#&.* never be so kind you forget to be clever | ch. study
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STUDY. One thing that I definitely don't talk about enough on this blog is just how deeply Hannah's death effected Jude (in any verse), because that was the first time she felt truly and fully loved by someone. And while she knew from a young age she could see ghosts (yes this is still my favourite thing), she wasn't sure if Hannah would be one of them so she feared she was losing the first person who loved her, for the rest of her life. It was maybe five/six months before she met Bergen, and if you told her that she would not only be happy again, but also find the person that she would spend the rest of her life with when she met him, she probably would have told you that you were crazy. She still has days where she misses Hannah, not because she's still in love with Hannah, but because they were friends long before they were together, so she misses that aspect. She still loves Hannah deeply because that was one of her people. And at least half the time if she's talking to herself it's probably Hannah, the other half she's talking to Riley.
#&.* never be so kind you forget to be clever | ch. study#( i love her so much )#( my heart physically hurts sometimes )
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Find Familiar, ch 1/2
Nines casts the spell and feels the magic pull from their soul. They need this to work. They don’t know what else to do.
They hear nothing, but perhaps the animal is simply quiet. The summon circle contains a perch and a large bathtub, painstakingly levitated all the way to the highest floor of their tower. Even a small area filled with sand. Just in case.
A wizard never knows what form their familiar will take until they summon it.
Nines doesn’t dare open their eyes. They need this to work. They are the most brilliant wizard of their generation and likely several before and after as well, but their brilliance is purely academic. All magic comes with a price, of course. That is why they’re ... like this.
Why bright lights give them migraines, and they cannot stand to be touched, and can only wear certain fabrics, eat certain foods, sleep under EXACT conditions. Why they can understand ancient languages and cursed tomes better than they ever could read a face.
It is their Price, and they need--
Nines opens their eyes and stares resolutely at the empty summoning circle. The spell had worked. They felt it take their energy and a piece of their soul. It had cast.
But out of all the beings on this plane and sixteen others, none had answered.
Very well. They don’t need help. They never have.
A first child for inheritance, a second for insurance. A third for luck, a fourth for the middle. Fifth for work, sixth for status. Seventh to fulfill a prophecy.
And an eighth child to be tithed. Two parents, presumably, and the eighth made exactly ten, one-tenth of the family and all they owned given to the church so that they gods would look favorably upon them.
There was no point in a child after that. No prophecies or tithing, and certainly no inheritance left over after carving it up for seven others first. No one ever needed a ninth child.
And Nines has never needed anyone else.
***
Three days and nights after casting the spell, Nines has eaten few enough meals to count on one hand. The sand has not been swept from the floor, and they have not managed to drag themself from their studies long enough to utilize the bathtub for its actual purpose.
But they’re fine.
It’s fine.
They are the greatest wizard of his generation, and they will ... survive. Perhaps not live, not as others do, not in happiness. But they are not dead yet and he has no less than twenty-two contingency spells if death does dare
KNOCK
Nines looks up from their manuscript for the first time in so many hours, they don’t know if the sun is setting or rising. The crystal ball embedded above the door glows green. Someone just solved their first riddle.
Well. Surely the second will
DOOR
Nines stands, then almost collapses from the black spots overtaking their vision. That was too fast. No one should have been able to solve the second riddle that quickly.
MAT
Nines draws their wand and faces the door as the third and final crystal ball lights green.
Knock knock knock.
“Hey. Hey! Hey, asshole!”
... what? They must be dreaming. Yes, an unexpected social visit from a villager capable of bypassing all his wards is surely the stuff of nightmares.
“Either let me in or shut the fuck up!”
The indignity of being accused of speaking when Nines hates speaking, particularly to “people,” infuriates them enough that they forget their wand entirely and throws open the door to berate the--
The much smaller man glaring up at them.
Not small enough to be a dwarf, although he certainly has that ... stockiness. Perhaps a mixture of human and dwarf, but. Even half-dwarves have beards, while this man just has some rather scruffy stubble and a scar across the bridge of his nose.
“You don’t smell right,” the man informs them.
He shoulder-checks past Nines before they can respond. It’s only due to their momentary bout of dizziness that they don’t smite him immediately for that. Or when he circles around the large living area, sniffing at things like a dog.
“Should’ve expected it to be bigger in here than out there,” he says to himself. “Still kind of small though.”
“I do not receive visitors,” Nines replies as coldly as they can manage.
They have accidentally frozen people before, simply with the freezing burn of their anger, yet their magic lays calm and docile inside their chest.
“Good, I fucking hate people,” the man says.
Nines makes some sort of very undignified noise in the back of their throat at that. The man continues wandering about their space, finally sticking his entire head inside their cauldron.
They’re hallucinating. That last alchemical potion must have--
“Don’t you have any cooking pots?” he asks.
Nines doesn’t answer so they don’t have to admit the answer is no. They will not be judged by some--some vagabond, a dirty ugly little man who is--IS BAREFOOT?
“You don’t have shoes,” Nines says, as if that is the important part about a strange man breaking into their home.
“I wiped my feet, fuck off.”
Nines looks back toward the door. All three crystals glow a fading green as the wards slowly reset themselves.
They did not originally mean to bar all the villagers from visiting them forever. They simply wanted any guests to have basic manners. Knock on the door at the first floor before entering, close it behind them so leaves didn’t blow into the stairwell, and wipe their feet on the mat at the top.
Clearly, Nines had expected far too much of the general public.
Nines turns back to see the man filling their alchemy cauldron with water. Although they sterilize it thoroughly after each use in order to prevent cross-contamination among potions, they scrounge up enough hope past the exhaustion to ponder if maybe they had forgotten to do so in the haze of the last several days.
Unfortunately, the man’s flesh does not melt from his skin as he scrubs it out with a rag.
“What are you doing?” Nines asks.
“I’m hungry and you don’t have anything else to cook in,” the man says. “At least we’ll have leftov--”
“Get out of my tower!”
The man looks up and scowls at them. “You’re the one who kept fucking calling me, bitch. Make up your damn mind.”
The realization leaves them light-headed.
“I ... I didn’t ...”
The black spots creep back again, except now they can no longer accurately be called “spots.” They take up far too much of Nines’s vision for that, then consume it entirely.
Something warm and solid catches Nines before they fall. Their hands grab at whatever they can reach out of an instinctive need to hold onto something--fabric, skin, fur. Fur? Not quite. Hair, maybe. Very thick hair. Dwarf beard? No, only stubble. But very thick hair somewhere, somewhere, oh in the middle. His ... chest?
“Ow, quit pulling on that.”
“Furry,” Nines says, because they are very intelligent and also the greatest wizard of their generation.
“Yeah, moon’s close to full. Damn, you’re a gangly bitch, aren’t you? Where’s your fucking body fat, you need to eat more.”
Nines mumbles his very clever retort into his pillows. Oh, his pillows. They’re in bed. That’s nice. Their bed is soft and warm and good.
The other Warm Good thing wrapped around them lets go.
“Nooo.”
Nines pulls it back. Furrier now. They’d secretly wished for a dog. Obviously, a feline familiar would have been more practical, and certainly more in line with their introverted tendencies. Dogs need too much attention, and walks, and they drool and shed. Cats only do one of those things, and if they summoned a black one, the hair would just blend into their robes anyway.
But still. Some part of them had hoped ...
“All right, fine. Fucking bossy. Scoot over, bitch.”
The Warm Good thing piles into the bed with Nines, but there is still entirely too much skin. Nines does not go to bed with people. Certainly not with skin showing. They want--they need--
They want a dog.
They need a person.
Of course. A fully animal familiar could only do so much for them without thumbs, and monkeys are horrendous. Only a real person would be smart enough to take care of them the way they need it.
But a person-familiar ... unheard of. Impossible. No one had ever summoned a human before, and it would be grossly unethical regardless.
Nines crows with the proof that they really are the greatest wizard of their generation, and likely several before and after.
“OK, so you’re good with me being a werewolf, right? Because if you start crying about a monster and get a bunch of pitchforks up in here, I’m pissing on all your robes.”
A werewolf. Half man, half wolf. Brilliant!
“So. What’s your name?”
“Nines.”
“Fuck, humans are still doing that? Your litters are bigger than ours, goddamn. And popping them out one at a time like that?”
The werewolf shudders. Nines pets over them, much more fur than skin now.
“Was two of us,” they say, all filter gone with how tired they are. “Twins instead of just the last eighth. Connor, Connor was ... just ... a second quicker.”
“What, so they threw you away?” he asks, the question nearly a growl.
“Tech,,nicaaally,” Nines slurs. “They did him too. Gave him. Away. Just, pretended to love him first. It’s, s’crueler. I think. At least I, ahhhhh. I always knew.”
“Phckin’ hue-mens,” the werewolf growls.
“Mmhmm.”
“Miiine.”
That is the last word he can growl out before the transformation completes. Then Nines receives the dog they wanted. Like this, it is far easier to feel their familiar’s mind at the edge of their own, to recognize the bond for what it is.
Good boy, [name].
It’s Gavin, dickhead.
Adequate boy, Gavin.
The wolf huffs. Go to sleep. I’ll feed you soup in the morning and maybe you won’t be so hangry.
I only want potatoes and carrots. NO celery.
Go the fuck to SLEEP.
Nines does so.
--
The wolf licks their face only after he’s absolutely certain they’re unconscious. The dumb human just smells dehydrated.
He didn’t want to come at first. Didn’t understand what the ache in his head was in the first place, or why he kept feeling hungry no matter how much he ate or that he had to pee for four hours straight.
Just that he needed to go, go this way, this way, this way!
Fucking asshole wizard summoning him like he’s their goddamn dog.
(But it’s not like he has a pack of his own. Not like he has anything better to do. No one to protect or feed or cuddle.)
(And this human obviously needs his help.)
He’ll only stay for the moon, just so he has a safe place to sleep it off away from angry villagers convinced he’ll “deflower” their women--who already smell of sex by the way--even though he really prefers men.
And this one wizard, apparently.
Gavin licks Nines again. The human already smells way better with his scent on them, and this is the most luxurious bed he’s ever curled up in.
He can spend the night. Make some breakfast. He’s hungry, right? Wouldn’t make sense to leave a good meal behind.
Yeah, he’s just staying for the food.
