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stargazer-sims · 3 months

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The Art of Redemption

(part 6)

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The sky is already light when Nikolai wakes up. He's disoriented and confused, and for one awful moment he doesn't remember where he is. He's used to waking up in the dark during the winter, to the shrieking calls of sea birds on the beach below his house, and to the warmth of another person next to him in bed. He looks around frantically, convinced he's going to be late for something important and that no one had bothered to remind him about it.

As the fog of sleep clears from his brain, he's able to identify his surroundings. This is Beth-Anne's guest room, or perhaps not so much a guest room as a den, or... a home office with a bed in it. On the opposite side of the room from where his ridiculously comfortable bed is, there's a filing cabinet, and a desk with a laptop computer attached to an external monitor. On the wall above the desk are numerous framed pictures, news articles and award plaques. In the center of the arrangement are two gold medals.

Nikolai allows himself to relax. One of those medals is his. He'd given it to Beth-Anne nearly ten years ago, and it makes him happy to see that she has it on display.

He lets his gaze travel around a bit more. His coat is draped over the back of the desk chair, and his two green suitcases are visible just inside the open closet door. Next to the suitcases, he notices his skate bag and a medium-sized cardboard box with something scribbled on the side of it in black marker. On top of the box is a grey teddy bear with a little fake gold medal on a dark green satin ribbon around its neck. He can't see it from this distance without his glasses any more than he can read what's on the box, but he knows the bear has the word 'champion' stitched onto its foot in white embroidery thread.

I don't remember bringing that here.

Beth-Anne must've thought he'd want it, and gathered it up along with his other things without mentioning it. He's had the bear since he was ten years old, since his first competition in the Novice division, and Champion has accompanied him to every single skating competition since then.

Going through security at airports, he always attracted funny looks from security agents and fellow passengers alike for carrying the teddy bear under his arm, but he didn't care. It comforted him to cuddle Champion while hunkering down miserably in the uncomfortable plane seats and trying not to think about his upset stomach and rattled nerves. He hates flying and suffers horribly with airsickness, but he was never allowed to take anything for it on the way to a competition. The last thing he and Beth-Anne would've wanted was for him to have failed a banned substance screening test.

He smiles ruefully. I'll bet I'd fail if they gave me one right now.

He's been at Beth-Anne's house for two days and three nights. It's not that he didn't recognize his own things in the room before, but that he hadn't been alert enough to observe much of anything, or to retain his observations even if he had been. Having been doped up on painkillers and anti-anxiety medication, there are whole chunks of time missing from his perception of the past couple of days. He's pretty sure he didn't leave his bed except to go to the bathroom, and he guesses he'd been sleeping a lot. He has vague memories of Beth-Anne feeding him soup.

He squints at the clock on the small table next to the bed. It's 7:04 a.m. The day isn't as far gone as he'd thought, and for some reason the knowledge fills him with a sense of reassurance.

The next thing he does is take an assessment of his body. He's a little stiff, but that's likely from lying around too long and probably isn't anything that can't be resolved with some good stretches. His knee still hurts, but not nearly as much as before. Under the blankets, he flexes his leg cautiously. Maybe he can forego the stronger pain medication for now and just take a couple of ibuprofen tablets instead.

He sits up in bed and starts his stretching routine. Neck, shoulders and arms he can do in a seated position, but he's going to have to get up to stretch his back muscles. He wonders if his bad knee will support him well enough to do some leg exercises too, or if he'll have to wait for Beth-Anne to help him do the ones the physiotherapist prescribed.

After climbing out of bed and working the tension from his back, he decides to err on the side of caution and skip the leg work until Beth-Anne is available to supervise him. He limps over to the closet and pulls one of his suitcases out. He's eager for a shower and fresh clothes.

In the process of retrieving his suitcase, he's able to get a better look at the box next to it. What he thought was a scribble when he viewed it from across the room actually turns out to be one. He can just make out the word 'DONATE' beneath a frenetic zigzag of black ink. Above it, in Beth-Anne's precise handwriting, is his own name.

Intrigued, he abandons his suitcase and drags the box out instead. It's folded closed at the top, but there's something purple poking out through the little gap where the flaps of the overfilled box don't quite meet. He knows what it is even before he tugs the flaps of the box apart to reveal its contents.

The purple item is the costume he'd worn for his long program at the Four Continents. They'd tried to cut it off his leg at the hospital in Taiwan, and he'd begged them not to. Through the interpreter, he said he didn't care if he had to sit around in nothing but his underpants and a hospital gown. He wanted to take the costume off himself, intact. They'd allowed him to do that in the end, and he was appreciative of the small kindness.

Under the purple costume is the glittery black and red one he'd worn for his short program. He frowns. Why would his costumes be in a carton that had originally been marked for donation? For that matter, why would his two most recent costumes be in a cardboard box at all? He hasn't kept every skating costume he's ever worn, but he does have a lot of them, and they're all hanging neatly in a wardrobe cupboard in his basement, protected by garment bags and labelled by year.

Perhaps more importantly, he amends, what are my costumes doing in a box here at Beth-Anne's house?

He can guess, but he really doesn't want to go there. Not right now. He's not prepared to wrap his head around the notion of someone he loves being intentionally cruel to him.

But, Anya had already done something mean to him. She'd taken his medals off the wall in their dining room, pulling them all down while he watched helplessly. That had hurt, but he'd somehow convinced himself it wasn't so bad. He could return them to their display frame later. Anya said she'd put them away. When he felt able to restore them to their proper place, he could always ask her where she'd put them, unless...

Nikolai shakes his head.

No.

Anya wouldn't give away his medals. She has a few medals of her own. She knows how important they are. He prefers a less dramatic explanation, like maybe the box was something Beth-Anne had lying around in her garage and she just grabbed it to transport some of his things in. That hypothetical version of events is much easier to accept.

He wants to discover what else is in the box, but an alarmingly loud growl from his stomach reminds him that he has priorities. He probably hasn't eaten a proper meal in two days, and his skin feels sticky and gross. Shower, and then breakfast. Later, when he's got nothing else to do, he can come back to the box.

The hot shower revives him, and he feels almost normal by the time he hobbles into the kitchen on his crutches about fifteen minutes later.

Beth-Anne is standing at the counter next to the sink. Her back is to him, but she turns when he says her name. She's dressed in form-fitting black athletic pants and a red zip-front fleece top, and her curly honey-coloured hair is caught into a messy little bun. She isn't wearing makeup, and the scars on her face are clearly visible on her pale, freckled skin.

She's going to the rink, Nikolai realizes. Oddly, he doesn't know how he feels about that. Of course she should be going to the rink. She's a skating coach, and her job is at the rink. Her students need her. But, she'd stayed home with him for the past two days, and he'd liked that. He's not certain he's ready to be left alone yet.

Beth-Anne offers him a smile. "How are you feeling, sweetheart? You look better."

"I feel a little better," he says. "What's for breakfast? I'm starving."

She laughs. "Yeah, that's definite proof you're on the mend. How about a ham and cheese omelette? That's what I'm making for myself, and it's easy enough to make two. There's oranges and grapefruit in the fridge, and I bought extra milk. Oh, and there's coffee. Help yourself."

He takes an orange from the fridge and pours himself a cup of coffee. While Beth-Anne cooks, he sits at the table and methodically peels and sections his orange. They're both quiet for a while, but finally he ventures, "Are you... are you going to work today?"

"Yes," she tells him. "Mariah and Brett have been skating by themselves for three days now. Stan said he’d keep an eye on them, but that’s not his responsibility. Plus, you know Brett has Junior Worlds coming up in a few weeks. He needs me to be just as committed to that as he is.”

“Oh,” Nikolaï says. "That's right."

He hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed. Suddenly embarrassed, he lowers his head and gazes dismally at his half-eaten orange.

He’s not jealous of Brett exactly, but he does envy the fourteen year old for the chance to compete in a world championship. Nikolai will never do that again. He'll never get to feel the flutter of nervous anticipation in the seconds before he steps onto the ice, or the focus and calm confidence that replaces it when his music begins. He'll never again experience the joy of performing a beautiful and complicated step sequence or the exhilaration of landing a perfect jump. People cheering for him and throwing bouquets onto the ice, Beth-Anne hugging him in the kiss-and-cry and drying his tears with her ubiquitous old-fashioned handkerchiefs while they wait for his scores, the national anthem playing during medal presentations... all of that is over for him now.

One might argue he's had his moment of glory — several, in fact — and that's something to be grateful for. He is grateful for his success, but that does nothing to ease the dull, empty ache in his chest when he imagines what might've been. The truth is, he wasn't ready to leave the sport, isn't ready despite the reality of it. He's only twenty-seven. If it weren't for this devastating injury, he might've had two or three good seasons left before he made his own decision to retire. Maybe he would've even won another medal at Worlds this year. He'd certainly been on track to qualify for the world championship.

But now the only one of Beth-Anne's students who'll be going to a world championship event is Brett Eriksson. He'll be the one getting all the praise and accolades and Beth-Anne's undivided attention, and Nikolai will be doing what? Sitting at home in a pool of his own self-pitying tears?

Nikolai Pavlenko, be a man. You will not cry over this any more, he orders himself fiercely, but the demand has little effect. His throat already feels like it's starting to close, and there's an unwelcome prickling behind his eyes that warns of impending tears.

Beth-Anne shuts off the stove and turns toward the table with a plate in each hand. Nikolai hadn't even noticed that she was done cooking their omelettes, and his face burns with a new wave of embarrassment.

She takes one look at him, hurries forward and quickly sets the plates down. A second or two later, her hand is on his cheek, as if she's checking to see if the flush of colour that he knows must be there might be from a fever.

He raises his eyes to meet hers, and all he sees in her expression is love and concern for him. Brett may need her undivided attention, but she loves him. She put her regularly-scheduled life on hold for the past handful of days for him, lost sleep for him, allowed Brett to skate alone. For him.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"No," he manages to get the words past the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. I... I'm being selfish."

"You're being human," she says. Her hand moves up to brush back his unruly hair. She can't possibly know what he'd been thinking, but it almost seems like she can read his mind because she continues with, "This isn't going to be an easy adjustment for you. I get that. It's going to be scary and confusing, and if you're angry or sad or envious of the others or... whatever, it's totally okay. I promise."

"How do you...?" he begins, but doesn't finish the question.

"How do I know?"

"Yeah."

"Did you think I retired voluntarily from competing?" she asks.

"Didn't you? You never told me it wasn't voluntary, so I assumed it was. But... it wasn't?"

"No, it wasn't," she says. "If you want to know what happened, I'll tell you, but not right this minute. Right now, you need to eat your breakfast. We have things to do today, and you need the protein.”

She steps away from him and settles into the chair across the table from his. He's sufficiently distracted by the revelation that she hadn't given up competing by choice that his other emotions temporarily fade to the back of his consciousness.

"I do want to know," he says. "And what do you mean, we have things to do? What do I have to do?"

"Eat your breakfast and then put on some warm clothes," says Beth-Anne, apparently unbothered about talking with her mouth full. "You're going to the rink."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not going to have you sitting around here feeling sorry for yourself all day long. You're allowed to feel like that, but not all day, every day. That's dangerous, and I'll be damned if I let you put yourself in harm's way when there's something we can do about it."

He's so relieved, he doesn't even think before blurting out the first thing that pops into his head. "So, I don't have to be alone? I can be with you all day?"

"If you're feeling up to going out, yes."

"Yes," he says. "But, what am I going to do there? Should I bring a book?"

Beth-Anne looks amused. "I guess you can if you want, but I had something a little more constructive in mind."

"Like what?"

"Like being my assistant," she says. "I'd like you to observe the students while I'm working with them, especially Brett and little Eden. You'll be able to spot things I might not see, things they're doing really well or things they need to work on. Watch me, too. See how I interact with them."

"I already know how you interact with students," he says.

"You know how I interact with you," she corrects. "Observing from the outside, seeing how I interact with other students will give you a different perspective. More of a coach's-eye view, you might say."

"A...what?" He has to admit this idea has literally never occurred to him, but to be fair, up until a month ago he hadn't given much thought at all to his life beyond his career as a professional athlete. He's always known he'd have to stop competing eventually, but he also assumed he'd have more time to figure out his future plans. "You think I could be a coach?"

"No idea," says Beth-Anne around another mouthful of eggs. "You might be absolutely fucking terrible at it, although somehow I doubt that, but we're not going to know one way or the other if we don't give it a try, are we?"

"You're serious."

"When have you ever known me to not be serious?"

"I don't know if I want to be a coach," he confesses. "I don't know what I want, really."

"That's okay," she says. "Ultimately, whatever you do will be your choice. But in the meantime, this'll at least give you something to do and keep your mind off..." She pauses awkwardly before concluding. "Stuff."

It's difficult to argue with her reasoning. She isn't wrong about it being dangerous for him to dwell on all his negative thoughts and feelings. After all, look what that had earned him; the final breath of his already dying marriage, contemplation of suicide, a tearful phone call in the middle of the night, an urgent trip to the hospital, and a massive dose of prescription drugs he'd probably needed but didn't want.

The night he phoned Beth-Anne and begged her to help him, he'd never been so terrified and desperate in his life. He was afraid to be alone because he didn't trust himself not to do something irredeemable.

His mental state has improved since then, but he's still scared. Being with someone feels much safer to him than being left by himself, and being with Beth-Anne feels safest of all. She always takes care of him, and he trusts her more than anyone else.

