just can't understand, almost refuses to, as he treks from biome to biome, where the small green bumps that line his arms and face came from, how his fingertips seem to almost glow when he scoops a handful of water, how long he finds himself simply staring… at the moon, at sea lanterns, at torches, at lights… He would die a different way every time. He had to. He had to stay Etho. He would not become anything else. - Anonymous

- When Mumbo comes riding into camp on Daisy, it’s easy to see Impulse is not happy about the ravager being there. That’s expected, it’s not exactly everyone’s favorite mob to see around a safe haven. But when Mumbo and Impulse make eye contact, the evoker can’t help but make a simple warding gesture his friends at the mansion taught him- it’s a reflex move. Days later, Mumbo still isn’t sure if Impulse flinched because of Daisy’s sudden growl or his ward. - @/fluffy-papaya

- (From the Discord) What happened to the world: For years, seeds and the land they built had been carefully curated by those known as players, in an effort to make it both easier and more interesting for themselves. But the land doesnt want to be controlled. Their glitched, broken world is a result of the world itself rioting against their presence. Coordinates aren't visible with the debug screen, their coms only serve the world, to tell the players what it knows. Compasses spin wildly in the overworld, for there is no "world spawn" (though coordinates are visible with one in hand. Small mercies are still given). The world resists any further changes by the simple fact it refuses to accept what a hermit communicates. Maybe it's fixable, but maybe... maybe it runs deeper than just their world. (The Legates caused a lot of damage with all those withers, after all.) - @/basaltdragon

- While Iskall is in the desert, he ends up dying quite a few times, enough to adapt, he becomes like a stray, so now, if we have skeleton Etho, we have 3 undead hermits - anonymous

- When everyone is finally gathered and they manage to come together to use all their skills, new and old, the hermits use it to flee back to Season 7. They stay there for months, mostly to heal and adjust to what happened to them. (Trauma isn't easy) Those who have friends or family off server get invited to visit, but the hermits don't leave, they nearly lost each other and they aren't willing to risk it again right now. They'll make a new season 8 at some point, the hermits are too (1/3)restless and too ingrained in their ways to completely disregard how they've always done things, but that will come when they feel better, safer, more put together, when they can finally stop sleeping in a big pile becuase they're afraid the others will disappear. They never go back to that old glitched world, the idea makes them sick, and X starts the new practice of sending in the 'Cam' and/or 'alt' accounts in first to check out the world and set up commands and plugins remotely first. (2/3) What happened before will never, ever happen again he swears it. Next time they might not be so lucky after all [if you can call them all being traumatized, many of them dying over and over again, some being permanently altered, and barely escaping lucky] (also feel free to save these asks for near the end of the au!) (3/3) - anonymous (Shade note: I personally like the idea of them fixing and learning to live in the glitched-out world, but this is another alternate ending!)

- (From the Discord) What happened to the world: Alternatively, what happened is exclusive to their world. (I don't have Dramatic Storytelling for this one, sorry) EX has ADHD to the max, and everything he does is a desperate attempt to get Noticed, to get looked up to and listened to. He's known it was "wrong" for a while, hence why he took X's name and added "Evil", but he never seriously wanted them to hurt. Just to listen to him. He'd meant to come in and fix it all and finally be a hero. He didn't realize, either through haste or inexperience, that he too would be at the mercy of what he'd done.Maybe he does, eventually, make it to where the hermits have gathered. But does he really want to admit everything? (RSD had burned him before, and if there ever was something to place the blame on his head...) - @/basaltdragon

- lasting effects of deaths

- a large amount of assorted ideas

- The bell they put on Daisy was originally of the type that are put on cats, but Grian ended up switching it out with a cowbell because he hated the sound - anonymous

- False, Keralis, Cleo, and Stress make it to spawn, bedraggled and exhausted. Out of all the Hermits, they are some of the last to arrive. Along the way, they’ve encountered trials innumerable that have left them beaten and bruised, but after months of travel, they’ve finally made it.Shortly after leaving the Moobloom field, they came upon an abandoned cart in the middle of a desolate village. With some of the redstone they had found and whatever magic they managed to scrape up, they turned it into a sort of vehicle that allowed them to travel much faster. It had a habit of breaking every six seconds or so, but nothing they couldn’t fix. For the most part. A few accidental combustions aside, they crossed the server in record time.Once at spawn, False has to be forcibly restrained from immediately starting guard duty, and several of the Hermits have to physically wrestle her into a bed in order for her to get some rest. Stress starts up a potion factory the next day, and also starts decorating the spawn with the flowers she’s collected during their travels. Keralis helps out wherever he’s needed, but in his downtime, he constructs an elaborate warren of tastefully decorated, industrial tunnels under the spawn, just in case they might help. Cleo mostly just stays in bed, creating elaborate dioramas and mourning the loss of her zombie side. She’ll get better, but it’ll take some time. And that’s ok with the rest of them. - @/topazastral

- When Doc, Grian, and Ren finally make it to 0,0 there is no fanfare, no dramtic entrance, no revulation. They were travling and suddnly, there was a base, a hermitcraft base, and they could see people. Grian clambers to feet shakily from the shed, nearly falling but Doc and Ren catch him and toghther they help him walk foward and call out to their friends. They are safe now, they're here- Is that mumbo on a ravager what the hell? Wait thats Impluse? Seems like Grian wasnt the only one changed. - anonymous

- Jellie reacting to vex!scar headcanons -she recognises him instantly. The moment she and xb arrive at spawn she darts straight towards him. Of course, she cant figure out why he looks different, but regardless, thats her owner and she demands pets!!!-sometimes she will jump up and try to pounce on his vex wings, because shiny moving thing! Scar picked up on this very quickly and will move out of the way before she gets the chance (vex wings are rather delicate and a pain to get fixed)-whe she's bored, she will always go to mumbo and daisy for attention first. This makes scar rather jealous and she knows that damn well-Scar will sometimes pick her up and fly her around not too far from spawn for a few minutes. Nothing she isnt used to, as he flys with the elytra all the time, but something about flying with vex magic just feels... different. And fun! - anonymous

- Contrary to the enderman bdubs, ender dragon bdubs. His eyes aren't the normal brown, and are instead a bright magenta, he also now has ashen gray horns. - Anonymous

- Scattered AU: The intended world "theme" Xisuma had set up for Season 8 was Large Biomes. This was before anyone knew something was going to go wrong, of course, but it's had a horrible lasting effect in the glitched world. Not everywhere has generated as "large", so when Hermits are travelling they'll sometimes find normal sized biomes, and other times they'll find one biomes that stretches an abnormal distance in all directions. Grian and Doc's mountain range is one of these large biomes. - @/wixelt

- For the scattered au, the snow golem follows Grian and Ren (and Doc) to the spawn haven, for a few days the hermits are wondering what's leaving behind snow trails and zombie flesh, so they decide to have a night watch around this area. Ren volunteered and waited, half-asleep he nearly nearly gets hit with a arrow when he hears the sound of a skeleton getting hurt. He sees the snow golem and uses his sword to kill the skeleton. The snow golem tries to flee but Ren realizes and stops it (1/2)He welcomes the snow golem and introduces it to Grian and Doc, (where the snow golem warns him that it is keeping its eyes on him in its own language). Spooked, Grian tells them that he can understand it, and the golem tells him that he's been following them since their time at the mountain. They decide to give it the name Catmint and it helps guard the hermit's base at night (while giving a stern look at Doc every now and then.(2/2) - anonymous

- (Scattered au)Seeing as we now have 3 different variations of Etho, I raise you: all 3 at once. It turns out Etho was not in fact human, instead a shapeshifter who didn't know that he was, the deaths simply sped up the process, whereas before, while he would change slightly, it was never fast enough to be noticeable - Anonymous

- I had this idea some time ago actually but I thought it was silly but now that the au in ending might as well say it. It doesn't make much sense now with all the new development srry. What if one day Mumbo was callibrating his comunication monstrosity, and suddenly his communicator had signal. He called and called but whoever was a the other side didn't pick up, until they did and Mumbo was overjoyed, but the happiness died down when he could only hear chocked sobs and sharp breathing and (1)teeth chattering. Suddenly a voice whispered, little and fragile "h-h-he-lp". Mumbo knew that voice too well. Before he could even open his mouth to let his best friend he was coming for him, he'd be okay, anything, the breathing stopped. The call was still going, but no one was at the other side anymore, Mumbo hung up with tears in his eyes, and he swore he'd find him and he'd help him. (2) - anonymous

- Scattered AU: While there's still time for them: Mumbo was the furthest Hermit out in the Overworld, & didn't set off for over a year, yet wasn't last to 0,0 (with Iskall) by any stretch. More than half the Hermits seemed to arrive after him. This can be partly attributed to Daisy making good time, but it makes you wonder how many trials & tribulations impeded False, Stress, Cleo and Keralis along the way? How much Ren, Doc & Grian were slowed by Grian's condition? What took xB or Biffa so long? - @/wixelt

- Once everyone finds each other, at the world spawn, after the initial shock, and fixing of the world of course, the hermits all decide to settle much closer to each other. They were separated for quite a while, so it makes sense why they'd decide to keep close. Some groups also make shared bases. - anonymous

- I sort of want grian to be a bit more inhuman so how about grian’s skin on his arms, legs and most of his face permanently blackened by the severe frostbite and the rest of his skin has taken on a bluish tinge, his hair is no longer the Gold it was before but almost snow white with a tinge of dark and light blue, his ears and tail are snow white with what appears to be frost and ice growing on them (1/2)(2/2) grian can not cry because the tears will immediately turned to ice, he can’t swim because if his body touches the water the water will freeze over, his skin is cold to the touch and whatever he moves his body it will make a cracking sounds like breaking glass or smashing ice, no matter how warm it is he can always see his breath... i’m trying to think of more but I’m coming up blank so that’s it hope you like it. - anonymous

- bc i cant stand when cleo is unhappy: the moment she and joe reunite, joe realizes how horrible it is for her to have her body messed with against her will. and as an admin, he can modify her code to put her back to how she was in previous seasons (aka not totally rabid but still undead) - anonymous

- Admins log final day: I'm glad we'll all be able to wake up from this nightmare, and we're able to get an exit portal going thanks to Mango and Methodz having a backup of the key to open the infinity portal's power, we should be able to not only go back in time, but destroy this broken timeline. Were all grateful for them, and I did invite them both to help us incace this happens again. This will be the last day in this timeline, if you somehow found this helmet with these logs, thank you. :-) - anonymous

- Grian, Doc, and Ren find it hard to stay away from each other too long, especially Doc and Ren becuase they've been taking care of Grian for such a long time so they find themselves kinda hovering over him and Grian finds himself seeking them out even when he's with other hermits. The other groups, who've been toghther for awhile, do it too probs - anonymous

- Soon as Grian and Mumbo see each other, they launch themselves at the other and hold on for a long, long time. Iskall join in soon as he wanders by and they talk for hours about what happened, looking over Grian's new fox parts and the blue marks on his hands, Mumbo gray stained hands and magic, and just Iskalls overall experience. Also Grian's little fox buddy absolutely loves Daisy and vice versa. Its not uncommon to see the small fox riding on the ravager's back while Daisy scares people. - Anonymous

- I know I'm a bit out of loop w scattered au & is probably getting things wrong but consider this, when Mumbo accidentally summoned Scar, leaving Bdubs alone, Bdubs freaked out. The very person that meant rescue & hope for him back in the end is now gone, he felt like he's back into the void again and he thought Scar abandoned him because he's too weak & is a burden to Scar. (Yes I am currently drowning in Scardubs angst) - @/anthosaidsmth

- The glitches in the world didn't only happen to the Hermits, it happened to all worlds created in 1.17. The cause remains unknown, though it is believed that something or even someone corrupted/changed the code (what/who is up to imagination. In the case of the latter, so is the motive). My idea, we've already confirmed that Watchers are arrogant jerks so perhaps they couldn't stand the fact that players learned to do things against the rules that they put in place, and did this out of spite. - anonymous

- A bit late but I see all the Fox!Grian headcannons so what if Grian spawned in a jungle and slowly became a parrot hybrid instead? How idk, maybe resorting to eating seeds to prevent himself from starvation because there is no animals in this jungle.

- Here's a thought: The Hels!Hermits were also effected by whatever caused the scattering. They may all hate or annoy each other, but not having each other around to pick on isn't very fun (neither are death loops). Perhaps some of them gain humility over this or learn to be at least a bit nicer to each other and their counterparts. (or some of them find sadistic amusement in their counterpart's miseries) - anonymous

- Finally, once everyone has made it safely to spawn and the problems with the world have been resolved, the season begins. Some of the Hermits may have changed (more than just physically) but over time, they adapt and recover. Grian eventually starts yet ANOTHER war, Tango gets to build DO 2.0 (X is terrified at the fact wardens are involved), and Cleo becomes a coach on 'how to be a mob hybrid' (unless all new hybrids get returned to how they were before by admin powers or just being players). - anonymous

- With all the glitches fixed and all the hermits starting to get back to their normal (Well as normal as it can be after all of these), I wonder if Scar is still a vex. All the hermits just adapted to their situations, but Scar is different, he made a deal with the Vex. - @/anthosaidsmth

- It takes all of the hermits that changed a while to get used to the changes, but eventually they do, mostly through help and support from the other hermits - anonymous

- I had a wee idea and it's a little silly but I like hurt/comfort so maybe after all the scattered au events have passed and the hermits are all together living safely, every winter some hermits invite Grian to their bases to take care of him since the snow and the cold are very bad for him. Sometimes he gets fevers but most of the time he just needs a warm blanket and someone to distract him from the snow. This is also making me wonder if Grian could develop chinophobia (fear of the snow). - Anonymous

- conclusion

Art:

- An Evoker Mumbo

- Evoker Mumbo with Daisy

- Evoker Mumbo summoning Scar

- a Guardian Impulse

- assorted doodles here and here

- A two-part Impulse comic

Writing:

- some Etho lore come back to haunt him (pt 1)

- Cleo sharing mob-hybrid tips with Impulse

- Executioner

- Fish out of water

- Homesick

- Thalassophobia

- The General's Wager (pt 2)

- The Undertow

- Saviors

- Bdubs falling

- For lack of blue shiny rocks (pt 3)

- conclusion (pt 4)

- EX in the Deep Dark

- this road I'm on's gonna turn to sand

- Snapshots

- a multi-chapter Scattered interpretation written just before the real season 8, complete with some outside lore and crossover

- Scattered Across The Map (series of parallel multi-chapter fics)

- One Hundred Thousand Worlds Away

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #hermitcraft #hermitblr #scattered au #mod shade #Masterpost

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Two (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, mention of murder.

wc; 8.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

One second, you’re running through a dark forest. With your heart pounding in your ears, hot breath tingling your lips, legs aching and burning the more you push on. You weave through the trees, fingertips scraping against the bark. You’ll move one way, but jerk the other when you hear a voice call your name. Loud, teasing, and hauntingly familiar. You reach the top of the cliff, with nowhere else to run. One blurry glance behind you, and you know that you can’t stay.

Your only option is to jump.

Before you have the chance to reconsider, the wind is already whistling in your ears, clothes painfully whipping at your skin. You can see the water coming closer and closer, the jarring rocks becoming more clear. From the height you jumped at, the water is concrete, and the rocks are spears. You’re about to hit the water and feel every single bone break in your body--

The next second, you’re jolting awake, now in the Capitol. For a moment, you can’t catch your breath, feeling the painful ache in your lungs from sucking in air while you ran. With shaky fingers, you wrap your hands around your throat, closing your eyes. You’re safe, they can’t get you here.

The only place they reign in is your nightmares, and even then sometimes they lose. They just got lucky this time, they caught you off guard. Next time, they’re not likely to be as lucky.

When you feel like you’ve got a hold of reality again, you open your eyes and stare into the sun yellow room. It takes a second for you to realize that it’s not the morning dull color, it’s the afternoon one. The sun that makes the room warmer and feel like home. You sit straight up in bed, immediately looking to the clock.

It’s past noon. Your tributes went to the Training Center by themselves, with hardly any direction. You doubt that Elysia gave them the advice that you would, you’re not even sure if she’s authorized to say stuff like that. Which means that they might have just gone and screwed up their big debut to the gamemakers, something that will surely have an effect on their score later on.

You bury your face in your hands, letting out a soft groan. You wipe the sleep from your eyes, and then slip out of bed to take a quick shower to wake you up. As soon as you’re done, you let the Capitol machines have their way with your hair, making it as soft as silk, and free of tangles. All that’s left to do is to style, but you leave it alone today.

You spin the ring around on your finger, already feeling nerves growing in your stomach as if Elysia will yell at you for slacking on your duties. Out of all your years of mentoring alone, you’ve never slept in. You’ve never had a day where you just forgot to get up on time to tell the tributes what to do.

You knew you should’ve taken it easy on the alcohol last night. It wasn’t even that you, Elysia and the stylists stayed up late, because you didn’t. You talked for maybe half an hour to forty-five minutes after Finnick left. You went straight to bed after that because you were afraid something like this would happen. At least you were right, and you know that you won’t be doing this ever again.

As much as you enjoy being around your Capitol friends, and the nights where you can celebrate like that, they’re not good for you. They throw you off, and since this year has already been different from the start, you’re already on your way down a different path. There’s no reason to start slacking now.

Elysia isn’t in the dining room, and she isn’t in the living room either. The apartment is as empty as it was yesterday when you came around for lunch. You should’ve expected this, with your luck, Elysia is doing what you’re supposed to be doing. And she’s already swamped with trying to keep things on track.

You pause in the doorway of the hallway, staring into the apartment, feeling tired and miserable. You don’t know where to go, or how to start. To the stylists? Find Elysia? Wait for the tributes to come back and tell you how their first day went? Is there even time for a quick bite before you go? Probably not.

You take a single step towards the door, figuring that you’ll start off with the easiest place to go; the stylists, and work your way from there. They might have some idea on where your trusty Capitol escort is. Then, the front door opens, and you’re met with Finnick’s red face, running a hand through his hair.

The door slips shut behind him, he’s definitely distracted. It’s like he doesn’t even see you, with how he moves to the living room and turns on the tv. You open your mouth, going to question what he’s doing, but he finds the channel. There’s no time to ask, you gravitate towards the television set as if it’s got you under mind control.

Once in a blue moon, the gamemakers will hint at what the arena will be. It’s rare, even more rare than allowing two tributes to win the Hunger Games together. Finnick hears the tapping of your shoes against the steps, and looks over his shoulder briefly. Your mouth falls open slightly, eyes glued to the screen.

The tributes are never allowed to see the broadcast, and the gamemakers show it once. Which is exactly why Finnick’s out of breath, he must have ran all the way here to make it in time. It’s a good thing that you got up thirty minutes ago, or you would’ve had to take Finnick’s word for what they’re showing.

It’s a beautiful landscape, like it is every year. One that manages to look better than the last. The Capitol has done it all when it comes to arenas; from deserts, to islands, to frozen tundras, to cities that are nothing but crumbs after the rebellion. They’re all intricately planned, and they were ready years before they were actually used.

The Capitol doesn’t show much, only one snapshot of the arena. You have to figure out the mystery of what this year’s nightmare personality may be. What will be the final twist that they have to offer? During your games, there wasn’t one. You and Finnick made it entertaining all by yourself. But other games need that little push to make it memorable.

The picture on screen is of a deep green hill with thin trees and colorful flowers. They won’t do much for hiding, not even climbing. They’ll hold body weight, but it’s hard to climb trees that you can almost wrap your body around twice. There’s a stream, maybe a bit bigger than a stream. Blue water, clear as day. Makes you suspicious that it’s not as clean as it appears to be. It’s hard to trust good-looking water after you’ve been betrayed once before.

There’s a small building, a shack like the one you had in your games. Only, this one is much more beaten down. It’s roof is caving in, definitely looks like wood rot, it won’t provide much protection. Especially since the door is half gone and there’s no windows. A strong enough gust of wind could blow the place down.

But that’s not the main attraction, something as simple as a shack could be easily written off with the monster behind it. In fact, you don’t think you’ve seen anything more terrifying in the Hunger Games before. At the start of this new decade, the gamemakers are trying something new this year. Luminous fear.

It’s a large dam, a great wall of grey concrete. The only thing that stands between the rest of the arena, and an unfathomable amount of water. You’re not sure that knowing how to swim could save anyone in this situation. Just staring at it, you think that there’s a ton of water being hidden behind the dam.

You’ve never seen a dam in person before. You know that District Five has one, though. It’s what gives the districts and the Capitol most of their power. Get rid of that, and there’s a nation-wide blackout. From what you’ve gathered when you’ve seen it on tv, it’s fucking huge. A hundred times bigger than what’s going to be in the 70th Hunger Games arena.

This dam compared to the one in District Five, is childsplay. But that’s where you stop underestimating it, because it’s still dangerous. The gamemakers wouldn’t choose to shower it unless they had ill intentions. You cross your arms slightly, using one of your hands to play with your lower lip while you stare.

Unfortunately, you can’t tell the tributes about what you’ve seen. Neither can anyone else, it’s cheating and the tributes will be targeted inside of the arena because of it. If they tell anyone that they know about it beforehand, it’s an immediate target. If the tribute never goes towards where the snapshot was given, then they’re a target too.

Normally, no one breaks the rules because of this. It’s too risky to have the Capitol find out. But you’re sure that Districts One and Two will find a way around this rule, because they always do. It’s their tributes funeral, the faster they get killed, the better chances your tributes have.

The program zooms in on the dam a little, you’re sure that they’re getting ready to take it away. So, you try and memorize the last that you can, thinking that you’ll need to locate the placement in the arena when you have the chance. But you’re stopped when you see something dark on the screen. You move forward, squinting, wiping the screen under the assumption that it’s a hair or a smear of alcohol from Pleurisy when she continued to drink last night.

But it doesn’t come off, and the more you stare, the more your blood begins to run cold. It’s not on your side of the screen, it’s on theirs. It’s thin, barely noticeable if you’re not looking for it. And you just found it by accident. They zoomed in on purpose.

No human structure is unbreakable. Not even the better creations.

This wasn’t a mistake, they wanted a mentor to notice that the dam is cracking.

“What is that?” Finnick asks.

“A crack.” Your hand falls, you back up to look at the whole scene one last time before it disappears, “There’s more.”

It’s gone right after. There’s a warning issued right after not to warn the tributes or find a way to prepare them in advance. Doing so will result in immediate trouble for the mentor. But your mind is already finding ways to make up for it.

You can’t brainstorm out loud here, maybe somewhere in the street, away from the Tribute Center. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, Finnick turns off the tv since the main show is over, and they’re not talking about it at all.

A low hum sounds from you. A plot is already beginning in your head for a subtle way to push your tributes in the right direction. You’d say that you’ve never cheated in the Hunger Games before, but then again, your tributes have trained since they were children.

You’re already cheaters, what’s a little more?

“I talked to the tributes this morning.”

“About what?” You ask, pressing your lips together for a moment.

You then turn your body away, heading up the steps and to the dining room table. You wish you could write your thoughts onto a pad of paper. But paper is traceable, they’ll be able to find out that it came from you guys.

“About training.” Finnick says, following you, “You weren’t up this morning.”

“I had too much to drink last night.” You thank the avox that delivers your late lunch. You pause for a moment, thinking over what Finnick has just said, and then you turn to him, “You were at the table this morning?”

“You said you would fill me in.” Finnick says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I figured the best time for you to do that would be this morning before you got busy. But you didn’t show up so…” he trails off for a moment, picking up a sugar-covered grape, turning it over in his fingers, “I told the tributes that they should show off their skills to the careers.

“They told me that they don’t want to ally themselves with the careers, and I told them that was fine. They don’t have to succumb to the pressure of the tradition of teaming up. All that matters is that they show the careers that they’re just as good and they’ll be missing out on two good tributes.” Finnick looks at you.

“And they’re keeping at least one hidden?”

“Yes.” Finnick nods, and then eats the grape, “I warned them that this might start an early rivalry that they probably won’t be able to remedy. Annie and Marsh don’t care, as long as the careers won’t try and be friends, they’ll figure it out. I don’t think they want an alliance with anyone.”

“Figured that much out already.” You say, “Thank you for doing that for me.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, his eyes casting downwards. You two eat in silence, and just when it seems like he’s about to leave, Elysia comes back.

“Did you see?” She asks, she’s pulling off some black gloves that she’s wearing. Actually, she seems to be dressed in all black.

“Who died?” You ask in return, earning a snort from Finnick.

Elysia rolls her eyes, “The broadcast—“

“Yeah, we saw it.”

You and Finnick get up from the table, making a triangle with Elysia. You rub your face slightly, “They showed the dam for a reason, we’ve already figured it out. This year is a handful already.”

Elysia stares between you and Finnick for a moment, eyes shifting from side to side like she’s deciding something. Like if you and Finnick are finally back to being a team, or are coincidentally together at the moment. Although, the two of you were sitting at the table together, so you can see why.

You don’t mind teamwork. If Finnick wants to go all in, he can be your guest. You’re not the problem here, maybe pushing him isn’t a perfect idea, but neither is letting him run free. The second that Finnick comes to the conclusion that he’s ready for it again, you’ll be unstoppable. All he needs to do is say yes.

“The tributes might be feeling a little overwhelmed after today,” she says, her eyes darken a bit. Secret meanings, they’re hidden everywhere. “The balcony would be a good place for a pep talk after dinner.”

Elysia’s a rule breaker too, it seems. Suggesting that you take your tributes out there and warn them in some way. This is why you like her, she’s not naive and stupid like the other escorts. You got lucky, placed with a woman who might not be on your side all the time, but there are times she waivers and caves.

“I think they might like the lights of the city.” you agree, nodding your head, “Smart thinking.”

Finnick’s caught on too, he nods, and then stretches his arms, “I’m going to take a quick nap. The two of you will be here to collect the tributes, so I’m off duty.”

He turns, heading up the steps. Elysia bids him a short goodbye, and then the two of you wait for him to be gone completely before she starts to gossip, “You should’ve seen him this morning. Normally, he’s not so serious but he stepped up when he realized that you weren’t coming out.” she pauses, and then her eyebrows push in, “Was that on purpose?”

“No, it wasn’t.” you shift on your feet, checking the clock on the wall. There’s about half an hour before the tributes come back, “I’m not surprised. Once a victor, always a victor. It’s hard not to mentor when you know that the tributes need your help. It’s hard not to be overbearing and in control, either. Took me a while to figure that out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Don’t plan on it.” you tell her, “I only slacked because I drank. I’m just lucky Finnick didn’t stay out too late. How’s the Capitol liking Four?”

“They’re excited about the volunteers, I’ve been talking them up all day. I’m going to go back out for a little while and check up on Laurel and Pleurisy. Have anything you want me to pass along?”

“No, but we should probably have the token talk tonight as dinner, or tomorrow at breakfast.”

She snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something this morning. You threw me off.”

“The last time, I promise.”

“Good.” She says, heading down the steps, “Try not to obsess over the broadcast, (Y/n). Annie and Marsh are fit, it’ll take a miracle to bring them down.”

“Don’t jinx us.” you joke.

She leaves through the elevator, you wander around the apartment for a minute, deciding if it’s worth it to stay out here. But in the end, you sit on the couch and pull out a book to read. Capitol fashion, the past trends and how they affect today. The last time you checked, they’re still drooling over the idea of gems and expensive fabrics.