***
***
One of my lovely followers recently commissioned a second chapter! It’s rated E for Explicit (sex scenes). Subscribers to my Patreon get early access to all my commissioned fics 2 weeks earlier than they’re posted to AO3 or tumblr ^^
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Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 30
30. Warnings and paranoia
After three weeks of physical therapy Hyde was perfectly fit again.
He decided to celebrate this the way he always did on Saturday nights. Tonight he had to avoid his usual pub though. He had been banned, unsurprisingly. But the brothel he usually visited had a bar as well, so why the hell not?
It was a fun night and for once he didn't get into any fights. Maybe people had heard of the beating he had dished out last time. Word did get around fast, after all.
But he had promised Jekyll not to get completely up the pole tonight and so he left it at a few drinks.
When he went home, he was therefore just a bit tipsy, not really drunk.
He was close to his Soho flat, when someone called out to him.
“Pssst!”
Hyde looked to the right. Someone emerged from the shadows of a narrow side street into the light.
A tall, thin working class boy – oh wait. That wasn't a boy. Hyde saw the flaming red pony tail and delicate features and realised that the stranger was a girl in man's clothes.
“Are you Mr. Edward Hyde?”, she asked. Her voice was smoky and neutral.
His alarm bells rang. How did she know him?!
“Depends”, he answered suspiciously, “Who is asking?”
The stranger shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a working class boy who wants to do him a favour. Now drop it, I know you're the man.”
“And I know that you're not a boy”, Hyde retorted, “You're a girl in drag. And since you know me for some reason, I would like to know you and your reason to address me.”
She laughed and threw her arms up in defeat. “You have me there. Alma Donovan, at your service. You're my half-sister's client.”
What?!
“Don't worry, she didn't tell me. I just know stuff like that.”
Was that so? He wondered, if she could read his mind too.
“But I digress. I'm here to warn you.”
“Really now?”, Hyde queried. “What do you have to say?”
“Just this. Don't come here next Friday night. For if you do, something terrible will happen.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
But she didn't explain herself. Instead she just said that she had to leave and vanished back into the shadows.
Hyde stayed behind, completely lost. Then he remembered, that he had been going home and finished his walk.
“Did you hear that, Jekyll?”, he asked, as soon as he was alone.
Jekyll appeared in the nearby mirror. “Yes.”
“Could you make any sense of that?”
The blond lifted an eyebrow. “I thought it was pretty clear. Don't go to Soho next Friday night.”
“Yes, but why?! What will happen, if I don't?! And how would she know?”
Jekyll considered. “I don't know either. But didn't she imply that Lady Summers is her half-sister? Perhaps she also has supernatural abilities, just of another nature. We should ask the Lady.”
Hyde scoffed: “Do you seriously think she will tell us anything?”
“She will have no other choice, now that we know she has a half-sister. I'm pretty sure that her lady-in-waiting is so too. They all have her eyes, but there is no way they can be her daughters.”
Alright. He'd do it. Because seriously. He needed to know.
Lady Summers was displeased, when Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde confronted her about their encounter the previous night.
Good grief, why couldn't Alma hold her mouth about it for once?! She could see, why the red-head had done it; to lessen Mr. Hyde's suspicions. But still!
Just as Dr. Jekyll had predicted, she now had no other choice than explain herself.
“Before I tell you, I want to remind you of the mutual silence article in our contract. Nothing I'm about to tell you four is to leave this room.”
Four, because Dr. Lanyon and Mr. Utterson were here as well. They already knew, of course. They had known her for a long time after all.
“Fine, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It's true, the young girl you encountered is my half-sister. My youngest, to be more specific. She's nineteen years old. And you're also right about Aoimoku. She's my youngest half-sister and almost thirty-one. That's why she calls me 'onee-san'. It means older sister, in a respectful manner. Almost all of my servants are my half-siblings, actually.”
“But that's quite an age gap, especially for siblings”, Dr. Jekyll objected. “And they all have different nationalities. How is that possible?”
She huffed: “Let's just say, my father was quite a ladies' man. And he had a weakness for the exotic. Remember, that he and I travelled around the world several times. That's why so many of them have supernatural powers, like I do. They just don't flaunt it like I do. That's why you never saw any of it.”
“But if they're your younger siblings, why do you employ them as your servants?”, Dr. Jekyll asked.
She shrugged: “I'm my father's only legitimate child. Thus I'm the mistress either way. At first I only took them in, because it was my father's last wish. But you must know, that in their home countries children born out of wedlock have a much harder life than here. They are ostracised. And if they have supernatural abilities, it gets even worse. Most of my siblings come from very religious and superstitious cultures. By taking them in, I became their protector and provider. And they appreciate it, believe me. But as much as I love them, I don't tolerate free loaders. They work for me partly out of gratitude and partly, because I expect them to.”
She bent forward.
“Alright. Now that I've told you, you might want to tell me more about that encounter with my youngest.”
Jekyll shrugged. “It wasn't much. She just emerged from the shadows, like in some Gothic horror novel. Then she inquired for Hyde's name, they had a short banter concerning her cross-dressing-”
“Of course”, she muttered, “She always walks around in drag, when she leaves Whitechapel. Go on.”
“Then she warned us not to go to Soho next Friday, or something terrible would happen. Hyde is confused about what it means.”
At that she snorted. What was there not to understand?!
“You and I both know the answer, Doctor: exactly what it means. Don't risk your health or life on that Friday night by going there anyway. Take her advice seriously, you two. Alma's prophecies are never wrong.”
Dr. Jekyll was visibly curious. “She can predict the future?”
The Lady nodded. “Yes. Quite accurately so, as I just stated. Her visions strike her at random, but they are never wrong.”
“She must make a lot of money with her predictions”, he mused.
But the Lady shook her head, recalling her sister's favourite pastime of … attacking men she didn't like with a knife. And mutilating them, if she got the chance.
“Not really. No one takes her predictions seriously, so she lives off my allowance and by winning bets. The problem is that my sister is … a bit off her hat, so to say. She and Mr. Hyde are very much alike. Actually, I'm surprised that she didn't assault you.”
She could hear the awkward sounds inside the Doctor's head and saw the other men look at each other uncomfortably.
That sort of softened her own embarrassment.
Later, after they were gone, she went up to her office to give her sister another phone call.
The young woman called her, before she could even dial the number. As often was the case.
“Hello, Luise”, a smoky voice with a light Irish accent said.
“Hello, Alma”, the German replied, “We need to speak about you telling my clients that you're my sister.”
“I'm sorry, Luise, but you know why I did it.”
“Of course I do, but do you know how embarrassing that was? To have to talk about my-our father's escapades?!”
“Sorryyyy! Not doing it again, cross my heart.”
“Uhuh. Anyway, do you think they will listen to your prophecy?”
A snort at the end of the line. “Please! You're the only one who takes my words seriously! They will ignore and forget my predictions, just like everyone else.”
“Why did you warn him anyway? You know what kind of man he is.”
For a while the voice on the other line was quiet.
Then she replied: “He will soon learn his lesson. Just because he won't heed my warning. To be honest, that makes it just the sweeter. Afterwards, he'll remember my warning. And he'll curse himself for not listening to me.”
“Ah. Insult to injury”, Lady Summers muttered. “And if I may ask, what exactly will happen?”
“That”, the younger voice spoke, “Is a question I can't answer. But you're clever, big sister. Figure it out.”
The Countess huffed. Sometimes her youngest sister could be rather vague in her predictions and she hated it. Alma's visions were detailed and sharp, she knew that. And still that red-haired bedlam girl refused to be clear at times.
Oh well. She would figure it out.
In the meantime she would keep an eye out for whoever had to be watching her.
Speaking of which …
There it was again.
The feeling of being watched.
But that was impossible. Her study was on the second floor and her table not visible from the outside.
Lady Summers slipped a hand under a fold of her own dress and revealed a rifle.
An M71/84*, a Christmas gift from Otto von Bismarck (ah, good old Bismarck!).
Excellent craftsmanship.
Tried and trusted.
And Lady Luise F. W. Summers was as good with firearms as she was with the blade.
However, when she stepped to the window, opened it and looked outside, she couldn't see anyone.
But instead of relaxing, she became even more nervous. Cavendish Square had many hiding opportunities in the dark.
She ducked behind the curtain and pointed her rifle to wherever someone might be.
The feeling didn't go away.
But she couldn't hear anyone's thoughts.
Perhaps the stalker was out of range.
Deciding that there was no use in hiding behind the window all night, she fired a warning shot into the direction of the trees.
Just for good measure.
And now the feeling finally went away.
Lady Summers closed the window and curtains and slumped against the wall in relief.
At the same time her heart was burning with bitter hatred.
Would she never find peace?!
---
*The M71/84 was a breechloading rifle developed in 1884.
#The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde#Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde#Dr. Jekyll#henry jekyll#Mr. Hyde#edward hyde#Mr Utterson#Gabriel John Utterson#utterson#Hastie Lanyon#dr lanyon#oc#lady summers needs a hug
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FIC: Pillars of Creation ch. 3 (baon)
Summary: It’s not a date, thank you. Edge only agreed to take Stretch to the planetarium, that was all. That doesn’t make it a date.
Prequel to the series, set after “Seeing Stars Through Clouds’
If you were ever curious how these two got together, well, here you go, their first date outing together! It’s super!
Note: Everyone’s been enjoying the fluff, right? Excellent! Hold that thought, read the tags! It’s not THAT bad but I don’t like to surprise people.
Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Pre-Relationship, Some Angst Regarding Past Memories, Implications of Depression, Brothers Can Be Pains, Underfell Was Not a Nice Place, Neither was Underswap Really, They Were Both In a Not Good Place, But Never Fear, Good Ending!
part of the ‘by any other name’ series.
Read it on AO3
or
Read it here!
~~*~~
The trip back to New New Home seemed to be much shorter with Stretch chattering next to him. The pause at the security gate only took as long as swiping their ID’s and in no time, he was pulling up to the Swap brother’s house again.
There was a light on downstairs, Blue was probably downstairs watching the new Mettaton special. It was a little too early yet to say he was waiting up for his brother, even if there was likely some truth to it.
Stretch didn’t open his door immediately when they came to a stop. He fiddled with the strap of his bag and his smile was hesitant, “hope you didn't have too awful a time. deb’s a sales shark, but it’s worth it, they have damn good coffee and—"
“Why do you do that?" Edge broke in. He kept his voice low, even, using the same care that worked on his group at the Y.
Stretch only blinked in startled confusion, “do what?"