He thinks she's also right that having something to do will keep him from ruminating on stuff, as she put it. He and Beth-Anne both know what she meant by that. She didn't need to elaborate, and he's thankful to her for leaving it at a generalization.

But... coaching?

He has no clue how the other students might take to him becoming a coach. The younger ones who don't know him might not have any issues with it, but he doubts Brett and Mariah would be thrilled by the prospect. And what about Ginger, Hunter, Juliet and Christian? How would his friends feel about it? Would it be weird for them to see their fellow student become a coach? And what if he actually does turn out to be terrible at it? What then?

Beth-Anne's voice breaks into his thoughts. "Nikolai."

He stares at her, but doesn't reply because he realizes he has a piece of orange in his mouth. Inexplicably, his heartbeat begins to race and his hands tremble uncontrollably. He feels sweat break out on his palms and down the middle of his back.

Why am I panicking? Why am I panicking!? Calm down!

His self-admonition only makes it worse, and the orange section seems to grow huge and suffocating. He wants to spit it out, but his mental image of himself spitting out food in front of Beth-Anne is mortifying to him.

"Nikolai," Beth-Anne says gently. "Chew and swallow."

Her voice anchors him. He does as she instructs, and then mumbles, "Sorry."

"It's okay, sweetheart. You're fine," she assures him. "If you don't want to go to the rink, you don't have to. I can drop you off to spend the day with your grandfather instead, or wherever you want."

"No, I... I want to go to the rink. I'm just... I don't know. Anxious."

"You can take the medication the doctor gave you," she reminds him.

"No," he repeats. "I need to get over this. Get back to normal. Going to the rink is a good idea. Even if I don't stay all day, I think I need to get out of the house and do something before just leaving the house starts to seem like it's too hard."

Beth-Anne nods. "Good. That's the attitude I like. Come with me for the morning, and we'll see how you get along, okay? If you're feeling overwhelmed or like you don't want to stay for whatever reason, I'll bring you home. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," he agrees.

"I'll keep checking on you," she says.

It's his turn to nod. "I'll do my best to keep it together."

"I know you will, but I don't want you to push yourself any further than you can reasonably handle, all right? The point of this is to rebuild you, not to break you even more, so if you feel like you can't do it, you need to tell me straight away. Understand?"

'I understand."

"Excellent. Now, eat up so we'll have enough time to get ready. Our first thing is a group class at nine o'clock, and we wouldn't want to be late for those adorable preschoolers, would we?"

"You...? Preschoolers? You want me to observe preschoolers?"

"Best way to start the day," says Beth-Anne. "Watching a bunch of cute four year olds wobble around for half an hour is an amazing stress reliever. We can watch Ginger and Stan do their thing after that, and then Brett's ice time is at eleven. That'll be your real assignment. You know, 'your mission, should you choose to accept it' and all that."

"Okay," Nikolai says, doing his best to sound more sure of himself than he feels. "Mission accepted."

#writing #the art of redemption #theartofredemption #nikolai pavlenko #beth-anne jones #tw sucide mention #stargazersims

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krispyswips · 4 months

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WIP tag game

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @halfwaytoknowhere thank you!

Idk when I'll get to these now that sewing has taken over my life.

1. Alike in Dignity holiday special- bc they did have a hallmark movie Christmas ending.

2. Inquire Within - I swear to christ we will get to my fav guy Ochi of Bestoon

3. Palpatine Clone Orgy - as it says on the label

4. Codywan Post-O66 Epistolary - something I have been discussing with a friend but haven't dove into

5. MandoLuke AU - something I have been discussing with a different friend and we have like 20,000 words in snippets that need to be cleaned up

6. Fish Inside a Birdcage - I swear to christ we will find out who the fish is and it's not who you think

7. Reva and Ahsoka - Ahsoka helps Reva heal her crystal

And then there's like ten bajillion things from poetry to dnd stories to short stories about crows and the birds outside my window

Tagging: @user-anakin @nightbirdz @aureutr @ctrldao3

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roadkilln · 4 years

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the rough cut of kara davidsen’s soundtrack — about as rough, erratic, nervous and unsettling as she can be. recommended listen: while pretending to meditate while instead you’re planning to punch the first person you meet on the street!

" because it's real, because it pulls a thread of slowly unraveling days. annihilates your mother tongue, your only light. but hold this sound: follow it all the way, and put down the knife. " — LISTEN.

#charming.task #charming.task02 #FILE / now i think alike birds.#this idiot doesn't have a thread yet but already has a playlist #smh

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roadklls · 4 years

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hello, rylan (27, she/her, gmt+2) again, introducing you to my lil angry hedgehog by the name of kara davidsen + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp

name: kara davidsen nicknames: n/a age: 31 ethnicity: Indigenous (Awaetlatla First Nations + Himalayan; this is unknown to them, as their arrival in the orphanage was not met with any information regarding their biological family). gender/pronouns: genderfluid, they/them, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: pansexual/demiromantic been in red ridge for: on and off all their life occupation: criminal (mostly drug dealing atm) affiliation: none (deviant, though occasionally will lend a hand to valencia or whoever needs it) positive traits: loyal, observant, clever, headstrong, generous, determinate. negative traits: proud, aggressive, cold, hot-headed, cruel, resentful.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for child abandonment, abuse, bullying, substance abuse, medical misconduct / patient abuse, overdosing, death, violence).

red ridge, nv, 1989. left, discarded like unwanted leftovers — they found them in a cardboard box, half-freezing, on the doorsteps of the charming orphanage. they were given a name that was supposed to be temporary, until a family would pick them up: kara. something breaking, something thunderous, like the storm raging on the night they’re found. their last name davidsen, from the orphanage of st. david’s. lost in the world, but they soon found an ally in a child left, discarded like they were — delphine, though sharing none of their blood, became their sister.

red ridge, nv, 1993. it was clear from the very beginning that the two would have to fight teeth and nails for their place in the world, but their bond served as a double-edged weapon, kept them safe with one another and the rest of the world away. the two barely ever left each other side, and kara, in particular, soon developing a violent protectiveness over their sister. this bond would allow them to sustain the abuse, the violence, the difficulties they were soon thrown into the second they were assigned to their first foster family. it is a poisonous environment, one that corrupts the valorous side of them to leave the broken parts behind, the damage. together, they fight back. together, they survive.

red ridge, nv, 1999. taken out of the foster family, they both return to st. david’s. it’s not a victory, but it’s the chance for something better to happen - kara won’t admit it, but they hold hope someday this might have a sense. find a family for the both of them, with food on the plate and fresh clothes every day.

red ridge, nv, 2001. delphine might just get that. changes of getting out st. david’s are always slim (there’s a thing about kids grown in the desert, they bark and bite as if coyotes themselves have been the one raising them), but delphine is taken away. off to a good family, off to a better family: the bond, the magical bond that had kept them fighting through the various different wildfires life had enjoyed putting them through, it suddenly broke. kara was left behind. dumbfounded, angry, a question left ringing in their head without the knowledge to put it into coherent words: what’s the point of loving, what’s the point of caring — if it all gets taken away?

red ridge, nv, 2003. but they do love, and they do care. in their own misguided, clumsy way; and one day they bring another kid in the orphanage, two years their younger, a scared, wide-eyed kid. the other kids enjoy teasing him, enjoy the look he gets when they knock the glasses off his face and he has to go scramble to find them. kara hates that. kara enjoys putting themselves between them and him and grin at them: say come on, what are you gonna do? what’s that, are you afraid? (maybe they mimic the way delphine would look after them. maybe, in their own half broken language, they are just trying to summon delphine — or their spirit, the protective archetype of an older sibling — back into their bones. they vow they will protect eric, even though they have to endure the other kids’ beatings in his place. but one day it is too much: we gotta get out of here, they say to him one night, after they found the other kids collecting punches in eric’s gut and the tutors pretending to look the other way. we gotta get out of here.

somewhere across the nevada / utah border, 2005. breaking out wasn’t the hard part; by now kara knew exactly how to slip out, just had lacked a motivation to leave the orphanage. the hard part is when they’re out in the cold, freezing their asses off somewhere in utah, trying hard to find a fucking way to live and coming up empty. they steal cans of meat from a barn; the owner finds them, threatens them both, a shotgun aimed at kara’s throat. he sees something in them, and then somehow understands: these aren’t thieves. these are assets.

eureka, ut, 2006. scott halbridge has a lot of flaws, but one couldn’t say he isn’t a resourceful man. there isn’t a single felony he and his makeshift clan haven’t dabbled with, even just for a taste of it — and the two orphans he found in his barn might just help him grow his business. the younger kid, the one with the glasses, is soft and unassuming but he’s got a skill — he’s good at handling drugs, he’s good at selling ‘em too. the other one, the girl (he keeps calling them that and kara wants to bite the vocal cords off his throat but they won’t; they won’t, he won’t understand, it’s better they just play nice) — kara’s tougher to handle. but they’re great at kicking ass, and when needed they can slip in and out of buildings and steal shit without anyone ever noticing it. they’re both extremely useful. but eric gets to try the merch he sells and he begins growing a sweet tooth for it. when the money he brings back to scott every week grows shorter by one, two, ten doses — that’s when he understands. and his way of making eric understand, too, is by jumping on him, bashing in his head, slamming him against the wall. kara doesn’t think — it’s a single instinct that leads their arms to move, retrieving the shotgun by the side of scott’s desk, aiming, shooting. the shotgun recoils back and throws them off their balance. kara falls, but so does scott: his brain sprayed all over the walls. panting, eric stares at kara. they know what he’s seeing: something damaged. something terrifying. kara breathes, wipes the blood off the side of their cheek. “we gotta go”, they say, and then they’re on the road again.

elko, nv, 2010. another kind of scott halbridge ends up taking them in. a gang of sorts, someone who has use for their talents. kara’s attitude for fighting and taking one, two, a hundred punches, proved them to be a great resource for the needs of criminal enforcers. eric’s charm, instead, proved once again to be a fruitful assets in selling drugs: they found a life of their own, as unlawful as it was, and kept surviving on their own.

carlin, nv, 2013. eric was too soft for this world. kara had known from the beginning, and yet it still caught them off guard. the drugs got the best of him, swallowed him whole — after he’d given in to a manic episode in public, he was forcefully committed to a rehabilitation facility where the limits of ethics were more than a little stretched. they’d abuse him verbally, physically, use prescription drugs on him too liberally until he was left a screaming, aching mess of a human being. once kara learned of this (once they were able to track the place they’d taken him to), they followed through with the promise they’d made with delphine years before, the one that the loss of delphine had led to breaking but had to be respected now, for it was sacred: them against the world, no matter what. somehow, kara managed to break him out of the facility. somehow, he got his hands on drugs again. eric overdosed at the age of 22.

red ridge, nv, 2014. though kara had known anger all their life, this was the first time they experienced pain. on their own, with no destination, or even a reason to keep moving forward, they ended up back in the place where they’d began. red ridge, nevada — old contacts allowed her a way into the safe, usual business of fucking around and stealing cars, selling drugs, whatever could get them by. they were good at dealing, even good at fighting for respect. within years, they had a decent business network going on. though they didn’t care about valencia’s business in the city, and the many gangs trying to start shit in town, never did, really — they found the conflict, the violence, to be the healing balm for their aching soul. they soon began fighting at rogue’s club: though lacking discipline or any sort of training, they’d been fighting since the day they were born and could take punches for hours. the pain became a shelter, a relief. it kept them alert and out of their sorrow, out of their weakness. her life became a pantheon for violence — the fights, the ghosts, and the drugs she wouldn’t use. each of them a replacer for something she couldn’t get anymore. each blow landing against her ribcage, a reminder: this is for delphine, the way she was taken and gone forever, and perhaps a part of them had hoped coming back to red ridge would make her show up again, summoned by memories and whatever bond they’d shared — that’s a fairy tale, isn’t it? they always fucking hated those. this is for eric, the way he vanished out of thin air, no matter how much they tried to hold his molecules together, force shapeless air back into the container of his body. this is for their inability to accept it. this, at last, is for kara davidsen and all that’s left of them. a bag of bones, a blooming of bruises. and their anger: so thick, so venomous you could smell it in the air.

#now i think alike birds — file.#intro #redridgeintro

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theperfectlovestory · 3 years

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Even If It's Not

Summary: It’s always been a good day with Natasha, until Wanda found you

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Theme: Fluff, Angst

Tw: trauma, reaction to trauma, mention of death

. . .

Summary: it’s always been a good day with Natasha, until Wanda found you

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Theme: Fluff, Angst

Tw: trauma, reaction to trauma, mention of death

. . .