Anything to make them look expensive and upper class. But you know their secrets, after years of mentoring and talking to sponsors, you’ve begun to notice when they’re faking. People who aren’t rich, invest in the Hunger Games in hopes that they’ll win it all back. The betting room is an intoxicating place if you’re in debt and need a place to be flashy.

The truth is, the Capitol isn’t all silver and gold. They’ve got their own lower class, but the difference between their lower class and the districts is that the districts will help each other. If your neighbors needed a babysitter or dinner for the night, your doors were open. You’re all a tight-knit community normally, but with the Hunger Games, it makes you even closer.

Annie and Marsh come through the elevator, foreheads glistening, sweat stains under their arms and down their backs. Needless to say, you think that they had a good workout. They pause in the doorway, Marsh leans over to catch his breath, Annie seems pretty happy.

“Hey,” you fold the book halfway, “Sorry for not being up this morning. How did your first day go?”

“Good!” Annie beams, “We’re good at a lot of things in there, so there’s not much to learn. I think that we’ll spend the last day going through stations that we don’t know just in case.”

“That’s good. Anyone offer an alliance?”

“Not really looking for one.” Marsh stands, he’s in worse shape than Annie is. His face is redder, like he ran a couple of miles in the heat, “But no offers, we’ll let you know if there are any.”

You nod, “Go shower and get ready for dinner, Elysia will come and get you when it’s time.” you watch as they start to go, “Oh! Also, be quiet in the hall.”

“We will.” Annie says.

You read in the living room for a little while longer, but end up packing it up and heading to your room to relax and make a phone call back home. Reed’s the one that picks up, letting you know that everything is going just fine. He passes the phone around after that, you get an array of greetings and questions about what’s happening and what you think is going on.

Unfortunately, you can’t tell them that you saw the arena, either. It’s a surprise for them too. You know that Reed won’t tell anyone, he’s got the whole Capitol-Hunger Games thing on lock. But sometimes Mox forgets what’s supposed to be secrets, and what isn’t. One slip to Caspian, and the whole secret will be out. And it’ll be traced right back to you, because you’re the one that keeps the Dorazio families company.

You wrap it up with Alyssum, listening to her talk about whatever comes to mind. You only get off the phone when you see that dinner is drawing closer. By the time you’re able to get off the phone, you barely make it to the table before the tributes. You and Finnick ask lots of questions at dinner, curious about how they’re feeling and sizing up the competition.

As always, every single year, the only threat they can come up with is the careers. You constantly remind them that they’re careers too, and today proved that, “If you showed off like Finnick told you to, you just threatened them and everyone else in that gym. And it’s going to be even worse now that you’re not allies with them. The other tributes are going to have two groups to worry about. You two, and the careers.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the careers pick you guys out first in the arena.” Finnick says, picking at his food, “You’re going to be the first threat, especially if you score high during training.”

You snap your fingers, catching Annie and Marshs’ attention, since their eyes have drifted, “Don’t get nervous. It just means that your odds are increasing, and more people are going to like you. It’s an opportunity, remember that.”

“What if they offer an alliance?” Annie asks, shaking her head slightly, “They haven’t yet, but what if they ask?”

“You tell them no.” Finnick says, “Saying it straight to their faces is going to get the message across. They’re more likely to back off then, but it’ll be temporary.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s obvious.”

Marsh clears his throat, “I’m worried that they’ll follow us after the bloodbath.”

“Don’t stay in the cornucopia.” you say, “In fact, I wouldn’t go that deep in. You’ll get sponsors, they’ll fill the gaps that you’re missing. You two just have to focus on running. The careers will be caught up in the bloodbath, as they always are. They’ll be too busy to follow you guys.”

“I hope so.” Marsh says.

You sigh, sitting back in the chair, “You guys need to remember that you’re ready for this. Four and five years of fighting and memorizing. You are just as dangerous as they are at this point. You’re scared now, think that you might be inferior, but the truth is that in a fight, you’re going to hold up. You’ll see.”

Think down, you’ll perform down. You want to tell them that the longer they underestimate themselves, the more they won’t realize their true potential. They’ll never measure up the way that they’re supposed to. You open your mouth, to say exactly what you’re thinking, because you’re the mentor and you should know better than them.

Finnick’s eyes shift to you, waiting for what you’re going to say. But you hesitate, because you know that mindset doesn’t work for everyone. You got chosen for the Hunger Games, you didn’t volunteer like they did. Unlike them, you didn’t have a choice but to go. The only thing that kept you going the entire time before and inside of the arena was family, and thinking that you were more than you actually were.

You’re not sure that’s going to work with them. They know who they are, they know the things they’ve learned and the worth they hold. They’re just nervous, you don’t need to tell them that they’ll do fine inside of the arena. Everyone has their moments of doubt, right? But you don’t remember having it this bad, and considering you age, you should’ve been depressed.

Once again, it was family that was keeping you alive. The constant visualization of you being the last one standing while your name was announced over the arena. You also knew that you were going to do well that year. It was a gut feeling. Just like how it’s a gut feeling that Annie or Marsh is gonna live this year.

You close your mouth, smiling slightly at Finnick. His lips part momentarily, and then he mimics your own smile. You think he’s realized this too. The constant reassurance of your tributes is babying them. They’re just nervous, they know that they’re going to do well. You could let up on the pressure, but they need it. They’re going to be under pressure inside of the arena, too.

“Are you guys done? There’s something I want to talk to you guys about.” you wipe your mouth with the napkin, and then stand up from the table.

“I--yeah.” Annie carefully stacks her plates and bowls into a neat pile for the avox to collect. Marsh is much sloppier, but tries to be as considerate as she is. You think that she has experience in this type of thing.

You raise your eyebrows at Finnick, who’s still seated at the table. He shakes his head, “I’m busy tonight.”

“Stay safe, then.” you tell him, and then start up the steps, “Come on, you two.”

They don’t say a word behind you, not even a question on where you’re taking them. You bring them deeper into the apartment, around to the balcony that’s off to the side. The top floor--District Twelve’s floor--has a better balcony, one that blends in better. But you’ve explored this place plenty of times, you know it’s secrets now.

You hum, unlock the door and then open it. A gust of wind blows through the doors, warm and welcoming. It reminds you of the salty air from District Four, also hot during the summer after baking in the sun all day. Annie goes through the door first, thanking you quietly for holding it open. You press your hand to Marsh’s back, pushing him out a little quicker.

Looking behind you, there’s no one. The hallway is dark because you didn’t turn on the light. And it’s empty, because the floor’s don’t hold peacekeepers. They rarely even have Capitol attendants waiting around every corner. Which means that you guys should be just fine outside. Since it’s windy, it’ll be harder to hear you if there are cameras and microphones.

You shut the door tightly behind you, and join the tributes at the railing. The city below is bright and alive, as it always is at night. The Capitol is full of a bunch of insomniacs. They never are up during the morning, but they’re wide awake at night. Sometimes, you think that you can relate to them in this sense, but for a different reason. For a while, you were afraid of the dark too.

Marsh leans over the railing, like he’s testing its sturdiness. Your eyes scan over the wall, until you find the windchime. Pulling it down from the roof, you toss it right over the edge without a single warning to the tributes. On the way down, it continues to clink and whistle.

“What was that for?” Marsh asks, eyebrows knit together, eyes on you.

“Just in case you get any bright ideas. Watch.” you say, and they do. It takes a couple of seconds, but the windchimes hit the forcefield and come bouncing right back. When you catch them in your hand, they’re as black as charcoal and no longer sounding as delicate as they did before.

You crush the wood in your fist and watch the wood turn to crumbs. Then, you drop it off to the side. Marsh has now backed off of the railing, crossing his arms. Annie takes one step back, but still looks over the edge curiously.

“We’re close in age.” you start, looking out to the city too, “I’m only two-three years older than you two. Finnick is even less than that, so I can understand why it’s hard to believe us when we tell you that you’ll do just fine inside of the games. We haven’t been inside of the games for a while, and our track record is far from perfect when it comes to mentoring.”

You look at them now, you’ve got their attention, “Believe me when I say that this year is different. You two are special, more capable than the tributes in the past were. Your lives have revolved around this idea since you signed up for the boarding school. You have fought hard to get to this point. Don’t give up on yourselves now. This is the most important part.

“It’s hard to know what to prepare yourselves with when it comes to training.” you pause for a second, trying to figure out how to word this. You know exactly what they should use, even if you never used it personally, “Tomorrow, I want you to focus on agility.”

You look between their faces, trying to read their expressions. Annie is smart, you know that she’ll catch on. Marsh is a different story, he’s always driven by explanations. You can’t give him one this time, which might ruin your subtle plan to push them in the right way. In the gymnasium, they have blocks for agility training. You hop from block to block, that gradually gets higher. It’s timed, but that’s not the important part.

They’ll learn how to assess the ground that they’re going for. Maybe help them when it comes to picking and choosing where to place their feet, strengthening their confidence in non-dominant feet. The better they’re at with going up and down uneven ground, the better.

“Okay.” Annie says, “I was looking at that today already, so I think that it would be a good idea.” Her eyes then land on Marsh, who stares right at her. He trusts her, that’s a good thing when it comes to allies. It might be his downfall if she ever plans on betraying him, though.

“Sure.” Marsh finally agrees, and then looks at you, “You’re the expert.”

“Don’t get me wrong, this is your games. You’re the ones going into the arena, so you should be planning out what you want. But trust me on this one, okay?” the wind has died down, the previous cover is now gone, “Go to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Annie says, her eyes show that she understands, and you give her a gentle nod.

They go back inside, but you stay outside for a little while longer, leaning against the railing as you stare into the city of the Capitol. A place that’s so pretty on the outside, but absolutely ugly on the inside. The definition of how looks can be deceiving.

Hopefully that idea can apply to your tributes next.

“Good morning!” You yell, clapping your hands together as you come out from the hallway.

No one is looking awake this morning, and you can’t really blame them. Annie and Marsh have been working hard at training for the past two days. Lucky for them, today is the last. But it also means the private training scores happen this afternoon.

Finnick leans his head against his hand, watching as you come to the table. He looks fairly amused by your enthusiasm, and how your tributes are lacking.

“In the Training Center today, you’ll have the first half of the day for training, but after lunch is time for scoring.” You sit at your spot, “Don’t stress out about it too much. If you kept a skill that you’re good at hidden, then you’ll do just fine. After training, you’ll come back here. And then we’ll wait to see what happens.”

The avox delivers a plate of food, you don’t hesitate with starting to eat. Honestly, the more you look at your tributes, the more they start to look green. They’re picking at their food, not really looking at you or Finnick. It’s definitely the nerves kicking up again. Yesterday they did so good with not even feeling it.

You share a brief look with Finnick, he’s playing with the rope bracelet around his wrist. It looks exactly like the one he had when you guys were inside of the arena, but you know that it’s new. If you remember correctly, the last bracelet broke just after the Victory Tour. Guess it fulfilled it’s duty, and Finnick got a new one because of it.

“Tomorrow we’ll have a different sort of day, it’ll be more relaxing,” you continue, picking up the mug of light brown coffee, “And then it’s interviews.”

“Just like that, huh?” Marsh mutters, pushing around the food on his plate.

“You guys should eat, you’ll need the energy.” Finnick says, “Even if it’s not much.”

Annie listens, but Marsh’s heart still isn’t into it. You try to keep conversation light with them, but they’re duds, so you switch to Elysia to talk about how tomorrow will happen. Elysia knows more about proper etiquette when it comes to being on stage, so she’ll be the one taking care of how Annie walks in heels and how they respond to questions.

Which just leaves you and Finnick to decide their personalities on stage.

You wish Annie and Marsh good luck, “The first thing you do in that private room is breathe, got it? Calm yourselves down.” you then give them a smile and let them go.

Elysia isn’t too far behind, going to do her daily duties of rounding up people that could potentially sponsor your tributes in the arena. It leaves you and Finnick at the table, left to figure things out on your own.

“I think we can put Annie down as kind.” You say, “Or have her try to talk smart to get people to look at her more.” you rub your forehead with an open palm, “But if she scores low, then talking smart won’t do anything.”

“At least one of them have to act dangerous.” Finnick says, you nod slightly, “Or the both of them. Even if they score low, they can still be mean on stage.”

“It’ll just take the effect of it away.” pressing your lips together, you stare off at the wall for a while, “We’re just going to have to wait and see, I guess.”

When you place your hand down on the table a little too hard, you can hear your ring clink against the table. Standing, you stretch your arms and move some hair out of your face.

“Where are you off to?”

“Tribute tattoos.” you say, and then pause, “Not for actually tributes, for my parents. I should be back before they’re done, but to be fair, when we came back from ours, Anchor and Mags were nowhere to be seen. It’ll be good for them, not knowing what to do next.” you start down the steps, “Teaches them some independence.”

You get all the way to the front door, looking behind you to Finnick. He’s absently staring at you, like he’s waiting for something. A while ago, when you and Finnick were still dating, you used to describe him as a golden retriever, because he’s loyal and would love to go with you, if you asked.

You wonder what happened to the loyal part. You press down on the door handle, “You’re invited if you want to go. I think they take walk-ins.”

“One of us should be here.” He says.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” you let out a small laugh, “Or are you just scared of needles, Odair?” You give him a cheeky grin, opening the door and leaving, “I’ll see you later.”

You get all the way to the elevator, inside with the button pressed when Finnick rounds the corner, hand covering the doors before they can close. It’s hard not to give him another big smile, especially with the annoyed look on his face. Secretly, you know that he liked the invite, and he’s going to enjoy your company.

“What’s with the tattoo obsession?” he asks.

You scoff, “Obsession? This’ll be my second one, thank you.”

“And the first one being…?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

You roll your eyes. You’re pretty sure he was around for this one, but you lift the hair off of the back of your neck anyway, turning to let him see. It should be a D3, obviously for District Three. You got it for Blaire, you knew him for so little time, but you’re sure he was your best friend inside of the arena.

“Oh, I remember that.” Finnick says, “Looks like it needs a touch-up.” he mutters, and then you feel cold fingers against the back of your neck. He runs his finger over it, but it’s gone quickly, “Just for Blaire, right?”

“Didn’t really know Verda.” you let your hair down.

“Yeah, that’s true.” He says, the two of you walk side by side out of the elevator and to the front doors, which is currently fairly crowded by a group.

They’re not dressed in bright colors or solid white, so they can’t be Capitol people or peacekeepers. And if they are stylists, they’re definitely dialed back a lot like Laurel is. Out of all the stylists that you’ve seen come and go, she’s definitely more tame than the rest. Even your prep team is pretty normal-looking.

The closer you get, the more it dawns on you. It’s a pack of mentors, four of them all gathered together in the middle of the lobby. You take the initiative, going in front of Finnick to lead him through. From afar, it was hard to see who exactly, but now you know that it’s District One and Two’s mentors; Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria and Wade.

You’ve worked with them in the past, they’re not bad people to be around. But they have the career mindset going on all the time, it’s hard to be around them. They all won their games years ago--with the exception of Wade, who won a year or two ago--and they’re still living life like that doesn’t matter.

You guess the career complex really themselves worked into their brains. Whereas your tributes have moments of anxiety and hesitation, their tributes never do. But a downside of that is the impulsive and brashness when they’re inside of the arena. It never hurts to think things through, but they don’t do that. It’s why you knew that Trink and Lennox would follow your treasure trail, because they wouldn’t think ahead about how they’re wandering right into your trap.

To be fair, though, they did think that you were severely injured. You also were several years younger than them, and had never trained the way they did for their entire lives. Then again, you scored high, you took down Horace. They should never have kept you around for as long as they did. It’s the same reason why you took down Allio; because he was a threat. And you were too.

“Hey, guys.” you call, making them look over.

You’re sure that they’re getting ready for a celebration, considering their tributes never score badly. However, you think this is the last day where all the tributes will get to intermingle the way they have been for the past couple of days. Tomorrow they’re inside, the day after they get brief moments on stage and after interviews to swap compliments. Then they’re straight to the arena.

“(Y/n)!” Cashmere says, she opens her arm, you go ahead and give her a hug, “We haven’t seen you since the Tribute Parade. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re hiding from us.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely hiding.” you laugh, they do too.

“Our tributes want to have an alliance with yours.” Enobaria says, “They haven’t had the chance to ask, so they wanted us to give it a try.”

You open your mouth to tell them that it’s not going to happen this year, but Finnick’s speaking over you, “Our tributes aren’t really looking for an alliance this year, they want to go it alone.”

Every single one of them share the same confused expression. You almost laugh, but clear your throat instead, “Annie and Marsh are working as a pair this year. We didn’t want to push them on an alliance if they didn’t want one.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Cashmere says, “I hope they know what they’re doing in the arena.”

“They’re definitely a couple of fighters, that’s for sure.” you shift on your feet, and steal a glance at Finnick to make sure that he’s not uncomfortable. You could talk to these four all day, it’s hard not to make friends with the other mentors when you’re by yourself.

At some point, their sponsors became your sponsors by default. You worked together, all hands in to make sure that one of your tributes would come out. It worked for a while, Cashmere and Gloss got a male victor almost immediately, and so did Enobaria and Kurt. The only reason why the new male victor from One isn’t a mentor is because Cashmere and Gloss are siblings; they like to work together.

“Two volunteers in the same year is new.” Gloss says slowly, you and him stare at each other, “What are you guys up to?”

“Same thing you guys are.”

Wade sneers, “Clearly it isn’t as good.”

Your eyes find Wade, he hasn’t warmed up to you the same way that Kurt did. He’s still a naive boy, only eighteen. He’s still got a lot to learn when it comes to mentoring. That making enemies shouldn’t be the top priority on the list. When your tributes team up, you’ll want the other mentors to be cooperative.

“I’d be careful if I were you.” Finnick says, you can hear the smile in his words, “You might just end up eating those words.”

One last look over him, and then it’s back to your favorite three, “Anyway, you guys know Finnick, right?”

“Yeah! Honestly I was a little surprised when I saw him at the Tribute Parade.” Cashmere says, “What’s got you back on the move, Peacock?”

You can hardly hide the surprise that washes over you. The use of his Capitol-given nickname has got to sting, especially with everything that the Capitol does to him. You know that every time that it’s brought up with you, your mood dies instantly and you make sure that the person never brings it up again.

You press your lips together, eyes slowly making their way to him. Finnick’s a lot smoother than you are when it comes to holding back his emotions sometimes, “(Y/n)’s pretty convincing when she’s threatening you.”

A smile creeps onto your face, “I only had to do it once, so you know it’s pretty effective.”

“It’s nice to see you two together again.” Enobaria says, “Where are you two off to?”

“I’m getting a tattoo, I invited Finnick along.” the clock on the wall says that you’ve got about a half hour before your appointment, “We should probably get going, don’t want to make my favorite artist unhappy.”

“It was nice to see you.” Gloss says, “We’ll pass on the word to our tributes.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you guys later.” you wave, to your favorite three.

You only get a couple steps away, before you’re grabbing Wade’s collar with both hands, yanking him towards you. He’s quick, pressing both of his hands to your shoulders and leaning away. But his eyes are searching your face, panic expressed through his eyes at the dead serious look you’re giving him.

“Next time, you should watch how you talk to me. Otherwise, you’ll have a pretty problem on your hands.” you shove him back, “And my eyes are up here, fuckhead.”

You hold the door open for Finnick, give Wade a final glare, and then turn your back to them. After you’ve rounded the corner, you roll your eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, you beat me to it.” Finnick says, “I was going to say something.”

“I’m on top of it. I’ve always been on top of it.” you then give Finnick a smile, “Not my first rodeo, cowboy.”

Finnick’s face twists, “Don’t call me that, ever.”

You laugh at his face, “Bet it’s better than being called Peacock, huh?”

He shrugs, “I don’t mind it all that much. It could be worse.” and then his eyes fall on you, suggesting your title without even saying a word.

Your jaw sets, you grit your teeth and look away. You don’t want to be known as a name so harsh, it’s not who you are. Only in unique moments does the name seem to fit like it does. Leave it to Finnick to get something so delicate and flowery, and for you to be known as the opposite.

The Executioner. And yet, you can’t get any of your tributes to follow in the same bloody footsteps that you’ve walked.

“I wish they’d picked something else.”

“Like what?” Finnick asks, it’s quiet for a moment, until he breaks it with his own laugh, “The Betrayer.”

“Traitor.” you correct, “And to be fair, I’ve heard that one too. During the Victory Tour, don’t you remember District Two shouting that at me? They weren’t very happy.”

“Who cares what District Two thinks?” Finnick scoffs, “District Eight felt the same way about me. It’s not my fault that their older teenagers don’t know how to take care of themselves.”

That’s fair, actually. One of the tributes was eighteen, the other was seventeen. Both went at Finnick, you think that the girl died first and the boy died second. He came around later when you were half-dead inside of the cave. Finnick never stopped working for the title even while you were gone.

“Either way, I got the short straw.”

Finnick’s voice is quiet, “I think it makes you fierce.”

You look over your shoulder, eyes finding Finnick’s. Soft, green, gentle. Genuine. He’s the first to smile, the light reaching his eyes. Just for a second, you can see the boy he used to be, making your heart twist sadly. You won’t ever get him back, will you?

You smile too.

The tattoo’s don’t take long, just like how you expected. Permanently embedded in the skin on your collarbone, are the names of your parents. With Ryatt, your father, on top, and your mother, Aesira, on bottom. You would’ve got them over your heart, but you and Finnick agreed that it was too cheesy.

Finnick decided to go down the same path you did. So, after you got your tattoos done, you sat off to the side and watched as Finnick got his own family on his left shoulder blade. Just like how your parents are gone, his entire family is gone too, including his younger brother.

That summer was by far the hardest for the both of you.

It took months to find out, but eventually Laurel came around with the details. The following year, when you were eighteen and Finnick had turned seventeen, you were told exactly why everything crashed and burned the year before.

The Capitol is sick, a lot worse than you originally thought. Forget the marketing towards new victors, and the Hunger Games themselves. If a victor is good-looking and sponsors do ‘well’, they’re given the victor as a reward. President Coriolanus Snow himself talks to the victor, tells them that they either go into prostitution, or they get a surprise disaster.

Well, Finnick didn’t decline at first. He came back to the Tribute Center and broke up with you, actually. Finnick tried to back out of the deal a couple of days later, but Snow had already made up his mind. Finnick missed an important arrangement that Snow set up, and in return, Snow killed Finnick’s entire family in one swoop without batting an eye.

You vaguely remember Finnick being upset, but it really came down on him when you got back to District Four. You knew about his family dying when you came back, not all the rest. The only people Finnick invited to the funeral was your family, and that was the last time the two of you have ever been close. After that, the warmth turned to ice, and there was no reviving it.

You can’t imagine coming home to an empty house every year. You don’t know how Finnick does it. Even if he doesn’t want to take part in the mentorship or the boarding school, you’d think that he’d come out and train teenagers, anyway. It’s better than being shut in a place so quiet and cemetery-like. The times you’re alone in your own house gives you chills.

Finnick doesn’t seem so sullen after the tattoo. He looks a little more alive, actually. He doesn’t have to say it, you already know that he’s glad he came along. The two of you end up coming after the tributes, though. It’s well past lunch, almost time for dinner.

As much as you enjoy Finnick’s presence, you end up outside on the balcony again by yourself. You like the fresh air and the serenity of being away from the others. You could always do the same thing in your room, but it doesn’t have the same effect. Out here, you don’t feel like you’re being watched.

Elysia comes and gets you on her way to get your tributes for dinner. You thank her, as always, and then make your way to the dining room. Finnick’s standing next to Pleurisy and Laurel when you get out there. Once they see you, it’s big smiles and bright chatter.

“How was it?” you ask, looking to Annie and Marsh.

Annie’s got a small smile on her face, “I think that I’ve scored high. The gamemakers looked interested in what I had to offer, so that was a pretty good sign.”

“What about you?” Finnick asks.

Marsh shrugs slightly, “I was nervous and fumbled, barely recovered.”

“Fumbling is normal, the gamemakers hardly react to it.” you tell him, “Trust me, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. Even I missed when I was with the gamemakers.”

“And you scored a ten.” Marsh says.

“And I scored a ten.” you repeat.

It seems to raise his spirits enough for him to talk more during dinner. Afterwards, you all gather on the couches. Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy sit together in one bunch. You and Finnick next to each other, and Annie and Marsh take up the middle of the couch to see the screen dead on.

“Just before it starts, you guys should know that it’s normal for the careers to score between eights and tens. Rarely does anyone have the skill to get above a ten.” you say, and then Elysia turns the tv on.

Caesar Flickerman comes onto the screen with a white smile. It’s time to get started, it’ll start with District One, boys first. A picture of their faces will appear on screen, and their numbers will flash below.

You’re fully expecting a hard start with District One, since they always score high, but you’re genuinely surprised when the boy scores an eight and the girl a nine. Your mouth falls open, a laugh passing through you, “Well, there’s a twist.”

“Seriously.” Finnick says, “Looks like you two don’t have anything to worry about, after all.”

District Two isn’t as tough, the boy gets a ten, the girl a nine. Which means that Enobaria and Wade have triumphed over Cashmere and Gloss for the first time in years. Rarely do they score over District One. Yes, this year is surely something else, isn’t it?

Three isn’t as memorable, but when Marsh appears on screen, the room falls into a hush. You lean your elbows on your knees, fingers laced together, “District Four, Marsh Millilio with a score of nine.” Caesar smiles.

“Oh!” you laugh, sitting up.

All of you give Marsh a pretty good congratulations, shaking his shoulder and exchanging grins. The tension seems to dissipate from his body, and he relaxes against the couch, “If I did good, then so did Annie.”

“District Four, Annie Cresta, also with a score of nine.”

There’s loud cheering, Annie’s face turns a burning shade of red, but she’s definitely as excited as the rest of you. You can’t imagine how good the two of them are feeling right now. They’re careers, through and through.

They’ve got high scores. All that’s left is to sweep the Capitol off their feet during the interviews.

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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crybabyjam · 4 years

Text

objective truth

my first bnha fic (reposted on my new tumblr weeee)

super long post ahead!

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

summary: izuku gets hit with a truth quirk.

available on ao3 here

---

Kacchan is pretty.

It's something Izuku thinks often. About how Kacchan looks, or if he's in the mood for Izuku to be around, or how he feels about their friendship. But, it was never something he'd ever say out loud— not unless he wanted to survive to become the Number One Hero.

Everyone had begun filing out of the dorms for homeroom, and Izuku had caught just a glimpse of platinum hair as Kacchan turned down the sidewalk.

Izuku mumbles under his breath, "Kacchan is beautiful today."

"Hm? Did you say something, Deku?"

Izuku startles as Uraraka taps him on the shoulder, a bright smile on her face as Iida continues to wave his hands around just one step ahead of them both.

"Ah, nothing! I was just thinking about, uh, you know! Ahaha…" Izuku laughs it off quickly, face bright red.

(read more)

---

Fire and blood. It's something Katsuki had gotten all too familiar with at UA. Even before UA.

Sweat stings its way through a cut on his cheek as he stands, and he angrily smears it further into the wound with the back of his hand. His gauntlet was gone, torn off by the quirk of the villain in front of them.