Edge turned off the car and the quiet was stark. Coupled with the darkness, it was an illusion of privacy even with the top down. “Belittle things like that. I didn't have an awful time, at all, so why would you suggest I did?"
Had he always done that, disparaged himself? Edge couldn’t remember.
"i...uh…" Stretch shrugged. His lighter was in his bag, along with his cigarettes, but that strap was wound haphazardly around his fingers, clenched briefly tight. "better to get it out there before anyone else does, right? cast the first bone and all that.”
Edge sighed. “Stop.”
“sorry, sorry,” Stretch chuckled, “had to get it out of my system.”
He still didn’t get out of car and Edge…found that he didn’t want to ask. He hadn’t wanted to admit it the whole night but now—
“Is this supposed to be a date?” Edge asked aloud. It sounded strange, not wrong exactly, but almost forbidden, nothing he’d ever expected to say.
Stretch’s eye lights went wide, and a flood of color filled his cheekbones, tinting them ruddy orange. There were no cracks or divots in his skull, no visible injuries. Much like Papyrus and perhaps they’d all shared a name once but to Edge’s gaze, they didn’t really look that much alike.
The curves of Stretch’s skull were slightly softer, less angular and a touch slimmer, and he was—
“hey, you asked me out,” Stretch said lightly. And before Edge could revert to the childish retort of ‘you did it first’, Stretch added with hesitant care. “but. only if you want it to be? if not, it’s only two guys who could maybe be friends. i could do friends. what do you want this to be?”
Part of him wanted to push back against that, protest the unfairness of putting that choice on him.
But.
Friends. None of their previous interactions could ever be called ‘friendly’.
It brought to mind an argument they’d had some months ago. Everyone had been there, all of the skeletons in their group; Edge no longer remembered the context, but he recalled that much. They had only just arrived at the surface, everything was still in turmoil, yet Papyrus and Blue were determined to build relationships between them, and Edge agreed. Allies were necessary in this new world and he would do what needed to be done to get them.
Red and Sans were simply uncaring; they followed where their brothers led without protest, offering laconic comments and puns and little else. Stretch often did the same, but somehow, he always grated in a way that the Sanses did not. Any pointed comments about laziness beaded off Red and Sans like water from a particularly lethargic duck.
Stretch would return any insult with one of his own and his retribution was swift. He and Edge been sniping at each other all day despite Blue and Papyrus’s increasingly exhausted and pleading attempts to interfere, and the tension between them was poised to snap when Stretch waited until the others were out of earshot to murmur.
“tell you what, why don’t you wash the dust from your hands before you get back to me on what a piece of shit i am. better scrub hard, killer.”
They could joke about idiocy all they wanted but in truth Stretch was exceptionally clever; no warrior but he knew how to make words a weapon, finding chinks in armor and using them with brutal efficiency.
The others never made references to Edge’s LV; they knew, of course they knew, and past any fumbling attempts at consolation, they let it be. To have it so pointedly dragged out, a reminder of something he didn’t, couldn’t, forget, but he tried—
Crimson had washed over his vision, coupled with something very close to hate, and Stretch knew, he knew. He’d smiled lazily, not even glancing at where their brothers had yet to notice them, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. “go ahead,” he said, softly, singsong sweet. “what’s a little murder between friends?”
He’d thought at the time Stretch knew he wouldn’t hurt him. Looking back, he wondered if Stretch hadn’t cared if he did.
In the end, Edge walked away from him and never had he been more grateful for his iron control. They hadn’t spoken much after that, not really, certainly never alone, nothing past a little sneering at movie nights and dinners, but even that had dulled, their insults eventually losing their sharpened points, and Edge never questioned why. They simply stayed away from each other and Edge hadn’t thought anything of it.
Until Stretch walked into his office last week. Tonight was the longest they’d ever been alone together, much less managed to be civil to each other and Edge was having a difficult time reconciling how this Stretch fit on top of the one he’d known before, trying to line up those edges and failing.
But he also remembered a few children from his group at the Y, the way they sometimes snarled and slapped away any kindness offered them at the beginning. Their jibes had been less unerringly accurate, but they’d been meant to wound in the same fashion.
And Edge had sent more than his share of verbal barbs back then as well.
i wasn't exactly at my best when we first got here. i'm kind of hoping people don't hold me to that first impression for the rest of my life.
Stretch was looking at him, waiting patiently, and only the way he was clutching his bag gave away any of his anxiety.
“I don’t know,” Edge said finally, the words coming slowly. The Stretch he’d seen tonight was far different than his previous experiences, but it didn’t nullify them.
Stretch nodded. “that’s fair. think about it and let me know what you decide?” He finally opened the door and slid out, and he was waving even as it swung shut, “‘night.”
He was gone in a flash and pop of teleportation.
Edge sat a moment longer, waiting. The upstairs window opened and there was a brief flicker of flame from a lighter, the tiny glow of a cigarette. Convenient to be able to bypass the questions his brother would surely have.
Blue had been less than amused when he’d discovered Edge managed to get around him to talk to Stretch by sneaking into his room. It was disconcerting how much he could suddenly appreciate Stretch’s exasperation with the way his brother tried to interfere with his life; he’d never given it a thought before, always thought Blue was in the right when he dealt with his brother—
He couldn’t tell if Stretch was looking at him and he turned the car back on, backing out of the driveway to head home.
His headlights flashed over the porch as he pulled into the drive of his own house, giving him a glimpse of Red sitting on the steps, like a sudden prophecy come true concerning controlling brothers.
Edge sighed. It was still early but he was tired, and this night out left plenty for him to think about. Dealing with Red could be exhausting when he was at his best.
There was nothing for it. Edge climbed out of the car and walked up to where Red was sprawling against the stairs. He was smoking one of the foul little cigars he’d discovered on the surface; the smell was reminiscent of a burning trash dump and Edge wondered at times if he’d chosen them specifically for that trait. Smoking had been an unaffordable luxury in Underfell, but here he could happily annoy others with passive revulsion if he wanted to.
“What do you want?” Edge asked in resignation, stepping past him to open the door.
"nothin’.” Red crushed the cigar out on the cement step, leaving a mark that Edge would be scrubbing away tomorrow.
“I don’t understand why you won’t simply move in if you’re only going to stop by to harass me daily.” Edge held open the door to allow Red inside, waiting with exaggerated patience as he shuffled through the door.
“nah,” Red said lazily. He must have been in a decent enough mood, toeing off his shoes on the front mat without being reminded. “we’re all grown up now, ain’t we, boss, we need our space. and like i want to end up like those other codependent fuckers?” Red shook his head as he wandered into the kitchen. “papyrus and his shitheel brother have that covered. you should be grateful you have me as a bro and not that piece of shit.”
Edge never quite understood the problem his brother had with Sans, but watching his brother paw through his refrigerator didn’t give him confidence in that assessment.
“bet you like having your own place.” Red took out a container and held it to the light, studying the contents.
“I might if it was ever simply mine.” Edge took the container away, pulling out a plate and dumping the contents on it, sticking it in the microwave. His brother was the only reason he even owned one and Edge leaned back against the counter to watch the plate turning within it.
Since they’d come to the surface, Edge was slowly experimenting more with cooking, moving past the simple pasta meals he’d made in Underfell, utilizing the wonder that was YouTube with mixed results. At least with his brother constantly devouring the leftovers he didn’t have to worry about his cooking attempts going to waste.
Red climbed up on a stool, propping his chin on a hand, and his grin was too wide to be comforting. “heard about your date with the honey bun, came by to see how it went."
"It wasn't…" Edge started automatically, then hesitated and shook his head.
A mistake. Red’s grin widened into something vicious. "well, come on, do we have to hide a pile of dust or not?"
"That isn't funny." The microwave beeped and Edge yanked open the door, dropping the plate in front of his brother hard enough that a little spilled off onto the counter.
Red only wiped it up with his fingers, licking them clean. "oh, it ain’t, that right? you had a good time.” It sounded like an accusation.
"He managed to not be completely unbearable for a handful of hours." Edge pointedly set a fork next to the plate.
"you had a good time!" Red crowed, plate and fork rattling as he pounded on the counter. "i knew it! why the fuck do you think i gave him that flyer?"
Thinking of that soured some of Edge’s already tumultuous mood. “Yes, I’m sure you only had my best interests at heart.”
“not very friendly, bro,” Red sighed, shaking his head sadly even as he finally gave up trying to eat curry with his bare hands and picked up the fork. “i raised you, clothed you—“
“Left me alone for days at a time. Beat me when I disobeyed you.”
That got him a hint of a glare, tainted with sardonic amusement. “i slapped you one time and you were about to get your ass in a dustpan sassing off to a guard. you call that a beating?”
“When it was the best you could have mustered, yes. And I never said I didn’t deserve it.”
“bet I could mustard something a little better now.”
Edge closed his sockets, pained. "Enough. What do you mean you ‘knew it’? Knew what?"
"oh, come on, bro, no one hates on someone the way you two do without wanting to fuck them." Red leered at him. With his mouth full, the effect was more grotesque than normal. "did you nail him in the back seat of that cockmobile of yours, or did he invite you in like a ‘civilized person’." His fork trailed sauce on the counter as he made finger quotes.
"We went to the planetarium and had coffee," Edge snapped. "There was no fucking, in the car or otherwise. I dropped him off at his own house and came home after an acceptable evening. That’s all."
"uh huh," Red studied him. "when you going out again?"
"We aren’t."
"you mean you haven't asked him yet?"
"No, I mean we aren't.” Edge wet a cloth, wiping up some of his brother’s mess. “I have enough to do without spending my time babysitting an emotional toddler."
Red snorted loudly. “you’re one to talk.”
That gave him a pause. He gave his brother a narrow look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“nothin’ i want to explain. look.” There were few things quite as unnerving as Red looking at him seriously. "he'd be a liability, you know that. but he'd be a pretty one. you think you can protect what's yours? then i say go for it. or what's the fucking point of being up here?" That seriousness faded and his brother licked his teeth, winking, “ever seen him without that sweatshirt?”
“And he asks me these things as if I could possibly be interested,” Edge said to no one in particular. He took away his brother’s empty plate and turned on the hot water, scrubbing it harder than necessary.
“paps.”
That was enough to make him still, leaning against the side of the sink, the running water a low gurgle. Red had readily set aside their previous names when they’d come to this universe and these days, they used them only rarely.
Behind him, Red sighed. "never thought i'd get the chance to say this, bro, but you're allowed to be happy, if you want. otherwise, why the fuck am i even doing all this?"