It was one fine day, like all the others for the past year. You woke up early, sunlight warmly casting on your face as it peaked through the opening of the curtain. You can hear birds chirping in the background, making you smile

You blinked the sleep away from your eyes, raising a hand to your mouth to cover the incoming yawn. As you move, a warm arm enveloped you, and you smiled at the sight of her

This side of her only coming out when it’s just the two of you

Your beautiful redhead sleeping soundly in your arm, head tucked comfortably in your neck. An arm and a leg on top of your body, clinging to you like a baby koala

You always can't believe that the famous Natasha Romanoff, feared by friends and foes alike in the battlefield, is one hell of a clingy sleeper

You turn your head gently, glancing at the clock on your bedside table

Time to wake up. No work today but you wanted to get some groceries to fill your stocks

You tried to gently wiggle your way out of Natasha's hold, silently cheering when you got out of bed without waking her up. Natasha's soft giggle prove you otherwise, making you pout

"I'll go back to sleeping then" she huskily said before hugging your pillow and burying her face in your smell, curling herself on the bed

You watched her body relax as she falls deep in slumber once more, smiling softly at how peaceful she seemed to be

"I'm going grocery shopping, want to come?" You asked Natasha in between bites, she looked up at you from the file folder she have

She's still doing reports, doesn't mean your on mission vacation, paperwork will do themselves as well

"I'll be wherever you are, detka" she smiled, sipping on her coffee "just let me finish this one and we can go"

You nodded, collecting the plates in front of you, Natasha pursed her lips, debating on wanting to wash the dishes herself since you cooked or finishing the report fast so you can go

You smiled, kissing her cheeks before taking the dishes on the sink. You hummed softly as you finish it up, Natasha, smiling while she listens. Whenever you are around, her paperwork doesn't feel as much a burden as it usually does

Done with the dishes, you went up to your room and changed into more appropriate clothes. As you put on your shirt, Natasha entered just fast enough to see what color of bra you are wearing underneath

She grin, standing behind you as she held your waist, kissing the side of your neck softly, innocently

Yet her intentions are far from one

"Nat" you warned as she nibble on your ear, she continued, right hand going up inside your shirt, your stomach now in full view of the mirror in front of you "we have to go" you moaned as she suck on the right spot under your ear, whining that you need to leave and she's messing up your hair...

"We can go a bit later" she answered, eyes meeting yours on the mirror "we can't, we have a reservation at that restaurant you like"

She grunted in your neck "I am not liking it very much right now" she muttered and you chuckled. Stepping forward before facing her

You pressed a gentle hand on her cheek "Come on, we rarely go out"

She looked at your eyes for a bit before giving up "fine" she softly answered, taking the hand in your face with hers, just as gently

. . .

"Can you pass me one of those bell peppers" you pointed at the container with 3 pieces of what you need. You smiled when Natasha picked one with just the right mixture of red and green. Small things like this are what you love about her. She only asked once and then remember it forever

"Is there a reason why you choose a combination of both and not just the green or the red?"

You thought for a while, blinking at the question you can barely remember the answer "I've always just done it because my mom does that too but I think it's because it's the most perfect condition to either store it or use it immediately"

Her mouth made an 'o' shape, signaling her understanding of the topic

"Oh detka, strawberries" her eyes sparkled as she put at least three packs of it in your cart, you giggled "isn't that too many?"

She looked at you, disbelief in her face "Do you know how much you devour them?" She asked and you chuckled "They're like your favorite thing in the world, you even prefer them more than my lips" she pouted, your fond smile never left your lips as you pulled her in for a kiss

"Now I know you are exaggerating, there is nothing more I love than your lips" you squint "well maybe except for your eyes"

You continued pushing the cart as her cheeks gets dusted in pink, you added a few more, items from the fridge isle before going on the dry goods

You passed by a small and portable fondue fountain, you eyed it along with the chocolates on the side

"Do you want that?" She asked, looking over your shoulder

"I'm interested," you hummed, "but is it worth it?" you sighed "we won't be able to use it as much when we get back to work"

"We can bring it there then and the boys and Wanda can have their fun, Wanda likes chocolate" at the mention of your bestfriends name, your eyes lit up

Now slightly more convinced

She leaned closer, whispering things you can do with the melted chocolate on the kitchen table. Your face blushed furiously as you hit her in the arm but despite that, you took a box and a bunch of carefully picked chocolate

She chuckled, eyes hooded with the thoughts too dirty to be even thinking about in the middle of the grocery aisle

You then looked around some more. Your list has been fulfilled but you opted to roam around to get some snacks or check new things the store has. Natasha obediently followed. Checking the items too and getting some that interests her

Mostly snacks

After you are satisfied with your purchase, you go to the cashier to pay. You will opt for a self serves but they only allow 20 items below, and your cart is obviously more than 20

The cashier greeted you with a smile, you doing the same. Making small talks to try and make the day easier for the kind worker. Natasha smiled admiringly at how easy you are to have a conversation with

The cashier is all smiles even after you paid and left

"I have always admired the way you do that" she said as she help you put the bag on the trunk of your car

"Do what?" You asked, tilting your head

"Talking to people, making them feel comfortable"

You nodded, humming as you continued with your task "It wasn't always as easy, but it comes with the job"

"I refuse to believe that you weren't always rainbows and sunshine" she argued and you chuckled

"Darling, I'm an introvert, the mere mention of conversation terrifies me" she looked at you dumbfounded for a second and you did the same just with an amuse smile instead

"Guess you learn something new everyday even when you are technically, already married" she muttered, closing the trunk "what else don't I know about you?"

She opened the door for you and you got in, making sure to shake of the bottom of your shoes to remove at least a bit of dust on it, Natasha smiled at the gesture

She closed the door once you are settled and got on hers, doing the same as you did before starting the car, making sure it's heat up properly first before starting to drive

You sat in silence for a few second as you think of things she doesn't know yet "well, I used to date guys" her eyes widen, looking back at you then back on the road

"Really?" She asked "what changed?"

"Nothing" you shrug "I just didn't realize I was into girls, the norm is being straight after all, but the first kiss I had with a guy was nothing compared to my first kiss with a girl"

She hummed, "and when was your first kiss with one?"

The conversation flowed seamlessly in your head, every smile and chuckles and groans she responded you with was embed in your memory

. . .

As per your usual arrangement, you and Natasha arrived at the restaurant at different times. Wanting to keep the surprised of seeing each other dressed up beautifully, knowing full well it’s to please the person who will be sitting in front of the other

You arrived in your newly bought shiny short dress with a lot of skin showing but still very decent. You’ve done your hair perfectly that it frames your face and your make up is a bit fiercer, bolder. You wanted to surprise Natasha, show her a different side than the usual girl-next-door

Her brow lifted up, lips in a side smile of surprise. You look edgier than her tonight and it’s making her feel all kind of things in her stomach

“Of course, I can’t go losing you to competition now” you smirk jokingly

She pulled your chair for you and you sat down, she leaned down and gave you one more kiss, not being able to resist the temptation of your red and plump lips

“Competition?” she chuckled, sitting down “We are married, detka, you already trampled all over them”

“Well, you never know”

The dinner continued with all playful banters, giggles and Natasha’s flirting techniques that you admit, did something to you. Not because of the lines, but because of who and how she’s saying it

Along the lines, someone approached your table and that stopped you from talking to each other. You looked at the person and was surprised to see Wanda

“Wanda?” You called, standing up slowly as you take in her appearance

She looks tired, defeated, broken

“Y/n” she muttered, looking at you with sad eyes “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, lips into a gentle yet confuse smile as you held her arms “I’m on a break, but you know where we live”

“We?” She asked and you nodded “Yeah, with Natasha…are you okay?” you tilt your head to get a closer look on her face “Y/n…” she said, biting her lips “Natasha’s gone”

Your hand gripped the woman tightly as your mind reeled “Wanda…what are you saying?”

“She..” Wanda’s lower lip trembled, her eyes tight shut before she sighed, meeting you with her tired green eyes “She’s gone…she sacrificed herself for the world…don’t you remember?”

A chuckle left your lips, devoid of any humor. You stepped back, hands crossing on your chest “That’s a cruel joke, Wanda” you took a deep shaky breathe “I was just with her the whole time, she is literally right there” You pointed at Natasha who smiled at you like nothing is happening

Your brows furrowed and you were so focus on Natasha that you didn’t notice Wanda’s hand raised to your temple, eyes red and red wisp of energy flowing at the tip of your fingers

Your eyes widened in horror as the Natasha in front of you, smiling as lovely as you remember, slowly turned to ash, pieces of her flowing in the air. Your shaking hand covered your mouth to stop a scream that will never come, stuck in your chest like a painful rock that wedged itself in your lungs

Wanda moved further in your brain

You were back with Natasha in your dining room, eating breakfast and before she could kiss you, she disappeared again into ashes. The same thing happened to when you are on the grocery, before she can put the strawberries in your cart, her body flew away in the air, and the contents of the package spilling on the floor, strawberries roll on your foot as the scene changes again

This time, it’s Natasha and you sleeping on the bed, her arm and leg draped on your body. She tucked her head closer to your neck, this scene that you’ve been watching for the past year that brings you love and warmth and comfort now gives you dread

And pain

Your breathing has become shaky and erratic as you tried to forget the scenes before this one where she all but disappeared into thin air. As if noticing your discomfort, Natasha opened her eyes and called your name

“Nat” you managed to croaked despite the lump in your throat as tears well in your eyes

Instead of asking the usual ‘are you okay?’ though, she smiled sadly, her face change to that time that happened a year ago

Her hair in a braid, face white with worry and fear but she remained brave, determined “You’ll be okay” she whispered, hand caressing your face “You will be okay, my love”

And then, as if the gods have cursed you to a life of loss and pain and suffering, you again, had to watch her disappear. Ashes taken by the wind, her smile never faded, not then, not now…and the three words you never thought would be the last, echoed in your memory

You stood in front of Wanda, shoulders shaking from crying. Wanda pulled you close to her as she let you cry, whispering reassurances that she will always be by your side and yet, you can’t say the same

“Wanda, you need to move on as well” Wanda’s tears started the moment yours stopped, you pulled away from her, but keeping her at an arm’s length “You deserve to be happy”

Your face looked so peaceful despite what you just did, the scars from the battle scattered across your face and yet, to her, you were beautiful still. She pulled you closer to her, her body trembled before you and she watched, and felt, and embraced the feeling

She whispered in your ears before your body truly disappears, just like Natasha’s “I thought I’m ready to let you go” she sniffed “But I was wrong”. Red magic surrounded the whole area once again, just like from when she arrived in the house you bought for Natasha and you

"Even if you didn't choose me in this world too, I would just gladly be beside you. As long as you are here, I wouldn't care."

And once again, you open your eyes. Natasha comfortably cuddled next to you as your lips turned into a satisfied smile…

. . .

A/N: "Even if you didn't choose me (don't love me) in this world too, I would just gladly be beside you. As long as you are here, I wouldn't care." (Credit to my wonderful angsty friend @my-wandering-rabbit for crushing my heart with this wonderful line and the title of this story)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #black widow #black widow x reader #wanda maximoff #WandaMaximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #mcu imagine #happy pride 🌈

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 3 years

Note

[The following ask is just an attempt on my, Winter's, part to exploit a quirk in tumblr's code that keeps formatting from copy/pasted items when answering an ask on desktop as opposed to making a text post.]

MC is a Phoenix and Child of a Famous Magic User

A slightly modified request fill for @guardianoftheunderworld090! This ended up getting away from me a bit, and by a bit I mean a lot so uhhh Oops! Because of that, I didn’t end up doing the dateables+Luke, so apologies! But this is already probably wayyyyy off from the original request anyway.

Again, oopsie :3

Content Warnings: Temporary character death, spoilers for Lesson 16+, brief implication of immolation (but not really bc, y’know, phoenix), mild-to-moderate blood and injuries/violence

As soon as they learned their name, everyone knew of MC. While not quite on Solomon or the great witch Maddi’s level, their parents had made quite the name for themselves in the magical community. Their pre-existing knowledge of magic and the supernatural was therefore completely expected.

Less so was what happened when they died.

Mammon had been cradling their body when it happened, still too stunned to react to his smug younger brother gloating about taking out such a fragile, weak creature. The entire House of Lamentation was in shock: MC, the human they had come to cherish, was bleeding out right in front of their eyes and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The Avatar of Greed’s breath hitched as he felt their pulse fade, watched the rise and fall of their chest cease…

And then he screamed as MC’s body burst into flames. They were scorching hot, but left no marks on him nor the surrounding area. On instinct, Beelzebub darted forward to pull Mammon away from the inferno, his protests weakened by surprise and grief. Belphegor was knocked backwards off his feet by the force of the flames, and they all watched as the fire raged on, until it began to take on a recognizable shape.

Not of MC, but of a brightly coloured flaming bird.

The phoenix cocked its head to the side, as though assessing its surroundings, eyes passing over each of the frozen brothers before rounding on Belphegor. It shrieked, puffed up feathers interspersed with jets of flame, and charged the youngest with its sharp beak and talons bared.

And suddenly it was no longer a bird.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” MC yelled as they continued to slash at Belphie. A large pair of bright flaming wings arched behind their back, threatening to torch anything they touched. “I LITERALLY RISKED THE WRATH OF LUCIFER FOR WEEKS TO HELP YOUR SORRY ASS GET OUT OF THAT ATTIC AND THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME?! WITH MURDER?!”

Blood pooled in Belphie’s mouth from a particularly nasty slash across his lip. He spit to the side before replying, “In my defense, most people stay dead when you kill them!”

“THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO—”

“...MC?” Levi said, voice small. “I-Is that really you…?” His tail swished behind him anxiously.

MC turned their attention to the rest of the brothers (one set of talons still embedded in Belphie’s leg, in case he had thoughts of running).

Beel was stock still, eyes pointed ahead but staring at something beyond the room. Asmo was crying silently, though his expression was neutral and wide eyed. The gears in Satan’s head were visibly turning even as he shredded the sleeves of his shirt with his claws. Mammon was misty eyed, with such an open expression of love and want and hurt that it made them want to cry as well. And Lucifer… The Avatar of Pride’s usual mask of stony superiority had crumbled into something lost and broken.