Their quirk was something like glass shattering. Whatever they touched, the item became brittle and broke upon any impact.

Katsuki knew, though, that it only worked on inanimate objects. Not that he had known when Deku got grabbed, right on his dumbass face, by the shitty villain. When he got flung down onto the train tracks they were battling on, Katsuki was pretty sure he popped all the blood vessels in his brain from the stress.

But he hadn't shattered on impact— rather bounced like a little ball until he rolled himself onto his front.

"Fucking idiot— DEKU. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER."

Katsuki shoots himself over to Deku's curled form, wrist aching without the stabilization from his gear. "Get the fuck up."

Deku's already on his knees, though, watching the villain as he scrubs at where the fingers had clutched him. "I'm okay. Let's finish this quickly."

Behind them laid half a shattered train. The people inside were trapped— nowhere to go unless they jumped off the bridge.

"Don't tell me what to do," Katsuki growls, yanking Deku up the rest of the way.

Despite the fact that the villain couldn't shatter them directly, they had full control over the things they could. The little shards of metal shot towards them in waves, and Deku shot a blast of air to blow most of it to the side.

"I'll keep him distracted, Kacchan." Deku takes a step back, forming a strong, protective barrier in front of the civilians behind them. "If you get him from the back, or to turn around away from the train, I can— "

Katsuki socks him on the shoulder, just in time for them to dodge another shot of projectiles. "What the fuck did I just say, fucking asshole!"

Still, Katsuki uses the plumes of smoke between them and the villain to blast his way underneath the bridge.

Something explodes above him— not fire but more glass, and it cuts across his arms as he flies high above the villain.

Deku rushes forward, keeping the villain's eyes on him with a swift kick to the chest and a blast of air to make them stumble backwards.

Before the villain goes down, those glass pieces reunite in a group behind Deku's back. Katsuki isn't fast enough to stop it— but is in the perfect position to aim a full blast right in the villain's back.

So he does.

-----

Izuku has multiple lacerations across his back from the glass and mild burns on his arms from Kacchan. There were only two injured civilians and Kacchan got off with a broken wrist and a cut on his face that would heal without scarring.

"Good job, Midoriya!" Iida congratulates him, on a personal mission to bring notes for the classes Izuku had missed.

Although the burns were mild, the cuts needed to be watched closely by Recovery Girl before she could repair them. He didn't want to have glass stuck beneath fully healed skin, after all.

Laying on his stomach, Izuku can only nod helplessly and grin. "Thanks, Iida. I'll study right away."

"Maybe next time you can defeat a villain without getting injured, dumbass."

Kacchan appears behind Iida, startling the latter something fierce, but Izuku only grins wider.

"You got hurt, too, Kacchan."

"Shut the fuck up." A water bottle, metal and shiny, is shoved against his cheek and Izuku hisses at the sudden chill. As he juggles it and the notebook Iida had brought, Kacchan watches him critically. Then, once Izuku reaches to place the bottle on his side table, Kacchan snatches the book from his bed.

"Bakugo—!" Iida starts, but Kacchan has exploded it before he'd finished the first syllable. "My notes!"

Izuku chokes on air as Kacchan stabs a finger in the back of his neck, still warm from his Quirk. "You're getting outta here at lunch, yeah? You'd better be at my room once I'm back from classes, shithole."

Then, he shoves past Iida and skirts around Recovery Girl before he leaves just as quickly as he appeared.

Izuku half-heartedly comforts Iida as he mourns the loss of his carefully crafted notes, but he can't stop the way his mouth curls at the corners. Reading between the lines, it was obvious that Kacchan wanted them to study together.

When Iida has gone, speedwalking (not running!) so that he isn't late for the next class, Izuku buries his head in his pillow and lets his smile grow wider.

'ill be there!! ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ' He texts to Kacchan.

'Fucking better, nerd.' He gets in response.

-----

All Might visits him, just before lunch.

Recovery Girl had just finished healing him, though his back only partially so because of his low energy, and he and All Might almost bumped into each other when he opened the door to leave.

Which is how they found themselves walking along the forest line, shielding their eyes from the sun.

"And you're sure you're feeling alright, Young Midoriya?"

"Feeling great! I could probably use 100% right now!" As if to prove it, Izuku begins to bounce from one foot to the other.

When All Might begins to stutter and wave his hands frantically to stop him, Izuku grins wide. "Just kidding."

The two find a bench near the middle of the forest, overlooking the rest of the city. A pond gently flows in front of them, and a few ducks peck at his red shoes before they move on to swim away.

Izuku's back still burns, if he's being honest. Not as much as it did, but there was a faint ache where each piece of glass had dug in and dragged down.

"If it still hurts in the morning," she had began, glancing down at her notes. "Come back and I should be able to heal you fully."

Now, All Might places a gentle hand across the nape of his neck, as if sensing the pain lingering there. It grows silent between them until All Might pulls away to show off his lunchbag.

"Hungry, Young Midoriya?"

Their lunch consisted of a sandwich and juice boxes— and candies from Present Mic. Each bite was quickly scarfed down as the ducks wandered between their legs, pecking at the crumbs. Izuku feels bad not sharing any fuller bites with them— but he also clearly remembers the time Aizawa-sensei had scolded him about their diets so…

He shoos them away with the back of his hand and a promise, to himself, to bring lettuce or peas next time.

When they finish, All Might pats around his pockets before producing a handful of wrapped treats, each one a pale pink or bright red. The candies nearly overflow All Might's palms and Izuku is quick to catch them before the ducks get there first.

"I never really liked strawberry flavored things," All Might confesses, as if it were the greatest sin. "But Hizashi— ah… Present Mic, I mean. He loves to share them."

Izuku pockets two of the little lollipops and promises not to tell anyone the secret.

-----

They part ways well after lunch had concluded for the rest of the UA students.

"I think… I'm gonna go for a run in town," Izuku says as they start circling back through the forest. "I probably should buy Iida a thank-you gift for his notes." Not that he'd be able to use them but…

All Might sends him a thumbs-up. "Be careful, young man. You'll send me to an early heart attack if you get attacked again so soon."

"I'll try my best!" Izuku says, and runs off with a teasing laugh before he can specify what, exactly, he'd be trying his best to do (or not do).

Although the sun had just reached its peak in the sky, the air was a bit cold as Izuku jogged down the mountain. It reminded him of the water bottle Kacchan had given him, and Izuku tried to remind himself to bring it to their study session, to return.

The town is quiet as he jogs through, pausing at an intersection to wipe sweat from his brow. Makes sense, being early afternoon on a weekday.

He and Kacchan had gotten attacked the day prior (on their way back to UA from what had basically been a mini-field trip), but already the rhythm of their town had gone back to relaxed.

Izuku waves hello to some resting construction workers, watching as they go about fixing the cracks in the bridge of the train.

On his way back to UA, he begins to eat one of the lollipops All Might had given him. It's super sweet, covered in a fine powder from where it had been smushed in his pocket. Completely and artificially strawberry, but it satisfied a craving somewhere in his stomach anyway.

As he crunches down on the hardened sugar, he doesn't hear the snap of branches as footsteps dart behind him. Not until pain explodes on his already aching back.

He goes down, silent. Minutes later, if one were to pass, all that would be left of him was the cute, pink wrapper of his candy.

-----

Izuku wakes up to a broken wrist, a black eye, and a cloth gag being unwrapped from around his head.

Voices circle around his head, and a hand keeps his shoulder pressed to the ground— not painfully but firm.

All Might's sad smile comes into view as Izuku groans and tries to roll over onto his stomach. The hands touching him move away and are replaced by All Might helping him sit up.

"Young Midoriya," He begins, but Izuku misses the rest when police sirens go off behind him, sending his head into a spiral of pain and bright lights.

He's pretty sure he faints because when he wakes up next, his wrist is healed and blood rests on his tongue, replacing the taste of old cotton.

-----

He isn't allowed to leave the infirmary until two days later. Not even allowed visitors the entire time. Not that he'd been awake if there were any visitors.

When he did wake up, though, it'd been maddeningly silent. Recovery Girl doesn't even lecture him for being hurt, but All Might does come to assure him that he hadn't died of a heart attack as he'd predicted.

"From now on, you'll have to be accompanied by an escort, young man."

Izuku readily agreed with a soft, hoarse, "Please."

-----

It isn't until the next day that he remembers the study session he'd missed with Kacchan.

-----

"You were hit with a quirk," Aizawa-sensei tells him. "We don't have all the details yet, but... by making a person ingest a piece of themself, the villain makes it so that their victim can't control what they say."

When Izuku's brows quirk and he turns green around the edges, Aizawa pats him on the head. "I'll spare you the details, but you aren't a cannibal, if that's what you're worried about."

Izuku scribbles down on the whiteboard placed in his lap and holds it up to be read.

'Is that why I'm wearing a gag?' He asks. A knotted cloth rests just behind his teeth, heavily soaked with his saliva. Gross.

Aizawa nods. "Mm, we aren't sure how long it'll take to get out of your system. Even while you were unconscious, the quirk made you speak. For the sake of your own secrets— and my own sanity—" and boy does Aizawa put stress on the word, "— we found it better to muffle it rather than find a way to stop it."

Izuku hums, but he does feel words forming on his lips around the gag even as he tries to stop it.

"If you're able to stop yourself by tomorrow morning, we'll see about classes. For now, Recovery Girl suggests letting you sleep in your own room for the night."

Aizawa-sensei is surprisingly gentle when Izuku flinches away from his hands as they reach to untie the gag.

His teacher moves to instead pat him on the head, moving sweaty hair from his eyes. "Just change it out when you get to your room," Aizawa concedes.

-----

When he stumbles back to the dorms, half dragged by the arm across Aizawa-sensei's shoulder, his classmates understandably freak.

"Is he…"

"Deku, we missed you!"

"What's with the…" Kaminari motions to the almost soaked through gag. Even without Aizawa-sensei talking directly to him, Izuku spoke everything that came to mind on the short walk from UA to the dorms.

"He's still recovering," is all Aizawa-sensei says. "Do not take it off of him. Even if he's sleeping."

At the serious tone, the class quickly parts to let them head towards Izuku's room.

"If he's still sick, why not leave him to rot in the damn granny's office?" Kacchan grumbles from the kitchen as they pass, locking eyes with him.

Izuku grins as best he can around the gag. Aizawa only grunts, but Izuku is pretty sure Kacchan gets the gist of the motion by the way he rolls his eyes and angrily downs an overfilled glass of water.

It isn't until he's been tucked in bed and given a plethora of cloths to use as a gag for the next few days that he notices the time: thirty minutes past midnight.

He sends a quick text off to Kacchan.

'sorry for worrying u! Get some rest (－ω－) zzZ'

Kacchan responds almost immediately with a quick, 'Fuck off.'

Just before Izuku turns over to place his phone back on the charger, he gets another text which reads a simple, 'You too.'

-----

Izuku is, in fact, allowed to go to classes the next day.

Aizawa-sensei walks him to Recovery Girl early in the morning.

"Given that you've missed half the week, we decided it was best to let you come back instead of make-up classes."

Izuku nods, words coming forward before he can stop them. "I'd rather not do those. They're harder than actual classes."

Aizawa rolls his eyes, but it's half-hearted at best. "When I came to wake you, you weren't mumbling in your sleep. As long as you bring your gag, you should be fine."

Then, half under his breath, "Maybe I should gag the rest of the class. Finally get some peace and quiet."

Izuku laughs, tugging an embroidered cloth out of his pocket. It was designed with a stitched thumbs up on one side and a messy side profile of Golden Age All Might, and Izuku has a feeling a certain mentor of his is the one who made it.

He and Aizawa-sensei make it to class much earlier than the rest of the class— almost 45 minutes earlier.

"What about the person who used their quirk on me?" Izuku had asked on the way to UA.

His teacher stayed troublingly silent for a long while, after that. Izuku's nervous, constant stream of thought filled the spaces in between them.

"It's being handled," Aizawa had said, finally. "The campus is under lockdown, and no one is allowed off-site."

And Izuku had left it at that.

-----

His back still hurts. He'd forgotten to bring it up with Recovery Girl, which is surprising to him considering the nature of the quirk that hit him. With as many times as he'd interrupted Aizawa-sensei with segways that had nothing to do with their conversation both walking to and from the infirmary, he's sure his teacher would be surprised to hear it, too.

He'd go before lunch break, then.

Izuku sighs softly, muttering to himself as he goes over the texts Uraraka had sent him the few days he'd been absent. Just major notes about what they'd gone over in classes she knew he had trouble with. She'd mentioned something about Iida wanting to give him another notebook, but (to none of their surprise) decided to hold off giving it to him until Kacchan wasn't around.

The gag sits soundly in his lap as he half-studies, half looks out the window.

As his class begins to shuffle in, keeping their distance but still sending happy greetings his way, he fingers the frayed edges of it.

When his friends come in, Uraraka two steps behind Iida, Izuku shouts out a sharp, excited, "Hey!"

Everyone startles at the sudden, loud sound of his voice, and he sheepishly waves them over. Aizawa-sensei narrows his eyes at him as he leaves to get notes before the beginning of homeroom, and Izuku sends him a quick, apologetic shrug.

"Dekuuu, we missed you!" Uraraka throws a quick hug across his shoulders. "We weren't even allowed to visit!"

"Ahaha, well— " Izuku begins, quickly parsing through his thoughts. "I guess I just had to be observed for a while longer."

"Oh?"

"Mm. The quirk I got hit with, uh…" Izuku flinches. Maybe he shouldn't have said that part? Ah, well. "Well, Recovery Girl still had to monitor me— plus I was still injured from the train incident— and maybe it could've been contagious, so— !"

"Ah, that makes sense. It would be inefficient to have half the class out of commission, after all." Iida nods to himself.

"Mm," Izuku smiles, kicking his legs out to turn towards the two of them. So far, it seemed the quirk was fading faster and faster with time. Even as the back of his mind panicked to talk about the classes he missed, he was able to ignore it in favor of small talk before class started. It helped when his friends smiled at him, especially helped when the worried squint of their eyes faded to something more relaxed.

Maybe he wouldn't even have to use the gag. Seeing as it was hand-stitched by All Might himself, it already earned a place on the highest shelf of his hero collection.

But then, Kacchan comes in.

Well, Ashido and Kaminari do, first. She has her arm around his neck and seems to be trying to hop on his back so he can carry her to his desk and he, rightly, is struggling.

Kirishima comes in third, knocking shoulders with Sero as they play rock-paper-scissors. Kirishima loses when he plays rock, and lets out a loud yelp when Sero pinches his side as part of the punishment.

Kacchan is right behind them, laughing meanly as Kirishima rubs his gut. His bag has slipped from his shoulder to his forearm, caught there with his hand in his pocket. Although it was morning and the air outside was chilly, he had a faint line of sweat dripping from his brow.

Kacchan had always been quick to sweating— probably because of his Quirk. His palms had always been sweaty when they were younger, always warm, too. He wonders if they still are after all these years— rough and soft at the same time.

Izuku melts as Kacchan swipes at his hairline with a handkerchief. When he moves to yell at Kirishima and Sero for trying to pounce on him to join their game, his eyes sparkle and shine happily even if his tone doesn't match.

As he closes the door behind them all, sunlight filters through the window and illuminates the shine of his teeth and the glimpse of bare midriff as Sero dodges between Kacchan's legs to crawls to his seat before Kacchan can retaliate.

Iida and Uraraka have turned to him, waiting for a response to the conversation he hadn't been paying attention to.

Instead of the apology he was expecting to spew, he instead says,

"Kacchan is beautiful, today."

His friends freeze, and even Todoroki glances up from his half-asleep staring contest with a bird in a nearby tree.

"Eh?"

"I mean— what I meant to say, Kacchan is always beautiful, and— " The words spill out easily even when his horrified fingers cling to his lips and desperately try to force them closed. It was as if the carefully crafted dam that had been being repaired all morning had gotten slammed through and demolished like glass under a hammer.

His muffled voice— "Kacchan is…. Kacchan is…" slip out of his grasp, literally slip between his fingers, and all eyes turn to the startled blond boy still standing at the classroom door.

By the way his eyebrows shoot down, a scowl on his lips replacing the carefree smirk he had just moments prior, Kacchan is livid.

---

chapter 2 and the rest of the fic available here

#bkdk #bnha #bakudeku #long post #boku no hero academia #fanfic #writing tag

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psychosistr · 4 years

Text

Kings

Summary: Domino is forced to attend a party for FOWL’s top agents, and is having a hard time enjoying himself when the presence of someone in particular makes him feel very uncomfortable. Good thing Steelbeak’s there to provide both a distraction and some surprisingly good advice.

Notes: This was a little something written to wish @thefriendlyfour a happy birthday! Thanks for everything you do!

(P.S.- All OC’s in this story belong to her, not me)

Dominic was not having a good time…

It wasn’t often that FOWL High Command granted permission and spared funds on things deemed “unnecessary” for work. Everything from bank heists to political blackmail schemes and even the smallest pieces stolen from museums- every cent earned was carefully accounted for, recorded, and allocated properly. FOWL was a big organization that had many facilities to maintain- and even more workers to pay (maintenance and repair men, scientists, eggmen, all the way up to the special agents) to keep everything running smoothly.

Still, even with everything that had to be paid for, High Command understood the basic concept of things like “morale” and had to relent and reward their workers- particularly their top agents- every once in a blue moon (though it was mostly to make sure that they would feel content with their jobs and not try to leave and use their skills and training to make it as solo villains). Parties seemed to be the easiest and most effective way of keeping employee morale up: It only took one day of actual work, and food and beverages were easy to acquire and serve. After that, all that was required were a decently sized venue and some half-way decent music.

That was how the chief officer of FOWL, Steelbeak, and his partner, Dominic “Domino”, found themselves spending the evening in a heavily fortified and closely monitored outpost several miles away from Saint Canard at a party for FOWL’s most accomplished agents.

The large central room of the relatively unused outpost had been cleaned up and hastily decorated with a few different colored lights and decorations that were likely leftovers from the last party that had been thrown there. There were tables of catered food and drinks ranging from standard soda to a large punch bowl and even a fully-stocked bar all along one wall, leaving the majority of the floor open for agents to mingle and converse freely. The wall opposite the food and drinks housed a small stage that was being used for the evening’s entertainment: A small but highly talented orchestra with a full string section and a full-sized grand piano that had been brought in just for the occasion.

The party had been in full-swing for more than an hour already, but Dominic wanted nothing more than to leave and it was for one reason and one reason alone…

It wasn’t because he hated parties. Granted, he was by no means a party-loving social-butterfly, but he could still have fun and enjoy himself so long as the venue wasn’t overly crowded and his fellow partygoers weren’t so intoxicated that they forgot to respect his boundaries. In fact, compared to the parties he’d been dragged to at the northern base (which tended to involve excessive amounts of alcohol, brightly colored flashing lights, deafeningly loud pop music, and half of his team drinking to the point of passing out while he stayed sober to keep them from getting into too much trouble), this was one of the nicer soirees he’d been to in a while.

It wasn’t because he disliked his fellow agents. While there were still many new people that he was getting acquainted with and had yet to familiarize himself with each and every person present, the others in attendance all seemed like intelligent, capable, reasonable individuals who were pleasant to converse with in small doses. They also had enough common sense to not trust one another, so no one was trying to get hammered- meaning no loudmouthed or clingy drunkards to deal with, which always made for a much more pleasant evening.

It wasn’t because of his partner- if anything, the other man’s presence was one of the only things making this whole evening more bearable. As chief officer of FOWL, Steelbeak’s presence was required at any gathering of its most elite agents, which meant that Dominic, as partner of the current chief officer, was also required to attend. To the loon’s surprise, Steelbeak seemed even less excited to attend the event than his partner, stating that he found High Command’s mandatory gatherings boring and repetitive (if they were all like THIS, though, Dominic could certainly understand why the rooster felt that way after eight years of forced attendance). The lighter fowl’s hushed banter and sarcastic remarks about the party and some of the other agents never failed to bring a small smile to his more serious partner’s face and even elicited a few quiet laughs that were drowned out by the music.

No, everything else at the party was somewhat boring, but otherwise tolerable…except for one thing…one frustratingly perfect, ever present thing that he tried VERY hard to stay as far away from as possible…as long as he stayed by the wall and what he was trying to avoid stayed in the center of the room conversing with another agent about who knows what, then he’d be fi-

“Geez, short fuse, ya look like you’re waitin’ for a bomb t’ go off.” The familiar voice of his partner offered the loon a much needed distraction from his thoughts.

Dominic glanced away from the crowd of agents in front of him and looked instead to his approaching partner who’d broken away long enough to join him in his sequestered corner against the wall by the stage. “If that were the case, we might have a valid reason to get out of here.”

Steelbeak leaned against the wall beside the loon, looking across the room at the bar as if he were seriously considering it as a solution to their current predicament. “Well, there IS a full bar over there…find me a microwave an’ a can of that spray-on oil from the kitchen and I could whip somethin’ up.” It was hard to tell how much of that was actually a joke.

A smile tugged up the corners of the darker bird’s beak even as he shook his head. “Tempting as that is, we would probably just receive orders to turn the event into some sort of ‘garden party’ in the woods..and I know how much you love nature.”

A visible shudder ran down the taller fowl’s body at the thought of spending that much time out in the forest. “No-ho thank you, all that fresh air makes me gag.” He even made a retching sound to prove his point, earning a quiet laugh from the other man that made him smile and laugh along for a moment. “So, if we’re not all ‘bout t’ go out in a big ball of fire, then why’re ya over here lookin’ like you’re ‘bout t’ dig someone’s grave?” He asked after they’d both had a moment to regain their composure. “I’d ask if someone touched ya or somethin’, but I haven’t seen anyone go flyin’ through a wall or stuffed inside a cello case, so it can’t be that bad.”

Darn it, Steelbeak had gotten too good at reading the darker bird after three months of dating him. At times like these, Dominic wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed or grateful for that fact…

“No, nothing that extreme yet.” Red eyes glanced over the crowd and once more found their target. “I’m just…trying to avoid someone..”

Dark grey eyes followed the other’s gaze and landed on a well-dressed man who stood out among the crowd. “Wait…Osprey? Ya know ‘im?”

Of course he knew him. Who didn’t?

Agent Edward Osprey was a statuesque brown and white hawk that was even taller than Steelbeak. Everything about him was elegant and perfect from his immaculate feathers to his tailored blue suit coat, long-tailed shirt, black pants, and neatly folded white ascot. On top of being well-groomed and well-dressed, the man was undeniably handsome with his sharp features and piercing black eyes offset by yellow sclera- his eyes were even accentuated further by the brown band of feathers that cut perfectly across the lighter feathers on the rest of his face. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a painting; to have such perfect features shouldn’t have been possible in nature.

Oh, but the perfection didn’t end at the osprey’s looks- oh no. He was one of the most musically talented men Dominic had ever seen, being both a concert-level pianist and conductor- the orchestra which provided most of the evening’s music had been led by him when he wasn’t playing the grand piano for the crowd’s applause. The hawk was also an incredibly skilled agent specializing in sharp objects and weaponry with a nearly flawless track record under his belt. Add to that the fact that he was nothing but charming and gentlemanly to everyone he met (enemies not withstanding), and you had the walking reality-defying-perfection that was agent Edward Osprey.

“We’ve..met before, yes…” Dominic folded his arms over his chest, trying to look away while still keeping the source of his current stress and anxiety in his peripheral vision.

“Ya don’t sound too thrilled ‘bout it.” Steelbeak pointed out while eyeing his partner with one brow cocked. “I’m guessin’ ya don’t like the guy?”

Oh boy, now THERE was mine field that was difficult to navigate.. “I don’t…dislike him..”

“But ya don’t like ‘im either, right?” Once again, Steelbeak proved how good he’d gotten at reading the loon over the past few months.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Dominic closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall behind them. “…Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Hmmm, weeeeeellll~” The fake contemplation ended when a single red eye opened just enough to side-eye the rooster with a warning glare, making said rooster break into a grin. “Alright, alright, I’ll hold it in.” The red eye narrowed at him and he held up his hands to show he wasn’t crossing any of his fingers. “Promise.”

Though he hardly trusted the other man’s word, Dominic would take what he could get. After taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes again, the words he’d been trying to avoid speaking aloud finally came out. “He makes me feel………uncomfortable..”

A brief but repressed snicker was heard before his red eyes opened and gave the taller fowl a warning glare. “Sorry, somethin’ in my throat.” A clear lie, but Dominic let it slide (this time). “So, why does Mr.Fancypants over there make ya uncomfortable? Knowin’ ‘im, he probably didn’t do nothin’ to ya on purpose- the guy takes it as some sorta personal offense if anyone forgets their manners ‘round ‘im. Think he’d have a stroke if he was the one bein’ rude for a change.”

“No, he isn’t rude- I don’t think he has it in him to be anything less than an absolutely perfect gentleman.” The loon looked across the room again, making sure the man in question was still far away and that no one was close enough to overhear him aside from his partner. “And that’s part of the problem: He’s just so..so-!”

“Practically perfect?” Steelbeak supplied, the look he gave the shorter fowl both amused and understanding.

“Yes.” Dominic groaned, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. “He’s just so perfect in everything he does- he’s attractive, strong, clever, talented, gets along with EVERYONE, and has the highest record of successful missions in FOWL ever.” His eyes lingered on his hand as it lowered once more. “He’s so infuriatingly perfect that it makes me seem so…” His words trailed off into a mumble at the end, not wanting to voice how the hawk really made him feel…

“So, just t’ make sure I’ve got this whole thing right-” The lighter bird began without waiting for Dominic to repeat himself (likely because he knew he wouldn’t do so willingly). “Osprey’s so perfect that ya feel less perfect bein’ around ‘im?” Darn it, three for three- Steelbeak was on a roll tonight.

“Who wouldn’t?” He didn’t bother to look at his partner again while muttering his response.

He was right, of course: Who wouldn’t feel inferior next to someone like Edward Osprey?

“Heh.” The answer he received was a short, clipped laugh followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.

By the time Dominic looked back up to see what the other man was doing, the metal-mouthed fowl was heading towards the stage. “Steelbeak?” He called after him, but received no response.

One by one, others in the room began to notice the new figure stepping up onto the stage. It had been vacant for about twenty minutes now, allowing Osprey and his orchestra to take a break and enjoy the festivities themselves. With this in mind, it was understandable that the others in attendance were reasonably surprised to see none of the previous performers take to the stage- but the chief officer himself.

Steelbeak ignored the confused looks and hushed whispers as all eyes in the room were suddenly on him. He simply cracked his knuckles and shook out his fingers before seating himself at the grand piano, never even acknowledging them or saying a word.

Then, after taking a quick breath, he began to play.

The melody was captivating- soft but passionate; steady but rapid; light but powerful. Everything about it was such a contradiction, but it somehow just worked. It seemed to change and evolve as the song progressed, sometimes changing to the point of almost seeming like a completely new song, but then that familiar pattern would find a way to weave itself back in naturally to connect it all back together.

And then there was the sheer amount of skill and movement of those off-white fingers across the keys; they were practically a blur during the crescendos. The notes came so quickly that Steelbeak’s hands were never still, even for a second, often having different fingers of the same hand playing at completely separate rhythms from one another. Honestly, it was astonishing that they didn’t trip over themselves. It was almost mesmerizing to watch them fly and jump from one key to the next with expert timing.