"I am perfectly happy,” Edge said, calmly. He returned to washing the dish, cleaning away any lingering sauce. “I have a job I enjoy, I no longer live with you, and I have my volunteer work. I don't need anything else."
"you probably don't. but it's okay to want something else,” he hopped down from the chair, his grubby socks scuffling against the floor. Deliberately, Edge knew, Red was only heard when he wanted to be. “now if you’ll excuse me, i'm gonna go puke. a little tip? make up your mind over the honey bun. stretch is an okay guy, but he's got issues, don't jerk him around. besides, he might not kill you over it, but i wouldn't put bets on blue."
There didn’t seem to be anything he could say to that, no protest that his brother would hear. Instead, Edge asked, “Are you staying to watch Mettaton or not?”
That got him a snort and a truly amused one at that. “you still watching that shit? c’mon, i’ll add my netflix account to your tv. they’ve got some real cooking shows.”
The door swung on its hinges as Red walked out and left Edge alone. Slowly, he set the plate into the drainer, not really meaning to think of Stretch. But he couldn’t stop remembered his hands, those slim, delicate fingers, the way he gestured when he was excited, describing the heavenly bodies above them. The soft flush in his cheekbones, the sparkle in his eye lights while he watched Edge sampling coffee, and that strange warmth rose in his soul again with the memory, lingering in his chest.
It was late after a long day. Stretch was probably asleep. One thing he’d learned since coming to the surface was that low HP Monsters weren’t necessarily lazy, they needed their sleep, although he wasn’t completely convinced where his brother was concerned.
A liability, Red called him. But a pretty one.
The Stretch of tonight was not the same as the one he’d first met. Which one was the truth?
There was only one way to find out.
Before he could think too much about it, Edge took out his phone, pulling up a contact that was only there in case of an emergency, and sent a text.
Would you like to go out again?
Almost immediately a smileyface emoticon came back in reply, followed with, yeah, i'd like that. where we going?
Edge hesitated, then sent back. I'll let you know
sounds good, i like a surprise!
He probably would like a surprise. Edge needed to think about it. Someplace else that would draw out that excitement, bring the sparkle back to those eye lights. Let him see all that bright enthusiasm again, to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.
For now, he shook that thought away and went to join his brother, reluctantly curious about these cooking shows. He supposed they couldn’t be too terrible, and it was possible he’d learn something new.
It was worth a try.
~~*~~
Read Chapter Two
Read Chapter Four
#spicyhoney#papcest#keelywolfe#underfell#underswap#underfell papyrus#underswap papyrus#underfell sans#by any other name
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Motherworld (Ch.3/?)
Title: Motherworld
Author: strane-stelle
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Central characters: Tidus
Rating: 12+
Chapters: 3/? Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4
Word count: 2809
Summary: “The fayth said it’s pointless to keep dreaming. The dream will disappear, he said. What did he mean?” After a long journey, Tidus finally gets to go home.
Warnings: Ton of OCs; idk, drug references??
Other comments: credit goes to @shuyiin for the idea.(or virtually the star player himself @leviathkand)
Chapter 3 – Go with the Flow
"Someone order a wacko? With a side of 'runs in the family'?"
To be sure, it was a clichéd line, but it certainly got the attention of all seven Abes, as Tidus joined them a couple of minutes late in the changing room. Not that he wouldn't have turned heads in any case – he would, everywhere he went – but he'd fallen right back into his old bad habit of listening in.
Nella shot up from the bench at once, beaming; to throw her arms around him. Tidus fell back about two steps – she was a head taller, and made of hard tricep and nothing else. There was a great sincerity about the gesture, hefty as it was – she was one of the two who had not uttered one bad word about their now scandal-ridden teammate. At worst, she had seemed worried.
"Welcome back!"
Feeling ever so slightly patronized, and not for the first time today, Tidus quickly broke away and responded with a simple thanks. Granted, he knew that the extremely kind and extremely talented midfielder had meant no disrespect. Nella gave a wide smile – with something resembling relief or anticipation; perhaps both. She had changed her hairstyle, from shoulder-reaching dark curls to clipped darker curls with red streaks.
"Look, we're sorry," a less keen voice breathed over Nella's vast shoulder, irritated. The voice belonged to Edge – also the owner of a well-suited name. Everything about the man was pointed and pallid: eyes, hair, face, personality. The eldest on the team, at 36; he was hardly any sage or father figure, more like a drunk grandpa – disapproving of anything and everything, and starting petty disputes over anything and everything – sometimes, it seemed, his own opinion. In the pool, inexplicably, he'd then transform into a fantastic team player. "What'd you want us to say? What do you think everyone else is saying?"
Tidus didn't have to think, nor did anyone in the room. Teri shifted awkwardly in the corner, moving a strand of her inky short hair; with others mirroring her movements – there was never any telling whether their capable if rather reticent captain was about to say something. But this time Edge beat her to it, adding with a more placid tone, "Well, it's good to see you alive."
Everyone gave approving nods, and resumed practice preparations in a collective synchronized motion, encouraging Tidus to claim his usual spot on the bench as well. Although, after receiving a couple more welcome-backs and a domino effect of apologies, he'd barely gotten around to pulling the zipper on his bag, when he felt obliged to stand up again and spare a few more words. And again the room went frozen and silent.
Tidus rubbed his temples. "Hey, guys... I know it's a lot to ask, but can we not do this whole 'awkward' thing? You know I liked it a lot better when I was just the... y'know, talentless new kid who made the team 'cuz of his dad and nothing else..."
"That was almost two years ago," Nella reminded him, suddenly defensive. "You've more than proven yourself since and you know th--"
"Yeah, I know that," Tidus agreed. "And that was the fun part, proving myself to you guys! Because I knew I could! Just give me another chance, okay? Or even better... let's just focus on practice and not me, okay? Those Duggles are going down," he slammed a fist into his palm, with half-earnest enthusiasm, "right?"
There was a string of half-hearted nods, and a couple of excited ones. That was good enough for Tidus.
Lately, Tidus had began to compartmentalize. Sure, he had witnessed an eerie sight on his very doorstep less than a week ago – heard it talk, even – and if nothing else; for Tidus himself, it had served as a final confirmation; vanquisher of all remaining doubt: Spira was real. He had not hallucinated anything, nor indulged an escapist fantasy or started to believe his own lies – it was all real. And sure, he still missed that place – terribly – this was about as far as he could look back, before it simply became too much. And sure, his life here remained unchanged; messy and vaguely melancholic; with new rumors sprouting up at every turn like Sinspawn; his recently expanded PR team refusing some 90 interviews per day; his plentiful caretakers studying his very breathing for signs – any signs. Even all positive remainders of his old life would appear exactly that: old. Worn-down. Ill-fitting.
But what was he to do? Since the fleeting encounter with the fiend from the other side, he'd not had the pleasure of beholding any additional otherwordly visions, nor had he heard voices or run into any mystical hooded children telling him not to cry (and boy, did he at times want to). So what if a dying demonic animal had transcended time and space just to tell him hi, how did that help him in any way? He'd certainly not been able to help the poor soul. If he didn't know how to reverse the stunt, what was the point of chewing it over?
And just the day before, in a passing moment of clarity, Tidus had finally found a solution. He had finally resolved in his heart to do what he should have done from day one. What Leo referred to as damage control, he would dub making the best of here and now. He would once again let go, surrender to the flow; tag along on a journey he'd never planned to take. He would moderate his responses to Dr. Cidron's questions; eventually phase them into retraction and denial. He would nod along as needed. He would heed Leo's every command. He would play with the Abes again. He would live a life; he would be his old self again.
In the depths of his soul, he would know the truth; in his heart; he would always treasure Yuna. But for now, to save his skin – he'd wear his old one. He didn't have a choice; it was the only thing he could do – he'd give in, he'd accept, he'd believe. He'd allow it to be true.
This was his new reality, and he was stuck in it for good.
--
The post-storm reconstruction had recently extended over to the pool area as well. The Abes' temporary practice field turned out to be a quite a far cry from what they were used to: a far smaller and simpler watery orb – a puddle almost – filled with; seemingly; lower-quality liquids. The proportions, the layout, Tidus observed; trying hard not to get snobby at a time like this; were all almost beginner-level. Not a lot of room for improvement, he couldn't help but indulge a smidge of that snobbiness, quite literally! Oh well, he then figured, wasn't going back to the basics his plan in any case?
They'd been marching to the pool entrance in a near-perfect line; the air still a bit strained for casual chat, when Frion suddenly broke the formation and ran to Tidus's side. Tidus turned his head in anticipation, and the white-haired youth hesitated a moment before whispering, just as they reached the gateway, "You cleared all the... tests, right?"
There was one thing that Tidus was determined never to 'confess'; not even to steer suspicions; or to give an easy excuse, and it was forbidden substances. He'd done well with Sin's toxin back on Besaid – and here it was again on everyone's lips, whether he liked it or not – but these were totally taboo; his no-good drunkard dad would've disapproved. Well before his own breakthrough; as Tidus vaguely recalled; there had been one case with a particularly nasty sort; one that would simultaneously enchance performance and cause hallucinations. In the end, the offender; a slightly older player if his memory served; had barely lived, and happily admitted to having made a terrible mistake. The incident had since been swept under the rug – mercifully – as a dirty black spot in the oft-glamorized blitz history. But for every blitz fan and every sports magazine that tried their best to forget, there was also one of each that remembered – and that wanted to know the truth about the more recent events; the truth about 'the toxin'.
"You think I'd be here if I didn't?"
Leo, Bern, Dr. Cidron and even Evy were all watching from the stands; Leo looking as though he wanted to produce a forbidden substance from his person right away; Bern buried in a book, sparing a listless glance now and then; Dr. Cidron trying to decide whether to cheer or worry or both; and Evy most definitely settled on cheering – she was as big a fan as ever.
Shortly before Tidus's disappearance, the blitzball powers-that-be had approved for test runs a new type of game-supplementary machina: a set of minuscule earphones and mouthpieces that allowed the players to communicate during the game. As it turned out, the technology had been freshly confirmed as official equipment to be used at the coming Jecht Legacy Cup (a Jecht Memorial Cup relaunch). Tidus had actually conducted one of the test runs himself – a mere week pre-Spira – naturally; as not too long ago he'd been the go-to poster boy of the new blitz generation. On that account, figuring out how the device worked was not the problem – and there wasn't really a problem – only a momentary feeling of mixed nostalgia and detachment as Teri very deliberately handed the headset to Tidus at the pool entrance. He really was back.