They looked back to Belphegor, who clutched at his leg, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes. They slowly remove their talons from his leg and face the group, folding their wings inward until they regain their humanoid form.

“I guess I have a bit of explaining to do, huh.”

Lucifer

Too many things have happened so fast, he doesn’t even know how to respond.

Not only has MC apparently been having secret meetings with Belphegor, not only are the pacts they’ve made with his brothers just tools to free him, not only did Belphegor then betray them and attempt to kill them, but they’re also… A phoenix?!

Distantly, hysterically, he thinks, how in the three realms is that not on their file?

“Oh, I’m also not technically from this timel-”

Lucifer shushes them. He can’t deal with any other reveals right now.

Once… everything is dealt with, he allows himself to be curious about MC’s origins.

Have they always been this way? Were they adopted by their parents, a familiar given human form, or had something gone wrong one day with a spell?

He’ll never ask them though. He knows origins can be touchy subjects.

He grounds himself in the practical. Does MC know how to control their abilities? Are their needs being met? Are there any additional accommodations they require?

Sometimes, when their wings are out, he can’t help but be reminded of the similarly fiery wings of the seraphim from home the Celestial Realm and feel nostalgic.

His more possessive side also relishes the fact that they share a connection through association with birds, especially considering how some varieties of phoenixes tend to resemble peacocks.

It must be difficult for them to preen those large wings, do they need any help? No, it’s not that he wants to, don’t be ridiculous. But if they ever want his help...

Mammon

Once the initial shock of “holy shit the love of my life just BURST INTO FLAMES IN MY ARMS” fades, he’s just happy MC’s alive and well.

But he does put on a front of being upset that they never told him about their nature.

“Stupid hu— uhhh, phoenix, I worried for nothin’! Wait, no, I wasn’t worried at all—”

“Sure you weren’t,” MC retorts with a smile.

Seriously though, why didn’t they tell him? He’s their guardian, their First, he should know these things!

Do they think he’ll… try and take advantage of them because of their powers? He’d never!

Okay, maybe when they first met he might have considered it, but not now! Not now that he…

One night, Mammon and MC are up late watching some terrible Devildom romcom. MC has long since fallen asleep, and one of their enormous wings is draped over Mammon, pinning him in place.

The flames interspersed amongst their feathers are short and glow only dimly, like dying embers. Occasionally, a few will flare slightly or twitch as though a breeze has blown by.

“...I was really scared, you know,” he murmurs to their sleeping form. “I really thought you were gone. And I realized at that moment that I… I can’t lose you. I love you so much MC. You’re worth more to me than anything else in the Devildom, than anything in all the three realms. Please don’t scare me like that ever again…”

MC doesn’t stir, but the flames on their wing follow Mammon’s hand as he pets the warm feathers. They’re only pleasantly warm, with a smooth, silky texture to them.

He snuggles closer to them and drifts off himself, comforted by the heat of their body, human and avian anatomy alike.

Leviathan

Levi cannot believe his luck. He finally gets himself a friend he can really trust, and then his younger brother (who was trapped in an attic by the way, NOT in the human world like Lucifer said, because oh yeah, also Lucifer’s a liar) kills them, and now they’re—

It’s too much to process at once. All he can latch onto is that’s them, right? That’s really his MC, his Henry, the one person outside of his family who doesn’t dismiss him as some gross shut-in?

Once he’s assured himself that they’re safe, he’s immediately hit with the rest of the surprises to process. He hugs MC tightly against himself, whether to protect them from Belphegor or himself from… everything, is anyone’s guess.

It takes a long time for Levi’s newfound clinginess to dissipate. He refuses to let MC be alone around Belphegor under any circumstances, even if it means leaving his room more than he’s comfortable with.

In this time, he learns a lot about MC.

He learns that they seek to cool off the same way he seeks out warmth, and that this makes them excellent cuddling partners. He learns that they let out very adorable chirps of squawks when caught off guard.

He learns the hard way that a phoenix in love is a fire hazard.

But he also learns that he’d risk every item in his collection to see MC’s radiant smile.

Satan

Set the phoenix thing aside, Satan thinks to himself as he rushes over to inspect MC for injuries. Set it aside.

Once he’s sure they are unharmed, he turns his attention to Belphegor.

The Avatar of Sloth is lucky MC got to him first. Satan wouldn’t have stopped at a warning strike. Belphie knows from the murderous glare shot his way that it is only the presence of the others that’s stopping Satan from taking his revenge.

His fingers linger in their wings. MC’s feathers are all out of sorts, but there are no bald patches indicating any serious burns or other wounds. Still, Satan cards through them carefully, checking and double checking for any signs of damage. MC fidgets under his attention.

“Uh, Satan?” They’re blushing. “That kinda tickles.”

“Oh! Oh, um, sorry, I was just— you’re okay, right?”

They let out a small laugh and bop him gently with a wing. “Everything’s in working order, don’t worry.”

“That’s— Good, that’s uh, that’s great.”

“...Go ahead, you dork,” MC prompts with a smile. He blinks at them owlishly. “Ask your questions!”

He does, over the course of the next couple of weeks, in between therapeutic pranks against a certain youngest brother.

Asmodeus

As MC is born again from flame, Asmo learns the true horror of love.

He had always been the one to invoke passion in others: to seduce loyal partners and drive others mad with desire, to twist their love into lust and unleash its destructive potential. Despite this, he never really understood the feeling himself, why something as ephemeral as a feeling could drive humans to such extremes.

But seeing MC wounded and bloody, watching the light in their eyes dim, the Avatar of Lust had felt the call of blood and rage and grief and love for the first time. And watching MC dust themself off as they explain their unique heritage, Asmo realizes that those feelings would have destroyed him. He would have done anything and everything to bring MC back to him, given up any part of himself just to see them one more time.

So forgive him, MC, if his movements ever slow to a stop while preening your wings. If he sometimes stares at you with awe, or holds you tight enough to bruise.

His heart has never been anyone’s but his before, and he is so very afraid of getting burned.

Beelzebub & Belphegor

Oh this is Not bringing up good memories at all.

Something about seeing MC and Belphegor, bloody with the scent of fire and death in the air jumbles his senses and suddenly they’re not in the House of Lamentation but the battlefield and she’s been struck down, he was too slow, he chose his twin over his sister can he live with that? Can any of them? She’s falling she’s falling and he’s falling and they’re going to—

When he snaps back into awareness, Beel is restraining a hissing and spitting MC as they scratch and claw at him to get to Belphegor, the one wing Beel didn’t manage to pin down flapping about erratically.

Their movements only stop when they feel hot tears on their back. MC calms down and shifts more gently in Beelzebub’s grasp, turning to face him.

“Beel, it’s okay,” they say, cupping his face with a bloody, taloned hand. He smells the blood and lets out a sob.

Belphegor moves to comfort his twin, but MC’s wings snap open, shielding the pair in a ring of fire and feathers.

“I— I…” He can’t form the words. You died, my brother killed you, he’s here, you hurt him, why is he here, why did he hurt you, how did— “Please,” he says, finally.

MC frowns, hesitates. But slowly, they lower their wings and step aside, letting the twins reunite. As they embrace, Belphegor shoots them a look, but it’s not hateful. It’s not regretful or apologetic either, more of a profound confusion.

Despite demons’ regenerative abilities, Belphegor remains mostly bedridden for quite some time. It seems a phoenix’s wounds negate most healing factors, and the 5 pronged gash in his leg is particularly stubborn in its refusal to close. He jokes that the slow recovery must be because MC will never forgive him for what he’s done. Beel chastises him and says they’re more forgiving than he thinks.

Still, Belphie is surprised to see MC join Beel when he comes to change the youngest’s bandages. They hold out their hands, revealing 10 strange, press-on caps over their talons as they assure Belphie they won’t hurt him.

Where Beel is overly cautious and gentle, MC is practiced and efficient as they inspect, clean, and redress his wounds.

“Is this your way of apologizing?” Belphie can’t help but ask, earning him a stern glare from his twin.

“For attacking you after you killed me, not knowing it wouldn’t take? No,” they reply around a mouthful of medical tape. “It’s an excuse to talk.” They gesture for Beel to move his hand from the gauze pad so they can tape it down.

“You want to talk with your would-be murderer.” MC gathers up the garbage and old bandages to toss them in the trash.

“You’re not the first person to try, you know,” they remark as they dust off their hands.

“What?!” the twins shout in unison, Beel nearly dropping the scissors he was putting back into the first aid kit.

“I’ll tell you about it if you tell me why…” MC gestures broadly to Belphegor, “this all happened the way it did.”

This exchange of stories does not repair MC and Belphegor’s fraught relationship. That is not how wounds heal. But nevertheless, some weeks later, the House of Lamentation has a movie night. And sandwiched in the middle of the familial cuddle pile is MC, Beel, and Belphie, each tucked under one fiery wing.

#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #mine #my writing #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #as you can see this stylistically got very far away from me lmao #i'm not sure how i feel about it #eh #c'est la vie

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spookyceph · 3 years

Text

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

#big sis magne #bnha magne #mha magne #magne #shigaraki fic #league of villains fanfiction #league of villains fanfic #lov fanfiction #lov #league of villains #fic series #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #kurogiri #giran #bnha giran

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haztory · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

--erwin smith x reader; fluff, domestic, not canon compliant farmer erwin, there’s a mentioning of injuries but not enough to be considered graphic! (erwin lives!)

a.n: this is my attempt at swinging back into the ways of writing after a long, long, long hiatus! i wrote this in thirty minutes as just an exercise, but felt it was cohesive enough to post. its vague, abstract, and definitely not a magnum opus, but its something. this is more of an erwin story than an x reader one, but i hope you all enjoy regardless!

this was titled after a song on the pride and prejudice ost of the same name. highly recommend you give it a listen

anything for my sweet boy erwin ♡

(w.c: 1686)

At the initial prospect of it, retirement was somewhat akin to shooting oneself in the foot for a man like Erwin. It was condescending, debilitating, almost an insult were he any lesser than a reasonable man.

The word was floated around numerous times after the loss of his arm, spoken with a gentleness and, dare he say, a trepidation they believed must be adopted when speaking to the freshly injured man. For fear of upsetting him or for fear of making the situation real, he’s not quite sure. It was mentioned, nonetheless. In passing, directly, through implication; Everyone seemed to think that Erwin was less of a man and more of a liability because of his lost arm, and that retiring from the Scout Regiment would be the best option for everyone.

That was something he took offense to.

His physical abilities may be considerably limited now, yes, but he still holds inherent value to the cause he’s dedicated his life to. Still has goals, still has dreams, still has ideas that must be discussed and implemented if the fate of humanity is to even think about surviving beyond the next few days.

Erwin still had some fight in him, and he still had things to offer. Things that retirement would take away from him.

The word settled like a thick tar on his tongue and left a bitter aftertaste, one he couldn’t bear to swallow down. So he didn’t. He spit the word back out, removing it from his mouth and sternly asking others to rid themselves of it too. They followed his order, albeit begrudgingly, but the conversation ended then and there. Not permanently, unfortunately. No amount of power, Erwin imagines, could ever snuff out the growing fear his missing appendage has instilled in his soldiers. That even the most untouchable, unshakeable of leaders could be tainted by this cruel world.

He knows it's on everyone's mind, no matter how many times he can try to assuage the fears, for if the exchanged uneasy glances between his eccentric Section Commander and trusted Captain were anything to go by, then the fear his cadets must feel must be traumatizing. The looks they pass to one another when they think he isn’t looking.

Erwin lost an arm, not his intuition. It seems he’s the only one who knows that.

But they let it go. They all do, for now at least. They reluctantly put a pin at his assertion that he would continue his work, regardless of injury, and quickly filed this topic as one they would return to at a later date. Appease him now to make him more receptive to the future. They let him continue to work himself dry, let him continue with physical missions like he wasn’t missing a trusted appendage, and entertained his reckless and drastic thoughts to a certain extent.

When he lands himself back in the infirmary, this time with a serious rupture to the side of his stomach from flying debris, and a number of broken bones that will surely cause permanent hindrance to his mobility, the topic is brought back up again. Only this time, it’s non-negotiable. His near death was the final straw in forcing Erwin Smith into retirement.

∵

He hates it.

Hates how quiet his home is, hates how unexciting his routine is, hates not being able to know.

But he finds that making coffee is still manageable with one arm. The sun still shines as brightly inside the walls as it does outside. The birds still chirp excitedly in the morning and the wind still blows gently in the afternoon.

He hates retirement, but it’s manageable.

It gets better after a while, the presence of a neighbor making his nights substantially more interesting with the dinner she brings over.

∵

The house is quiet once again, only the distant chirps of the birds filling the empty space. It's familiar, but he finds it unsettling this time around. A feeling of anticipation creeping into his stomach, waiting for the other shoe to drop at any moment.

It doesn’t happen.

With a slight furrow in his brow and after a long analyzing gaze outside the window above the kitchen sink, Erwin makes his way towards the front door, granting him access to the front porch of the house. Settled away from the city, the land his house is built on stretches for miles; Fields of green spread out before him and littered with tall, blooming and swaying trees. The chickens squawk and run around before him and the horses huff their snorts of boredom. There’s activity in the Smith residence, but it’s not the kind he’s looking for.

There’s something missing.

Bringing his left arm up to his mouth, he curls his fingers below his tongue, blowing out a loud and sharp whistle that has all movement still for a brief moment on his farm. All attention piqued on him, the animals and the trees alike waited for Erwin’s response.