Dominic was transfixed by the sights and sounds. While Steelbeak had told him of his experience as an undercover concert pianist on their first date, he had never actually heard him play before. He’d also never heard this song before, but there were no doubts in his mind that few could play it as well as Steelbeak was then and there.

Managing to tear his eyes away from the spectacle long enough to look around the room, it seemed he wasn’t the only one to feel that way. Everyone was staring in awe at their chief officer’s jaw-dropping performance. Even Osprey, who’d worked his way closer to the stage since the song began, seemed genuinely shocked and amazed by Steelbeak’s playing.

The song reached its final crescendo and Steelbeak let it drag on for a moment. Before anyone could pick their collective jaws up off of the floor and react appropriately, however, he immediately began to play another tune.

While still incredibly difficult to play and requiring a good deal of hand-acrobatics to hit each note properly, this one was softer than the last. There was something light and almost..sweet to it- as if the first one was to show off, but this one was to communicate something deeper.

This was another song that Dominic was unfamiliar with but, judging by the similar movements required to play the complex melody properly, it felt like it was by the same composer.

It stirred something in him as he listened, the gentle tune causing a pleasant shiver to linger in his body and a warm feeling to blossom in his chest. For a moment, he thought of the love songs he’d heard in the past- of their cheesy lyrics declaring adoration that ultimately became meaningless with how many people sang those words over and over again. Those songs were cute, but they ultimately felt hollow without a sense of genuine romance to them.

This song, though…This one, without any words or blatant messages to project, somehow felt more like a true love song than any the loon had ever heard in his life. This was raw, passionate, gentle, and beautiful all at once…and he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t have him blushing a little..

By the time Steelbeak finished playing and stood up, the partygoers had recovered from their initial shock and finally applauded the exemplary performance they’d been treated to. Steelbeak, for his part, just smirked and gave a quick wave over his shoulder as he left the stage, not even taking a bow despite how well-earned it was at that point.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Dominic began once the other man joined him against the wall once more. “But what was that about?”

Steelbeak looked down at him with a smirk, but it was less teasing and far softer than usual. “Just MY way of answerin’ your question.” Before the loon could ask for clarification, Steelbeak looked towards the piano he’d just been playing. “You were askin’ who wouldn’t feel less perfect ‘round someone like Osprey: I wouldn’t ‘cause I know I’ve got somethin’ I’m better at than him.” Dark grey eyes returned their attention to the red ones still looking up at him. “One thing I’ve learned from bein’ chief officer all these years is that ya can’t be better than everyone at everythin’, someone’s ALWAYS gonna have somethin’ they’re better at than you are. The trick t’ stayin’ on top an’ remindin’ everyone why YOU’RE the king an’ they’re the pawns is t’ find the one thing you’re better at than whoever you’re up against an’ make ‘em feel like you’re superior ‘cause of it.”

Dominic took a moment to digest this new philosophy. It certainly seemed to make sense, and would probably explain why Steelbeak always acted like he was better than everyone- it was a way to stay on top and keep others from challenging him by appearing superior. While this information was useful, there was still one part of the chief officer’s advice that was easier said than done: “So you’re saying that I have to find something I’m better at than him? That’s asking a lot since I don’t have any comparative talents like you do.” Dominic didn’t really have much experience with playing instruments or conducting, so he couldn’t use that for any sort of advantage (and while his singing voice was pretty good, he’d never heard Osprey’s so it would be hard to compare them). They were experts with completely different weaponry, so no luck there. The hawk had a better track record for missions than he did, so he couldn’t use anything work related. “I don’t think-”

“You’re a better leader.”

Red eyes blinked in confusion and stared up at the taller bird. “What?”

“You’re a better leader.” The other repeated once more, looking down at the loon with an expression halfway between a smirk and an encouraging smile. “Osprey’s got one heck of a record with missions an’ gets along with everyone, but you’re a better leader than him: Ya know when t’ be nice an’ when t’ be serious. Ya know when t’ listen t’ others an’ when t’ make ‘em listen t’ YOU instead. Ya walk int’ the room an’ command guys three times your size t’ shut up an’ do what they’re told an’ put ‘em in their place if they even THINK ‘bout talkin’ back.” With a smirk, he inclined his head in the general direction of the crowd. “That’s why you’re over here with me an’ he’s over there with them. Sure, his track-record’s higher, but YOU’RE the one High Command picked t’ stand at the top with me- ya beat him an’ everyone else in FOWL for your position ‘cause ya deserved it.” Having made his point, Steelbeak reclined fully against the wall once more, his hands raised to cushion his head against the hard surface in a casual manner. “If anyone ever makes ya question yourself, just remember: I actually listen t’ YOU.”

Dominic was floored (and..maybe a little touched?) by his partner’s words.

After a moment of contemplation, he began to feel a smile slip onto his beak. Steelbeak had a valid point and wasn’t just stroking Dominic’s ego: The loon WAS a pretty good leader. He could coordinate teams ranging from two people to two hundred. He learned his teammates’ strengths and weaknesses and planned around them accordingly to complete any task he’d been assigned.

And, if nothing else, getting someone as bigheaded and arrogant as Steelbeak to listen to him HAD to count for something.

Before he had the chance to thank the chief officer for his rare-words of encouragement, another voice added itself to their conversation. “Steelbeak, your performance was absolutely awe-inspiring!” Looking away from one another to see who’d come to join them, the deadly duo saw none other than Edward Osprey approaching them. He smiled and bowed his head politely. “Do forgive my intrusion, but I simply HAD to commend you for your beautiful rendition of La Campanella: That is an incredibly difficult piece that I struggle with even after a few warm-ups.”

Steelbeak ate up the praise as one would expect, giving Osprey a smirk while idly bringing one hand around to inspect his fingers like a girl checking her nails for imperfections. “Woooow, really? That’s what I play FOR my warm-ups. Start with the harder ones an’ everythin’ else’s easy, y’know?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Osprey was quick to agree, never losing his genial smile. “Though, I must say, I didn’t know you were so familiar with Liszt. Your playing of Love Dream was very emotional- anyone in particular you were dedicating that performance to?”

That actually seemed to trip the rooster up a little, Dominic catching a bit of red on the other’s cheeks between his light feathers as he tried to play it off cool-and-casual. “I mean…maybe…it’s just a song, though, no big deal..”

It was Dominic’s turn to smirk knowingly at the other man. “Well, if there was someone you had in mind while playing it, I’m fairly certain they would have found it beautiful and charming.”

Steelbeak side-eyed the loon, his cheeks going a bit darker, but was saved by another agent coming up to them. “Hey, can you play one more? Everyone loved you out there!” To the trio’s surprise, the request was directed at Steelbeak rather than Osprey.

“Eh, I dunno-” Steelbeak started to say, but his eyes wandered over to Dominic and something in those dark grey depths shifted. “…Ya know what? Sure. I can handle one more.” Then, to everyone’s delight, he walked back up to the stage and took his seat at the piano once more.

“I had no idea he was so talented.” Osprey admitted to Dominic once the lighter bird was out of earshot. “I must admit, I’m a little jealous that you get to work so closely with him- that man’s been chief officer longer than some of us have even been agents.” He looked away from the stage to meet the loon’s gaze directly. “I can only imagine what you must have gone through to earn his respect and companionship.”

“Thank you. It has been.. a journey, to say the least…” Dominic was more than a little surprised..but not necessarily by the taller man’s words- Osprey was polite to everyone and was no stranger to sincere flattery. No, what REALLY surprised the loon was the fact that he just had a conversation (albeit a brief one) with Edward Osprey without any feelings of anxiety or inferiority rising up within him.

What Osprey said next was lost on Dominic as he heard Steelbeak begin to play. This song was different from the others. It was a completely different composer, era, and genre of music- one that the loon was all too familiar with since it had been played in his car a couple of times while his partner sat beside him in the passenger seat praising his singing of the accompanying lyrics. A soft smile tugged at his beak as Dominic listened to the equally soft melody, knowing that this was likely just Steelbeak’s way of driving his earlier point home and wasn’t really meant to be recognized by anyone else.

It was Dominic’s turn to receive a few stares- first from the other agents in the room, and then from Steelbeak himself when he passed in front of the piano to grab the microphone that had been left in its stand nearby. Once he removed it from its spot and made it more mobile, Dominic walked closer to the piano and leaned against it casually. He did a circular gesture with two of his fingers and Steelbeak smiled, instantly knowing what his partner wanted.

Without missing a beat, Steelbeak smoothly looped the song back to the beginning and nodded to Dominic when it was time to join in.

Nodding back, the darker bird brought the microphone closer to his beak and closed his eyes as he began to sing. “You're a-lone. You're on your own. So what? Have you gone blind? Have you for-got-ten what you have and whaaat is yours?”

He blocked out the stage lights; blocked out the crowd around them and their eyes on him. “Glass haaalf empty~, glass haaalf full- well~, either way you won't be go~ing thirsty; Count your blessings, not your flaws.”

There was only one set of eyes on him that mattered right now, and he knew the look they held without even having to see them. “You've got it all~ You lost your mind in the sound. There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown. You're in controoll- Rid of the monsters insi~de your head…Put all your faults to bed…You can be king a~gain…”

Another quick breath stolen between verses and he gained the confidence to open his eyes, but he kept his gaze locked solely on the one gazing back at him with awe and adoration. “You don't get wha~at all thiiss i~s a~bout. You're too wra~pped up in your self-doubt. You've got that young blood, set it free…”

The smile on Steelbeak’s face was brighter than any of the lights pointed at the pair on stage, making Dominic feel twice as warm and making him smile just as much. “You've got it all~ You lost your mind in the sound. There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown. You're in controoll- Rid of the monsters insi~de your head…Put all your faults to~ bed…You can be king.”

There was a spark of something in the air between them- that same connection they shared when they were working together to take down an enemy that made both of them feel so much more aware of one another on a completely different level. “There's method i~n my ma~adness…There's no looogic in your sa~dness…You don't gaaiinn a siinngle thing from misery~yy…Take it from mee~ee…”

He used his free hand to close the piano’s cover, careful not to let it drop and ruin the gentle decrescendo of the song. “You've got it all~ You lost your mind in the sound. There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown. You're in controoll- Rid of the monsters insi~de your head…Put all your faults to~ bed…You can be king.”

Dominic gracefully lifted himself up to sit on the closed piano, one hand holding the microphone in front of him while the other was braced behind him so he could lean back with his legs crossed in front of him- head tipped back as he belted out the notes of the final verse. “You've got it all! You lost your mind in the sound! There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown! You're in control- Rid of the monsters inside your head! Put all your faults to bed…You can be king again!”

Red eyes met dark grey, one additional line being sung softly and with so much more feeling than any other line before it. “We can be kings a~gain.”

Steelbeak’s playing came to an end and the two were left staring at one another fondly. There were cheers and applause and words being called to them, but neither man payed them any mind.

After all, they were the kings standing at the top.

End Notes: For anyone who’s curious, here are the songs that Steelbeak played in order: The first is La Campanella by Liszt. The second is Liebstraum No.3, also known as Love Dream, also by Liszt. And the final piece that Domino sang along to at the end was King by Lauren Aquilina.

When choosing the first two songs for Steelbeak to play, I asked a couple of my friends who were piano majors in high school what the most difficult type of music to play is that still sounds good. The general consensus among most of them was, and I quote, “people who hate their hands but love to please others usually play Liszt”- and La Campanella came up repeatedly as one of the hardest songs to play, so I went with it xD

Once again, happy birthday to @thefriendlyfour / @eleanorose123 ! Hope you had a good one and thank you for another year of awesome content!

#steelbeak #Dominic Domino #steeldomino #darkwing duck #dwd #darkwing duck oc #not my oc

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amayawolfe · 3 years

Text

Bubblegum Blood: Ch. 6 - The One and Only, Sadashi Ito

Edited by: ravenblack.writer from Instagram

Word Count: 4980

Warnings: mentions of child and animal abuse, animal death, loss, angst

Summary: As Hisoka and the gang get ready to head out, someone who lives in the town they are destined for is already hard at work. Someone who is most definitely one of a kind.

Sadashi

By the time Magikana, Abaki, Camilla, and Hisoka had awoken to start their day, another individual had already been awake and working for a couple of hours.

In the town the quartet was destined for, a couple days' bus ride away, a nearly thirteen-year-old d at work on her family farm. Even though the morning sun had only been up for a few hours, the girl was already sweaty and dirty due to repairing a cattle fence all on her own. Despite the conditions of the hard work she was doing, and the long day ahead, she was in good spirits.

Less than a couple of weeks from her thirteenth birthday, Sadashi Ito was short for her age. Despite her height, Sadashi was wiry, fast, and freakishly strong. Her green eyes shone bright with keen alertness honed sharp from playing both roles of predator and prey. Roles enacted in the thick forests and treacherous mountains that surrounded her farm home, as well as her home itself.

Her wild, untamable light purple hair was the first feature that always caught people's attention. Her older sisters hardly ever took her to town with them as they became annoyed and embarrassed from strangers always staring at them.

Once, Sadashi's older sisters, Asuri and Kimichi, tried dying her hair to make it look more normal. It was supposed to be the same shade brown as theirs, but it turned out hideous. A result that caused them to laugh and tease their little sister in some of the cruelest l of manners. To Sadashi's relief, and her sisters' annoyance and disappointment, the dye did not last long. Even though the product used was supposed to be permanent, it had completely faded away in less than a week.

The natural color of her hair wasn't the only odd thing about it. The violet locks that rested atop the girl's head seemed to have a mind of their own as well. Whenever it was cut, it would grow back to the length it was originally at in just a matter of days. Once there, it would either grow very slowly or seemingly not at all. Running a brush through it was out of the question. If Sadashi or anyone else tried to brush her hair, it would become seriously tangled. So much so that the brush would even occasionally break, and yet, Sadashi and her two younger sisters could run their fingers through her hair no problem.

The strange hair even seemed to react to the weather as well as some of Sadashi's moods. Whenever a dangerously violent storm was on the way or Sadashi was feeling particularly angry or frightened, her hair would darken in shade and become wiry, practically standing out on end; not unlike that of an angry cat. When the weather was really nice or Sadashi was in a particularly good mood, the ends of her hair would form bouncy ringlets and lighter purple highlights would streak through. On cold days, her hair would lighten in shade; fluffing out slightly and become as soft as downy. She had yet to associate an emotion that paired with this state.

Lastly, when Sadashi was exhausted or on days that were going to be hot and sunny, her hair would hang limply from her head and look dull. A state that her hair was in at the current moment. While she wasn't tired yet, Sadashi knew it was gonna be a scorcher of a day. It was only a few hours old and the sun was already bearing down on her without mercy.

Sadashi stood straight and wiped the sweat from her brow onto her forearm. She shaded her eyes so that she could glance at the sun to get an idea of the time. Once, she had a wristwatch, but it broke months ago during chores and she never got another one. She rarely ever had money, and gifts were even rarer.

According to the sun's position, it was well into the late morning.

"Alrighty, break time~!" The preteen sing-songed aloud to herself.

She walked over to a nearby tree where her water bottle and lunch box were resting within the shade. After removing her boots, Sadashi plopped down in the shin-high grass and sighed. She wasn't quite done with the fence yet, but she knew she would have it done before it was time to go back home. A matter that would make her father happy, surely.

She removed a ham and cheese sandwich from her lunch bag, unwrapped it, and took a bite. She stared up at the sky while she chewed her food, all the while rolling around the idea in her mind of her father ever being happy with her. She snickered.

Like anything could ever really make that man happy. . .

The corners of Sadashi's mouth turned downward as images of her father's rough, angry face glaring down at her flashed through her mind.

Sadashi knew that Warren, her father, did not like her, nor love her. He never had. She knew he blamed her for him not having a son, even though it wasn't her fault. That was just one of the many reasons he treated her so cruelly and violently. Not to mention the fact that Sadashi was very much a "tomboy" most likely made matters worse.

She used to cry herself to sleep at night over not only her father's lack of love and care but her mother's and older sisters' as well. While her mother never laid a harmful finger on her, she never said a kind word or tried to comfort her either. Her older sisters simply followed their father's example. Especially the eldest, Asuri.

It had been years now since she last cried herself to sleep, as not all of Sadashi's family treated her so poorly. Her younger sisters, Satomi and Rin, loved Sadashi unconditionally. And their baby sister, Emmy, seemed to really like Sadashi as well. Even some of the villagers, while wary of her, were often kind. They were the majority of the very few positive things in her life.

Sadashi quickly made short work of her lunch and emptied the last bit in her water bottle. She stood and stretched her whole tiny body, taking care to give her left arm some extra stretches and rotations. It was still a bit stiff from having been in a cast for a couple of weeks. She had only just gotten the cast removed the day before, despite the doctor's reluctance.

The doctor had originally estimated four to six weeks before Sadashi's arm would be completely healed; she had managed it in two. Yet another oddity about this child, she was an impeccably fast healer. A fact that she was eternally grateful for, as she would most likely have died some time ago by her father's hands if not for her accelerated healing and resilient body.

Before putting her boots back on, Sadashi stripped off her socks and headed for the edge of the forest with her empty water bottle in hand. She wanted to refill it before she got back to work on the fence. Luckily, there was a nice stream just past the forest edge.

A light smile graced the child's lips as soon as the cool shadows of the forest trees touched her skin. She loved nearly everything there was about the forest. The cool inviting shade, sounds of active fauna and the wind as it rustled the trees, the countless smells of fresh and old flora. Sadashi also loved the foods the forest would provide year-round ranging from berries to nuts to roots. Not to mention the large variety of wild game.

There was one thing that Warren did for which Sadashi was grateful : teaching her how to hunt. Now, the man didn't do this out of the kindness of his heart or as an attempt to bond with her; the family was growing and he just needed the extra hands. At the age of nine, Sadashi was just as strong, if not stronger, than her eldest sister who was nearly four years older than her.

Hunting and tracking were Warren's jobs. He would guide groups of people deep into the forests and mountains to hunt the larger, more dangerous game throughout the different seasons of the year. So as to make sure Sadashi would be a useful pair of hands, her father had taught her just about everything he knew. From what was safe to eat and what wasn't, identifying medicinal herbs, how to find clean water, build a shelter, read the weather, tell the difference between old and fresh tracks, what tracks belong to what animal, and so on and so forth.

It was more likely than not he expected his daughter to fail, giving him all the more reason to punish her. But to his surprise, Sadashi picked up on all his lessons and took to hunting like a veteran hound on a fresh scent. She more than enjoyed it, she loved it.

She could sit motionless in a stand for hours, but Sadashi always preferred to stalk her prey instead. A strange calm would fall across her when she would stalk the woods. Her skin would prickle with excitement when she would pick up a trail, her heart would quicken as the scent got stronger. For someone with so few years out in the field, Sadashi's tracking and kill record was impressive for her age. Even to her father.

Along with the hunting and survival lessons came weapons training. Warren was hesitant to teach Sadashi how to use them. However, if she were to be his assistant, she would need to know how to handle the tools of the trade. So he taught her how to use both melee and ranged weapons. Sadashi was a little slower on the pickup with these lessons. Especially since melee, such as hunting knives and spears, required a closer range. She was terrified to come into range of her father's powerful and potentially deadly strikes.

But over time, and many a bruise and cut later, Sadashi became just as skilled with melee as she was with ranged. To her own surprise, she found that the hunting knife was her favorite weapon overall. It was easy to hide, easy to handle, and silent.

Sadashi preferred silence, as it allowed her to listen to her surroundings all the better. She was remarkably stealthy even when she moved along the forest floor. So much so that she now naturally walked in silence, much to the dismay of her siblings. She had a bad habit of "unintentionally" sneaking up on them.

The years of harsh lessons and exhausting training paid off, and showed as she approached her destination. Without a single rustle of a leaf or snap of a twig, Sadashi made it to the stream's edge. She examined the clear waters as they flowed past her steadily.

It looks to be moving at a steady pace, Sadashi thought to herself. Before she refilled her water bottle, the young huntress lowered herself down and brought her nose close to the water's surface. Her tiny nostrils flared as she took a deep breath and held it for a moment.

Smells safe, let's see.

She dipped the tip of her tongue into the cool liquid and rubbed it around inside her mouth, tasting the sample carefully. During this time of year, small streams like this one can become too sluggish, allowing harmful bacteria and parasites to fester. But everything checked out. Sadashi dipped her puckered lips into the flowing water and sucked in great mouthfuls until her thirst was more than satisfied.

She refilled her bottle and returned to her spot near the fence. After brushing her feet off and putting her socks and shoes back on, she went back to work repairing the fence. Removing any rotten or damaged boards and replacing them with new ones. She also made sure to take note of the conditions of the posts.

Sadashi wasn't much of a singer. Despite her sharp hearing, she was horribly tone-deaf but would hum while she worked nonetheless. She would allow her mind to wander a bit when doing tedious tasks such as what she was doing now.

She wondered what might be for dinner, if she had any other chores before bed, when the next hunt might be, and thought about how she would most definitely need a bath later.

Hours passed and Sadashi took only a few more breaks to cool off, snack, and stay hydrated. Occasionally walking back to the stream to refill her water bottle.

By the time she was done, the day was finally beginning to cool and the sun was low enough that the sky had started to change color. The blue that sat high most of the day now had a violet hue and the clouds were pinkish-orange. It wouldn't be long until the stars would begin to blink into sight.

Sadashi gathered all the tools she had brought along and put them in a bucket near the fence post. She also stuffed her food wrappers and bag down into the bucket so as to not leave any trash. While she was bent over the bucket, a small sound caught her ear. Something was approaching Sadashi at a steady pace.

She straightened and listened carefully, eyes turned and focused in the direction the noise was coming from. Sadashi could tell it was bipedal and not much smaller than herself. Her hand slowly lifted to the handle of the hunting knife strapped to her hip.

Although animal attacks were low this close to the farm, there were countless dangerous beasts in the forest nearby. Not to mention the occasional group of bandits who would call the forest their home.

To not carry a weapon when so close to the tree line was considered foolish in these parts. However, Sadashi quickly realized she had nothing to worry about as a familiar cry called out from around the bend.

"Sadaaaaashiiiiii!?" It was her second youngest sister, Rin.

"Over here, Rin," Sadashi replied. "And no so loud, stupid, you trying to attract trouble?"

A six-year-oldd girl with honey brown curly hair rounded the bend of trees. Upon spotting her older sister, Rin came up to her at a light run.

"That's mean, Dashi," the little girl panted, hot and out of breath. "Don't call me stupid!"

Her face was red and shone with sweat; her hair hung limply from the heat. Sadashi smirked, then reached up and poked her little sister in the forehead when she was within reach.

"Well, don't act stupid and I won't call you stupid," the preteen reasoned. "You know someone your size shouldn't make too much noise out here, not to mention you shouldn't be running around in the heat like you were."

"I know," Rin said. She rubbed her forehead where Sadashi poked her, looked down at her feet, and kicked at the grass. "I just wanted to let you know that Kimichi said dinner would be ready soon. I thought you would have run out of food a long time ago and would be pretty hungry now."

Sadashi opened her mouth to reply only to be interrupted by a large, audible growl from her stomach. She rubbed her belly and let out a small, embarrassed laugh.

"It looks like you're not wrong, Rinny. How about we head home, don't want to keep everyone else waiting, right?"

Rin looked up at Sadashi with a wide grin and sparkling green eyes. Same eyes as Sadashi, like their mother.

"Okay!" she chirped. Rin then held out her hand expectantly. Being only six years old, she was often afraid of the dark. With night rapidly approaching and being so close to the woods she had received so many warnings about, Sadashi was not surprised her little sister wanted to hold her hand on the walk back home.

Sadashi smiled, wiped sweat and dirt off her hand onto her overalls then took her little sister's hand. As the siblings turned and began to head back home, Rin giggled.

"What is it?" Sadashi inquired, gazing down and raising a single eyebrow.

"I just think it's funny you call me 'small' when you're not that much taller than me," Rin said with another giggle.

Sadashi scowled a little and grumbled under her breath, "I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet, okay?" This only caused Rin to laugh outright.

Once she had calmed down from her laughing fit, the walk became quiet minus the rustle of grass beneath their feet and the breeze in the trees. The way back along the fence line towards home would take about twenty minutes, so Sadashi decided to strike up a conversation.

"So, Rinny, what did you do today while I was working out here?"

"Oh! Mama, Asuri, and me went to town today!," Rin replied cheerfully. The family did own a vehicle, but with Warren being the penny pincher he was, it was only used for long drives past town. This was fine with Rin as she loved riding in the horse-drawn wagon. She would sing little children's songs while gazing at the scenery.

"Kimichi stayed home to watch Emmy and do house stuff, while Satomi has been caring for the animals. Some of the chickens are still sick."

Sadashi smiled a little at the mention of her sister less than a year younger than herself. Soft-spoken Satomi was so kind and gentle; she was bound to become an amazing healer someday. She had even started saving money in her own little piggy bank for tuition to go to medical school.

The warm feeling was fleeting as Sadashi realized Rin had left a family member out of her little update. Her smile faded and her stomach tightened a little.

"So, what has papa been up to then?" Despite trying to keep the same tone of voice she had just been using, Sadashi's words had a bit of an icy edge to them as they fell away from her lips.

Rin was quiet at first, her own smile fading as well. She knew how much Sadashi and Warren did not get along. Her little hand squeezed Sadashi's hand tighter.

"Papa. . . He's. . . He's been over at mister Kaji's house all day. . ." her voice was soft with concern.

Mr. Kaji was one of Warren's hunting buddies, and a long-time drinking pal. Whenever he spent the day over there, he almost always came home reeking of alcohol. The drink tended to make Warren more short-tempered than he already was and all the more aggressive.

The sinking feeling Sadashi now had in her gut made her feel like she had swallowed a large rock. Silence fell over the two sisters as they continued along their way, dread consuming what little happiness there had been.

Glancing down, Sadashi could see little Rin was both frightened and concerned. Even though Sadashi was usually Warren's main outlet for his aggression, it was not uncommon for him to lash out at the others. To make matters worse, he rarely ever pulled his punches when he was drunk, which made him all the more dangerous for Sadashi's younger siblings.

Sadashi suppressed a scowl that tried to form on her lips. Thoughts of her father attacking her siblings made her blood roll to a slow boil. She tried to offer her sister some comfort instead.

"It'll be okay, Rinny," she assured her, "you know I will always be there to protect you."

Sadashi meant every word of it as it wouldn't be the first time, and most likely not the last time, she would come between her father and one of her little sisters.

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Rin sniffled. Her little hand began to shake within Sadashi's bigger one and tears started to form in her eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt again."

"Aw, don't worry about me, Rinny. You know I'm tough. I can take whatever papa has to throw at me. As long as you, Emmy, and Satomi are safe and unharmed, that's all I care about."

Again, it was the truth; they were the only reason Sadashi stuck around. They seemed to be the only people in the world that truly cared about her, and never thought of her as anything other than their protective big sister whom they trusted and loved wholeheartedly. If it wasn't for them, Sadashi would have most likely run away from home a long time ago. That, or found some other way out of this life she found herself within...

Sadashi then spotted the first sign that indicated the two of them were almost home. The chicken coop had come into view and Sadashi could see a warm light spilling from the open doorway. Pouncing on the opportunity to change the topic, Sadashi lifted her hand and pointed towards the coop.