Technically, Teri was only the team captain, not the coach – but she effectively did double duty just as Wakka had, as their actual coach was far more interested in his 90% ownership of the team. Hirans, who in Tidus's opinion bore a striking resemblance to Kinoc, was neither a sportsman or even sportsmanlike in any way imaginable, and it was only by some clever navigation through bureaucratic technicalities that he'd been able to snatch the title of coach at all. He'd also been notably absent from Tidus's now infamous press conference, and had since practically gone into hiding, by the looks of it. Dreams or not, Tidus mused, people here sure loved to pretend: fake coach, nominal agent, lazy bodyguard.
"Alright, hope everyone's loving the widgets," Teri addressed the team as they swam into the pool, her own expression betraying a certain level of reservation. There were some cautious murmurs of approval, echoing through everyone's heads – Edge and Arret were covering their ears, apparently fearing that the microscopic gizmo would fall right off at the first wrong movement. Tidus could hardly believe that in something at least, he was actually ahead of the curve (and definitely no thanks to Spira). Juggling two blitzballs above his head, while others still bombarded Teri with questions, he was as ready for some tussle as could be.
"Hey," Nella suddenly gave Tidus a gentle nudge on the shoulder – startling him, and making him lose the ball, "you belong here. You always have." Tidus tried to scrabble for the runaway ball with his both arms and one leg, too; only to fumble the attempt. He gave her a nervous chuckle, which she returned. He appreciated the sentiment – but there was something about the passing moment of clumsiness that suddenly filled him with stress.
The first half of the practice was just alright. Tidus was on the same team with all of his harshest doubters, who also happened to be the ones struggling the most with the new technology. He was hardly at the top of his game himself, still feeling a little disconnected with the environment, and not only because it had recently shrunken in size. The other team, in turn, almost seemed to be going easy on them – or him – sometimes bordering on unprofessional levels. (This was not going unnoticed by Leo, either, judging by his rather lively body language.) The teams mostly relied on basic commands such as 'Catch!', 'No!', 'Come on!', 'Go Riona!' – which would've been easy enough to convey by the traditional non-verbal methods – and at times there was confusion as to who was addressing whom. The first ten minutes were far from a disaster, just markedly tame and tortuous at the same time – and goal-free. Goal-attempt-free, if one squinted – and not because there had been such high-caliber, evenly matched skill on display.
Bern, Dr. Cidron and Evy all departed for work after the first half – of course, Tidus would've been the work, had it not been for Leo's request to meet the boy in private after the practice. Tidus thought he saw the agent exchange a few words with Evy before she turned to leave – an apology for the press conference? The man could feel empathy?
Inexplicably, even the more skeptic fellow Abes seemed to have warmed up to Tidus by the half-time break – after he'd done literally nothing to deserve it. Perhaps nothing was more than enough – whether they'd been expecting him to start selling bags of powder mid-match, or just have a customary nervous breakdown, Tidus wasn't sure, but they were all giving him pats on the shoulder and even sparing some compliments, 'Still got it!'; 'Well, you are full of surprises!' What 'it' and 'surprises' referred to; and how exactly they'd been involved in the most uneventful practice session of all time; Tidus also wasn't sure, but he did feel heartened by the very subtle clap of hands that Edge indicated towards him.
The second half began in somewhat more vigorous spirits, when the opposing side went on the maximum offensive within the first ten seconds. Tidus finally got something to do as he near single-handedly managed to fend off the first scoring attempt, by throwing himself hard against one of the goalposts – and poor Nella, who'd been floating right up there stalking the goal area. Even with the increased resistance from the lower-quality liquids, and her matching if not greater body weight, she was flung quite a distance across the field, all the way to the pool entrance; which she thankfully didn't hit.
"Nella!" Tidus yelped after her, along with the others. "Are you okay?"
They never got a clear answer. From the other side of the pool, they could just see Nella straightening her back, unharmed; shaking her head a little and then starting towards them – only to lose sight of her completely, when there was a sudden outpour of something swift and green, swimming up from behind her and towards them. The headsets immediately turned into a hearing hazard.
"What...?! What are-- are those... fiends?!"
"How'd they get in? Wha-- I haven't seen one in years!"
"Nella!" Tidus shrieked, but there was no time to wait for a reply. Neither was there time to think – the swarm was huge, huge enough to block their single exit – and the fish's apparent entry point. But his fellow Abes were no cowards, and Frion had already grabbed one of the four practice blitzballs floating about – it was time Tidus took a leaf out of Wakka's book as well. Out of the corner of his eye, Tidus could see Leo in the stands, tearing out his hair in absolute horror.
The battle with the aquatic beasts was brief and chaotic. Tidus and Frion took out at least a dozen each, Riona joined in with a third ball after a failed escape attempt, and Teri had just located the fourth makeshift weapon when – just as quickly as they had emerged – the swarm began to vanish; dissolve into those bright, tailed lights.
This time, there we no parting words – the creatures faded away in near-complete silence, with only a distant sound of streaming water flowing through their technologically enhanced ears. Everyone seemed to be doubting their own senses – what exactly had happened, and why were they having an adrenaline rush?
"Hey," a shaky voice then spoke, and nobody seemed to care who it was exactly, "where's Nella?"
Tidus whirled around wildly. All eyes were on him.
"I..."
But she was gone. Nella was gone; without a trace, as abruptly and as definitively as the swarm of infernal fish that had ambushed her. The pool gate loomed bleakly on the other side of the field, not too far from them in the tiny watery sphere, tightly shut and empty of intruders.
Tidus felt a sudden thwack against his back, then another, and then; with one grip of his collar; Edge span Tidus around, tightening his grab as he struck his teammate on the chest, "You what?! What'd you do?! Where is she?!"
Teri tried to break the two apart, but her arms were still trembling, and she received a thump on the shoulder as well.
Tidus was as shocked as anyone. The blows had barely hurt.
"I... I think she went to Spira."
#ffx#final fantasy x#Tidus#ffx fanfiction#fan fiction#well she'll be a big hit with the aurochs i'm sure#<-i really wanted to include that for a last line#tiDUS no#too soon#agh again i wrote this really fast#and now i gotta go clean before my roommate kills me#so you guys do the proofreading for me#ehheh#hirans is an anagram btw#had to spell it out so someone can appreciate it#most of the ocs names are based on ff characters#not necessarily personality-wise#sometimes looks-wise#might take a while with the next chapter cuz my schoolwork misses me#whyyy must i have responsibilities why
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SHRINE ch 12
(AU) (MUSIC/ROMANCE/DRAMA) (Yatori) (Kazubisha) (Daifuku) (18+ due to language, mature subjects and a little smut)
Summary: With her earphones on and melodies filling her ears, the girl looked at the ceiling, thinking.
She, Iki Hiyori, a regular schoolgirl, had jumped at the street to save the life of a promising rock star.
TRACK 12
Jaded – Aerosmith
“Fujisaki-sensei! This is a surprise! What can I do for you?” asked Hiyori, trying to recover from the initial surprise and recover her composure.
“There you go again with the > thing!” he replied, giving an overdramatic sigh. “Tell me, when are you going to start warming up to me? I told you before, I’m only a couple years older than you!”
“But… you’re my teacher.” She said, hesitating. “Talking to you any other way would be inappropriate.”
“We will become closer, Hiyori-chan, I can assure you that”. Something in his voice made Hiyori specially upset to be called like that, but she could not explain why. “By the way, that friend of yours, Yamashita, she’s very kind, she gave me your phone number right away.”
“Oh, I see”. Hiyori made a mental note about talking to her the next day. “Did something happened? What can I help you with?”
“Nothing to be worried about, sweetheart”. The girl swallowed the impulse of hanging up on him right then. “I just wanted to inform you that you turned out chosen to be the main soloist of the choir”. “Picked by whom?”, she thought, concerned, but opted not to say anything for now. Upon the silence, Fujisaki insisted again. “The cat ate your tongue? Are you not happy?”
“I was just wondering if you could not wait until tomorrow to tell me about this, ¿is this really that urgent to ask my friends for my phone number?”. Hiyori realized too late the tone she had used was definitely not appropriate to talk to a teacher. The worst thing about it was that Fujisaki’s reaction wasn’t even strange to her. He just laughed hard.
“You’re absolutely right, Hiyori-chan, you’re a very clever girl!” and he added, with a different set of voice: “I actually wanted to say good night.”
“Oh… I… see?” she doubted. What was all this? “Good night?” she finally suggested. Fujisaki laughed intently again.
“Good night, honey! I hope this phone call gave you a nice thought to fall asleep to.”
He hung up. What was all that about? Trying to follow her way, Hiyori felt a shiver down her spine only for daring to think maybe a teacher – what an abominable idea, were flirting with her over the phone. Of course, Fujisaki was not exactly the least handsome man on earth, in fact Hiyori could see clearly the face Yama made when the music teacher approached to ask for her number and the reason why she had given it without any second thought, but something in him was just simply… too weird. There was something about his features…
Hiyori flinched when she passed by a street light. Just in the middle of the circle displayed by the lightbulb, there was a girl dressed on a kimono, standing still at that time of night, without signals of anybody around or that she was waiting for someone. She was just there, looking straight up front. Hiyori passed next to her, and flinched again when her intense black eyes fixated upon her. There was no expression, not even a glare. Hiyori hurried and tried to get out from her mind the ghostly figure of that pale girl, with black short hair, looking at her with eyes like that, black as hollow, expressionless.
She could never forget that face in her entire life.
“In what moment in life exactly you thought it was a good idea to give my cellphone number to Fujisaki-sensei, Yama-chan?” Hiyori asked to her friend the next day, without second thoughts.
Yama opened her sports bag from school and sticked her head right into it.
“I’m so sorry, Hiyori-chan! I wasn’t thinking in that moment!” even her voice was ridden with how embarrassed she was. Hiyori couldn’t help but feel a big affection for her friend, and smiled.
“It’s okay, Yama-chan, don’t overthink it. I just think is weird to receive calls from a teacher straight to my phone.”
“He called you?” asked Ami, quite interested, and Hiyori nodded.
“Yesterday.”
“Why such a hurry?” Ami asked again.
“Well…” Hiyori doubted. Clenching her fists over her skirt, she told them the teacher’s decision. “Apparently, they chose me as main soloist of the choir.”