They wait, and they wait, and they wait. But still, nothing.

The crease between Erwin’s brows dips further. A brief flash of worry settles in his shoulders. He pulls his fingers into his mouth again, blowing a whistle that lasts for a few seconds longer this time. His eyes stay trained on the hill before him, hoping to see something. Anything.

He waits a minute before the restlessness takes over and he takes his steps down the stairs of the porch, his boots crunching against the crisp grass still wet from the morning dew. He approaches the top of the hill, the one that lays level with the foundation of his house, before surveying the land further below. He looks left and right, then left again and then right again, eyes peeled for that familiar flash of grey.

Where in the world could that damn dog have gone?

The dog is usually fast enough to return before he even needs to whistle a second time, never straying too far from the property for her to not hear Erwin’s call. But this time is different. She’s gone and isn’t returning to him and that can only mean one thing.

Trouble.

He begins his trek down the hill, the morning still early enough to not have him sweating on this irregular stroll of his, but he can feel the temperature slowly rising through the air. The wind serves as his only semblance of comfort as it continues its mission of cooling the exposed skin of his forearm and neck.

He must be walking for at least five minutes before he sees it. The scraggly grey hair of a dog's bottom, her top half hidden behind a large oak tree but her tail wagging ferociously. A small smile graces Erwin’s face subconsciously, the slowly building apprehension dissipating in an instant at seeing the vivacious mutt.

Or at least at seeing her bottom half.

He approaches the tree slowly, the noises of enjoyment and panting from the dog becoming louder as he draws nearer. But there’s another sound too that fills the air. A sound much sweeter and delicate, one that he’s heard a thousand times over the years, and yet, Erwin swears it's one he can never get tired of.

It’s a breath of fresh air, an instant drug in his veins, and the reason behind the swelling of his heart. His smile grows wider than he could have possibly imagined.

He gets close enough and the dog finally notices him, bounding over to him in an instant with a greeting bark and a perk in her step. He pats her head, a silent gratefulness at having found her finally and understanding why she refused to meet his calls. Why she continued to stay at the spot behind the oak tree a five minute walk away from her home.

He finally gets near the tree, peering around its large trunk to the spot the dog previously occupied and can’t help but laugh in surprise.

Sitting in the space between the bulging roots are his two girls, one aged six and the other three, huddled close together as they coo and giggle over an object resting between the two’s feet. Their backs are turned towards their father, too preoccupied with whatever was settled between them to even notice the beloved dog’s disappearance from her original spot and its replacement with their father.

His years of training to fight titans kicks in, his steps as quiet as can be as he gets closer to the girls to get a look at what they were currently fawning over.

A baby bird. Brown in color and more than comfortable between the two children.

“What are you two doing?”

His voice sends a jolt of shock through them, the two girls jumping in the air at the sudden disruption and whipping their faces around to look at the intruder. The fear quickly melts off of their round faces when they realize who it is.

“Daddy!” The two girls yell unanimously, unbridled joy filtering their features and Erwin briefly sees the beautiful face of their mother in them. The youngest in particular.

The eldest managed to take most of his features, much to his wife’s pleasure, retaining his aquiline nose, the vibrant blue of his eyes, and his own oval face shape, but her hair is a delightful mix between his and his wife’s. And while she looks the most like him, she acts the most like her mother; Joyous and giggly and a passionate ball of rays.

Now, his youngest, while looking almost entirely like a carbon copy of her mother, was in fact a replica of his own personality. Quiet, curious, diplomatic. A balance to her impulsive sister, a shining grey crater of peace in the sky.

His sun and moon. His reasons for orbit. The loves of his life.

∵

And as he walks his two girls back across the field to their home, their mother’s figure on the horizon and an excited chatter between them as they recount the tales of their morning in helping the baby bird, a single thought enters Erwin’s mind.

Retirement isn’t so bad.

#erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #erwin smith #fluff #my writing #baby boy erwin deserves the world #i just want him to be happy

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

| silence in gotham | day 19

»»——⍟——««

@daminette-december2019-2020

prompt | anti-hero

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

words | 1.4k

author’s note | Ahaha did I do an entire research on what anti-heroes are for this? yes

»»——⍟——««

Silence, in Gotham, was never a good thing.

For a city plagued with villains that popped out one after another like household pests, it was never quiet. There was always some sort of event going on, whether it be a gala or a warehouse bombing. Cackles of the villains in the distance were never an unfamiliar noise as they were always up to something, anything. Heck, if they were quiet for too long, it meant something bad was brewing, and everyone would be on their haunches, ready and aware for the inevitable attack.

Silence, in Gotham, was never a good thing.

Which was exactly why Robin was so on edge, eyes straining to catch every movement he could spot from his view down onto one of Gotham’s biggest streets from the top of a bank.

“You look like you’re waiting for something, bird boy.”

He spun around instantly, mentally berating himself for not having heard her when he got distracted in absorbing all of the street down below. His sword was unsheathed with a sharp shing!, shining under Gotham’s moon like Excalibur, freshly pulled from the stone.

Except he wasn’t Arthur.

And she certainly wasn’t Merlin.

“Or perhaps... Someone.” She mused with a sparkle in her eyes, watching the shift in his composure. His teeth were gritted, much like a cornered animal’s, with an instant fight or flight instinct burning in his eyes. A desire to wipe that cocky smirk off her lips alighted inside him as he held his sword steady, his eyes trained on the woman he labelled his sworn rival.

“Certainly wasn’t waiting for you.” He spat out, moving his feet. They were circling now, facing each other and dancing an intricate pre-battle ritual. Her bluebell eyes, encased behind her mask, were fixed on his, and his emerald ones never faltered.

The first one to look away would lose.

The Bat-symbol flashed into the sky in the distance, and out of habit, Robin glanced away, realising his mistake all too late.

She pranced on him, her own weapon- A baton similar to Grayson’s- Extending into her hands like it was made to be held in her palms. Metal clanged against metal in a detailed melody of a sound similar to a glockenspiels- But more powerful.

He should’ve never looked away.

Luck was on her side; It always seemed to be. They exchanged blow after blow, the bluebell-eyed woman getting in more hits than she normally would’ve.

“Distracted, pretty bird?” She smiled, clearly amused, blocking another one of his attacks casually. “You should know better than that.”

“Shut up.” He hissed in retaliation, swinging his sword forward with greater force.

No matter how skilled she was, he was the bigger man, and they both knew it. She had stealth and agility, he had strength and power. “Well played.” Replied the woman with a cat-like smile when she flipped over to avoid shouldering the brunt of his attack, landing on her feet just like all cats do. “Nice move, bird boy. You’re lucky I’m not looking for a fight tonight.”

If she had been looking to catch his curiosity, she succeeded. His ears perked up, his eyes watching her carefully, alike to a predator’s while it was hiding in the bush, tracking his prey’s movements.

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow tentatively but never unsheathed his sword. “Do elaborate.”

“I think we’ve been rivals for far too long.”

“I beg to differ, I can go on like this forever.”

“Aren’t you tired of playing cat and mouse?” She purred, ignoring his statement blatantly. “You’re a detective, aren’t you? Don’t you want to know why I’m doing this?”

He gave her the best bored expression he could afford. “Would you be disappointed if my answer was no?”

“A little.” She laughed softly, jumping onto the ledge of the building, an epitome of grace and beauty as she strutted the thin line between life and falling to her death. “But that doesn’t matter.”

“If you’re just going to tell me anyway, go ahead.”

For a moment he thought she was going to drop off the edge. But of course, luck was always on her side. The bluebell-eyed woman moved with the grace of a ballerina and the deftness of an assassin, and if she wasn’t his sworn rival, he’d find her movements enticing. She belonged on the centre-stage of a Paris Opera Ballet performance, the crowd’s eyes all pinpointed to her. She was an eye-catching diamond, attracting all attention to her and her sparkling glory.

“You see,” She smiled softly, the moonlight acting as a natural spotlight for the star of the show. “I’m looking for a partner.”

The night regained its’ silence as the world awaited Robin’s reaction. His emerald eyes never left her patient ones as he contemplated the best way to overcome his shock and give an appropriate answer.

“And of everyone you could’ve asked,” He begin, “You asked your sworn rival? I thought you were smarter than that.”

A scoff left her throat as she dropped her innocent, sweet facade. “Oh, please. You know as well as I do that if we worked together, we’d be unstoppable. Don’t you want a taste of what it’s like?”

“Are you only doing this because I know who you are?” There was a tint of mockery, quietly prodding at her in his voice. No, Robin certainly wasn’t afraid to resort to blackmail. “The darling of the fashion world, the designer behind Nette DC- An anti-hero by night.”

She let out a dry laugh, and Robin was instantly reminded of all the reasons why he should not have crossed the woman. “Please.” She replied simply. “This is a two-way sword. Wouldn’t it be an interesting headline?- The heir of Wayne Enterprises turns out to be a vigilante by night.” Her eyes darkened. “If you tighten the noose around my neck, you’re tightening the one around yours, too.”

“I know that.” He replied loosely. “Why do you think I haven’t exposed you yet?”

She hummed as a response. “Don’t you want to know what’s in it for you if you take the offer? You’re already a vigilante anyways. I’m nothing different.”

“I’m listening.”

“We both know how corrupted Gotham’s politics are.” She said, jumping straight into the point. Never one to tell stories in winding roads but instead highways that drove straight to the destination. “I’m sure you know firsthand how bad it is, exactly. I’ve been delving into exposing corrupt companies, and I could use your network for information.”

He crossed his arms, sheathing his sword when he noticed her lowered baton. “And what do I get from this?”

“You think I don’t know? You’re the only one left in the family still patrolling these streets.” She smiled, watching him flinch. “Nightwing left the business after his injury. Red Hood hasn’t been seen in years. Red Robin’s probably sticking to computer work. Batman’s completely out of the question, it’s only a matter of time before you take his title, yes?”

“... You’re offering to help.”

“I’m giving you my assistance.” She corrected. “Gotham’s my city now, too. I live here, and I’m not going to let it get overrun by villains just because a couple of vigilantes got too old to help uphold justice.”

He watched her carefully, looking for any traits of dishonesty. None. “In return for helping me regulate the streets, all you’re asking for is information?”

A smirk slipped on her lips. “And an inside man.” She shrugged. “You’re invited to just about every gala.”

“So are you.” He replied dryly. “What’s my use?”

“Men tend not to open up to women about topics that I needed information on.” She waved off. “I need someone like you, who can pry what I need. I know you have a way with words. So?”

Surely, he would benefit more? Robin ran through the consequences of his choice through his head. Gotham would be ridden of a few more corrupt politicians- No doubt new ones would come filing in as soon as the old were thrown out- But never mind that. In addition, he would get some help around the streets. Sounded like a worth deal to him.

“Deal.”

»»——⍟——««

taglist: @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @starmist19 @myazael @stainedglassm @user00000003 @toughluna @nickristus-dreamer @missmadwoman

gen. daminette taglist. @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @missmadwoman

»»——⍟——««

#damian wayne #marinette dupain-cheng #damian wayne x marinette dupain-cheng #daminette #mlb x dc #mlbdc #daminette december 2020 #cady's daminette december 2020 #cady writesss «

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 77

A morning of scheduling in a stop at Freckled Moose Publishing Company had them grinning widely as you mapped out dates for the planned four stops for signings when the book would be ready to be released in August. Sealing for them the firm back half of the two year contract they had once lucked out on that brought them more clients in their affiliation with you. Curiously at the end of the meeting you asked, “Just curious, if I ever wanted to put out a sort of History book could I call you, would that be possible for the company to publish?”

Excitedly the Editor asked, “You’re writing a History book?”

And the other asked, “History on what?”

“Well, I sort of have a notorious ancestor that I’ve been digging into. Found letters from Kings and even a few Popes who tried to sentence them to death,” widening their curious grins. “Granted it’s probably years away from being done.”

The head guy stated, “We would be beyond interested and honored to publish your book whenever it is ready. How’d you find out about your ancestor?”

“I got a letter from the King of Spain who had been researching them out of fun growing up and he saw a portrait in what he’d found and then saw pictures of me and King George and he had to write to me about it and I’ve been a bit hooked digging myself. They’re sort of turned into this legendary person who’s been all over the world through history, which is sort of odd and people may just shout that it’s got to be made up, but there’s official documents for it all.”

“Well we’ve certainly been lacking in our non fiction section of authors so whenever you are ready please do send us a draft or some hint of this intriguing thing.”

“We will,” you said and they showed you down so you could stop at the comic book studio next to hand over the next chunk of storylines that had the guys beaming at the direction you were leading the story from its latest cliff hanger.

“I think it was nice throwing them that bone,” Victor said that had James agree. “You can tell they were bound to try and offer another deal for something when this book was through.”

“At least I know now, they might be inclined to humor a History book from me which borders on a creature like Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster.”

“You are neither of those,” James said.

“I’m not tall enough, I know.” You said making the brothers chuckle and shake their heads.

“Well let’s feed your tiny mythical self, Darling.” James said helping you back into the car for the drive home again.

Mr Yarbrough’s stop in on Monday did little to calm your nerves at being expected at a new campus the following morning. Sleep somehow attained didn’t feel like it had lasted the full night and more like a sort of jump in time, while not tired all the same it was an odd feeling to have to get up again. Comfortably in a skirt and blouse with cardigan in hand from the house once you were fed and had nursed again snuggly into the car you sat chatting anxiously with James and Victor around you on their joint task to see you off to school pre stop into the comic studio again.