"Look, Rinny, there's the hen house. And it looks like Satomi is-"

"Satomi!!" Rin instantly stopped scrubbing at her face with her free hand and made a mad dash for the coop. The young girl bolted through the small open door upon reaching her destination, disappearing inside.

Sadashi sounded a noise akin to that of an amused snort. She envied her little sister's ability to go from sad and worried to happy and excited in the blink of an eye. Shaking her head slightly, the preteen sauntered up to the coop at her own pace yet paused at the doorway. She leaned forward and poked her head in through the door, peering around within.

The chickens were all in their nest boxes or perched on their favorite roosts. Rin had squat down next to another girl who was knelt down on the floor reaching into one of the nest boxes. She gently stroked a large, white speckled hen sitting inside. Upon sticking her head in, the girl looked up and over at Sadashi with big, warm brown eyes.

"Oh, hey Sadashi," the girl greeted kindly. Her voice was warm and soothing. It was one of the factors that made her so good with the animals and smaller children.

"Hey Satomi," Sadshi replied, "How's Miss Chickadee?"

Satomi looked back down at the chicken she was petting and nodded a little.

"She passed the egg that was causing problems, so, I think she will be just fine."

"Guess she's not up for the cooking pot just yet, eh?" Sadashi was joking, of course, but Satomi rarely ever found her dark humor to be amusing. She shot her older sister an annoyed glance.

"Not funny, Sadashi," she muttered.

Despite being such an avid hunter, Sadashi truly loved animals. Taking care to always make the quickest most painless kills possible, and only ever taking what was needed. That, or what her father ordered her to take.

Sadashi had even had a cat once, a sweet gray tabby that followed her home from town. It was named Silver. It would sleep with Sadashi every night, the warmth and purrs of the beast kept her loneliness at bay. Sadly, the poor thing was no longer around.

Sadashi's father came home drunk one night and tripped over Silver. Warren instantly flew into a rage and beat the small animal to near death with his boots and bare hands. He then left Silver to die and be found wherever it crawled off to. Sadashi found her dying friend in her bed. Its breath was broken and raspy as its ribcage rose and fell unevenly. Since there was nothing that Sadashi nor Satomi could do for Silver, Sadashi curled around her furry companion and comforted it the best she could long past the point of passing. The next morning, she buried the one and only friend she had ever had in a beautiful clearing within the forest. It was then that Sadashi had decided not to take in any more pets until she was long gone from this hell hole she called home.

With all that said, Satomi's love for animals was very strong as well. She was the one who cared for just about any injury or illness an animal would have. She would speak kindly to them as she treated them, her warm voice and soothing words always seemed to keep even the wildest of beasts calm. Rin fully believed Satomi could even talk to animals; which, of course, she could not.

However, it wasn't just animals Satomi was good with, she was really good with people as well. Both adults and children. She had a calming aura that made you relax around her and trust her. Even open up and talk to her about whatever weighed heavily on their mind at that point in time. There had been many a time she had found Sadashi mad or stressed out and she would calm her down by simply sitting next to her in silence.

"Aww, come on Satomi, you know I'm joking," Sadashi said as she entered the chicken coop and walked over to her sisters. She squatted down, reached over, and lightly scratched Miss Chickadee on the side of the neck, causing her to make a low murmur of content. Sadashi then grinned mischievously.

"But you gotta admit, this fat hen is gonna be tasty when her time comes."

"You're awful!" Satomi stated. She was mostly vegetarian when she could get away with it. Satomi gave her older sister a rude shove which threw Sadashi off balance and caused her to fall back on her rear, laughing. Rin tried to stifle a giggle behind her hands and Satomi even smirked a little.

She then stood up with a sigh and grabbed the basket with eggs and medical supplies for animals.

"Come on girls, we better head inside." Despite Sadashi being older, Satomi always seemed to be the one in charge when it was just the three of them.

Sadashi and Rin followed Satomi outside. Being the last to exit the coop, Sadashi shut off the lights on her way out. Satomi turned to Rin as she walked towards the house and smiled.

"So, did anything exciting happen when you were in town today?"

Rin hummed in thought for a moment. She then stopped and gasped, her eyes growing large.

"I almost forgot!" her voice had risen to a near shout, "We saw papers showing that there's going to be a circus in town! It's going to be held as part of the Harvest Festival!"

"Oh, that does sound exciting," Satomi chuckled lightly, amused at her little sister's excitement.

Sadashi stopped walking as well and looked at Rin, then at Satomi.

"What's a circus?" Their parents really didn't let Sadashi leave the farm very often. While the word sounded familiar, like she had read it somewhere at some point, she couldn't recall what it was.

"Oh, it's a group of people that travel and put on a show doing tricks for entertainment. Usually, there are games with prizes and all kinds of food," Satomi explained. " Sometimes they even have animals from other lands. Takibi told me about them when he and his parents got back from their summer travels."

Satomi blushed a little at the mention of her crush.

"That sounds like so much fun!" Rin cheered.

"Yeah.." Sadashi sighed and tucked her hands inside her overalls, "Shame we probably won't be allowed to go to it. . ."

"But, why not~?" Rin whined.

"You know mama and papa aren't into that kind of thing, they would never take us. Besides, something like that probably costs money."

"Oh..." Rin replied with a tone of disappointment. Her little head and shoulders drooped as she started walking back towards the house again.

Satomi gave her sister a scathing look and hissed, "Why do you always have to be such a stick in the mud?"

Sadashi flinched and scratched behind her head.

"I was only telling the truth," she muttered. Then she perked up. "Come on Rin, we don't need a circus to have fun! We can have our own fun! See! I can do tricks, too!"

Sadashi took a couple of steps forward and brought her hands down to the ground, throwing her feet up into the air, making herself do a handstand.

"That's not a trick, Sadashi," Rin replied quietly.

"Oh yeah?" She grinned, "Then how about this?" After focusing for a moment, she brought one hand up, leaving the other on the ground. Sadashi wobbled a bit, but she was in a full one-handed handstand.

"You've been practicing," commented Satomi. Sadashi's grin grew wider.

"Yeah, now watch this!" Dropping her hand down, she started to run after her sisters while still performing her trick. To the younger sisters, this looked freakishly weird in the low light around them. They squealed and ran away from their older sister, laughing. Sadashi gave chase.

It was moments like these that Sadashi treasured greatly. This moments that made her stay home. Moments that chased away the darkness and showed a little more light into her life. But that's all they were, moments. And moments never lasted very long.

Light suddenly spilled into the yard as the back door to the house was thrown open. A large, ominous figure stood in the doorway, causing a shadow to splay across the grass. Satomi and Rin froze in their tracks and Sadashi lost her balance, falling to the ground.

With the light coming out from behind the figure, all they could see was a silhouette of the person. None could see their facial features or expression at all. But the three kids knew who the person was by the shape alone, and all three of them simultaneously swallowed.

"You're late," came a stern, cold male voice, "Get inside, now!"

~ ~ ~

A/N: Whew! I am so happy I FINALLY got a new chapter posted! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please be sure to leave me a LIKE! ;) Maybe, just MAYBE, I will get the next one out some what soon-ish. I've kinda given up setting dates for myself, it never works out.. XD Anyone, all comments are welcome and appreciated!! Take care and see you in the next one. ^_^

~ ~ ~

Previous Chapter: Ch. 5 - Whispers of the Cards

Next Chapter: Work In Progress

#fanfiction #HunterXHunter #hunter x hunter #hxh #hunter x hunter fanfiction #original character #OC #hunter x hunter oc #hxh oc #background story #chapter story #chapter 6 #Bubblegum Blood #please read warnings #anime #hunter x hunter headcanon #alternate universe #hunter x hunter au #hxh au

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eldritcharchive · 4 years

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battle cries, dear

Read on AO3 | @bamf-jaskier‘s Witchertober 2020 Day 9 - Destiny

"Come on, Mordred, just put me on the roster?" Beorn is not begging, but he's close. Mordred's been put in charge of a team the trainers are sending out to deal with the wyvern sealing sheep (and at least one goat, according to councilor Eskel's last count) from the farmlands of Kaer Morhen.

"Why are you so set on this, B?" Mordred asks, exasperation leaking into his tone. The Wolf pup cornered Mordred in the library, and he desperately needed to visit with one of the mages (Ashwood, if he was being honest he preferred talking to Ashwood) in order to get help preparing potion for the trip. It wouldn't be far, so they wouldn't need much. Yet, he's still here, because, despite Beorn's diminutive size, the idiot was fast (and Mordred is fond of him).

Beorn huffs. "Because for one, it never hurts to have extra people on a hunt like this, and witcher code or whatever doesn't prohibit traveling in groups," he says, sounding bored with his own explanation. "And two, there are no Wolves in your team and three -" he leans forward for emphasis "- you know the only reason they excluded me from consideration because of my size. I passed the trials, Mordred, I'm a full-fledged Witcher just like you and they treat me like a fucking initiate."

"There is a Wolf on the team," Mordred says with a sigh, "we're bringing Oskar."

"Good. He'll vouch for me then."

"Freya's blessed ass, Beorn." Mordred sees an opening and twists away from his friend, walking briskly towards the main hall. Beorn soon falls in step next to him, and Mordred growls. "Fine! Fine. Just meet us at the stables in two hours." They stop in the main hall and Beorn's face lights up. "If you're late, we're leaving without you."

---

Initiates crowd around the hunting group as they gather at the stables - many of them haven't seen teams of witchers prepare for hunts and the elders are still used to the old days when witchers walked their Paths alone. Mordred spends time checking over their potion supply before addressing each member of the team.

"Wynona, did you bring explosive bolts?"

A young, lithe Viper Witcher stood slightly apart from the group with her arms crossed over her chest. Her lip curled from a large bite scar, the partners of which danced up the left side of her face. “Letho took a huge supply with him down to Aedirn,” she said, scowling. “Arms master said we can’t spare any for right now. Cactus helped me make some grapeshot to compensate.”

“How many grenades?”

“About ten.”

“It’ll have to do,” Mordred says, picking at the ragged scar on his forehead.

“We’ve got some split bolts,” called Liam, one of the taller boys, standing next to his twin brother, Gavin. The only difference between the two were the scars down their arms - Gavin sported bite marks from various necrophages; Liam, slashes and gouges from aerial beasts. (They wore Cat armor that exposed their forearms to help people identify them.) “Gav picked some up on his way back from Kovir.”

Mordred nods, “Anything else? We’ve got enough Swallow - more than enough, you know how Amma is with prep work.” A series of good-natured groans echo out from the group. “Hearing none, we gotta do a roll-call and then head out. Wynona, Liam, and Gavin are here, obviously. Drummond?”

“Here.” Drummond, a Manticore of considerable bulk and height, crouches near the initiates as he finishes pulling on his leather gauntlets and checking the various pouches strapped to his armor.

“Oskar? Beorn?”

“Both here, Dred!” Os calls as Beron finishes securing a section of chainmail over Os’ right thigh. Of the crew, the two Wolves have a more haphazard collection of gear - their swords are fine, but lack the pommels standard to their school. Both boys have linen and leather armor, well-cared for and hand patched in places. The Wolves still prized self-sufficiency, and their yearlings tended to purchase or patch their gear on the Path, rather than returning to a Witcher outpost for repair.

Mordred sighs - he’d hoped maybe Os would talk some sense into Beorn. Still, they were here, and that’s what mattered. “Cel?” He calls out. The Griffin (sporting traditional light-Griffin School plate over linen armor), waved their hand.

“Can we get on with it,” Wynona hissed. “We’re wasting time.”

“Look, if you want to explain to Papa Vesemir why we didn’t turn in a roster before leaving, be my guest,” Modred responds, looking over his list and making notes. He rolls up his list and looks over the crowd of initiates. “Alright, littles, you have training with councilman Eskel in fifteen and best get to the training grounds now.”

Most of the initiates scatter, though Mordred stops Friedrik and hands him the note. Friedrick nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet and sprints off toward the keep to deliver the roster to the keep’s Porter. The team followed Mordred toward the eastern gate, and Drummond went over the plan.

“The wyvern has been spotted east of here, near a ruined watchtower at the other end of the Pond,” he starts, falling into step behind Mordred and allowing the others to circle around him. “It’s likely to have its nest somewhere in that area, perhaps even in the ruins. Plan is Wynona hits the nest with grapeshot -”

“Damn straight.”

“- Liam and Gavin will find high ground and use their scattershot to ground the thing,” Drummond continues. “Beorn and Os, you’re on the ground near the nest as Wynona’s backup, while Mordred and I focus on drawing its attention.” The manticore absently cracks his knuckles. “Not saying this’ll be easy - lots of points of failure. But it should be routine, yeah?”

Os groans. “Don’t fucking jinx it, Drummond.” Liam and Gavin burst into laughter (fucking, Cats) and clap Os on the back.

“Come on, Os, we have Beorn,” Gavin says with a toothy grin. “A whole extra witcher for a wyvern small enough that the trainers considered sending initiates with us to watch. We’re going to be fine.”

---

Wynona doesn’t get up immediately after crashing into the treeline; the wyvern, The Killer, tossed her from her perch at the tower toward the forest. Os and Beorn are pinned by a younger wyvern - the Killer’s hatchling, and likely the wyvern seen at the keep - and can only watch as she sails through the air and crashes through the branches. The grapeshot ignites the nest (Wynona managed to plant two grenades before the Killer spotted her), but the rest of the bombs explode from the shock of hitting the ground. The Wolves have no idea if their Viper comrade is still alive.

The Killer screams above them, taking flight and circling over the field - Beorn manages to clip the young wyvern in the wing with aard and sending it spinning toward Os, who sinks his sword into its neck. The hatchling screams, the Killer screams, and Os yanks his sword forward, neatly severing its head from its neck. His sword slips free of the wyvern and he and Beorn sprint toward the tree line; crossbow bolts tear through the Killer’s wings, knocking it out of the air as it whirls back toward the Wolves. It crashes somewhere behind them as they sprint toward Wynona - she stumbles through the treeline, bleeding from a gash in her leg.

The next few things happen incredibly quickly - the Killer hauls itself into the air, low enough to threaten Mordred and Drummond with her claws; Beorn hears the Killer scream and pick up speed toward Wynona; two more sets of crossbow bolts screech through the air, slashing new cuts into the Killer’s wings; Mordred sprints toward Wynona but Beorn gets there first and lunges, attempting to cast Quen, but he doesn’t quite get the sign off in time. Beorn shoves Wynona out of the way and the Killer snatches Beorn off the ground, claws puncturing his armor.

Beorn screams.

Mordred knocks the Killer out of the sky with a well-cast Aard; the claw holding Beorn relaxes, dragging along his torso as the wyvern falls. Beorn hits the ground hard some distance behind the wyvern with a sickening crack that echoes in the ears of his friends.

Beorn loses track of his senses, the world turning to mush around him - he thinks he hears Drummond shouting, and the sound tastes like copper and heat and his own screaming. The world goes dark, but he feels Wynona’s knees thunk into the grass next to him and the burn of Full Moon on his lips.

---

When the hunting team arrives, the pup they’re carrying is sobbing, delirious with pain. He’s babbling, the words largely lost in the tide of pain, blood, and tears. Elder witchers, yearlings and initiates flood the courtyard, and Drummond and Mordred lower Beorn onto a stretcher. Disconnected syllables continue to trip out over Beorn’s lips, but among them, Os manages to pick out a refrain.

"Amma. Get Amma, please. I want Amma."

Os sprints off toward the gardens, darting through the crowd at speed, barely dodging past people as he runs. The courtyard and artisan stalls give way to the gardens suddenly, as if they were portal-ed in from elsewhere. (In a way, they were - herbs were gathered in the wilds before Ashwood arrived at the keep.) Councilman Ashwood - their Amma - is crouched in the middle of the garden, scratching notes into a small notebook.

“Amma!” Os yells, unaware of the slip - none of them ever call Ashwood ‘Amma’ to his face. Still, Ashwood’s attention snaps upward; “It’s Beorn, please, he needs you!” Ashwood’s eyes widen; he snatches a bag from one of the collection tables, jogging toward the young Wolf.

“Where is he?” Ashwood asks, and Os turns heel, Ashwood not far behind. The return trip takes time - Ashwood is not a Witcher, and even at a dead sprint cannot match Os in speed. But he tries, and he skids to a stop in the courtyard, his chest heaving from the effort; the air is so thick with the scent of blood that it fills Ashwood’s lungs and mouth and he can nearly taste it. He swallows around his gag reflex - now is not the time to lose his stomach - and wades through the throng of people around Beorn.

“Please, give the boy some space,” Ashwood says firmly, barely louder than his normal speaking voice (the benefit of working with Witchers). Initiates and instructors alike move back, and Ashwood kneels next to Beorn. The boy - he could be called a boy, despite his twenty-four summers, because of Ashwood’s agelessness and the slowed aging of Witchers - has pulled at his hastily bandaged wounds, blood oozing from the deep gashes in his torso. Beorn babbled uselessly, and Ashwood takes his hand and gently brushes Beorn’s hair away from his face. “I’m here Beorn,” Ashwood murmurs, pushing a light healing spell into Beorn’s skin as he tries to comfort the young Witcher.

"Amma, Amma please, it hurts,” Beorn sobs, looking at Ashwood with hazy eyes.

"Shh, I know just stay still, we'll see what we can do about this, okay?" Ashwood looks up scanning the crowd. “Who did the field dressing?”

“I did, sir,” Wynona says, stepping forward. “I gave him a dose of Swallow and a dose of Full Moon, to treat any internal injuries, but the surface wounds…”

“You did an excellent job,” Ashwood says, holding up a hand. He makes eye contact with Mordred and Drummond in turn. “We need to get Beorn inside, to the infirmary,” he says, voice even and calm, “lift the stretcher gently and do your best not to jostle him. Keep him level.” The boys nod and gently lift Beorn off the ground. When Ashwood stands, Os hovers at his side, staying with him as they drift toward the keep.

“Amma, is he going to be okay?" Os murmurs, tentative and shy and almost too quietly for Ashwood to hear, but the name, ‘Amma’, sticks in his gut. He is Amma - Beorn had been calling for him, specifically. He wonders, distantly, why they named him that.

"We'll do what we can, Os,” Ashwood says, “Let's get inside where I can treat him better. The nickname can come later, right now he has one of his Witchers to treat. He and Os follow Mordred and Drummond closely, with a parade of yearling Witchers behind them. Instructors swarmed the initiates, moving the children back to the training grounds.

Ashwood hurls out a burst of magic as soon as they enter the keep - two birds erupt from green smoke swirling out of his hand and go screeching off in different directions. All activity in the keep stops; with no noise to distract from their frantic procession, it’s only a matter of time before people drifted over to watch them pass. Ashwood made eye contact with an instructor he recognized - Coën, of the Griffin School - and jerked his head toward the crowd.

“Okay, get back to your duties,” Coën yells through the crowd. “Stop fucking gawking!” Spectators danced away from the scene and parted as Triss made her way toward the infirmary door; she held the door open for Mordred and Drummond before tying back her loose, ginger curls and setting up a table of medical supplies.

“What do we need?” she asks, not bothering to look at Ashwood as he helps ease Beorn onto a bed. They’ve done this before, many times, with many Witchers.

“Catgut, sterilized needles,” Ashwood says. “Mordred, Drummond, you can go - make sure the rest of the yearlings know we’re doing everything we can.” The Bear and Manticore nod and leave the room, looking numb from the shock of things. Witchers are expected to die on the path, but not this young. Not on something that was supposed to be routine. Ashwood turned to Os - “I need you to go get us a few buckets of water, okay, Oskar?”

“Okay.”

“Warm, clean water. Not from the springs. You understand?” Beorn groans, rapidly losing the strength to even cry, pulling Ashwood’s attention away from the other Wolf.

“Yes, Amma,” Os says with a firm nod. He’s gone by the time Ashwood turns back to Triss, who pulls up a seat on the other side of the bed. She hands Ashwood a pair of scissors, and they begin the grim work of removing Beorn’s armor and cleaning his wounds.

---

Vesemir arrives with Os, both carrying buckets of water. Ashwood and Triss are bloodied; Triss has a smear of blood across the coral brown skin on her cheek, obscuring her normally bright freckles. Ashwood is stitching up smaller wounds on Beorn’s chest, murmuring words of comfort as he works desperately to save the young Wolf.

“Amma… I can’t…” Beorn moans, fresh tears slipping down his face. Ashwood presses a warm hand against his neck, willing strength into Beorn’s failing body.

"Hush, pup,” Vesemir says, gently placing the requested water near the supply table. “Your Amma is doing his best, you need to be still." He turns to Triss and Ashwood, "Would this be easier if he was put under with Axii to keep him still?"

The mages share a look before Ashwood reluctantly nods. Vesemir makes the sign and presses it toward the injured Witcher. “Sleep,” he says, and Beorn is gone.

They send Os out for additional bandages and Vesemir gets to work grinding up celandine blooms and willow bark, mixing the herbs with water. Triss uses the mixture to gently wash Beorn’s deeper wounds as Ashwood works.

“When Os gets back with bandages, can you soak them in this mix?” Ashwood asks Vesemir.

“Of course,” he says, holding his hands out. “Is there anything else?”

“Prayer may not be out of the question,” Triss murmurs. “He’s feverish and in shock. Even if we get everything closed…”

“It’s going to take a lot of patience and magic to keep Beorn alive,” Ashwood finishes, a nearly imperceptible frown tugging at his lips. Vesemir lets out a ragged sigh.

“Prayer is not my forte,” he admits, “but I will help however I can.”

---

It's early in the morning by the time they finish packing, stitching, and bandaging up Beorn. Vesemir took Os away hours ago and Triss takes her leave when she and Ashwood have dumped the last of the bloodied water buckets, leaving Ashwood alone in a chair by Beorn's bedside. Someone needs to stay, in case he wakes up. They agreed on shifts, but Ashwood knows he's not likely to leave the infirmary until Beorn does.

He sags a little in his chair staring up at the ceiling. Os has seen twenty-one summers; Beorn, twenty-four. Mordred is the oldest Bear of the yearlings, and he’s only seen twenty-seven summers. Aiden left home when he was five-years-old. They're children. Ashwood squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall, but he knows it's a lost cause as a ragged sob rips out of his chest.

Amma, please, it hurts...!

They’d called him Amma - "A sort of version of Mama," Os told him, "because you're... you know... you and you take care of us."

Ashwood hadn't known what to say to that. He wonders, vaguely, when it started, but that wonder was snatched away by the sheer fucking injustice of it all. No one, none of the men (and the handful of women and others) who lived here deserved to be in that much pain. And yet Witchers had, for centuries, thrown themselves at monster after monster to protect folk that hate them. And hate them still. A fury burns in Ashwood's chest alongside his terror and sadness and he thinks he might kill the next person to insult the witchers to his face.

Beorn's breath hitches, his face momentarily twisted in pain - Ashwood watches him carefully, but he remains asleep. Ashwood takes his hand gently and traces the scars there - so many for one so young. Then again, was Ash any better? He'd inflicted his own wounds many a time by the time he turned four-and-twenty. Some days he felt like he might inflict many more.

"I just heard.” Ashwood starts when he hears Lambert at the door. “Is he...?" He's trying to be calm about it but he's rattled and angry and anxious and it's hard to keep your voice down and have it be gentle at the same time so he picks one and hopes the other one makes it through by force of will. It mostly comes through as a growl.

Ashwood looks up - there's no hiding tears that are sad and righteously angry. He lets out a shaky breath. "He's ah... Beorn's gonna be okay. Os and the others got him to the keep and then came and got me just in time," he says, trying not to look like an utter mess. "They're kids, Lamb," he mumbles into his hands.

Lambert finds a chair next to Ashwood and sits down, running a hand through his ginger hair - the beeswax pomade hadn’t held up well in his rush from repairing the walls. “What happened?” He asks. “They just told me he came in covered in blood.”

“He went out with the team of yearlings sent out to take care of the wyvern,” Ashwood says, eyes dark. “Coën got me the details - according to Mordred, the wyvern had a hatchling. Beorn was caught up in its claws trying to protect Wynona. He wasn’t able to cast Quen in time.” The mage sags again, leaning gently against Lambert’s side. “He was nearly incoherent when they got him here…”

“They’re just fucking kids,” Lambert mutters. “They’re kids, Ashwood, and we break ‘em down and build ‘em back up into Witchers and throw them out into a world that hates them. And the instructors don’t know shit about the yearlings. They just see a grown Witcher and assume they can handle the shit Geralt and I do.”

They sit in silence for a while, twin fires of rage and love burning down to their cinders. Because Lambert’s right - they’re practically children, despite their bluster and bravado. They have Lambert in their corner, obviously, but they have Ashwood now, too. And he’d do his best to keep them safe, to take care of them, make sure they knew someone on this fucked up Continent gave a damn about them. That, at least, he could do.

#original witchers #baby witchers #lambert #coen #oc: ashwood #vesemir #triss #wyvern #canon typical violence #blood and injury #hurt/comfort #sort of #found family #non-related parental figure #ashwood is a mom at heart he loves his kids #lambert is a reluctant dad #witchertober2020 #gideon writes

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glitradora-family · 5 years

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Does catra have any hobbies? Does she also have any habits that either confuse her wives or drive them crazy? What's their bedroom like?

HMMM I think Catra would love helping train soldiers honestly ahaha She would totally agree with Adora’s opinions on the Brightmoon Guards’ outfits being Useless and would completely rework them (after having a long debate with Glimmer about how Yes Tradition Is Great But They Cant Even RUN Properly Glimmer) and then she’d just follow through and make sure they were up to par in all other ways too (With Adora’s help - Glimmer considers it an exercise in giving up Control and trusting them so she leaves them to it).

She’d def make it a point to go and experience all of the things that she was cheated of - going to festivals, parties, etc (and Dragging Adora and/or Glimmer along with her.) I also think she would feel really responsible for the Horde and be there often helping Scorpia rehabilitate and rebuild her old Kingdom and make it a place where the Scorpion people could live again (bc I will not believe that they’re all gone - they’ve just been banished somewhere!). And helping to keep old Horde fighters in line and telling them the war is OVER now go get out of that uniform and find something that makes you happy (Lonnie Rogelio and Kyle also help with this - Mostly Lonnie) along the way.

Apologizing to Scorpia fully and properly was something Catra practiced for a Week - but ofc Scorpia just forgives her instantly. Catra still makes sure to try never to drop into her old habits (It’s hard, really hard sometimes not to. She does her best. She’s trying to heal.)

Entrapta would also be there (with Ameil) living and working to remake the Horde’s remaining tech into something useable for Etheria’s benefit and I think that relationship would take a long time to repair… but I hope that they would get there eventually.

As for habits - She still has insomnia often at night that just won’t leave. When it happens, she’ll usually try to sneak out of their room without waking anyone, but Adora and Glimmer always end up waking anyways and tracking her down (to the roof, to the forest, wherever she went) and sitting with her until they convince her to come back to bed and try again to sleep. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but Catra appreciates that they want her there and even just laying awake with them and listening to them breathe helps.