“Wow, Hiyori-chan”, said Yama, sticking her head out from her bag. “Since when you’re so good in music?”
“Yeah, I mean since we know each other you’re barely more than a mess in everything else that doesn’t involve studying until your lashes burn”, laughed Ami.
Hiyori felt a bit disappointed, if she had to be completely honest.
“I’m just as surprised as you guys. I can’t stop asking myself who chose me for this.”
Apparently, judging by the looks of the other choir members expecting to be picked up, no one except Fujisaki had chosen her for the position. Just to get a second opinion about someone that knew a bit about the subject, Hiyori invited Ami and Yama to stay and watch the choir’s practice after school.
The mood was pure tension.
It was way more uncomfortable when the choir mates realized the special treatment Hiyori received from the teacher. Every time she noticed a new innuendo the man directed at her, the same ugly feeling creeped up her back. Fujisaki stared at her deeply in the eye, with a half-smile in his face, while directing everyone. Both his hands in the air, he had complete control over them all, with an iron glove, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. It almost seemed as if he was directing her exclusively. All tension accumulated during that hour and a half of practice passed the toll over her when she came out of the classroom, relieved. Her friends received her, but the reaction was way too different to what she expected.
“I definitely want to know when did you became this skilled singing, Hiyori-chan”, asked a confused Yama.
“When did you find time to practice?” tried Ami.
“I sing on the bathtub, don’t be so dramatic.” The girl answered, a bit alarmed. “Actually I don’t think I’m even half good as I would need to be considered a good singer…”
A loud alarm interrupted her. Her smartphone had activated a reminder telling her she should run to the station if she wanted to make it on time with SHRINE. This schedules were becoming pretty hard.
Hiyori excused herself out and ran. She ignored the heavy stare she felt upon her back while crossing the main yard.
“Run as fast as you’d like, rabbit.” Muttered Fujisaki, from the music classroom window. “I already have you in my sight.”
He pointed his fingers at her, making the shape of a gun with them, and with a sinister smile, he turned around.
At SHRINE’s house, the normal volume of conversation was being exceeded. Hiyori entered trying to be discreet and to understand what was being said above the big voice of Daikoku. He was, apparently, scolding Yato. Hiyori knew why the moment she went through the livingroom’s door.
She had never seen Yato in such a shape. He didn’t just look drunk, he looked terribly tired. Hiyori wondered if that was the normal effect of having too much alcohol or if he really hadn’t slept all night.
“You were the last person he saw”, said a voice behind her. Startled, she turned around to find Yukine there, watching the scene. He then stared at her, concerned. “Did something happened to you guys?”
“Something?” Hiyori was completely lost. “Like what?”
Yukine sighed.
“Sometimes he… well this happens. I don’t know exactly what is the trigger, but he’s more paranoid than usual, he doesn’t sleep, and tries to get away himself by drinking. He says he drinks to try and find some peaceful sleep and he has spans of really bad insomnia.” Hiyori looked at Yato. “I think there’s something else behind this.”
“Last night I didn’t notice anything weird, at least not until we split. He did the rest of the way alone.”
“NOW PUT THAT SHIT DOWN!!” Shouted Yukine, seeing Yato trying to open a new can of beer.
“Noooo!” he cried when the boy took the remaining cans to the kitchen. “You don’t understand!!!” just as if he had a sixth sense, Yato looked at the door and grinned widely, standing on his feet tottering. “Hiyori’s-‘ere!” to her surprise, Yato threw a limp arm around her neck. “Time to begin’ d’practis’”. The smell of alcohol and his doughy tongue didn’t made things easier for the girl, that the only thing she could fully think of was how close they really were, the warmth radiating from Yato’s body, and his smell – he was too close.
“G-get off me!” Hiyori slipped under Yato’s arm and made her way alone to the basement. Yato followed her with the eyes, perplexed, until she disappeared through the door. Daikoku came close to him.
“That was really smooth.”
Yato opened his mouth to complain, horrified, but no sound came out of him.
Hiyori realized, alone in the silent basement, between the controls and all the gear, that her knees were shaking, her shoulders were heavy and her heart pounded violently between her ribs. Was it the fact that she had actually never been that close to someone in such ethylic state, or simply…?
Everyone else entered the practice room with the usual noisy vibe. When Hiyori turned to look at Yato, he averted his eyes quickly to the floor, blushing.
“Wha…” passed across Hiyori’s mind, but she rather replaced her thoughts with the warm up exercises she had learnt on the choir practice.
Once everyone was ready, Yato let out a loud distorted chord and let it ring. His hand was up in the air, and after the sound disappeared a bit, the intense sound of the guitar got feedback from the amp and let out a hoarse howl. Hiyori usually limited herself to concentrate and cover her part. Something this night though made all her senses excited, and waited intently for Yato to begin playing. He then lowered his arm and made a movement with his head, and suddenly, uncomfortable, Fujisaki popped to her mind.
Her mind began working like crazy. The replacement teacher, wrapped in a brown suit, the shirt well tucked-in, with a tie; Yato was using a muscle t-shirt one size too big for him under his coat. Fujisaki had a rather thin frame, and the few times he worked with his sleeves rolled up, his skin didn’t show any spot, not a single mole; Yato had a muscular build that was not immediately evident through his every day clothes, but one simple look to the man behind the guitar directing this band was enough to convince that under that shaggy look was the true brain that made SHRINE work, every muscle of his arm embellished by some tint, some figure, some kind of mark. Hiyori entered in the right moment with the correct notes, going with the flow, entranced. She had no idea why she was comparing both guys, but the shiver down her spine remembering the teacher directing the choir was noticeable enough: she didn’t liked Fujisaki at all. Yato, however… where should she put Yato?
Dumb Yato. Annoying Yato. Smelly, irresponsible and careless Yato. Talented, mysterious and irresistible Yato. Kind Yato. Umpredictable Yato. Handsome Yato.
The voice part of the song ended, and Hiyori analyzed the tips of her toes, barely touching the heavy microphone stand’s base, with wide open eyes. What the hell was she thinking about?
“Hey, Hiyorin, is everything ok?” Asked Kofuku when the practice was over, “You seem worried about something.”
The girl only could manage a short “Uhm…” while swiftly gazing with the corner of her eye at the guy picking up every cable he could find out of place. The muscle t-shirt let the movement of his arms and his back to shine through. Hiyori averted her eyes right away and tried to suppress the sudden heat on her cheeks and that annoying feeling of a claw clenching her stomach. Kofuku smiled sweetly.
“Oh, I see.” Said merrily the pink-haired girl. “I heard about the phone.” She suggested, slyly.
“Well… that’s…”
“Good luck, you idiots”. Jumping childishly, she got out from the room.
“What were you guys talking about?”
That blue.
It was not just any color, it was that one in particular, precisely the one she could not stand to look in that moment.
“Oh, just…” Hiyori hesitated. Yato seemed to have lost the alcohol effects by that point, but he still had droopy eyes and huge dark circles. “Kofuku-san only wanted to know if we could exchange numbers.”
She smiled nervously to Yato’s inspection. Her smile vanished the moment a new idea began to form, and the man realized her change of expression, stepping back when she raised her hands to her mouth in panic.
“Hiyori…?” Yato tried.
“I completely forgot!” the surprise made her stutter. She had forgotten to call all the event planners and hotels that may rent a hall for her. “What the hell am I supposed to do know?”
“Hey, chill” said Yato. “What is wrong?”
Hiyori was worrying more and more by each passing second. How could she have forgotten about it? She hurriedly let out an apology and ran to the door, picking her stuff up in her way out. Before she could storm by the basement’s stairs, Yato got a firm grip off her arm.
“Are we not a team, Hiyori?”, he said, and added with an affected tone: “Don’t you trust us?”
Hiyori stopped the overflow of ideas that knocked over all other thoughts inside her mind. She slowly turned her face to Yato. She had no idea her actions were able to affect him this much. He looked at the floor, worried, not daring to raise his eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed. The girl sighed.
“I completely forgot I had to plan my parent’s wedding anniversary party. I have a few weeks ahead and I haven’t even made the research.”
Yato let her arm loose and turned around to search into his coat’s pockets. He took his smartphone and plopped into a chair. Hiyori smiled, a bit hurt, seeing he had completely lost interest so quickly. She was beginning to walk when she heard Yato speaking.
“Ishida-san? Good evening! I’m sorry to be bothering you at this time! I’m Yato, you remember me?” he began walking aimlessly across the room. Kofuku came back with snacks and placed them carefully over an amplifier while Daikoku and the others followed Yato around with the eyes. “Thank you! I’m fine… actually I was calling to ask you for a big favor. Do you still have that big hall we fixed up last summer?”
Bit by bit Hiyori’s face was turning from confusion, to surprise, to total joy. After a few phone calls Yato had appointments in different points all around the city, and every person he spoke to were glad to show him places right away.
“T-that’s amazing, Yato!” Hiyori stuttered, puzzled. “How did you do it?”
Yato wasn’t sure if he should be proud or ashamed about the circumstances.
“I’ve had this bunch of jobs…” he muttered, raising a hand to the nape of his neck.
“That’s not a lie,” pointed Yukine, “he has had more jobs than birthdays.”
Hiyori could not believe it.
“I thank you so much, Yato!” she watched as the boy fiddled dorkly with his nose before jumping back to his phone. After a few seconds he stared at his other three friends.
“We’re not done yet. Are you still in touch with that restaurant owner in Odaiba, Daikoku? The guy way-too-into fusion food?”
“Ah…” said Daikoku, thoughtful. “I haven’t talk to him in a while, but I’ll get in touch right away.”
“Cool! Yuki!” the boy raised his nose from his bass and stared back reluctantly, “Kofuku’s family has a big storage vault full of furniture, make some time tomorrow, we need to select what we will be using.”
“I get to be the carrier?” he whined, “I still want to grow taller, you ass!”
“This sounds like fun!” Kofuku squealed. She actually didn’t had any idea of where she had put the key to the vault, but she would surely find it somehow.
“Thank you all so much, guys.” Said an overwhelmed Hiyori. “Actually when you already have so many things under control, I don’t think I need to do anything.” She laughed a bit, ashamed. Yato pointed at her with his phone.
“Your job is the most difficult one!” he put a hand in his waist, extending the other one towards her. “You’ll have to coordinate everything and don’t let us slack off.”
Hiyori laughed again, harder this time.
“Leave it to me!”