The excitement was palpable from the moment you exited the car with bag in hand to join the hundreds of students who had arrived on this first day of the summer classes that each one you got close to greeted you fondly. Aids in the halls helped to guide the way to where those who hadn’t taken tours were headed. One of whom excitedly guided you to the Art Wing where you found the first of your classes. One on the styles of art mediums and the deeper meanings and symbolism to each of them to further deepen not just your knowledge of pieces of art like the class you had taken but the reasoning behind them and how to recognize various styles. This class usually was paired with another, your next one where it would be continued lessons on the styles and according to the course description would be more of an advanced art class.

The first Professor however froze when he saw you and promptly nodded his head when he noticed you were looking his way as you entered and crossed the room to get to the stadium of seats. “Baroness Howlett, good morning.” His fingers fidgeting around the button on his vest atop his neatly pressed shirt on the man who reminded you a bit of a bird by the slant of his cheeks and chin to match his slim forehead.

“Good morning. Just Howlett is fine. No need to complicate things for another student to teach.”

“I can imagine you will never be just another student,” he said and then added, “As you wish. Mrs Howlett it is.”

“You won’t regret it,” you said and made your way to the second row of seating along the wall to keep out of the way from the other students who filed in, each stuck between their confusion on if they should choose a seat nearby the famous face amongst them or to keep their distance. All the same a cheery group of young ladies chose to settle a few seats away from you in your row who only lured more students to fill the rows in front and behind your chosen seat. Mainly slides and ample discussion upon each piece to get right into the kick of the lessons inside the notebook you had for the class ample notes were taken and eventually you were off to the next class.

A robed woman on the raised platform inside what seemed to be more of an art studio lit both by a wall with windows across the top third and the dangling light fixtures. All to make it the perfect setting for the 30 easels that a man you would take as one who prized himself on his artistic prowess huffed through hanging more large sketch pads on each easel. It wasn’t until the third one he hung up that you took notice of the names scrawled across the backs to name where you stood. And of course you as the shortest of the students who had entered and would enter in the very back you were settled in a stunning move for everyone but the smug Professor who at the snap of his fingers had the woman drop her robe.

“Pick a style of art and interpret what you see. You have an hour, impress me.” From the bar of the easel you lifted the box of Mongol brand colored pencils also with your name on a strip of tape to mark it as yours and opened the case to pull out a grey one.

Basic outlines in dots for the shape of the odd crab like couch that the model was draped across. A yellow set of dots lined the body’s end points before a light green was used to work on a few things behind the couch. For some reason you heard hour and wanted to have the hardest challenge possible so you aimed for pointillism. Not just for difficulty but also an excuse to not be too terribly detailed without aiming for something abstract like Picasso could have dreamed up.

Obviously not much was expected and when the professor who hadn’t so much as said hello just about fell down as you completed a series of smaller dots between larger dots to complete another chunk of the blurry yet clearer scene. It seemed he had already in his made up decision to be distant to each of his students to glance down his nose at their work so far continued on to the next easel in his lap through the room. This was his chosen method and this was just how it was going to go and when the class was through your piece and another had his focus linger as he switched the sketch pads for the next class wondering how the next time he saw you all would fare.

Anatomy and Physiology came next and another look of shock bled into an impressed question from this former Doctor of a Professor who heard you had repaired an artery with just a heated pin that had him agree to speak further on possible difficult cases you had faced in the war that cost him his left foot. While more technical and loaded with all male students to surround your seat up front at his suggestion for a clear line of sight at least he seemed pleased to have a fellow Army Medic to help boost up the usual lower end of his summer grading curve.

Communication came next and seemed a rather simple statistic laced course that was followed by another male centered course of Engineering. And while you were in a skirt the basic schematic sheets offered for you all as tests of intuition on what you could do in a long string of what could come for the rest of the few months you would be studying here with mention of actually constructing something for your exams.

From your last class you couldn’t help but grin at the thought of being able to return home again to your girls. So much so that when you saw James’ back you hastened a few steps to take hold of his suspender strap luring a smirk across his lips in a prompt turn to lower and kiss his bubbly wife no matter how many people could see the display of affection. “I take it you had a good morning?” Victor crooned in the midst of the lip lock and smiled at you when you broke apart to cuddle into James’ chest around your bag and notebooks.

“I did, be glad to get home though.” You said making them smile and guide you into the middle of the front bench seat to make the drive home when you shared your day and heard about the latest on their morning in the comic studio.

Wednesday tutoring was followed by on campus classes the following day to finish off the stretch of schooling for the week. All in all not a bad load to bear and one that could easily be laid onto a schedule to manage with ease. Your final hours leading into Friday however had Norma back at home and excited to take you on a family trip for the day to LA.

‘Scudda Hoo! Scudda Hay!’ words that were etched across the covers of magazines and newspapers alike with ample radio mentions. Amongst the hype of the latest Stark film in the works with one of the minor characters in this film word of your touching down with Norma had a sea of cameras there for an explosive amount of press for the film. Right away Norma’s smile was locked in place and she answered questions as best she could on the way to the waiting car and of those already camped outside the home rented for all of you on the beach.

Nice and quiet the moonlit beach had you on the back porch listening to the waves lap once the children had been put down to sleep. Random strolling couples and a few lone teens with telescopes were in your view stealing watch alone together under the rarely seen stars deeper in the cities. “Almost makes you wonder,” Eddie said joining you on the porch as Dawn and Norma started on the nightly facial routine you said you’d join in a moment a few minutes prior. “Just how much we’re missing out on down here with the tiny telescopes we have.”

“I think I’d settle on knowing what heartbeat I’m hearing out in the ocean.”

Eddie chuckled saying, “Probably a shark or a really old turtle.” He nodded his head to lure you inside saying, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up for a short nap then we have to get you ready for the premier and we can all head to the beach after.” Under his arm you were led back inside to wash your face and have Norma’s smile spread at the calming act for her to play specialist to your beauty regimen. Nerves however would have to be set aside as you all laid down with your adoring husbands for the nap to bring you closer to the premier.

Only you and Norma had seats so special care from the others came in help to get the pair of you ready to ease into the car that came to carry you there and back again for the premier. Dolled up to the nines in a wave of flashes you exited the car and stepped aside with hands smoothed down over the skirt of your dress for Norma’s exit after. Down along the carpet you strolled at her side ignoring the waft of your loose curls pulled back on one side the breeze kept blowing about your face and chest no matter how many times you brushed them back. A plot to keep you set apart even more from Norma on her big day who had her every curl secured in place in an elegant bun and while she did her bits of press you stood aside and happily mingled with the other members of the cast who had finished their turns.

Nerves however did not wane and with hold of her hand Norma’s confidence was bolstered enough to settle into your chosen seats for the opening speech from the Producer and Director that was followed by the start of the film. All through up to the minor line that she gave that had her grip tighten on your arm and remain so until the credits rolled and in the rise of the lights a brief after luncheon was called for. Compliments and talks from the heads of 20th Century about her next picture they had lined up for her to audition for once this assumed once off film Stark had wrangled them into allowing her to play a large part of had her a bit deflated when she returned to your side even against the peaceful grin on her face.

“You want me to punch them?” You asked making her giggle and loop her arms around yours again.

“They have another walk on bit for me in a musical comedy with the Marx Brothers they want me to audition for after we get back to New York.”

You nodded and said, “Well I’ll just have to keep writing stories for Stark so he can keep giving you things to sink your teeth into won’t I?” You teased widening her smile. And sweetly you patted your free hand on her arm, “They’ll learn Jeanie, nowhere near just another bombshell blonde they can bop around in the background. Audiences will be gnawing at the bone to get a better look at you. Just the beginning.”

“You are an amazing writer, truly, you should keep it up.”

“I just might, Howard’s last call just about had him asking for one, I can feel it. And with my wild dreams no telling what my head can come up with. Just as long as I don’t have to sing or play in the next one,” you said making her giggle again.

“You singing made that scene. You will see when it comes out.”

“As long as it helps with the press to get more in those seats to see my treasured younger sister,” you said making her giggle with you, “Then I will take a stroll across a scene in whatever film I can to help.”

Playfully her mood shifted and remained upbeat until back at the beach house the pair of you washed your faces and changed into two piece swim suits matching Dawn’s in complimenting bright colors to help carry the babies out to go and play. Across the sand towels were laid inside of a fitted sheet held out by your shoes with a large umbrella set up for the babies to be in the shade with the brothers. Just beside the towels Teddy giggled as you helped him build a sand kingdom with a moat of water Eddie brought from the ocean in a bucket to Norma and Dawn’s gleeful trip into the water.

A curious sound turned your head to the beach making you ask, “What is that?” James’ head turned as you asked, “Do you guys hear that?” And over the wind, the waves, distant chatter of photographers creeping in for pictures and giggles from your sisters in helping their daughters to their first steps into the ocean they too heard the odd sound of shifting sand.

Victor said, “Sounds like a cracking and scraping.”

“There are heart beats,” you said and shifted closer to the source of the sound with Eddie behind you.

“Couldn’t be sea turtles this time of day, could it?” Victor asked James who shrugged.

“It’s cool enough, almost sunset here in an hour.” He replied.

Teddy between you and his dad’s arms poked his head and gasped at the sudden sink of a small circle of sand. Gradual progress was made as you accepted hold of your camera from Victor who had been snapping pictures of the four at the water now on their way back when he called for them. Gasps sounded at the first head and in a gradual flurry of heads and front flipper arms that came into view the first of near to a hundred hatchlings filled the circle of sand around their entrance to this world. “Ooh, got you little guy,” James said in a reach down to bring out the one still in the hole who had gotten stuck on his back to join his siblings all focused on discovering their bearings. “There you go,” he said with a smile lowering it down after you snapped a picture of the duo.

A few random gulls were easily swayed by the bits of your picnic left over thrown a good distance and arms used to shoo them away from the tiny parade to the ocean ending in bittersweet cuddles at the somehow profound loss of these tiny newfound friends now out in the wide unexplainable ocean. Teddy broke the silence asking, “Where’s their Mommy and Daddy?”

Eddie said as he lifted his son in his arms, “They’re out there, Teddy Bear. Don’t you worry, they know where their babies are, bound to have tons of food to make up for the long crawl back to them.”

Victor said, “They lay the eggs on the beach so they’ll be nice and safe until time for them to hatch. Most of the time it happens at night, when it’s nice and cool and most of the birds are away at their nests.”

Eddie said, “Let’s finish up this city of yours, Teddy Bear.” Turning back while you stayed with Norma and Dawn and their girls at the water a few moments to James and Victor’s slip back to the shade across the towels.

James hummed sweetly, “Let’s get you girls back in the shade.” Not much longer you lounged with your head on James’ lap to play with your girls and under a spare towel leaned against his chest feed the three as Victor claimed his proud task of capturing more candid moments of his family then claimed a turn with his Petal in the water as Norma came to lay out beside you. Sure to rival the images that would be splashed over the pages of newspapers and magazines for weeks to come dissecting every moment of this trip and more especially for the newspapers that you couldn’t have possibly been pregnant with three children so recently without having had some sort of surgical procedure to get your figure back.

The remainder of your weekend allowed you to steal some time with Victor and his dark room and a private dinner alone with James as a sort of date night on your own after crowded and cramped traveling. Time together was one of his main concerns after having gotten you on your feet and the girls onto a schedule so that in the long run as they grew older and things grew more complicated when the trio were fully mobile and had the chance to let their free will grow. A day both aspired for and anxiety inducing for when they could drive you both apart to keep them contained and only let you find each other at the end of the day to collapse in a joint heap of exhaustion to recharge for the following day.

He had to make certain he wouldn’t let his love for the children you would gift him cloud his daily need to remind you just how deeply he loved and cherished you. He had faced those rough patches with his first wife and hoped to avoid that, knowing how it hurt his son and himself, that was unacceptable to allow to happen again. Not with you. Victor had made it clear there was no chance of this marriage breaking apart, he’d sooner face death than to repeat his former mistakes and hurt his family as he had in the past. And while a dinner alone on a blanket under the stars didn’t seem like much every shift closer to him and grip of his shirt and ample stolen kisses let him know it was amply desired from you as well.

Tests with Mr Yarbrough came again on Monday for History, Geography and Religion, which again you aced and after he was amused to hear from Teddy the swarm of turtle hatchlings you backed up with pictures to prove the encounter. Tuesday on campus again came with repeats of the news of turtles that a few relatives from America had mailed pictures of the hatch related part of your beach trip that had your family played as true nature lovers. Excitement had burst with news of the premier and each chance capable questions were asked about the cast members and famous people you had mingled with while there. And Wednesday brought the end of June with more tests at home from your tutor Mr Fenske for Economics, Government, Political Science, and Anthropology, all your major serious subjects with thicker exam packets that the results for the final two would have to be named for you at the following week’s tutoring session.

Thursday came with the final stop on campus that came with buzz from not just fellow students but your family as Sunday was your birthday. A day that began with a family birthday breakfast followed by a party with the whole town that showed up to your home proud to spend the after noon with their dear friends and admire the new girls added to your family. Girls who amongst the toddlers in your family and those of families in town were glad to have the change to increase of children to play with.

Sharp cries however cut short the tries to get an early night’s sleep and with Herc you tried to calm the elder three toddlers who squirmed and writhed in pain against your efforts while James and Victor were sent into a near tailspin of panic and needed to take a long walk outside.