She also likes sitting and just watching the world from high-up places. Sometimes it turns to brooding, but often she’s just wanting to… be. No pressures, no guilt, just watching the clouds and letting it all wash out of her until she’s not thinking about anything but the breeze on her face and how nice the sun feels. (This is where she catches up on sleep heh)

I think their room would be so Rough ahahaha - Glimmer is a windstorm of a person and if it weren’t for Adora and Catra’s military upbringing the whole thing would probably be an unlivable mess 24/7 (Bow gave up cleaning up after them long ago - some things you just have to accept).

I also love thinking about how it would change over time - Glimmer has the most stuff, so at first it would just look like the room was her’s, but now there are Adora’s jackets folded over chairs. Catra hangs up some pictures Scorpia and the kids drew for her. Several maps of Etheria are put up on the walls with multicolored pins in the places that each of them want to go. Books on First One’s history that George and Lance lent them are stacked on the dresser (because even though Adora doesn’t accept her people, she still wants to Know about them). Slowly their closet has less just pinks and purples in it and more reds, blacks, whites and greys (Glimmer tries to get Catra and Adora to update their fashion and Catra takes to it semi-quickly, but Adora will never see the Point LOL). Figurines of all of them and their family on a shelf, a fancy portrait of Ameil and Entrapta on one wall bc Entrapta sent it and Catra resolutely (and wincingly) hung it up, and beneath that is some wacky painting Adora bought in Thaymor bc it spoke to her (Glimmer and Catra tolerate it bc they love her, but it really is Haunting). Toys all over the floor and life lived in every corner.

Anyways, god I love this au

#Catra #glimmer #adora #glitradora #long post #Anonymous #text post #asks

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kinsbin · 5 years

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Night Blooms

Title: Night Blooms Ship: Asra/Jenna [Self Insert/Canon] Word Count: 3035

Summary: Asra takes Jenna out to find a rare flower for some potions. What happens instead is a recollection of just why she fell in love with him.

A/N: A commission for @asrasdarling! Another wonderful commission for a wonderful person, I hope you enjoy <3

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The sky above them was beautiful.

It almost negated the chill that hung thick in the air around them. Jenna shuddered at the feeling of the icy winds assaulting her skin, pulling the all too thin sweater she had worn on the adventure she was currently on closer to her form in hopes that it might do something to prevent the bitter frost. Instead it almost seemed to emphasize it, each fang of ice now greedier than ever in its effort to sap her heat and will her to succumb to its clutches. She watched her breath puff outwards into the air with every inhale and exhale she exchanged with the atmosphere, the crystals of breath hanging stagnant for a brief moment before evaporating as they always did. She watched with a smile, imagining herself a dragon in the frosty forest night. Patrolling its territory and marking its way through its home as she did so.

But no. She was merely a magician whose lover was by her side.

Jenna let her gaze cast itself over to Asra, who was dressed far better for the chilliness of the forest air than she. The scarf he wore was a mismatched pattern of various fabrics stitched lazily together. It might have been a solid color once in its life but years of use and repair have built it into the chimera it was today. Perhaps it was an important gift at some point whose sentimental value was higher than its damage. Perhaps it had once belonged to a lover who he could no longer forget. Perhaps it was just because Asra was too much of an airhead to actually remember to buy himself a new scarf when it was rarely needed in most months of the year in Vesuvia. The options for the situation were pletherous to the point where considering each and every one gave Jenna more of a headache than satisfaction.

His eyes shone in the space between the scarf and his hair, the strands atop his head as beautiful as the crystals of ice beginning to grow around the pathway they took together. His eyes were alight with the shade of the moon glistening against them, searching the treetops and route forward around them with an intense sort of interest that she could not quite place. He looked so far away despite being right next to her. His eyes were the galaxy in which they lived. A swirling and beautiful vortex of arcana and wonder that she could only hope to get lost in every day they were together. Her heart beat faster in her chest when she looked at him for as long as she was. He was an ethereal form in a land of mortals and magicians alike.

Jenna reached her hand out, bumping the knuckles of her own with his in a gentle manner. A simple request for what she wanted, longing and soft but no pushy as she offered it to him. It was enough to startle Asra out of whatever reverie he had put himself in, his gaze switching to the woman at his side for a moment as he took her in. His smile was soft. A curve above the edge of his scarf as his hand extended out towards hers.

Gloved fingers entwined with her own, the grip of his hand still warm despite the chill around them.

“Cold?” Asra asked as their fingertips held tight together, the smirk just visible in the tone of his voice as he eyed her.

“Just a little,” Jenna laughed with a slight amusement in the lilt of her tone, the vaguest chattering of her teeth giving away the actual chilliness she was experiencing. The laugh that followed suit was a beautiful sound as well, bell like and chiming in her ears as he joined her in the shared amusement of the night. The way his cheeks turned rosy when he did laugh was something so beautiful, Jenna wished she could watch it on repeat for hours on end.

Instead her mind worked to find a different subject. A change to the current situation as they meandered through the forest.

“Was this ingredient so important that we had to come out here in the middle of the night?”

Asra hummed his response and swung their arms together in a lackadaisical matter. A single finger from his free hand pointed upwards, causing Jenna to gaze forward with surprise at the area he was gesturing to. The night sky was alight with a beautiful series of stars, all aligned in such a gorgeous way that it nearly caused her a breathless gasp somewhere in the base of her throat.

“It’s a type of flower that only blooms during a specific time of the year,” Asra noted with a softness to his tone, not reprimanding but explanatory as he continued, “I’ve been tracking the alignment of the stars to make sure I wouldn’t miss the peak of its season, so that we could collect a couple more outside of what we need for the future.”

“It’s so cold though.” Jenna shivered as she looked around at the dying grass and wilting plant matter surrounding the frosty forest floor with a frown, “Wouldn’t vegetation just die?”

“It dies almost immediately after its bloomed unless you pick it at the right moment,” Asra hummed his agreement with a rub of his thumb across Jenna’s knuckles, “Which is why I appreciate the extra set of hands.”

“Oh, and here I just thought you had me along because you needed someone to hold.”

“It might be partially that as well.”

The teasing tone to his words made her scoff as she leaned to the side, nudging his arm with her own in a gentle and playful shove of their bodies. Asra moved with the shift, laughing as well as his head came up to nuzzle the side of Jenna’s cheek lovingly. She blushed at the gesture, averting her eyes to try not to give away the genuine feelings they gave to her.

There was another swath of silence as they walked, bodies moving in tandem as they often did. Many joked that Jenna and Asra were one now, a well oiled machine that moved perfectly in unison. Years of staying together did that to them. They had picked up one another’s habits and spoke at the same time without really meaning to. That coupled with the blush they both accumulated when the entire event occured made others tease them relentlessly in their muschiness the point of their faces being warmer than any volcano nearby. Julian was usually the worst with it, he and Portia teaming up on them both in order to relentlessly amuse themselves until Asra sent a glare so cold over his shoulder that they stopped in their tracks.

It didn’t stop them for very long, though, and Jenna thought their persistence was cute in an annoying way.

Regardless, they were alone now. The forest was the only one who would bare witness to the movements of the couple as they meandered deeper into the night chill. She had almost lost track of where they were, the trees blending in with one another and the path disappearing under their cold feet as they moved. Asra’s eyes remained ahead, focused and careful as they always were, until he stopped. Jenna stopped with him, nearly running into him in the process with a startled grunt. She looked up at the man, whose gaze held itself forward with awe.

So she followed it.

The field before them was a wide, open space that spanned nearly the length of their shop back in Vesuvia’s busy city center. The grass within it was tipped with white bits of frost and snow that had gathered themselves from the cold in the atmosphere. Dewdrops froze in mid drip off of blades of grass, creating natural ice sculptures so miniscule that one had to focus to watch them. The slightest breeze broke those droplets, shattering them into water that fed the moistened soil beneath them. Rocks covered in moss glittered with wetness, the chill doing nothing to retract from their beauty as the hums of crickets broke against the starlit night.

It looked like a sea of glittering stars on the ground, each sparkle matching the ones in the skies above them, the milky way dancing overhead with the stars that mimicked the ground’s patterns bit by bit.

“Oh, Asra,” Jenna gasped in awe, her hand coming up to cover her mouth to prevent the puff of cold air from blocking her sight of the gorgeous clearing, “This is… I’m speechless.”

“It’s beautiful.” Asra agreed with a smile, letting go of his lover’s hand in favor of meandering into the forest around him.

He looked perfect here. A fae spirit dancing amongst the stars. His hair, white and silvery as it was, reflecting the moonlight with blinding efficiency. Even the stars seemed to shine on his head, sparkling with excess droplets of water and sweat that beaded on his perfect skin. If anyone else saw the visage before her, Jenna knew they would think they were looking at a ghost. No, not a ghost she corrected herself as she swallowed hard, an angel. An immortal being walking amongst common men. A form the world did not deserve, whose wings were bound to the earth that he loved so much.

Fuck, Jenna realized, she was really in love with him.

Asra leaned down amongst the plat matter, his fingertips brushing against the light blue buds of plants so small that they barely counted as noticeable by anyone without a trained eye for them. Their tightly curled tips glowed a gentle baby blue in the low moonlight, pulsating with neon and brightness that made them look ethereal. They looked like something out of the realm of the Magician themselves, Jenna mused as she watched Asra’s hands reach out to caress the bud delicately. He held it in his palm, weighing it as his brows furrowed. As he tilted his head, his bangs fell into his face. It made him look like an angel.

He gazed up at her, his smile half apologetic as he looked up at the stars in the sky, eyes searching for something amongst them before he finally spoke his mind.

“They need just a few more minutes. Then they’ll bloom and we can pick them. We’ll have to wait until then, is that alright?”

Jenna couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her mouth, wide and warm as she followed after him. She moved her feet carefully as not to step on any of the glowing buds surrounding the field in a halo of soft glows. When she reached him, Asra was already sitting down on the forest floor. His legs crossed in front of him, he had an elbow resting on his knee and his chin in his palm as he stared upwards at her with that wry, sweet smile of his. The one that made her think that he was coming up with some sort of mischievous idea. Fox like in his deliverance, Asra always had something going on in his mind for one reason or another.

She took a seat at his side, the dew of the grass moistening her legs for a moment before the feeling faded into moderate familiarity. She smiled as she reached out to take his hand in her own, squeezing the flesh gently as she hummed.

“Oh no,” Jenna purred sarcastically, “Waiting in a beautiful, romantic field with my wonderful boyfriend? I can’t believe that you’d ask this of me, but since I adore you so much I can grin and bear it.”

“Oh, so you think that this place is romantic?” Asra questioned with an equal tease in his tone, sitting up straight so that he could wrap one of his arms around Jenna and bring her closer to him. His chest was warm on her back, the two maneuvering so that she was sitting between his legs and his chin was resting comfortably on the top of her head.

“Of coures it is,” Jenna returned as she leaned back into her boyfriend. Her hands found his own and played with the soft skin of his knuckles as the two relaxed amongst the plants, “Half of me is suspicious that you brought me here on purpose.”

Asra’s responding hum was mischievous as he smiled down, “Maybe I did.”

“Of course maybe you did.” Jenna snorted, lifting her head up and turning it back so she could plant a kiss on Arsra’s cheek. It was warm despite the chill outside and it brought the sweetest sound of laughter from his lips. Jenna admired the noise. Admired the warmth his entire body offered to her as she shut her eyes to further appreciate it. To appreciate the point in where she was and just how much she adored it. Just how much she adored him…

The two sat in the field like that for a while longer, hands entwining and discussions ranging from thing to thing with no real direction to its movements. Asra and Jenna were always good at that. Being able to hold conversations for hours with no real direction to the words they were both discussing with one another. The world was their oyster, the knowledge infinite between their lips as their eyes wandered from one another towards the trees in the forest and the skies around them.

It was so beautiful like this. HE was so beautiful like this. There were no stars in the universe that could align as perfectly as the ones in his eyes. As the stars of his smile when he looked down at her with that most loving and beautiful expression. It made Jenna’s cheeks heat up, the mere reminder of the fact that this man was her significant other enough to send her spiraling into a state of disbelief.

A tap on her shoulder broke her from her momentary thought process, her breath inhaling softly as she looked at him with confused eyes. Asra only smiled and pointed ahead of them. She let her gaze follow towards his finger and downwards into the grass. His breath grazed her ear as he looked over her shoulder and she could feel the smile on it, delighted and excited as he exhaled. It gave Jenna goosebumps as she stared.

“Look,” Asra whispered softly against her form, “It’s happening.”

Sure enough, when the stars aligned oh so perfectly, the flowers before her eyes began to bloom. The neon buds lifted their heads like children opening their eyes to the world for the first time. Thick, heavy set blue petals unfurl from the center, revealing a brilliant yellow sheen of its glowing center. Its long stem pulsated with warmth, sending sparkling rows of stardust up from the ground and into its bloom. Jenna could hardly believe her eyes at the gorgeous thing that had spread itself open before her so suddenly.

Asra watched as Jenna’s face glowed with bewilderment. As her eyes conveyed wonder at the magical item before her. The petals pulsated their soft neon blues and spots of purple formed on the petals as it finished its full bloom, displaying its beauty to the two magicians. It garnered their admiration in the form of whistless ‘wows’ and speechless gasps of awe. Even in the cold of the world around them, they looked so perfect. So unharmed by the elements. It was their true signature of magic.

Asra reached down, his hand extending over Jenna’s in order to pluck the bud from its roots carefully. The flower gave way with little resistance, its beautiful bloomed form keeping despite the sudden sever from its ground home. It glowed and pulsated still, feeling almost warm in his hand as he held it closer to Jenna’s face so that she might be able to get a better look at it.

Jenna studied the plant, her hands reaching up to touch the silk soft petals with delight. She memorized the feeling of it, silk and smooth fabric against her fingertips, and the smell. It was something akin to lavender but closer to chamomile, a blend of herby richness and floral beauty that had her head spinning as she watched it with her jaw slack at its form.

“It’s… “ Jenna tried to gather the words between her lips, “It’s so beautiful.”

Asra twirled the flower between his fingertips, kissing the side of Jenna’s temple as he did so. The feeling of his lips was electrifying on her skin and Jenna sighed lovingly into the embrace of her lover. The world around them was still so quiet. The nature was perfect as she smiled into the blooming field of flowers.

Suddenly his hand rose, brushing pieces of her hair back to tuck the flower behind an ear. Jenna blushed at the gesture, facing Asra as he admired her face with a gaze of utmost love.

“I can think of one thing more beautiful around here right now…”

And then he kissed her. His kiss was slow and tender. It’s passion was endless as he filled her up with his heart and soul. As he took her in. Every part of her. The good and the bad and inbetween, as lovers tended to do, and it was the first time she had ever felt truly in love. Truly part of someone in this way and form that the entirety of his devotion seemed to take her breath away as they shared the intimate moment in the moonlight.

Asra pulled away, his face flushed and his lips curled into a smile as Jenna stared back at him for a long moment. Eventually her own mouth smiled back and she leaned forward to place a kiss on the corner of his cheek, sighing into the warmth of his skin as she did so.

“I love you, Asra.” She whispered, her breath endless as she clung to him.

In return his arms wrapped around her tighter, holding her close to him and never letting her go. He would never let her go. He had sworn that to himself time and time again and, now, it was true.

“I love you too,” He whispered back, “Forever and always.”

And it was a promise.

#kinley talks #words #self insert #self ship #self shipping #writing commission #the apprentice #the arcana #asra #arcana asra

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ofbeastsandwizards · 5 years

Text

Coming Home [Avengers x Reader] [Steve x Platonic! Reader]

Decided to do a sub-category of Oneshots, song-shots! Basically, I take a song, and write a story for it. I won’t take requests for these, because there are a lot of songs I don’t like and others do, and vice versa.

I’ve also NEVER been to New York City, so bare with me

Title/Song: Coming Home (Sheppard)

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Steve x Platonic! Reader

Summary: The reader is young, and only 19. She gets separated from the rest of the Avengers on a mission, and now has to make her way back to New York City.

Warning: Fluff(?), Adult Seperation Anxiety and really long.

[S/h/n]: Superhero Name

Italic+Bold: Song Lyrics

I’ve been stuck in motion

Moving too fast

It was scary being alone, away from the only family you ever had. You were young, and you hated being alone. You, being a naive and ambitious young adult, took the mission into your own hands, and in the process, got yourself stuck 100 miles away from New York City. Somehow the launchers Tony had made for you malfunctioned, and sent you flying through the air, which would have been a hilarious sight, if it weren’t for you being stuck out in rural New York.

Tryna catch a moment

But it lips through my hands

You shivered, sitting on the curb. You had been in this small town for a week now, trying to make some means of money to get back to New York City. You planted your face in your palms, trying to remember how to get back to New York City. Letting out a groan, you stood, pulling out your wallet. Inside of it was a sad 100 dollars. It would have been enough to get you back to the city, but you had no means of transportation. Instead, you were staying at a motel. You managed to convince the owners to let you work there for some extra money, and in exchange for staying at the motel.

All I see are, dark days, long nights

I’m lost without you

On your way back you decided to stop at the local car repair. The owner had a lot of old cars in the back, and you’ve been trying relentlessly to get the owner to allow you to borrow one. You approached the store hesitantly. As you did so, the owner caught sight of you.

“Look, I told you already, I can’t just give you a car.” He said sadly.

You pulled out your wallet. “Please, I need to get back to New York City.”

He shook his head.

“I didn’t want to have to say this, but my name is [Y/n], but you might know me as [S/h/n]. I got separated from the Avengers, and I really need to get back,” You began to take off your rocket boots. “Here-”

You showed the man the boots. Imprinted on the side was the label ‘Stark Industries’. His eyes went wide.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” He asked, leading you to one of the cars in the back. It was an old Plymouth Baracuda convertible. You smiled.

“Thank you, thank you so much! I’ll make sure to get it back to you!” He threw you the keys, and you caught them, hopping into the car.

But I’m on my way,

So hold tight

You stuck the keys into the car, and the engine revved. You thanked the owner one last time before stepping down on the gas, and pulling out of the shop quickly. You drove down the street, and as you drove, began to exit the town. You slammed the gas, and the car took off, roaring down the road. As you neared a more forested area, you slowed, and turned on the music.

I’m coming home, tonight

Meet me in the valley, where the kids collide

Into the morning

The wind whipped your hair around, and you turned up the volume, singing along to the chorus. Your phone had died days ago, and so you had no way of communicating with the rest of the Avengers.

You were anxious to get back. You had never been away from them for this long, and you had a panic attack the first day you had spent in the small town.

Oh, my god

My town is coming alive

Back in New York City, Tony was pacing back in forth in the conference room, trying hard to find out where you were.

“The tracker must have turned off when the boots malfunctioned.” Tony mumbled to himself.

Natasha looked to Tony worriedly.

“You mean, we have no way of getting her back?” Natasha asked.

Tony stopped, and looked at her.

“For right now, no. We don’t.”

Steve groaned, rubbing his temple. “You know she has separation anxiety...” He stated.

Tony’s eyes went wide. “She what?”

I’m coming home, tonight

I know you’re ready for the sparks to fly

Into the morning

You were breathing anxiously as you drove down the road. You needed to get back to NYC, and soon. You didn't want to be alone any longer, especially away from some of the only family you ever had.

You watched the road carefully, mumbling along the lyrics to the music blasting through the radio. You were glad for music. It distracted you.

Oh, my god

My town is coming alive

Steve looked at Tony with surprise. “You didnt know?” He asked him.

Tony shook his head, eyes narrowed. “Of course I didn’t know!” He yelled.

“Woah, calm down Mr. Stark.” Tony’s head shot up.

“Why’s the kid in here? Who let him in?” Tony asked.

Peter looked at him, scared. “Happy did.”

Tony relaxed, and looked out the window.

“Where are you, kid...” He mumbled to himself.

Cos’ I’m coming home

Tonight!

You drove down the long, two lane highway, admiring the blue sky, and the red and yellow of the trees around you. You had to be around 70 miles away now. You were overly excited to see your friends again.

You kept your eyes trained back on the road, and you breathed in the fresh, autumn air as you drove a bit faster.

Yes, I’m coming home

Tonight!

Steve was staring out the window now as well. “I hope she’s okay.” He mumbled.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Hope who’s okay?”

“It’s none of your concern.” Tony said. Peter frowned.

Steve looked up at him. “[Y/n] got separated from us during a mission.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

Peter gasped. “What?!”

“This is why we don’t tell him things.” Tony muttered.

“Why didn't you tell me?!”

Tony crossed his arms. “We just did.”

“No, Steve did, Tony.” Natasha grumbled.

“Let’s not do this, okay?”

Don’t wanna spend my whole life

Catching my breath

Leaves flew upwards as you drove slightly faster. You needed to get back to the Avengers. More importantly, you needed to reassure Steve you were okay. He was like a brother to you, despite being around 100 years old. He was always there for you, and you appreciated that. He was one of the only people you told about your Seperation Anxiety.

Cause’ I been running round, and round and round!

And I got nothin’ left

Peter began playing with his sleeve nervously. “She’s okay though, right?” He asked anxiously. Tony met his gaze, and his eyes softened.

“I dunno, kid...I hope she is.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise. “Have you tried tracking her phone?” He asked.

Tony faltered. “Uhm. No.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and groaned. “Then track it.” She said harshly.

Tony put his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright.”

There’s nothing like a, sunset, skyline

To let you know you’re almost home

Ahead, the sun began to set over the horizon. You smiled to yourself, checking your watch. You had driven about 89 miles, and you were nearing the city. In the distance, you could spot the city skyline, it's lights shimmering in the growing darkness.

So Breath in,

And hold tight

Tony was quick to begin trying to track your phone. He stopped what he was doing, and turned with a frustrated look to the Avengers.

“Her phone must be dead.”

Sighs of disappointment were released throughout the room. Tony sat down, and massaged his temple. Steve was growing nervous.

I’m coming home, tonight

Meet me in the valley where the kids, collide

Into the morning

You were driving fast, approaching the city. Your heart was racing anxiously as you saw the city getting bigger.

Oh, my god

My town is coming alive

Tony looked back up.

“We’ll find her, Steve.” Natasha said to Steve reassuringly. Steve was visibly distraught, and was looking anxiously out the window.

Tony began to grow worried as well. Tony didn't have the same relationship with you as Steve did, but he still cared about you.

He wasn’t the only one. Natasha was anxious as well, and Peter was continuously pacing back and forth. You were like an older sister to Peter, always there for him.

I’m coming home, tonight

I know you’re ready for the sparks to fly

Into the morning

Finally in the streets of New York, you had about 10 miles to go. It was dark now, and you were getting even more anxious. You hated wandering the streets alone. Or, at least, not without telling your friends.

Or should I say, family.

Oh, my god

My town is coming alive

Peter checked his phone. It was getting late. “How long has she been gone?”

“About a week.”

Peter went wide eyed. “A week?!” He asked. “Why wouldn’t you guys go to the police?”

Natasha crossed her arms. “Because Tony’s too good for the police.” She mocked.

Tony relaxed, and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Cos’ I’m coming home

Tonight!

You were driving quickly, and partially admiring the view of all the city lights. They were really entrancing at night, and you couldn’t get distracted. You had to get back to the tower.

Yes, I’m coming home

Tonight!

Peter frowned. “Well, I’ll call the police then.”

Steve looked at him, wide-eyed. “What for?” Tony asked.

“To help find [Y/n]!”

Natasha stood. “Peter, I admire your determination, but settle down.”

Peter was breathing heavily.

Time has a way

Of diluting emotions

Much time had passed and you were still maneuvering the streets, until finally you spotted Avengers tower, lit up brightly against the night sky.

But, I won’t let distance

Get in between us, no.

You pulled up to the sidewalk of the building, ignoring the numerous looks people gave you as you turned the keys, the car turning off. Not even bothering with the door, you leapt out of the car and raced to the sliding doors of the building.

I’m coming home, tonight

Meet me in the valley where the kids, collide

Into the morning

You rushed into the building and ran straight to the staircase, quickly believing that the elevator would be too slow, not giving anyone enough time to recognize or care that you had just ran into the building.

Oh, my god

My town is coming alive

You slammed open the fire-escape staircase door, and began to climb the stairs in a hurry. You were moving exceptionally fast.

I’m coming home, tonight

I know you’re ready for the sparks, to fly

Into the morning

You were nearing the penthouse level, and you began to pick up the pace, ignoring the pain from your legs as they screamed for you to stop. Your adrenaline was pumping madly as you practically flew up the stairs.

Oh, my god

My town is coming alive

You reached the door, and kicked it open, which was completely unnecessary. You were now running down the halls.

Ooh

Night!

You were running hard, pumping your legs like never before. You needed to find them.

Yes, I’m coming home

Tonight!

Frantically, you rushed down the one hall you hadn't checked, the one that led to the conference room.

‘Please be there...!’

You ran to the room, and slammed open the door. Inside were a group of astonished Avengers.

You smiled happily.

Oh Oh

You stood there for a moment, watching as Steve stood up.

Oh Oh

With a grin, you rushed to him, and leapt over the conference table, leaving everyone in shock.

You leapt into Steve’s arms, practically crushing him in a hug. You buried your face into his shoulder and smiling like a mad man.

Oh Oh~

Steve chuckled.

“It’s only been a week.”

You laughed, and clung to him tightly. You gave him one last squeeze, before releasing yourself from his grasp and turning to the rest of the Avengers. You hugged the nearest person, which was Natasha.

It was unexpected and she was hesitant to hug back, but she did so.

Next, you rushed to Peter. He immediately rammed into you, hugging you tightly. “You had us so worried!” He mumbled into your jacket. You hummed, and wrapped your arms around the high schooler.

Finally, you went to Bruce, who insisted he didn’t need a hug, but you hugged him anyways, because, well, he did need one.

And finally, you looked to Tony who was staring awkwardly from the front of the table. You walked over to him and frowned.

Then, you unexpectedly tackled him in a hug. He stiffened, but then hugged you back. “Sorry I broke your boots, Tony.”

He laughed. “It’s all good Kid. We’re just happy your back.”

Hope you enjoyed! Send requests, and tell me if I should make more song-shots!

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swissmissficrecs · 6 years

Text

Best Fics of 2018

Once again, this was a bumper year for fan fiction in the Sherlock BBC fandom*, with a few very long-anticipated fics coming to completion alongside some recent smash hits from established authors and even a couple of newer and lesser-known writers hitting it out of the ballpark. My picks are all, unsurprisingly, long, plotty, angsty Johnlock fics, featuring in particular post-series 4 fixits and Parentlock along with AU's, especially other professions and fusions/crossovers. What they all have in common though, is being of absolutely stellar quality not just in the technical aspects of the writing, but also the handling of themes, the character work, and the emotional impact. Any one of these could be a published book, and perhaps in the near future, some actually will be!

* (I also snuck in one ACD series because it’s my list and I can.)

My caveat as always: this list is obviously skewed toward my own personal preferences and reading habits. There are plenty of other fics that I loved, and even more that I simply didn’t get around to reading (yet), so it’s not a judgment if your favorite (or one you wrote) isn’t on here. Think of this as a sampling rather than a definitive list. I hope this will help you to re-acquaint yourself with fics you loved, give a chance to others you may have skipped the first time round, and possibly discover something entirely new and astonishing.