Yukine popped his neck while walking during sunset through one of the parks nearby Yato’s basement. The furniture was ready, Hiyori was better than she thought for coordination, especially after having a more precise idea of what she was trying to accomplish. Yato walked by Yukine’s side, while making their way to the basement, where Yukine wanted to check thoroughly one of the parts he should play on a new song.
Yato looked straight ahead, undoubtful, firmly, and with a slight smile curving the corners of his lips. Curious about the silence, Yukine stared at him intently.
“You’ve been weird lately.” He begun. “Are you sure tha-?”
“Everything is okay?” Yato interrupted, “of course. Now everything is okay.”
After another brief analysis, Yukine bent his arms behind his head, locking his fingers together, and sighed.
“Does this have anything to do with Hiyori?”
Yato could barely manage to keep his balance.
“THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU BRAT?” Trying to give a smack to the kid’s head, he barely hits a trashcan.
“>; >” Yukine mocked, “Since when you’re so into getting up and do things? I think if you really try you can be a little more obvious, moron.”
Yato rubbed his knee, but looked up at the sky, thinking.
“Are you trying to say that…” He stopped and tried to avoid blushing “I like Hiyori?”
“No.” Said Yukine, simply, and began walking again. Intrigued, Yato ran after him. “I think you are deeply, stupidly and totally in love with her.”
“Sure.” Yato scorned, pretending his young friend’s words hadn’t made his heart jump.
“You can try to lie to me if you want.” The blond suggested.
“And what could you know about those things, midget?”
Yukine avoided his eyes and blushed strongly.
“Shut up.”
Yato stopped in his tracks again. Yukine did the same, even though he was not sure what was going on.
“Go to my house, I’ll meet you there.” Said the older boy, giving his keys to the blond kid.
“WHAAT?” Snapped Yukine, trying to read the look in Yato’s eyes. They were cold, steel hard blue, and his jaw clenched, almost making it possible to hear his teeth screeching. Yukine tried to follow his eyesight, but couldn’t spot anyone. There was a girl further ahead drinking water from a drinker a few meters ahead, but that was it.
“You’re definitely a freak, now what the f-?”
“I told you to go! I’ll catch you later.”
Yukine went ahead, surprised by the roughness on Yato’s words, not without turning around to look at him suspiciously.
Yato was finally alone in the park. Strangely alone. A cold breeze went through his jersey and the wool sweater he put over it, but he was sure it had nothing to do with the temperature.
It seemed all the cold air was coming from the eyes of the short haired girl coming closer to him, after closing the drinker’s tap.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she began talking, with a sweet voice, “Yato.”
He clenched his jaw even more. Something about the way she spelled his name sent shivers down his spine.
“What are you doing here, Nora?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” said the girl, and took Yato softly by the arm. “I come to take you.”
“Not this time.”
“You’ve become harsh, Yato.”
“I’m not going to be available every time he needs. I have a life of my own.”
“With them?” asked Nora softly, tilting her head, and then looking to the path Yukine had gone by. “That’s impossible. You know the only ones who truly love you is us, Yato.”
Again with that, Yato thought, and ripped his arm off Nora’s soft grip.
“You can tell that nasty geezer I’m never going back.”
The long silence made him look back to her. Her black junior high uniform gave her an air of innocence Yato knew very well couldn’t suit her better. Nora smiled, holding her briefcase with both hands. She was the stereotypical image of a japanese dream girl.
“Father will get mad if I come back without you.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“You’re not sorry enough, Yato.” Nora slowly began to walk away. “Not yet.”
Something in her words made all the alarms in Yato’s mind ring.
“See you later, brother.”
#noragami#noragami fanfiction#noragami fanfic#noragami au#music au#yatori#yatori fanfic#yatori fanfiction#yato#yukine#hiyori#kofuku#daikoku#bishamon#kazuma#kazubisha#daifuku#suzune
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of all the truths i could not tell ch. 2
So err i have Worries about this chapter and if it flows and if it ends where it should and if it makes sense... i have no idea what i’m doing, if i’m honest?? but?? have some almost rebelcaptain
They spend five years with the Partisans, and in that time Jyn becomes a soldier. As hard as Lyra tries to keep her home, Jyn constantly heads out on the missions Saw will let her on.
“You can’t fight the Empire by doing nothing,” Jyn snaps out, hostile and harsh. “You might not like it, Mama, but at least I’m doing something .”
Lyra sighs and drags a hand down her face. “Jyn, you’re thirteen years old and you’re building bombs ! It’s not worth it. This is what I feared about living with Saw.”
(this is why she didn’t leave you alone)
Jyn tries to push the thought away, but it grabs on, burrows like roots through her mind, and she can’t seem to forget it.
Two weeks later, out on a mission, Saw hands her a blaster and tells her to hide in an abandoned bunker until he comes back.
It’s a full three days before Lyra appears in the door, haggard and exhausted and clutching a blaster in her right hand like it’s a lifeline. She takes one look at Jyn and calmly announces that Vera and Kestrel Dawn are compromised.
Once again, they run.
~
There’s a Rebel base on Dantooine, Jyn knows. One of Saw’s men, Kev Garesh, mentioned it to her once. When Lyra asks Jyn where they should go next, Dantooine is the first name to tumble past her lips.
“Why Dantooine?”
“Kev mentioned it once,” Jyn says with a careless shrug. “Said there’s a Rebel base there.”
Lyra pauses, as though considering. “I don’t know if we should try and find the Alliance yet. We might not be… welcomed.”
“I’m the daughter of a high-ranking Imperial scientist and you’re his wife,” Jyn answers. “What could possibly worry them?”
Lyra doesn’t react--visibly, at least--to the sarcasm dripping from every word, instead staying calm and consulting the holographic star map. “I think there’s a small rebel cell on Kafrene,” she says at last. “We might be able to help them out. We’ll need new aliases, though.”
And thus Jyn becomes Tanith Pontha. A new identity, a new persona, a new set of small gestures to put on like a spare set of clothes. She learned, with Saw, about how to fall so deeply into a character that no one could ever know; yet another set of skills Lyra doesn’t approve of.
Not that Jyn understands why her mother doesn’t approve of disguise. Their entire existence is living under a cloak, hiding their true names from even the ones they trust the most. Out of all of the Partisans, only Saw knew who Jyn and Lyra were. The only reason he was allowed to know is because he was the one who rescued them. Saw knew.
(saw left her)
Jyn seethes at the constant hiding, the scurrying away to vanish into the shadows the instant it seems like trouble is coming, but a part of her understands it, even as she burns to fight. It’s hard and it’s frustrating and it scorches her to run, but her Mama wants it and so she grits her teeth and puts her head down and does it.
They charter a pilot to take them to Kafrene. It’s a long flight through hyperspace, halfway across the galaxy, from their previous home on Onderon, and it leaves Jyn with plenty of time to think. Why aren’t they joining the Alliance now ? Surely the Rebellion--still in its fledgling stages, according to Saw, although it certainly has grown since the Partisans’ split--would welcome their help; Lyra is a strong-willed yet open-minded historian with all the skills of a diplomat, and Jyn is a fierce fighter and clever , skilled already at the arts of slicing and sneaking. And even though Lyra’s justification does make some kind of sense, if they’re just going to be using aliases anyway why does it matter when they go? If the Alliance never finds out who the third member of their shattered family is…
By the time they arrive on Kafrene, Jyn is no closer to understanding her mother’s motives, and so she pushes the thoughts to the back of her mind. That doesn’t mean she’s forgotten , though. Just… postponed. She’ll confront Lyra about it another day.
(she tells herself that enough times, and she almost believes it)
~
Daeja and Tanith Pontha disappear barely a year later, after a newly recruited Imperial defector starts asking too many questions.
“We’ll be sad to see you go,” the leader of the small cell, Rina, says. She’s speaking to both of them, but her words are directed to Jyn.
Jyn, the small girl with the fire of a thousand suns lighting her green eyes, the furious strength of a warrior woven into her bones, and the seething need to fight filling her lungs with every breath; she is only fourteen, but she’s already risen high in the ranks of the cell, and her loss will be felt keenly.
“It’s for the best, Rina,” Lyra says with a small, almost wistful, smile. “Good luck, and may the Force be with you.”
“May the Force be with you as well,” Rina echoes, and then turns and vanishes. The pilot she’s left them with looks over the two of them for a moment, then shrugs a little and boards his ship, clearly expecting them to follow suit.
“So where am I taking you?” he asks in a crisp voice.
Lyra hesitates, shoots Jyn a look, then nods decisively. “Alderaan. Take us to Alderaan.”
~
Aurae and Liana Hallick don’t spend very long on Alderaan; just long enough for Jyn to use her slicing skills to forge quality scandocs and let them establish their identities. It only takes a couple months--but in that time, they start to fall into some semblance of a routine. It makes Jyn itch , her skin crawling with the need to move . Random is safe; routine leads to predictability, and predictability leads to sloppiness and being found and a blaster bolt to the head. (If you’re lucky. The unlucky ones are taken away and never heard from again, probably dumped on some Outer Rim prison planet, left toiling away the last years of their miserable lives in the barest semblance of survival. If you’re quick enough, you can shoot the unlucky ones before they’re pulled on board an Imperial shuttle. Jyn’s done it before.)
But while Jyn chafes at the quietness of Alderaan, Lyra flourishes in it, like a flower basking in the sun. Her mother has always balked at fighting, preferring the diplomatic approach--if there was one. This time, at least, there’s a reason for them to be sitting still: Lyra is waiting for contact from the Rebellion.
Apparently, they’re finally going to seek the Alliance out.
The contact finally arranges to meet them at the spaceport, and it’s a mark of her confidence that Lyra has both of them pack all their belongings and bring the bags with them. The contact is tall, dark-haired and confident, his face a smooth, emotionless mask. A ship waits, the hatch open and inviting, behind him, but Jyn’s gaze is captured by his eyes. Dark and intense, flickering with the same deep burning Jyn feels in her own heart, they meet Jyn’s own eyes and in an instant she feels as though she’s been stripped to the bone. As though his eyes have seen straight through all the personalities and names and people she’s been and seen her for her she truly is.
(but that’s impossible, of course. she’s better trained than that)
There’s a long silence.
“My name is Aurae Hallick,” Lyra finally says, “and this is my daughter, Liana.”
The Rebel watches them for another long moment, searching Lyra’s eyes, then nods--apparently satisfied with what he sees. “Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His voice rolls softly with an exotic accent that Jyn can’t place, one that she’s certain she’s never heard before. Before she can think better of it, she bursts out, “Whose name is that?”