“It’s chicken pox,” you echoed in their minds calming the duo enough to come back inside to find the trio slightly more relaxed after being given some medicine for their fevers and to help them sleep.

And when they entered Victor came over to take hold of his precious Petal from your hold as you answered another call from some of the parents in town to warn of their children who had caught the unfortunate bug. “Come here precious.” He said nestling her slumbering body into his chest to pepper the top of her head with kisses between muttered comments to her every irritated slumbering grumble.

Dawn in her path from the kitchen had a familiar set of pocket journals in hand, “I’ve added chicken pox to the bug books. The triplets are still symptom free?” She asked eyeing Elliot, Sarah and Erich feeding them with the bottles you had pumped in the cooling baths you had made for the sick three.

Erich answered, “No symptoms, sleeping soundly. Jaqi didn’t catch her pox until she was over a year.”

Sarah answered, “It’s from the milk, babies are safe if their mother’s have the antibodies already until they pass their first year.” A fact that calmed James and had him move in to kiss their heads and circle back to comfort Victor as Eddie swayed on his own feet keeping hold of Teddy as he nodded off to his own dose of medicine. Herc after another check of Marigold’s temperature from her armpit had him contently handing her over to Dawn again and accepting the books reading the marked down cases of colic or diarrhea up to the few shots available for infants and even Teddy’s teeth coming in to not miss a single illness of any severity.

“Unfortunately like the common cold our medicines don’t do much to dent this illness. However Erich was able to aid us with how Jaqi reacted to the illness so we have a good idea on how this could unfold. Compared to how mortals experience it fairly easily. There is a ten day window of no to few symptoms then the bumps arrive that baths and ointment can mend.”

Victor said, “I’m not sleeping for two weeks then.”

And you crossed the room to stroke his back, “We’re all here to watch the babies Kitty.”

Victor said, “You need to get some sleep. You calmed my Petal down, thank you.”

“It’s an unsettling wait, but it’s fairly easy to get over, we’ve got plenty of oats and baking soda for the baths and we can make fruit popsicles if they get some in their mouths like Gina’s boys did.”

He simply cuddled more around her and nodded his head to the side urging you to bed, a gesture you sighed and turned to reluctantly head to bed as your girls were being carried back to the nursery to get some sleep.

“Here you are my dear,” Edie said pouring your tea in the morning an hour after breakfast that had almost lulled you back to sleep in wait for your tutor. With a smile she watched you unfold from your uncomfortable ball in the armchair of your choice lined up perfectly in a stream of sunlight stating, “Rather a rough night. I shall aid in the baths when the bumps arrive, I apologize for missing the fevers, the most frightful part.”

You shook your head, “Around the Brocks I have seen more pox than I could have dreamed possible. If I couldn’t tell them apart I’d say one of them had caught it twice.” You said making her chuckle in your sip on the tea to help perk you up.

“At least you have tons of practice. In my own youth I was surrounded by ample children myself. Some mothers can be rather frightened with their first child, I was rather at home with Erik’s colic to his worst fits or growth.”

“James handled it rather well compared to what I assumed for the first big illness.”

“Your parents agree, the brothers did bear through the pain rather well. Victor did sleep, more proof there. A few more fevers and I do believe he will calm from his panics.”

After another sip you replied in a soft sigh, “I wish I could do more.”

“You are,” she answered luring your eyes to her. “You aid in mothering his daughter while her mother is away. He is not alone in fatherhood. That is a great comfort more than you realize I would wager.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come with us?” You said widening her smile.

“My son is strong and shall be safe under your watch. No mother wishes to release their child upon adulthood, and I could wonder how difficult it should be when to release your trio.”

“It’s eighteen years away, I would say, though shockingly my husband has been in my life for six years already. Numbers cannot be a comfort there. Have to let go before I know it. I should probably try to not think about that too often. Might start to make me sad for no reason when I’m back in school and they keep growing while I’m away.”

“They are always growing, away or in front of your eyes. We shall bear it together. You guard my boy and I shall help to guard yours in the summers and winter breaks. My work keeps me rather busy while we are apart.”

Tutoring came rather easily and somehow free of yawns thanks to the tea and a few stolen snacks and let loose a bit of work time that in the library was free of visitors Erik jumped at the chance to claim the seat across from you. Back into his own borrowed textbooks from your courses he wished to sign up for this year he delved with a few questions asked and answered for him until the eventual dip of your head that had him chuckle and scoop you up to carry you to your room for a much needed nap until supper. Another feeding however woke you as your parents settled around you to hold the girls until the trio were nursed by you fully, both who smiled at each drowsy droop of your eyes in slow waking still from the nap then helped to get you up to take a few laps inside your wing to stir your body and mind.

The nap however did fuel a change between you and James, him who required an early trip to bed for his exhausted self that allowed you and Victor, with hold of his daughter still, to get the surprise cake for James ready. Still he refused to leave her to sleep alone and only let her go to steal brief naps in hold of Herc or one of your parents if James was not himself awake. “I am doing better,” Victor said turning your head as you mixed the cake batter to pour into the readied pan for it. “I am, thank you. Nora called earlier about in tears she’s missing it. Comforting her, calming her pain helped to show how much better it feels knowing you’re here for support. I didn’t take to the fever as terribly as I thought I would. Had a hunch I might need to break something, but Herc says Petal’s strong.”

“Just doesn’t seem fair at times,” you said parting his lips as you sniffled and poured the mix into the pan to keep distracted from crying, “Just because I’m here now, why she’s safe and why they weren’t. Why you had to lose two of your babies, why I could heal Teddy but I couldn’t help Ambrose when she lost one of her babies.”

That had him draw you into his chest and kiss your forehead closing his eyes to the tear he felt soak through his shirt when you hugged him as firmly as you could around his hold of his slumbering daughter. “None of that is on you. Herc says my babies are ready to come back to me,” your head tilted back to peer up at him and he nodded, “So if we do have another baby, they would be able to come back, in safer times. So don’t you cry over our past sufferings. Look forward with us. We have days of suffering through oatmeal baths to come yet.” He said making you shake your head and inch back to finish pouring the mixture into the pan you then added to the warmed up oven to bake.

“Funny, very funny. It’s like a lit fuse, now I’ll have to wait a year or more for our girls to catch it as well, no telling how many more babies Dawn would have had by then,” you said making him chuckle. “I would say Jeanie,”

“She has work, we are pacing ourselves on babies. Her figure is important to the company and she hoped to at least have Petal talking full sentences before we tried again without sleeves.”

“At least you have a plan,” you said moving to mix up the icing next. “I was on the pill and we used sleeves, still, triplets. And people say God has no sense of humor.” Making him chuckle. “Hopefully we can wait a few years at least, have me into my graduate courses a good way. Maybe just one that time, or twins if I’m destined to only have multiples, maybe this time I can work in a few pushes in labor.”

“There was nothing wrong about your labor. Two day standoff is nothing to shake a stick at and you know it. Most women would have begged to be knocked out or to be sliced open by the first dawn.”

“I know. I suppose, going against the grain is going to be painful. Missed moments, while I study or, write or, take pictures and work on our comics.”

“It takes a village. We will make time, the girls won’t be left wanting by you or anyone else. Promise,” he said and you nodded again, “You chase those dream degrees of yours and you could do anything, on any schedule. Could even work from home if you got the right deal going. Jimmy and me know, we missed time working on our degrees and licenses, and we got paid more for it and our babies were better taken care of while we had them. You have to lay down the foundation first, can’t just drop a bridge in the middle of the ocean, they don’t float very well.”

“I think I found the next quote for another throw pillow for your parlor,” you said making him smirk your way.

“Looking forward to it.” Cake with breakfast was a welcome surprise and sampled to be saved partly for lunch with you when you had returned home to spend the rest of his birthday exactly how he wished it with the women of his life. That company alone was the greatest gift he could have ever received and ever would.

Pt 78

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam, @swoopswishsward

#James Howlett x oc #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Venom #Edie and Erik Lehnsherr #Chicken Pox #Old Memories #Marvel #Surprise Birthday Cake

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smndragon · 3 years

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Omg omg omg I just read one of the previous readings you did and it was literally beautiful. Like a freaking novel wtf

Can I have one too please? Wow they are so nice omg I really want one, you're so talented :D I don't see any rules so I'll assume I'm doing this correctly.

Wait, first of all here are some aesthetics I think match your vibe:

And a crystal offering:

And thank you for the follow. I like a little interaction before I ask for anything, cause it's like nice to connect with other human beings first before you barge in demanding this and this and other stuff.

Okay, so I'm a Libra sun, Aries moon and a Libra rising. Ah, and a Scorpio venus. Felt like I should mention that. If you do get to this, thank you! And of course take your time, I'm so excited to read what you come up with :DDD

Lol ik they look like novels sometimes when I do them🤸🏽‍♀️ i actually saw the first image on alike reading here on Tumblr so Im glad to see it again! I love the images thank you. They definitely match my chaotic nighttime self. OKAY THIS SONG CAME UP CALLED LINGER BY THE CRANBERRIES recommend to anyone this is good to me.

Hm, Libra sun, Aries moon, Libra ascendant. And Scorpio Venus.

I see dark clouds in the skies upon entering, seems like a mysterious area, the clouds come from the chimney of a brick house. The world feels rounded as if we're on a hill in a cartoon. The skies have lightens a blueish gray. This may be the Libra house. Usually doubles live near each other. (I did have to look up so probably misconception here sorry it was hard to differ) I actually wanna change my mind now for some reason, I feel your Aries is more dimmed than the ones I see. I open the door to an empty room at first. It seems old and reminds me of the cobblestone castle or place mickey was in during the fantasia series was it? (I think it had beethoven so the memory stuck with me) I'm sorry I play music when reading and oh pretty woman came on😭😭 I love these songs. NOW DECEPTION IS ON okay I gotta focus. The floors change along with the theme. Couches, a coffee table, sets of tea cups all around the table. I gotta come back love this connection was ruined by my distraction😶 back. I want to say there's the form of a secretary in front of me. They seem half and half, a mix of black and white with a black bob cut I believe. She doesn't look up from a file of papers in her hand until I make my next breath. I feel she knew I was coming. Seems I've gotten things wrong s third time. Possible place for all of the signs really. It feels as warm as Aries and you can tell they were here recently but the fact one of the Libras are here makes me rethink. I can't decide which one. I want to say the ascendant. It gives off this gemini feeling though, probably because of the twinning in your chart. I see a girl with white and curled long hair come down the stairs. She holds a coin purse close to her. Unlike the Libra ascendant she seems to dress in white only. Her smile is cherry as she sees her sister sign. She goes in to hug them but there's not much from the Libra ascendant side. This has been thrown off so much by now I understand if I got some wrong please do ask again! I'll try finishing. I feel a kind of Alice in wonderland theme (I believe it may have actually been Alice's adventures in wonderland or with an 'and' wonderland from Dodgson's original. I really wish they made it longer honestly and included more of the original it was disappointing because I remember Dodgson made a dodo bird he based off himself and I wish I'd seen all the characters the Disney one was good but it was also a bummer). Either that or betty boop. The signs seem so alike yet so different. ( I believe the ascendant is non-binary so I keep trying not to use she or her sorry). The sun doesn't seem to notice me until a after, a surprised expression putting their things down. Possible mixed patterns in childhood personality wise. May have been out on medication for something. You also may have had a joy for black and white films, cartoons, or just oldies. May be the oldest sibling or have some siblings. You could've felt like an only child due to being singled out at times confiding in your comfort joys. Possible placements could be in the chest, hips, or thighs.

The Aries moon remains a mystery to me, I can feel them in the air but nowhere around, this makes me think they could be that air? It snot form I've seen taken that I remember but it's possible. I'll do more searching. Honestly when I thought of where the Aries moon could be I saw them and your Scorpio moon just smoking behind bleachers💕 it's bad for them but it was cute. It's probably because of the fact you stated it but I think they'd get along very well. It snot just the big 3 living in your body but many more, you have like what 7 8 or 9 planets living in the host so there's a guarantee there's more than just them. I didn't even look that far and the Aries moon and Scorpio Venus are perfect for each other, they just give this high girls gay lover thing and it's great. To Clarify this does not make you LGBTQ+ if you aren't it's just the way your signs interact. They cna perfectly love each other I had this happen once with I think a Taurus and a Capricorn. They form lives inside of the host, who give them the lives they desire with life rin return you can't function without them but the need you.lore than you need them. That's the conclusion really an old highschool built for 2 stoner lovers. Possible problems with drug addiction if you give into substances in life. Either that or you already had at one point.

Characteristics: black or raven kind of hair possibly a brown, your eyelashes are probably rlly gorgeous because of the double libras😩 possible moles somewhere on the neck or back. Not skinny I believe but not plus sized (I hate using the other words sorry idk how to say it😭) you may have had a tooth replaced at some point or filled. "dreams do come true" that's just something I heard randomly. Probable whiter or pale skin? You aren't white I feel probably a mix of 2 races to just one. Maybe glasses because of the Aries moon and Scorpio, Scorpios may have poor sight sometimes, I feel Aries being a moon could cause bad eyesight because it's not used to being so hidden.

Soulmates/ future relationship: (ignore if you're with someone unless that's them now idk things get weird) I see fluffy or matted hair. They have this dopey smile to them and such soft and kind eyes. They honestly look like the gonna turn psycho lover but don't worry. May still have problem with jealousy at times due to childhood. They may be touch starved. You could meet somewhere at a club, mall, or on the streets randomly, somewhere humid I feel, they'll basically be close to passing out for some reason possibly. For everything you do and give them they really only want to nuzzle into you and take care of you at the end of the day lol, sleepy person though. May have a baker in their family or yours.