So here they are, in descending order of length:

The Men Who Talked Between the Words (439746 words) by Odamaki Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade Summary: John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don't get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

Gravity (English Version) (282983 words) by kirin_calls Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Greg Lestrade/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor, John Watson/Victor Trevor Summary: Part 1: When John takes up mixed martial arts training, he doesn't expect it to lead to a new relationship. But there are darker things afoot at the gym, and John is soon drawn in deeper than he wants. When an old flame from Sherlock's past turns up, it's time for everyone to declare their loyalties... and for John to finally discover where his heart truly belongs. / Part 2: John is struggling with his loss. Plagued by nightmares, his life gone topsy-turvy, he is no longer able to lead a normal existence. As he seeks out some stability, some way to slowly pull himself up out of the morass of his grief, old rivals become friends and details about Sherlock's past come to light, leading John to discover something strange that won't let him go.

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest (280332 words) by Maribor_Petrichor Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

The Bluest of Blue (196473 words) by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade Summary: John Watson's 10th season as a Denali National Park Ranger was shaping up to look like all the years before. Until a special team from Europe was flown into the Park for a summer-long wolf-tracking research project, and the head of that research team was wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

Scar Tissue (192179 words) by J_Baillier, 7PercentSolution Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John has scarcely recovered from his Afghanistan tour when Sherlock is injured at work, putting their already strained relationship to the test.

A Game of Hearts (162553 words) by zmethos Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/OMC Summary: Seven stories written circa 2010, after the first series/season of Sherlock but before Season 2. Therefore, none of these stories reflect anything from Season 2 onward! Think of it as an alternate timeline or something. Slow build of a relationship between Sherlock and John. Gets quite dark in places. [Note: This is an AO3 repost of a fic from fanfiction.net.]

Drift Compatible (130546 words) by J_Baillier Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: A washed out war hero struggling with his past. A prodigy who wants nothing to do with his family legacy. Both are looking for something—and someone—worth fighting for in a world where human civilisation is constantly under threat.

The Burning Heart (119461 words) by May_Shepard Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/Original Male Character(s) Summary: When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

Maintenance and Repair (106650 words) by patternofdefiance Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/OFC Summary: John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say: Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain.

The Wedding Garments (105390 words) by cwb Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Kintsukuroi (91822 words) by sussexbound Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

Missing Pages (78852 words) by PlaidAdder Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/Violet Hunter Summary: This is a group of interlinked short stories (most between 2000 and 7000 words) which tell the story of how Holmes and Watson really came to be separated at the Reichenbach Falls, and how they found each other again. Each story is in the form of a document--a letter, a journal, a surveillance report, an affidavit, etc.--which is linked to one or more ACD canon tales, and which tells us something about that story that was changed or suppressed in Watson's published account of it. Holmes/Watson, with glimpses of other relationships.

Summit Fever (78782 words) by J_Baillier Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, James Sholto/John Watson, James Sholto/OFC Summary: After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Vapor Variant (72684 words) by 88thParallel Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade Summary: Little did Sherlock know that the vapor to which he exposed John was a bioweapon— containing a bioengineered hybrid virus. Now, John is fighting for his life in the early stages of encephalitis, and it’s down to Sherlock and a team of scientists to save him, if they can only find him first. Sherlock needs to keep fear and guilt from getting the better of him if he’s to salvage his relationship with John—and that’s assuming the love of his life even survives….

Roommates are for little people (69055 words) by alexxphoenix42 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John was looking forward to seeing his friends back at uni, but a new year brings new complications, not the least of which is a dorm room with only one bed, and a stroppy roommate with an utterly spectacular arse. God, John doesn't need the headache.

Masters of Ink (67482 words) by Indybaggins Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John has a triple-coiled tattoo machine in his hand and a row of inks at the ready. He has gloves on, a willing client in front of him, and a detailed stencil. He is ready to win this bloody competition. Except he’s competing against Sherlock Holmes... First-meeting-on-a-reality-show AU, Ink Master edition! There is expert tattooing, slightly less expert flirting, and two men falling hard. But John is married, and they can’t all win.

floating through a dark blue sky (58872 words) by Lediona Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. *** Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day. [Notting Hill fusion]

The Wolf (55817 words) by Laur Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Sherlock gets it wrong. Days, months, even years in the future, Sherlock’s oversight during the Baskerville case will continue to torment him, but nothing about that night will ever be as painfully vivid as the memory of John’s screams. This is how it begins.

Christmas Time After Time (41473 words) by PlaidAdder Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson, Clara/Harry Watson Summary: John's not really big on Christmas; and this year, the first after Mary's death, he's not feeling it. Everyone's away, Sherlock's on a case--alone--and Rosie's asleep. But that's all right. He's fine. He'll just have a quiet Christmas Eve by himself, drinking in front of the telly. Only out there in time and space, there's another Doctor who thinks that sounds like the saddest thing ever. And she's going to do something about it. Thirteen takes John on a whirlwind tour of Christmases past and future. The more he learns about this time travel thing, the more John starts to wonder: how did his current timeline become...what it is? And might these alternatives hold the key to a less miserable present, and maybe a brighter future?

Whiteout (37041 words) by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: A documentary crew follows the Matterhorn aerial rescue team from Air Zermatt, profiling the mechanics, pilots, and paramedics as they save patients on the infamous mountain. Their camera may catch more than they're looking for, however, when it comes to a certain paramedic named John Watson. . .

The Winter Garden (31211 words) by Callie4180 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.

A Home for Us (30583 words) by sussexbound Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Another Auld Lang Syne (30234 words) by DiscordantWords Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: There had been years of missed chances.

A Singular Friendship (28679 words) by agirlsname Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Sherlock is closer to John than anyone has ever been. It's almost like a relationship - but John isn't gay, so it's clearly not. Not even when they hold hands and hug every day, not even when they sleep in the same bed, not even when they cuddle every morning...

Stradivarius (20298 words) by Berty Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Life goes back to what passes for normal at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock's back and his scars have faded. John's still a confirmed bachelor and his nightmares have mostly ceased. So why are there awkward pauses and uncertain glances? Why are they both on their best behaviour? It's been a long, cold winter in London and there's more to come before spring arrives.

One Good Scare (17381 words) by blueink3 Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: Mummy invites Sherlock, John, and Rosie to the country for her birthday, which just so happens to coincide with the annual Harvest Festival, an event Sherlock loathes. With John seemingly making the wrong move at every turn and with ghosts hiding in each of their closets, what will it take for their (Halloween) masks to finally come off?

Oh, my friends, it's been a long hard year (11914 words) by splix Rating: Mature Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mr. Chatterjee/Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock Holmes' Father/Mummy (Sherlock) Summary: Christmas is rubbish this year.

#rec list #best

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theshapeshifter100 · 5 years

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Outpost

(Day 9 of @thewatchau‘s prompts)

The year Hank turned 22 was the year the Watch moved in.

There was an old Mage’s hold, further up the Rúnach river and less than a day’s ride from Imforis. No one really went there, no real need, and there was the old children’s story about the place being haunted.

Imforis was barely a village, definitely bordering on a hamlet. Everyone knew everyone. So when a stream of people came through out of nowhere, it caught attention.

Hank could hear them from his house. He and his mother were drying herbs, when the rumble of carts and chattering of voices could be heard all the way from the road.

He and his mother had shared a look, before Hank left the house and jogged down the track to the road. Well, calling it a road was laughable, just a slightly wider track.

“Hoy, a local!” called one of them, spotting Hank. He was easy to spot, being as tall as he was. “We’re on the right track to the Hold right?”

“Far as I know!” Hank hollered back.

“Great! Some folks be coming by river by the way!”

“Noted, thanks!” Hank paused for a bit, and had peered down at the long train that was slowly walking by. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing up the old Hold for the Watch!”

“That what?” it sounded familiar.

“That Watch! The organisation that’s going to look into the Enemy.”

Oh, yeah. The Enemy, who was currently hiding in the Western Forest right now. The forest they were currently backed onto. Hank didn’t like to think about that too much.

“Is that old place really good for that?!”

“That’s what we’re hoping!” that person had gone too far now to continue talking, and no one picked it up again.

Hank just, watched for a while, as horses pulling carts of stone and wood clopped by, and people carrying tools marched on. They were really going to do this.

Well their problem.

This continued on and off for the next few months, and finally, the rush downed down.

For about a week.

Then began a smaller trickle of people passing through town. Most would just go straight through, some would stop and look.

Most of them weren’t impressed. They’d look around the small market, some of the old buildings that were barely holding together, then look uninterested and leave.

Hank was not a man prone to anger, but every time he saw someone turn their nose at his home, he wanted to punch them. He would fold his arms on his stall selling herbs and feel his fingernails digging into his arms.

Then, again, things started to change. Someone he didn’t know wandered up to his stall, looking nervous.

“Er, hi,” they said, their accent more eastern than western. “Um, do you have a bakery?”

“’course, just down there, turn left. Got a loaf a’ bread sign. Can’t miss it,” Hank pointed them in the right direction, being of a reasonable sort.

“Ah, great! Thanks!” the newcomer grinned and walked off the same way Hank had pointed.

That newcomer kept coming back. Every market day.

“The Hold get’s crowded,” they explained. Frank was their name. “And I’m not a fighting type, just, some miller, you know?”

“What’s a miller doin’ joining the Watch?” Hank leaned on his stall, hands relaxed now.

“An army marches on its stomach my friend,” Frank shrugged. “Hoped to see if any of the bakers here would be willing to help out.”

To that Hank chuckled. “We have one baker, who deals with the whole village. She doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“Or an apprentice?”

“Yeah, but they’re busy too.”

“Shame,” Frank nodded to himself before changing the subject. “You know, some of these old buildings could really do with some work.”

“I know,” Hank sighed. “Ya don’t need to tell me. We try ta work on them every now and again. Probably the only reason they haven’t fallen down yet.”

“Well,” Frank leaned an elbow on the stall too, avoiding the carefully arranged bundles of herbs, “there were a bunch of folks from the Order of Stone that came, and a few other unaffiliated builders and carpenters that fixed the Hold up. Maybe we could get them to work on those buildings?”

Hank blew out his cheeks and raised his hands. “Not my place. I just sell herbs and help out where I can.”

“Oh come on Hank!” Frank shook his head. “I’ve only been here a few weeks and I can already see you’re a man who loves this place. And people can see that. People trust you around here.”

“They also know all my embarrassing childhood stories.”

“All the more reason to trust you,” Frank moved off the stand. “I’ve got to head back, but, think about it okay?”

“It’s not my decision to make!” Hank called after the miller as he left.

“You must know whose decision it is!” Frank called back.

Hank did. And she was stubborn.

He presented the idea to her though. Knocked on her door and told her of Frank’s offer.

“I’m not getting some weirdo from the Order of Stone to fix up those buildings!” she snapped. “They don’t understand these things.”

“Like what? They know stone, they know how to build things, they’ve been refurbishin’ the old Hold, how’s this any different?”

He knew the answer, and she gave to him.

“They’re not us.”

“If they had one of us with them then!”

“Are you volunteerin’ Hank Greenwood?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He paused. Both his siblings had left home. It was just him and his parents to look after the pigs and to grow, gather and dry herbs. Both of these could be labour intensive, and his parents… they weren’t old. They could manage without him for a little bit.

“I am, yes.”

Her eyebrow went higher. “Well then. Let me know how you get on,” and she closed the door.

When he next saw Frank he told the miller what happened, and then everything happened, very quickly.

It didn’t take long for the builders to arrive, and Hank found himself co-ordinating between the builders from the Order and the handyfolk of Imforis. He wasn’t cut out of this! He was simple man, he prided himself on it! He wasn’t meant for giving orders like this!

But, here he was, running back and forth and trying to deal with arguments as the builders critiqued the old repairs and the local handyfolk taking that as an insult. The architects wanted to change the old buildings and were angrily and loudly shot down. Sometimes, both sides were just far too stubborn, but they slowly got something out of it.

No builder had managed to replicate the old Feadhainn architecture, and that showed. They tried to repair the oldest buildings, to make them habitable again, but some of them were too far gone. Those ones were torn down and new, more modern buildings out in their place, mostly made of local wood.

Hank could feel the ripple of anger throughout Imforis when this happened, and the new building felt like an unwelcome growth. Something you’d go into the nearest market town to see a doctor about.

He could see it from his stall, and he just rested his head on his forearms.

“Erm, excuse me?”

He lifted his head up, feeling a bit too tired to be dealing with an unfamiliar customer today.

“Yes?” he answered. The woman standing before him was clearly not from here, with curly red hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin. “Can I help you?”

“Could you tell me about some of these herbs? I don’t recognise all of them,” she said. At least she was polite, made a nice change.

Hank blinked for a second, trying to get his brain to work. Thankfully, he had learnt most of these while he was learning to read.

He rattled off a few of the more unusual ones, and the woman folded her arms, thinking before buying a few bundles.

“You look tired,” she commented as she handed over the necessary coins. “Long day?”

“Long month,” he sighed.

“Wow,” she looked around, “lots of work going on. Got anything to do with that?”

“Everything to do with it.”

The woman winced in sympathy. “I can see. It’ll be over soon enough, you’ll see,” she smiled, and then held her hand out. “I’m Fiona Flannail.”

“Hank Greenwood,” he shook. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with this lot?”

“Me? Oh no, just someone, wandering around. I’ve actually got work at the bakery,” she pointed in the right direction. “That’s what the herbs are for.”

“Never seen anyone bake with these,” Hank noted.

“Me neither!” her grin was giddy. “That’s what’s exciting!”

Hank found himself smiling too, her glee infectious. “Well, I hope you stay around for a while Miss Flannail.”

“We’ll see Mr Greenwood,” she had this odd smile on her face, which in his tired state, Hank couldn’t quite place. “Well, I’d better get to work. I’ll see you next time!” she waved and disappeared to the bakery while Hank waved back.

Fiona had been right, the construction didn’t last too long. At least, not on the old buildings. One of the builders had built up some rapport in Imforis, so built themselves a house, and became the local carpenter. Meanwhile, more people trickled to and fro from the Hold, and not everyone liked being there.

From what Hank heard, it was like a Guard base, but bigger, and not everyone wanted to live in a barracks. In fact, some people just, liked Imforis.

More houses were built. A school was built, which was a first, most people sent their children to the nearest town for schooling. All the old houses were clustered around the forest edge, but new houses built up on the north and south sides, arcing around to an extended business hub. A doctor popped up, so now they didn’t just have a herbalist.

Sitting at his stall now, with his daughter working on her school work beside him, Hank marvelling at the whole thing. In 15 years Imforis had changed into something twice, three times the size of what it had been.

It all happened, he supposed, because the Watch decided that the old tower just north of them would be perfect. How strange, that one decision could affect so many people.

(Phew, that might be the longest one I’ve done so far! To date it, well the Watch was announced May 1599, so I imagine construction would begin not too long after that.

I actually messed with my own timeline here, because Fiona wasn’t originally going to show up until 1600/1601, but given that the timeline is mostly in my head it’s pretty fluid and subject to change. Also yes, Fiona is slighlty flirting with Hank)

#The Watch AU #Hank Greenwood #Fiona Flannail #Ellie Greenwood #Imforis #House Marvin #Outpost #Runach Hold #Rúnach Hold #Watch Prompts

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bryonysimcox · 5 years

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Life on the Road: Week 1, France

A week ago we had just reached French shores and stayed the night near the Belgium border. Now, over a thousand kilometres later, I look back at life on the road in Suzi the HiAce.

The days before we left England, I was filled with nerves. A weird sort of apprehension-excitement-fear combo descended on me, especially as George left me alone for a day whilst he headed up to Manchester to do a last-minute video shoot. Then, Monday morning finally came and I was so glad we were ready to leave, given that my mind had been running in circles in the days prior.

Even if we had forgotten things, not planned for certain eventualities, I was ready to go and to start our long-awaited trip.

The drive to Dover was somewhat uneventful, punctuated by a welcome visit at my Aunt’s house in Ashford, and a lovely meal, sharing stories of places travelled and frantically jotting notes down from my knowledgeable relatives about the best routes to take (and tolls to avoid!) in France. We arrived at the ferry terminal with ages to spare, an unusual departure from George and my usual tendency to leave everything to the last minute. Once on French soil, we really enjoyed taking in the surroundings of the north coast. Although an altogether flat and industrial area, Dunkirk and the neighbouring villages were peppered with characterful qualities: the ‘Gilets Jaunes’ hosting small road-side bonfires, faded signage painted on brick facades, and unusual Flemish-style housing with tiled roofs and shuttered windows. We started to search online for the history of places we saw and towns we passed through, often discovering impressive stories from both the world wars of soldiers’ resistance and the resilience of ordinary local folk. This activity of reading a place’s Wikipedia page as evening entertainment has become a bit of a habit!

(images, left to right) Exploring the streets of Dunkirk, a much-needed celebratory champagne/beer on the ferry from Dover, and me outside Suzi on our drive to Paris.

En route to Paris, we risked the tolls and experienced the aggression of French drivers when they get stuck behind a 25-year old fully-laden campervan. Tolls are something we’re generally going to avoid; whilst they save you time, we’d rather save the money and enjoy the more scenic routes. But in this instance, we got to France’s capital nice and quickly, and found free showers at the roadside services as a bonus.

The two and a half days we spent in Paris were just perfect: we kept things slow and cheap rather than trying to see and do everything.

Based on advice from other vanlifers, we opted to park up in a suburb on the outskirts of the city and catch the train each day. Despite protests from railway workers and closed train lines making headline news whilst we were there, the line we took seemed unaffected and it worked out brilliantly - we would pop up at the station outside Notre Dame, and each day take in the sights of the city by foot. Road closures left streets feeling calm and quiet, combined with the fact that the freezing cold temperatures were keeping the crowds away!

Generally, we mooched around the Quartier Latin and the student areas, centred on the Pantheon and Rue Mouffetard, the city’s oldest street. I was impressed to see sustainable, human-centred initiatives across the city, no-doubt linked to the forward-thinking stance of Paris’ mayor, Anne Hidalgo (a renowned figure in urban design circles). There were lots of bicycles, generous pedestrian spaces, electric car charging stations and even billboards announcing the city’s ‘participatory budgeting’ scheme, although the lack of green spaces and trees was apparent too.

(images, left to right) Filming in Le Jardin du Luxembourg, wandering along the Seine, and escaping from the cold in a super-cool Parisien cafe.

We were lucky enough to catch up with friends and family in Paris, which made the big city feel warm and welcoming.

On the first night, a girl who I had met back in Sydney when we both volunteered at a not-for-profit restaurant met up with us and showed us the local’s perspective into the best inner-city spots for wandering and socialising. On Thursday, what began as George randomly spotting that an old bandmate of his was also in Paris, resulted in a couple of beers that evening with him and his girlfriend. And the next day, we were able to see one of my cousins, along with his wife and newborn baby, in their apartment in the 11th arrondissement. These encounters were so enjoyable, and were a powerful reminder that it will be the people we see and spend time with along this trip that define it.

Sad to leave but ready for the next step, we left Paris in the knowledge that life admin was on the cards. We wanted to get a gas refill for our spare gas bottle so that when we run out on our first tank in some middle-of-nowhere location, we don’t have to eat cold spaghetti! After a few delightful days of being tourists in Paris, including filming our first episode of ‘Place Portraits’ about film photography through our documentary channel Broaden, spending a tireless day looking for the right gas refill felt like a fall from grace.

We quickly learned that all the little things like gas, electricity and water can take up a lot of time when you’re living in a van and you’re in a foreign country.

Eventually laden with a new (albeit pricey) bottle of gas, we headed out towards the countryside to find somewhere to stay for the night. We didn’t get that far, and stopped in the town of Fontainbleu - renowned for its historic connections to French royalty (also worth checking out the Wikipedia page). We found our parking spot through the fantastic app ‘Park4Night’, and this location reaffirmed just how awesome the app can be, as it led us to a space literally outside the gates to Fontainbleu Castle!

(images, left to right) A morning run around Fontainbleu Castle, a very excitable me after said run, and our epic camping spot outside the castle gates.

One of mine and George’s priorities has been to squeeze in exercise along the journey. Staying active is not only important to the two of us, but essential when you’re often sitting still in a van for long distances. The only thing getting in the way of doing lots of exercise is the fact that we don’t have a shower (though we’re looking into a small one with submersible pump and would love recommendations from folks who have used them before). Nonetheless, we did a 5K run around the eery castle grounds at Fontainbleu, and I’ve tailored a workout with the NikeTraining app that I can just about do lying in the van. As for the washing situation, well it’s either boiling a kettle and doing a face-cloth shower, or heading to public swimming pools (as we did in Lyon) and making use of the facilities whilst squeezing a swim in as well.

With dreams of snow, we spent two days headed south-east, through Lyon, towards the Alps. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bit of a half-baked plan and we eventually decided to give up on the idea.

We had gotten quite close to the Alps before we decided it wasn’t worth it. We’d been tracking slower than expected, and had generally realised that Suzi can’t just whizz up hilly roads as we’d like. Given that we also had no plans to ski (and were just headed there for the views and hikes), it felt like a huge commitment for not all that much reward. It was a frustrating decision, but a good first experience in the reality of trip-planning and timing.

Almost a week in, and it felt like we’d hit our first slump: giving up on the Alps and generally being aware that Suzi is an old van with a somewhat unreliable engine. Although we’ve had no issues with her so far, other than underwhelming fuel efficiency, George is conscious that we may have worn piston rings. The piston rings are something that could cause us issues in the future, so we’re closely monitoring them for now and on the look-out for a reliable garage in South France/Spain that may be able to have a look at them and give us an idea of what repairs may cost.

(images, left to right) Emptying the wastewater tank and filling up on fresh water at an ‘Aire du Camping-Car’, stocking up on much-needed bread and cheese, and editing footage inside the van in true hot-desking style!

Changing the plan and re-diverting west turned out to be a real positive. We ventured along some alpine roads through the stunning scenery of the Parc Natural Regional Livradois-Forez and ended the first week on a high - parked up in the middle of nowhere safe and sound in the van.

That evening, we ate fresh baguette with local cheese and snuggled under our blanket watching a BBC crime drama. With no other sign of life in sight, we finally felt free - next to a stream in a misty forest, accompanied by the soundtrack of light rain. It wasn’t the most stunning place, the most famous or the most extreme, but it was just right.

#traveldiaries #SuzitheVan #ToyotaHiace #OverlandAdventures #DigitalNomads #BryonyandGeorge #vanlife #hiacevan #lifethroughalens #vanliving #consciouscommunity

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madartiste · 5 years

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Deadly Fortune, Book 1, Chapters 1-5

So I started reading the only English translation I could find of the DMC4 “Deadly Fortune” novels to mine them for good character info. I have no idea if anyone else will be interested, but I’ll post the notes I’m taking here. Mostly this is just a retelling of the game, but there are scenes that aren’t shown and some interesting context/internal monologue things to be found. I skipped the first chapter because it was just Dante and Trish being cryptic, and I didn’t notice anything interesting. I’ll post more as I work my way through the novels.

The chapters are referred to as “stages.” Stuff in bold are things I found particularly interesting. Everything is under the cut because I’m a wordy fool and I didn’t want to drown anyone’s dashboard.

EDIT: Forgot the friggin link to where I found the translation: https://originaldmc.github.io/DivinityStatue/Downloads.html

Stage 02 (Pregame)

Kyrie visits Nero (he doesn't live with her). She sometimes brings little gifts to the knights in the barracks.

Nero doesn't know if his arm is poisoned or possessed

Kyrie is one year older, treats Nero like a kid when something bad happens

Kyrie hasn't sung in front of a big crowd before (though she has sung in church)

Attendance at the Festival of the Blade isn't mandatory, so Nero finds an excuse not to go every year -- except this one since Kyrie asks him if he's going and she's performing

Nero's arm was injured one month prior to the game. The demons were in the 'forests of the suburbs.' (Later he says it's Mitis forest, though when he describes getting to the scene he doesn't actually go that far?) Only three knights were sent because the ones that show up near the city are usually weak, but this time there were a lot of them. Nero isn't considered a 'team player,' and he thinks that he is about as far from being a hero as you can get, so he isn't given tasks like that.

Nero is given tasks that require him to work alone and thinks that even the order has secrets he wants to keep. His job is to deal with humans who've been possessed by demons that the Order thinks can't be saved. He is expected to kill them without a trace (OMG!). Basically, the Order doesn't want the people to lose faith in them if a devout follower is possessed by a demon. The people are told that Sparda will protect them, and if they knew the truth it would look bad for the Order. Nero says he isn't happy about killing people, but if no one else will do it, he will, since it's very difficult to save someone who's possessed. So Nero is basically a hit man jeeeeeeeeeeeez.

Another reason Nero is shunned is that he likes using guns. Being the 'Order of the Sword,' they place a huge emphasis on swords. Nero doesn't care about that -- if it kills demons, why not use it? -- and since there are no gunsmiths, he built Blue Rose himself. (He talks a lot about the gun a lot and why he chose a revolver too. Kid knows his guns, though he says he's not a 'serious gun expert.')

The 'dean of the Orphanage' where Nero was raised is an old lady named Sister Xista. (Nero comments that he knows she loves the orphans she works with.)

Kyrie was out in the forest with the orphans on an outing. Ah! She had come back from Mitis forest and was in the city when they got attacked by (30!) scarecrows. Nero runs along the rooftops to get there (and is really casual about it like a normal person could just vault up there and run).

The three knights are Josh (who dies -- poor Josh), Sagan, and Tonio (who seems to be in charge? He's also old fashioned, uncomfortable around Nero, and also 'obsessed with honor.').

Apparently Red Queen is so suped up that if Nero uses it too close to people he could accidentally burn them.

Nero likes that Kyrie is the type of person who would protect other people at the risk of herself but also kinda hates it since she could get hurt.

There's a very interesting passage where Nero thinks about how many of the knights want to become famous and are very into the legend of Sparda, but Nero feels they should be focusing more on the 'good heart of his struggle to protect humanity' part of the story. He also feels they should be less mad at him for jumping into the fight and stealing their thunder and instead comfort Kyrie and the children who were nearly killed.

An Assault pops in through a 'magic array' right behind Kyrie as she's trying to tend to Josh's wound. This is where the "Kyrie, run!" memory from when Nero blacks out in Agnus' lab comes in. Josh tries to defend her, but gets slashed up. His blood actually spatters on Kyrie's face, who is too stunned to react. Nero revvs Red Queen all the way up and jumps at the demon, can't block an attack which is how his arm gets hurt. He burns out the Exceed system so he can't really protect himself. Sagan and Tonio jump in to help while Josh gets Kyrie and the kids away. The demon chases them and injures a kid named Kelly and kills Josh. Nero finally takes it out with his gun.

One of the kids is named Gili.

The Order tries to hide the incident, but since a bunch of kids were involved, it's a bit hard. Josh was an orphan (like Nero), and all of the other adults were forbidden from talking about it. The whole thing seems to piss Nero of since Josh died and Kyrie was injured. He decides to try to get stronger, and apparently Sagan and Tonio have the same idea since they start training a lot.

Nero refers to a building called the 'Sword House' which used to be the Order's HQ until the 'new Faculty HQ' was built. Credo's office is still in the Sword House, and Nero tries to avoid making too much noise on the creaky stairs. Hahaha! Credo asks Nero "How are you so slow?" Credo's got a new mission for Nero -- Nero refers to it as 'dirty work.'.

There's an 'Investigation Bureau' for the Order.