“My own,” Cassian answers, almost sharply; his gaze sweeps over her again, appraisingly. Studying her, wondering why she’s so familiar with aliases.
(revealing her familiarity with false personas may not have been the smartest move, in hindsight)
“Thank you for meeting us here,” Lyra hurries to say, as though she can smooth over the awkward silence that’s descended over the three of them with simple pleasantries. “I take it we satisfied you, since you spoke freely to us?”
Cassian nods. “Your correspondence with the Alliance gave us the information we needed. General Draven wanted me to make sure you are who you say you are. Shall we?”
Jyn feels her eyebrows shoot up at the mention of correspondence with the Alliance, and she sends her mother a glare that Lyra steadfastedly ignores. Then the implications of Cassian’s last statement sink in, and she finds herself hiding behind a blank-faced front as she struggles to comprehend.
There’s no way he could’ve made a decision on them after only half a minute of silent observation; there’s still an entire flight to wherever the Rebel base they’re bound for is. And while on the ship--and maybe even after they’ve disembarked--Cassian will be watching them. Waiting. And if either of them slips up…
Well. Jyn’s fairly certain he knows how to use the blaster just barely discernible beneath his civilian coat.
She doesn’t dare shift her gaze to her mother, trusting instead that Lyra has come to the same conclusions. Instead, she lifts her eyes and stares into Cassian’s--a challenge. Within his gaze, she sees confirmation of her realization, and more--he knows that she knows, but he’s not going to say it aloud. And neither will she.
Tension shimmers in the air, thick enough to be almost tangible, until it’s abruptly snapped by a mechanical voice. “I have calculated that there is a seventy-three percent chance that Liana Hallick will attempt to disable you and redirect the ship as soon as we make the jump to hyperspace.”
The voice is immediately followed by the appearance of a tall, hulking black form in the ship’s open hatch--a shape instantly recognizable to Jyn. Acting on instinct, she jerks out the blaster on her hip, aiming it at the KX-series droid. “What the kriffing hell…” she starts, only to be cut off by a quick motion by Cassian.
“It’s okay, he’s friendly, just… put that thing away before someone sees you with it,” the spy manages to get out, and after a long second, Jyn does as he suggests. “Aurae, Liana, allow me to introduce you to my copilot, K-2SO. He’s been reprogrammed--he’s not dangerous.”
“On the contrary, I believe there is plenty of evidence to show that I am quite dangerous,” the droid says, and Jyn could swear that the flat voice is somehow sarcastic .
(which is completely ridiculous. droids don’t have personalities, everyone knows that)
“Sorry,” Cassian apologizes, shooting K-2SO a look that clearly says ‘shut up right this second’. “He tends to say whatever comes into his circuits. It’s a side-effect of the reprogramming.”
Before the talkative droid can respond, he hurries Lyra and Jyn up the ramp and onto the ship. “K, get the ship running. The quicker we get out of here, the better.”
Grumbling something under his breath (Jyn has no desire to know what he says), the droid climbs the ladder into the cockpit as Cassian closes the hatch behind the two women. “Sorry about him,” he apologizes again. “You can set your stuff down somewhere and sit; I’m going to get us into hyperspace, and then I’ll be back to answer whatever questions you might have.”
“Where are we going?” Jyn asks, ignoring the sharp look Lyra sends her way. She doesn’t move from her position in the center of the ship, staring at Cassian, even as her mother moves around behind her, sliding to a sitting position on one of the narrow, hard benches with her bag beside her. They have a right to know the destination, and Jyn silently tells Cassian this with her eyes.
He hesitates; she can tell even leaving her alone with a blaster makes him uncomfortable, and the idea of giving her the location of the Rebel base goes against every instinct he has. She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders, determined. “Trust goes both ways,” she tells him quietly, and after a moment he exhales heavily.
Resignation flits across his face and he nods, slowly, almost reluctantly. “Yavin 4,” he mutters after another long hesitation. “We’re inbound for Base One.”
Then he spins away, climbing fluidly up the ladder and vanishing in the cockpit; Jyn barely has enough time to settle herself on the bench opposite her mother before the ship rumbles and shudders around her, leaping into the air with a creaky, metallic groan. She doesn’t even have the time to get used to the motion of the ship before an almost-familiar lurch in the pit of her stomach signals the jump to hyperspace
(she could get up now, climb the ladder, shoot the droid in the back of the head and slam the butt of her blaster into cassian’s temple; take the ship wherever she wants to go, finally free)
(she could)
(she doesn’t)
Her fingers clench spasmodically around the edge of the black plastoid bench, her heart jittering in her chest, and her breaths shudder out of her in rhythm with the creaking of the durasteel walls.
She waits.
#rebelcaptain#rogue one#lyra lives#cassian x jyn#cassian andor#jyn erso#lyra erso#k-2so#i really don't know what i'm doing#but the snarky droid is here so???
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ARE YOU A SOLDIER, A POET, OR A KING?
THE SOLDIER
"there will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword, he will tear your city down" righteousness. strength. silence. you see a door and break through it. you wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. remember: love is passion too. you made your own rules and will follow them to death. you try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". you are tired of fighting. you try to forget that, too, and keep going. you dream of quiet. your love is where you heal. god knows you deserve to.
tagged by: @antihcroes
tagging: @thesoulofasurvivor, @wexarethewalkingxdead for any muse you'd like, and anyone else who wants to do it!
#&.* i don’t remember that in hamilton! | dash things#&.* never be so kind you forget to be clever | ch. study
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tag drop part one (jude's tags and verses)
#&.* it's me hi; i'm the problem it's me | reflection#&.* memories feel like weapons | headcanons#&.* i damn sure never would've danced with the devil | musings#&.* never be so kind you forget to be clever | ch. study#&.* stained glass windows in my mind | aesthetic#&.* we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf | playlist#&.* they say looks can kill and i might try | skills#&.* i just wanna stay in that lavender haze | voice tag#&.* the wound won't close; i keep on waiting for a sign | earth#v. it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero | series#v. why for years i roam; free as these birds; light as whispers | post-series#v. they say i did something bad; why's it feel so good | darkest timeline#v. roaring twenties; tossing pennies in the pool | modern#v. you should find another guiding light; but i shine so bright | modern#v. it only hurts this much right now | tlou#v. and if you never bleed you're never gonna grow | stranger things#v. and you're the hero flying around saving face | mcu#v. but i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm | dick wolf tvu#v. come morning light you and i'll be safe and sound | hunger games
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I’m adding an NPC for Judith for her newest modern verse. He’s gonna be mentioned in threads every once in awhile. He’s her partner that she works with pretty much constantly and someone else who has her back. This is based solely on their dynamic in Criminal Minds to be honest, I love them!
All of is information is gonna be under the cut (not really giving him a super full backstory yet just getting the stats and a small little blurb out of the way)
BASIC
FULL NAME: Sebastian Eduardo Ramirez
NICKNAMES: Seb, Baz
AGE: 35
BIRTHDAY: June 2
SPECIES: Human
GENDER: Cis Male
PRONOUNS: He/Him/His
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married
FAMILY
MOTHER: Elena Ramirez
FATHER: Ricardo Ramirez
SIBLINGS: None
SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Genevieve Presley-Ramirez
CHILDREN: Valéntina "Valé" Ramirez
PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES
FACE CLAIM: Adam Rodriguez
HEIGHT: 6'0″
WEIGHT: 130lbs
BUILD: Fit, muscular
HAIR LENGTH: Short and sometimes curly
HAIR COLOUR: Black
EYE COLOUR: Brown
DOMINANT HAND: Right
NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: His daughter's birth date tattooed in Roman numerals across his left bicep, a few scars from his time in the army and the FBI
SCENT: Mountain air
ACCENT: Bronx
ALLERGIES: Cats
DISORDERS: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
FASHION: Usually jeans, a t-shirt and a loose button up with boots
LIFESTYLE
RESIDES: Denver, Colorado, USA
BORN: Bronx, New York City, New York
RAISED: Bronx, New York City, New York
VEHICLE: n/a
PHONE: iPhone 12
LAPTOP/COMPUTER: Standard laptop
PETS: German Shepherd named Luna
POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Democratic
RELIGION: Raised Catholic
ALCOHOL: On occasion
DIET: No specific diet
LANGUAGES: English, Spanish, French
PHOBIAS: Losing his family and friends, clowns, dying alone
SOCIAL MEDIA: He definitely has Instagram and posts mostly about his dog and his wife and daughter
FAVOURITE
LOCATION: His cabin in upstate New York
MUSIC: Anything he really enjoys he'll listen to
SHOWS: she mostly watches the news, but likes to watch lighthearted shows as well
MOVIES: she particularly likes old films, like pre 2000 movies, and also disney movies
RADIO STATION: she prefers soft instrumental playlists
FOOD: Ropa vieja (but only if his abuelita makes it)
BEVERAGE: Coffee
COLOUR: Navy blue
CHARACTER
MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral
MBTI: ENTJ
MBTI ROLE: the mastermind
ENNEAGRAM: 6
ENNEAGRAM ROLE: Loyal Sceptic
TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic
WESTERN ZODIAC: Gemini
Sebastian “Baz” Ramirez was born in the Bronx to Elena and Ricardo Ramirez and he is an only child. Fresh out of high school at the age of eighteen, Baz joined up with the US Army Rangers where he would spend the next eighteen years of his life until he was honourably discharged and after a year of being home joined up with the FBI, specifically the Fugitive Task Force.
There, he met Judith who had been working for the FBI for nearly five years at that point, spending the last two working with the FTF. Baz and Judith quickly became good friends, both being relatively new to the job and Judith having to travel quite a bit, taking her away from her family from time to time.
After a particularly bad case early on in their partnership in which they had lost one of the two children they were trying to save, and Baz having to save Judith from almost being caught in the fire and subsequent explosion, the two now share an unbreakable bond. Judith is grateful to Baz for saving her and helping her realize that she wasn't responsible for the loss of the child.
Even after nearly eight years, Judith and Baz are still just as close, celebrating life events with each other, like Baz's wedding, his daughter Valé's birth, even all three of the Cadron kids' birthdays. Judith and Baz are both grateful to each other, knowing each of them is going to have the other's back and keep each other safe.
#&.* never be so kind you forget to be clever | ch. study#&.* the devil's in the details but you got a friend in me | judith/baz
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