Credo wants the mission dealt with quietly since today is a festival day. He DOES very seriously ask if Nero is okay to fight. Which Nero sarcastically replies "Will someone else do it if I say no?"

Red Queen is out at the 'technical bureau' for repairs because it has a lot of special parts. Credo gives Nero one of the Caliburn swords (the Durandal is the officers' sword type). He also tells Nero not to use his gun because it'll make noise and draw attention. Nero notices that Credo is out of sorts. He's apparently pretty upset about Nero being injured, Josh being killed, and all of it being covered up.

There's some guy named Kars (or Karls? The translation keeps changing his name) who Nero asked to buy that cute necklace for Kyrie. Nero is nice and apologetic for keeping the guy waiting, which throws Kars off a bit.

The Devil Bringer hurts as well as glows when there's a demon around.

Nero beats up a bunch of Scarecrows and heads back to go listen to Kyrie sing. That's literally the only reason he's going since he doesn't actually have to be there at the ceremony.

Okay, so Fortuna Castle is where Sparda supposedly lived when he was lord. It's used as an Art Gallery these days, and citizens are free to come and go as they like. The 'technical bureau' room (the underground lab) isn't known to most people, though, and their purpose is to build weapons to fight demons.

Agnus loves research, teaching, and Sanctus apparently. He also talks to Yamato. It doesn't talk back, but he's mainly complaining to it about not being able to fix the damn thing. He found Yamato a year ago on the outskirts of Fortuna. Even though the sword is only mentioned a few times in ancient books, Angus recognized it right away. In the translation Devil Arms are referred to as Magic Swords -- which might be how the Order thinks of them? In any case, they lost track of Sparda's swords after he left 2000 years ago.

Apparently you can repair Devil Arms. Some repair themselves overtime, other kinds can be fixed if you have the right type of material. Yamato is neither of those. Agnus thinks if Yamato was made from a Devil, then this makes sense -- BUT if that was the case it should've lost all its power when it was broken. Instead, Yamato still has lots of power. He calls the sword 'unpleasant' after yelling at it. Heh.

Gloria shows up with a guy named Greg. Agnus hates Gloria and is apparently a misogynist. As if we need another reason to dislike him. He doesn't trust her and also thinks it's distasteful for women to flaunt their stuff as a 'weapon.' Also Gloria clearly likes harassing him because he's such an uptight jerk.

The Order has never accepted 'foreigners' into its ranks before (hence some of Agnus' distrust). There's a line about the church paying attention to 'the birthplace and family' of its members -- which is interesting. I wonder if that's part of the reason some of the knights are weird about Nero? Because no one knows who his family is…

Gloria told them she was a treasure hunter and that's how she found the Devil Sword Sparda. Agnus thinks the sword is basically a holy relic since it was Sparda's actual sword. She caused quite a stir when she showed up and asked to speak to Sanctus (the knight who met her thought she was his mistress!).

Gloria also brought along the Devil Arms that were used to power the smaller Hell Gates (lol, Trish just swiped all of Dante's stuff!). The real Hell Gate can only be opened with a complete Yamato.

Stage 03 (Start of the game)

Nero bought his headphones from Kars.

Nero thinks the preaching is bullshit. It was Kyrie and Credo and their parents that showed him love and warmth, not some 'sinless' god. He thinks it's weird that their parents were so kind to him, and that it was probably because he has 'silver' hair like Sparda is said to have. There's an interesting line: "I don't have parents, so in their hearts I might be someone who has a relationship with Sparda."

He feels they were good people, if blind and naive, and seems angry they were killed by demons. It happened before he was a knight, and he doesn't know the circumstances. There's a reference to them investigating the ruins in Mitis Forest when they were killed? But that's why he doesn't believe in Sparda -- because why would god let good people like that die at the hands of demons? He also says that he could understand if it was someone like him (!) but not people who were devout, kind believers.

Very Vergil line from Nero: "So, I don't believe in God, I only believe in power."

He also decided to stick around to protect Kyrie, presumably because no god was going to do it.

The necklace Nero bought for Kyrie isn't very expensive. He wanted to thank her for taking care of him and congratulate her on getting to be the soloist at the ceremony.

"The Buddhism of the Pope on the stage continues." That line cracked me up. I assume it just means that Sanctus kept going with his sermon.

Dante shoots Sanctus, everyone panics. Nero doesn't worry about Kyrie dropping her gift since he can just buy her another one if she wants.

Nero's surprised by how fast Dante wrecks the knights since they're trained to fight demons. He mentions that 'many demons have human forms.' He didn't even stop to think before drop kicking Dante. He just wanted to save Kyrie.

When they end up on top of the statue of Sparda, Nero realizes that Dante is way stronger than he is even though Nero is far stronger than a normal person.

There's some surprise from Nero when Dante doesn't care that Credo and Kyrie escape, and he wonders if the 'murderer' has some kind of conscience after all. But he also doesn't care. Dante is clearly amused by this whole thing.

Nero's got an 'auto-loader' for Blue Rose because he has to load two types of ammo.

Nero doesn't use his right arm at first because he doesn't know when reinforcements will show up and doesn't want to have to explain it to them.

Dante doesn't seem to know what to make of Nero's arm at first? He asks if there is 'titanium inside.' Which is weird. Not sure if that's a translation thing or not.

Nero's right hand might actually be stronger than Dante. When Dante goes to staff him and Nero catches Rebellion, Dante can't quite pull away (though there's no indication of how hard he was trying).

Dante says "You too?" when Nero goes to throw the statue's sword at him, and Nero is confused. Dante also says "No, you don't have the smell of garbage," which I assume means he can tell that Nero isn't one of the artificial demons like the other knights.

Ooof. Nero thinks that he's killed humans possessed by demons but he's never killed a living person before. He can't really tell what Dante is, but he's gonna kill him. There's a weird line about how 'some fierce part of my heart awakened' and that he 'must kill this man, just like he is my old enemy.'

Nero isn't thinking clearly when he nails Dante to the statue and is a bit freaked out by his own reaction.

Nero's reaction to Dante surviving being impaled: 'This is a very outrageous guy.' Hah!

There's more made out of Dante saying that he and Nero are the same in the book. Dante out says "I am not human, are you not the same?" and Nero replies "I am… human," but he hides his arm and is shaken up by the question.

Dante still yeets out through the ceiling, but he calls Nero "little devil" when he leaves. It's kinda cute.

Nero's never met a demon that can understand human language. Evidently it's mainly the powerful ones who can. He worries that he might be a demon after all. The reinforcements show up before he can go check out the dead Order knights to confirm that they're not human. He wonders if he just imagined it, but knows that asking questions won't get him anything.

Switch to Dante POV. Sparda told his boys stories when they were little, though it seems like he left when they were still too young to really grasp everything or to think it was weird that their father was a demon. A lot of the stories of Sparda are considered just fairy tales and legends, so it's hard to piece together what he was really up to for those 2000 years before he met Eva.

The wording is strange, but Dante seems to realize that Vergil likely came to Fortuna to investigate legends of Sparda. After thinking it over, he laughs off the thought that Nero could be Vergil's kid.

Trish is 'very concerned about punctuality' and Dante has to go to the castle to meet her.

Back to Nero: He wants to go back to the dormitory and rest (what a mood), but Credo wants him to chase down Dante. Nero actually thinks he's not sure he can do it.

There's someone named Claude who's Durandl Nero was using? It just references "Claude's Durandl' being a very good sword.

Fortuna is surrounded by a solid wall, and there is only one exit by land. It's in the opposite direction of the Opera House and… the Fortuna duna? (Maybe the docks?) The Order keeps an eye on the ships in the port, though, so Dante can't escape that way.

Awww, he thinks the necklace suits Kyrie.

Demons attack the courtyard outside of the Opera house. Demons in Fortuna aren't rare, but having so many is. Also Nero has never seen them in the center of the city before in his 'few years as a knight.' Nero wonders if Dante is responsible. The plan is to take the citizens to HQ to keep them safe. (I get the feeling that the layout of the island is not so spread out as it is in the game. Either that or headquarters is actually a mistranslation.)

Nero mentally gushes about how great Kyrie is, that she'd even protect someone who treated her poorly. The boy is totally smitten. More very Vergil type thoughts: 'compassion without power can't change anything.' He decides he will be strong so that Kyrie's compassion isn't wasted. (Awww).

Nero deliberately breaks the archway to keep the demons from getting to the people. He ends up having to take the long way to get to HQ because the road is blocked

Stage 04 (Sanctus' resurrection and Berial)

'The room on the uppermost corner of the Magic Swords Corps' is Sanctus' bedroom. I'm assuming this is in the HQ building since this scene analogous to the one in the game where Sanctus is resurrected in the 'Ascension Chamber.'

Hahaha! Sanctus refers to Dante as an "awful guy." Okay, he apparently knew that Dante might come after him, but didn't expect him to drop into the middle of a big ceremony. He's also annoyed that he was killed in front of all the believers.

Agnus and Credo clearly don't like each other. Credo deliberately says some things to piss him off and Agnus absolutely takes the bait.

There's some strange wording, but my interpretation is: Credo partly sent Nero after Dante to make the kid look good. He knows that Nero isn't respected by the Order, but Credo thinks Nero is very strong. There's a comment about the Ascension Ceremony -- which Credo is convinced Nero could survive despite the low success rate (it says only 10 people survived, but that doesn't seem right). Evidently Credo wants to help Nero get in everyone's good graces to prepare him for the ceremony (Credo! Wut r u doin'?!)

Also Credo doesn't think there's any point in reasoning with Agnus. He really doesn't like him. Sanctus has to be the adult. He has some good skills in that, having to get all the different personalities in the Order to work with each other.

Agnus is a giant Sanctus fanboy. He's also easily excitable, which both Sanctus and Credo comment on.

Back to Nero: Lots o' demons in the city. He's very confused. Certain places are easier to open a Hell Gate than others. The translation is confusing here, saying it's easy to open a 'cave' in the area around 'Fodu.' I'm assuming that it means you can open portals to the Underworld easily on Fortuna?

Nero is pretty sure Rebellion is a powerful Devil Arm since he felt something in his Devil Bringer when he touched it.

Fortuna Castle was built up in the mountain because the people of Fortuna didn't want to destroy the environment. They do a lot to try to preserve the state of the island as close to how it was when Sparda was there. Nero thinks Sparda wouldn't care if they made their lives more convenient by modernizing things. (Pretty sure he's right.)

They refer to the big Hell Gate in the city as 'the monument.' Nero is surprised to find one in the Ferrum Hills.

Nero can tell how strong a demon is by how much his Devil Bringer hurts.

Hahaha! He thinks that Berial's sword is 'a little pitiful.' There's actually a nice illustration of Nero facing down Berial.

Nero seems convinced that Dante is a demon when he hears Berial also speak in a human language. There's a weird phrase: 'a lovely type of chat in the demonic race.' I'm not sure what that means.

Nero doesn't like heat. He's also annoyed (?) that Berial just ignored him because he's a human. He also calls Berial old. Also, oh snap, he quickly realizes that Berial is no threat to him, though at first he's a little worried. Nero thinks Berial is weaksauce compared to fighting with Dante. Berial also calls Nero "little devil."

Berial is surprised by Blue Rose. He's never seen a gun before. Nero's ticked that Berial has stronger fire than Red Queen.

Nero has been avoiding thinking about his arm too much, but fighting Berial makes him realize that his power is definitely like a demon's. Berial demands to know if Nero is human or not, and Nero's response is basically "I'm a special case." After Nero beats him up, Berial says he's sure that Nero is a devil, though Nero now denies it.

Berial gives him a weird look and says "Neither a demon nor a human being… that's it. You are like him." And then yeets into the Hell Gate because he knows he can't beat Nero without a refresh.

Nero apparently tries to destroy the Hell Gate but can't. He decides to move on, and wonders if the 'him' Berial was talking about is the man in red -- Dante.

Stage 05 (Fortuna Castle and Bael)

Dante POV: He's running around the castle to find Trish. She didn't tell him where to meet, only when. He wonders if Sparda really lived in such a place because there are only normal human things lying around and not Devil Arms.

He pops by the library and grabs a book off the shelf (Nero in the game comments on Dante having been there), but can't read the language. He feels like someone is watching him and calls them out. It's Trish who didn't want to startle him because she looks different. Dante feels the library suits Trish because 'she has a strong desire for knowledge.' (Interesting.) She doesn't actually show her Gloria disguise to him here.

Trish tells him where Yamato is. Dante wants it back because it's a memento of both his father and brother. There's a nice illustration of Dante and Trish.

They decide to deal with the Order before grabbing the sword since it's broken and they can't use it. Dante decides to poke around the castle a bit more, though Trish correctly guesses he's looking for anything that might have belonged to his dad.

Back to Nero: It seems like Nero hasn't been up to Lamina Peak (It's also called the Holy Mountain) before. He thinks the snow might be normal, but isn't sure. Tourists are rare, but the Castle is a big draw.

So the complicated route to get to the castle might have been to make it hard for enemies to get there in the Middle Ages. But he says the bridge is 2000 years old in the next sentence, so… Not really the Middle Ages.

Nero is actually pleased the bridge gets broken because it gives him a shortcut he wouldn't have thought of otherwise. Fights the Frosts, thinks they can't be the cause of the snow because they're not that kind of demon.

Nero is sure Gloria isn't from Fortuna, and he definitely notices the saucy clothing. Fortuna ladies don't dress like that. He mainly wants to know who she is. He has no idea why his Devil Bringer is still hurting after the demons are defeated, and wonders if that means the woman is a demon.

He hides his Devil Bringer from her -- which is why he doesn't shake her hand. She knows who he is, which means she's a knight, so he assumes that his arm is reacting to other demons nearby.

Gloria lists his nicknames: "'The bad bird to get along with', the arrogant atheist''

He's not surprised.

Ah, he turns away when she puts the knife away because he's being a bit polite and kinda doesn't want to get flashed.

Oh, he HAS been to the Castle, but he can't remember when. It was at least 3 years ago, before he was a knight. He doesn't like the place because of the 'damp air.'

He thinks maybe Dante came here to steal art (hah!).

Nero can't completely read the book Dante was looking at either. He knows enough to pick out that it's about demons, though, and he thinks that it might help him understand what Dante is after.

He's never seen the Bianco Angelos before, and figures it has to be a new weapon of the Order. Nero seems to think the guy in the armor is just a jerk messing with him.

Nero isn't even slightly tempted by Bael's sexy ladies -- the translation uses the word 'goblins' for them. Like Dante says in the game, Bael smells pretty bad. Also Nero can barely understand what Bael is saying, his human is so garbled. Bael also calls Nero "little devil" when he dies.

Link to the next part of the notes: https://madartiste.tumblr.com/post/186824600040/deadly-fortune-book-1-chapters-6-11

#devil may cry #dmc4 #deadly fortune #My notes

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kc-anathema · 5 years

Text

Leo pushed past his limits and runs away, treasured afterward

or Leo brushing death, resuscitated only thanks to Don

or his brothers not listening to Leo on the battlefield against the foot

(treasured sub)

[all three prompts kind of worked together in my head without separating themselves out, so that’s what I went with. A short prompt became a 6 page monster]

Mastered

"I warned you this would happen."

Before a single candle, Leonardo sat in the dojo, gazing at the same cracked brick he'd been staring at for several minutes. Around him, the candlelight only accentuated the darkness. He couldn't meet Splinter's gaze, so he stared past the broken stone where the side of the tunnel met the ground, a spot more darkness than light.

His master's words, delivered in his constant patient tone, were nevertheless delivered over a tail that whipped the air. Leonardo had long ago learned how to read his father's moods.

Disappointment.

Aggravation.

Leonardo flinched from the anger.

"I didn't think—" he started.

"Indeed." Splinter's tail punctuated the air. "You did not heed my warn my warning. Now you have little recourse but to separate yourself and hope to repair the damage."

Leonardo's hands still ached from how he had tightened them into fists. His nails dug into his skin.

"Considerable damage." Splinter took a long breath, steadying himself. Leonardo had not told him everything, barely even suggesting the edge of what had happened. No matter—what had transpired was obvious. "To bear such insult on the battlefield, and from your own brother...you have lost all control of yourself, and through this, your family's respect."

Leonardo sat like a statue. The weight bearing down meant he couldn't move. To move was to crumble.

"You must go. Master yourself. Then return to master your brothers. If you cannot do this..."

Splinter let the thought, the threat, hang over his son like one more sword. When he received no argument, he stood and left the dojo, closing the door behind himself.

In the empty dojo, Leonardo stared into the hollow of the chipped stone.

The candle burned down, guttered in its own wax, and went out. Soft plumes of smoke curled and vanished.

Behind the salvage shop, a pile of broken mannequin parts spilled over the garbage bins and made convenient blinds to hide what was really a glorified knife fight. Three bodies joined the pile, fitting into the silhouettes of jutting hands and heads. Pulling his sword free of a ninja's chest, Leonardo had barely sighed out his tension, the relief that they had won without injury and without being seen—when the strong arm came around him and pulled him close. He squirmed, awkwardly turning his sword so it wouldn't cut Raphael, trying to step away and only held that much tighter.

"Are you kidding?" Leonardo hissed under his breath. "This isn't the time—"

"Sure it is," Raphael murmured, pressing close so that Leonardo could feel his excitement. "Shut up."

"Nnn—"

"Quit arguing." Raphael covered Leonardo's mouth with his hand, pushing him against the rough brick, backward over the trash cans, spreading his legs.

Leonardo had no leverage, nothing but the unsteady shapes beneath him and the bodies shifting deeper into the pile. He had no view of the street above them or in either direction, and he had no way to calm his panicking heart as he wondered if they were really alone. He had nothing to grab except Raphael's other hand pushing him backward. He might as well have been one more mannequin. One more body.

For hours, the dojo remained dark. Splinter refrained from entering, knowing his son's moods. There would be hurt, the crippling self-doubt, the familiar resignation, and then the quiet determination to fulfill Splinter's orders. It was a recurring pattern that he had relied on for years.

But allowing his son to wallow in self-pity was entirely too indulgent. Leonardo needed to be told what ship to board, what country to withdraw to. As it was, he'd have a few minutes to bid his brothers farewell until his return.

Splinter returned to a dark room. There was no answer when he spoke his son's name. With a sigh of irritation, Splinter struck a match.

The match fell from his startled hand.

The dojo was empty, save for two katana laid neatly on the mat.

The search went for almost two weeks.

The chase ran for three.

Leonardo was honestly surprised when he first felt the touch on his spirit, the ghost of someone's fingers on his soul. He didn't even know who had reached him—not Splinter, the touch didn't hold even a hint of claws—but he recognized it as someone who had touched him before. One of his brothers.

He'd guarded his mind ever since, sealing himself off from the world. From one city to the next, small towns to smaller train stops, he traveled in rail cars and truck trailers, hitching rides in the beds of pickup trucks at night when no one could see what they were carrying. He set a dizzying pace for the first few days—New York to Atlantic City, then to Cherry Hill and Allentown, Harrisburg and Frederick, Rockville, Glen Allen, a frought ride on the top of a semi-tractor trailer to the National Forest.

The mountain thickets were beautiful. And terribly lonely.

After that, he rode aimlessly, barely able to stay a few steps ahead. Some days, watching the world blur by in an open boxcar, he drowsed in the sunlight. Forgot to eat. Didn't care when he remembered.

Only to snap wide awake when the touch came again, reaching for his soul which he immediately locked away again.

He curled up tight in the corner of the empty traincar, gritting his teeth, holding his head in a cold sweat. Why wouldn't they stop? He was sent away. They should have nothing to do with him until he could master his own feelings. And since that would never happen, he shouldn't have to see them again.

Had Splinter realized his true intent so quickly?

They were relentless—he had to keep moving, even when he slept. But they could split up, anticipate his next turn, ride ahead or rest in one spot to catch up later.

On rare occasions, he spotted them. Three splashes of green color, three familiar shadows, even just three familiar presences out of sight and blurring into view, searching the train he had just left, combing a truck stop where he had just changed rides.

Once, through pure bad luck, he slipped on wet gravel on the rail, making the slightest scuff as he climbed onto a long coal car. As he backed away to the other side, he caught sight of them on the other side of the train yard...catching sight of him.

They came at a frightening speed. Had they always been so fast?—vaulting the trains between them, sprinting across the tracks. Leonardo had scurried down the other side of the train and ran, simply ran, barely catching the last rung of a ladder on the back of another train. It took all his strength to pull himself up—they had to be several meters back and yet he would have sworn he felt them dragging at his side—and then the train pulled to full speed, easily out pacing them.

When he turned and looked over his shoulder, he couldn't make out their expressions, but the intent, their focus, that this defeat was only temporary, was all too clear.

He would lose them before the next railyard. He promised himself, as he crawled over the top of the train, tumbling into an empty grain car, that he would leap out halfway to the next town. Just a nap, a short rest, as he pressed himself into the corner, closing his eyes. And he would simply walk through the trees beside the road, find a creek and walk through it to hide his tracks...a short rest, nothing more.

"—the other bottle, give it here—"

"We ain't got another one—"

"Shit, he's so pale—"

Voices.

His brothers' voices.

He'd failed.

Just like in everything else.

He kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep. It wasn't hard. He felt heavy enough to sink into the floor, and the wind was so cold that it sapped all the strength out of him.

"Donny, I think it's still bleeding..."

"It has to, I can't leave a tourniquet on for long. Just wait 'till—"

"We can jump now—"

"Not until I bind it up again!"

Blood? Yes, he smelled blood. Felt terrible pain along his side, now that he thought about it. From his right hand down to his knee, his whole side hurt, and someone was scrubbing at his skin, making the pain worse.

"There's still more gravel."

"Get ready—"

There was a wave of fire through his side that made him gasp, going rigid as they lifted him up—Raphael, it had to be Raphael to carry him like that—the sensation of weightlessness, awful if only because he knew that meant a harsh jolt as they landed. The hit was cushioned as much as Raphael could, but Leonardo's senses scrambled as he was set down. Resting on wind? Grass blowing over him? Something cool touched his forehead and water wet his lips.

"Don't drown him—"

"—dehydrated, duh—"

They talked over him, ignoring that he was really awake. More convenient for everyone if they all pretended. And it let Raphael carry him, holding him, without the burden of words coming between them.

Half the time, it was true, anyway. He floated in and out of fever, waking to the touch of a cold rag on his face, water offered regularly, always in the arms of one of his brothers as a pillow. Michelangelo kept up a steady stream of chatter that changed subject so often that he could never tell if he was dreaming or awake, and Donatello's whispers were too technical to grasp. Leonardo latched onto the calm confidence in Donatello's voice, the reassurances that he was healing now that they were driving. Leonardo had to take their word that they were in a van—had they stolen it? He barely saw the light dappling through the windows, dazzling his eyes when they weren't covered. And Raphael...

Raphael simply murmured the occasional apology.

They didn't ask why he had run.

Obvious. Of course it was obvious.

At least it spared him the humiliation of having to explain.

When they arrived home, he was vaguely aware of being carried and put to bed. Knew someone was sitting beside him, reading but there, never leaving him alone. Knew that Michelangelo snuggled up with him to sleep. Knew that Donatello changed bandages while Raphael cleaned his wounds. Knew that they made sure he swallowed pain meds regularly.

Knew that Splinter was nowhere near him.

"Pretty sure you'll get full motor function back in your hand," Donatello said, spreading his palm flat and examining the scars. "Um, if you didn't damage all the sensory components—I mean nerves. Ugh, sorry, it just makes more sense if I think of it that way. Oh, and the rotator cuff, but you've been exercising, right?"

Leonardo nodded once, slowly. He still had headaches—he had one now—but they were small and less frequent than before. His brothers' presence around him was welcome once more, not something to be guarded against.

"Lightly?" Donatello asked, dipping his head to see his brother's eyes.

"I remembered," Leonardo said, half-smiling. "Nothing too heavy unless I want to make it worse."

The smile faded as he looked askance.

"I..."

He'd stayed hidden in this room for days. Not even his own room, no—they kept him safely ensconced in Donatello's room. The one with the best lock.

They tried to make his confinement more comfortable. The pile of books beside the bed was hardly touched, the pile of snacks touched only by Michelangelo. He couldn't bring himself to meditate, couldn't sleep, couldn't read or try to hold a conversation. Instead he listened to his little brother read comic books and watch videos, listened to Donatello read journals and try to simplify his engineering projects. Often he simply drowsed wearily on Raphael's shoulder, neither of them speaking.

It was so hard to make the words come.

"I shouldn't have run."

Donatello's gaze slipped to the floor, weighed down by guilt. They hadn't spoken at all about the days leading up to their brother leaving home, trapped inside an awkwardness so thick that they couldn't force their way out. To broach the subject at all seemed insurmountable.

The silence stretched, and Leonardo grit his teeth, beginning to visibly close up again.

"No." Donatello caught his brother's hands up in his own, cupping his face. "No, I...no. Don't feel bad. We weren't going to notice if you hadn't said...hadn't done something drastic. I just got so used to—all of us got used to taking you—your nature..I mean. Uh. 'Cause you prefer being..."

Donatello sighed, upset that he couldn't say it. All he could add was "I wish I was someone you could have run to instead of from."

He took a deep breath, holding his brother's hands close. Leonardo hadn't pulled away, and he meant to hold on as long as his brother let him.

"It won't happen again," Donatello said firmly. "It'll be different. You'll see. Better."

Leonardo opened his mouth, then thought better of it and shook his head once. He didn't reply, but his shoulders remained slumped. His whole posture read of resignation.

It hurt to know that he didn't think his brothers would change. But that same hurt, and the ugly scars on Leonardo's side, had stiffened their resolve.

Three months later, the scars had healed and were beginning to fade. Raphael had developed the habit of idly stroking the raised edge on Leonardo's side, tracing the smooth skin along the shell. Leonardo, sitting on his lap, shivered and tried to bring his arms down to protect the long wound.

Of course he couldn't. His wrists were circled in cuffs connected by a chain that lay behind Raphael's head, holding him so that his arms circled around his brother's neck and forced him into a long embrace.

But the chain was long, his arms held without any strain. Any trembling came not from the weariness of being stretched too far but rather the heat of Raphael's indulgent kisses, of Donatello reaching along his throat to pull his head back for a kiss of his own.

And on the other side of the couch, Michelangelo held Leonardo's feet in his lap, buckling cuffs around his ankles, connecting them with a similarly long chain. Long enough to be comfortable and relaxed, short enough to bring him up short if he walked.

Not that he would be walking for the rest of the night.

They sat in a cluster on Donatello's bed, ostensibly watching a marathon of monster spider movies. Rather, Raphael made teasing comments about how he wanted to try out what various spiders were doing to their victims, his warm hands leaving trails on his brother's body so that Leonardo's breath turned heavy and labored.

Overwhelming, consumed by six hands stroking his eyes, his throat, his—he couldn't catch his breath, and when he was spread out for all three of them, he felt like he was being tasted instead of devoured, savored instead of chewed and spit out. And if he wasn't allowed out of their sight, his cage was gilded and cushioned in velvet, their treasure safely locked away.

They didn't watch movies or game in the main room anymore.

And their father did not come up to their rooms, so close and yet a world away.

#sub!leo prompts #ninja turtles #tmnt #tcest #anonymous 'cause I don't know if she'd prefer it that way or not #best to err on side of caution

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