Possible other zodiac influence through other people: Scorpio mars and Venus, Taurus, cancer, and that's all I kinda feel partial Capricorn but I'm not sure.

Future/health: you may suffer from migraines or chet pains at some point but it's okay, if you properly get help I feel you'll be completely okay.

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quazartranslates · 3 years

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH113

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 113: The Dream of the Holy Nun (III)

The abandoned church was located at the border of the Twilight Township, an area deserted and overgrown with weeds.

From a distance, the dilapidated church, which was about to be overtaken by the sparse woods, seemed to be frozen in the sunset, gradually broken under the wheel of years, and finally forgotten.

At the edge of the roof, a string-thin moon was bathed in the sunset. Qi Leren recalled that the day when he received the task in the Nightmare Game, there was also such a string-thin moon hanging in the twilight.

Qi Leren took a deep breath, stepped on the rubble, and walked to the church.

The door of the church had been in disrepair for a long time and opened with a gentle push. The breeze from the door aroused the settled dust, sending it flying under the golden red afterglow. The image of the game overlapped with this scene, both familiar and unfamiliar. The image of the computer screen in his memory became a real scene at this moment, giving a feeling of absurdity.

Through the rows of pews, Qi Leren came to the depths of the church.

There were two doors here, one to the left and one to the right.

At that time, Qi Leren had randomly chosen the door to the right and walked along the forest path. He’d come to a cemetery, where he had received a mission to go to the Holy City. The reason why he’d known this mission was special was that the mission’s text colour in the game was different from other tasks.

As a save scummer, Qi Leren had actually saved files when choosing to go left or right, but after entering the right door and receiving the task, he didn't reload the file but instead continued the game. The NPC Rudd had told him that he and his comrade-in-arms Arnold were eroded by the Devil’s energy after the Battle of the Holy City and their fighting power had declined, so they didn't have the strength to return to the Holy City. Now, the Holy City is shrouded in fog, but Arnold has a mission item which would allow people to pass through the fog and enter the Holy City. He hoped that players could dispel the fog and let the people trapped in the Holy City be free.

At that time, Qi Leren hadn't known much about the Holy City. After getting the task items, he’d rushed to the Holy City and then died for the first time in this game, getting a Bad Ending…

Qi Leren looked at these two identical doors carefully. They were embedded in the wall from left to right, waiting for his choice.

Qi Leren knew that he should make a decision quickly. If he caught up now, he might still catch the man who took away the drunken NPC and even take over the task before him. But so what? If the other party, like him, had played the Nightmare Game in the real world and happened to trigger the main task, then his secret was no longer only his secret…

Therefore, it was important to leave this kind of responsibility to others.

But…

A faint unwillingness made him hesitate.

Qi Leren helplessly felt that this tangled situation was probably retribution for his rare procrastination... Although him dragging out triggering this task hadn’t been from laziness, but because he was thinking of his own safety.

Forget it, he would go to the left door this time. The choice was always his Qi Leren turned away from the door on the right and went straight to the wooden door on the left.

The wooden door was pushed away. Ahead was a sparse forest shrouded in sunset, weeds covering the gravel path on the ground, and Qi Leren easily identified the path and headed into the forest. In the setting sun, the wind blew this barren woods, far away from the factories that roared all day long. The air in this area was fresh and the sound of insects, birds, wind, and bats' flying turned into a natural music in the ear.

Qi Leren walked forward with his heart in his hand. As he walked deeper and deeper, the forest in front of him gradually grew thick. In the deep twilit scene, he vaguely saw the high and low tombstones in the misty clearing ahead, and a hazy figure in the fog.

His foot stepped on the wet ground, and the dead branches were broken. The birds in the branches sang, and the man turned around.

The open space in the forest, the worn tombstones on the wet soil, and the man in the sunset… were like a story and a dream.

"Ning, Ning Zhou?" Qi Leren swallowed. He never expected to see him here.

Ning Zhou, wearing a cloak, looked at him quietly. The soft sunset blurred the blue in his eyes, and Qi Leren couldn't help but think that he saw tenderness. But in the blink of an eye, those eyes were frozen by rational coldness, leaving only empty calm.

"Why are you here?" Qi Leren couldn't help but ask.

Ning Zhou backed away a little, revealing the tombstone behind him, which was well maintained unlike those around it that had been damaged and broken. It had a name engraved on it - Maria.

Qi Leren suddenly remembered Ning Zhou's life experiences. His mother was a hierophant of the Holy See, and his father was from the first group of players to enter the game... He was raised by his mother, and after Maria died he was sent to the Holy See in Neverland and embarked on the same path as Maria.

He remembered what Chen Baiqi had said. The thirteen-year-old Ning Zhou couldn't even learn a holy light cure. Even if he went to the Holy See, he wasn’t able to learn magic well…

What was Ning Zhou like as a child? Maybe he also had the same experiences as ordinary children, and grew up freely and happily in the sunset… until Maria died.

Qi Leren hesitated for a moment and walked silently to Ning Zhou's side. There was no photo on Maria's tombstone. There was nothing but a name. It was hard to imagine that a field master should finally be silent in such a deserted churchyard.

"She always wanted to go back," NingZhou suddenly said.

Since just now, Qi Leren had been waiting for Ning Zhou to say something, but he didn't expect Ning Zhou to talk about Maria's wishes.

"Go back to the Holy City?" he asked in a low voice.

Ning Zhou nodded shallowly: "But she had been unable to go back and dared not to."

Although he didn't know the reason, a feeling of melancholy welled up in Qi Leren's mind. He was almost sure that Maria was the Holy Nun who had never been named in the Nightmare Game.

After the Holy City’s enchantment collapsed, the Holy See withdrew from the Holy City. She stayed behind and used a mysterious method to protect the people in the Holy City. Now Qi Leren knew that this power should be called a "field", but at that time, the game did not describe this method figuratively, instead describing it as "The Dream of the Holy Nun".

This Holy Nun, who was unwilling to give up the Holy City, broke out with amazing power. She was favored by the gods and pulled everything in the Holy City into her own "Dream". The Dream suppressed the raging demons and made them unable to harm human beings. Even the Devil was killed by this Dream and slept deep in the cathedral.

However, the Holy Nun finally collapsed herself, and when she died, her Dream would not be woken again. Her Dream imprisoned both human beings and demons, and even the Old Devil who had invaded the human world for the first time was imprisoned in her Dream.

Maybe even her own soul had been forgotten there.

The surviving walking dead was finally defeated by time, and her bones were buried deep in the soil.

However, Qi Leren knew that until the moment before her death, she still wanted to go back and personally end the "Dream" she had created in order to let the people trapped in the Dream return to reality. However, she had been weak for too long, lingering on her deathbed for more than ten years, and finally returned to heaven.

At this moment, Qi Leren wanted to do something for her and for him…

"Do you want to go back to the Holy City?" Qi Leren asked him.

Ning Zhou nodded silently.

"Then leave it to me!" Qi Leren showed a happy smile to him. It seemed that it was a very happy thing to be able to help Ning Zhou. This was indeed the case. "I happen to know how to get to the Holy City. As long as I find something, I can pass through the fog outside the Holy City. So let's go to the Holy City together!"

The breeze was harmonious, the afterglow was tender, and Ning Zhou, who stood in the deserted cemetery, did not ask him how he knew how to get through the fog, nor how to get the key item. He just nodded his head without doubt.

He shouldn't have agreed. Ning Zhou knew this clearly. Every step closer was a step toward the abyss; to stay one more second was to drink poison to quench his thirst. In the depths of his heart, her appearance has faded away, but his appearance has become more and more vivid. Meeting again and again was like a colorful brush that filled his outline with color, and he was about to come out of the painting.

The demon lurking in his soul lured him with moving words, which made him hesitate, doubt, shake, and drowned him in sin.

God wanted his followers to love their own kind, men, women, old people, and young children alike.

God praised love and blessed couples who were united by love, but God did not allow men to fall in love with men and women to fall in love with women.

Man's love could not exceed that of the Lord. Only the Lord loved everyone.

Therefore, he should restrain himself and stay away from him, but his inner desire and yearning couldn't be suppressed. Just like after the long extreme night in Neverland, when he and the other followers had stood on the glacier, singing and chanting against the cold wind, waiting for the first sunshine after the endless night. At that moment, the joy and yearning in his heart came from his soul and was irresistible.

He could only say to himself: This is the last time.

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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roadkilln · 4 years

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CHARACTER INTRODUCTION — KARA DAVIDSEN.

by unpopular demand, a new emotionally unavailable asshole brought to you by rylan! name: kara davidsen. age: thirty-four. affiliation: wicked wolves. role: manager of the drug dealers. gender identity: genderfluid (she/her + they/them). sexual orientation: pansexual. (warnings for abuse, child abandonment, drug abuse, violence, medical abuse) —

personality: words to describe kara’s character would seem, in most cases, too vivid and exaggerated. truth be told, she hardly looks to have a character at all: upon first meeting her, one might think her apathy is the only thing that characterizes her. she appears cold, unfeeling, something close to stone or the thick, hardened wood of beaten trees. once or twice she might crack a smile, offer a sharp-edged remark that will often result unwanted, unnecessary. her exterior personality (the side of her that gets dealt to most people, whether customers or fellow wolves) is caustic, carefully crafted to be a warning, a threat — it means do not get too close, i can’t protect you from what’s within. and what’s within is a thick pool of black tar she’s constantly trying to navigate (and constantly failing). it’s the part of her that’s tender, feeling: it’s the part of her that’s constantly grieving, holding on to guilt and regrets for she fears they make up the most of her identity, at this point. it is also the part that attaches herself to people: it is the part that leads her to protect, sometimes, rather than attack, the part that can laugh and find an unexpected sense of camaraderie in her position within the gang. yet this part is fragile — because of this, she protects it fiercely. her behavior, at times, might resemble that of a dog’s: angrily defensive, favoring aggression over diplomacy, often giving into animal-like instincts and impulses. you could perhaps call it over-compensation, as there is a part of her, deeply hidden and inaccessible, that is frightened and insecure, the way a child might be. it is the part of her that fears what she might become and lacks something to hold on to — the part of her that most heavily resents the lack of a family, the unknown origins of her heritage, the loss of the only other person she ever called home. it is the part of her that’s most fragile, and yet to defend it, to keep it from harm, she has been slowly turning into the very monstrous creature that part of her fears. positive traits: loyal, observant, clever, headstrong, generous, determinate. negative traits: proud, aggressive, cold, hot-headed, cruel, resentful. ___________

bio (trigger warnings : child abandonment, abuse, substance abuse, rehabilitation, medical abuse, death).

the two twins were left, discarded like unwanted leftovers — they found them in a cardboard box, half-freezing, on the doorsteps of the charming orphanage. they were given names that were supposed to be temporary, until a family would pick them up: the girl was named kara, the boy erik. their last name davidsen, from the nurse who found them, moira david.

it was clear from the very beginning that the two would have to fight teeth and nails for their place in the world, but while kara had a natural instinct when it came to barking and defending her and her brother’s freedom, erik was different — softer, less inclined to embody the ugly side of the world. the two barely ever left each other side, and kara, in particular, soon developing a violent protectiveness over her brother. this bond would allow them to sustain the abuse, the violence, the difficulties of their life in the orphanage. yet erik began suffering from the hardships of that life, and kara could see it — they’d turned twelve when she promised she would get him out of there. escaping the orphanage was easy, surviving was harder; as they neared the edge of starvation, kara was forced to begin stretching the lengths of what she’d do for her brother. on a chill autumn night, she broke into a farm to steal food for the two of them. erik followed close behind, stumbling — alerting the owner. the farmer found them, offered an ultimatum: i’ll call the cops, he said, unless you do me a favor. turns out the farmer, old mr. lowell, had various traffics for which two young, skinny kids could come in handy. they’d do work for him — carry packages across town, deliver messages, hide weapons. this life was not much different from the one they’d had at the orphanage — they’d still get beaten for speaking out of turn, they’d get starved for withdrawing a penny from lowell’s earnings. somehow, they got by. growing older, and angrier, and hungrier, they got by. until the day lowell got too drunk, too angry, and got too close to taking it out on erik — kara was quicker, his own shotgun aimed at him before he could harm her brother. lowell died, once again they were on the road. another kind of mr. lowell ended up taking them in. a gang of sorts, someone who had use for their talents. kara’s attitude for fighting and taking one, two, a hundred punches, proved her to be a great resource for the needs of criminal enforcers. erik’s charm, instead, proved to be a fruitful assets in selling drugs: they found a life of their own, as unlawful as it was, and kept surviving on their own. erik was too soft for this world. she’d known from the beginning, and yet it still caught her off guard. the drugs got the best of him, swallowed him whole — after he’d given in to a manic episode in public, he was forcefully committed to a rehabilitation facility where the limits of ethics were more than a little stretched. they’d abuse him verbally, physically, use prescription drugs on him too liberally until he was left a screaming, aching mess of a human being. once kara learned of this (once she was able to track the place they’d taken him to), she followed through with the promise she’d made him years before: them against the world, no matter what. somehow, she managed to break him out of the facility. somehow, he got his hands on drugs again. erik overdosed at the age of 27. though she’d known anger before, this was the first time kara experienced pain. on her own, with no destination, or even a reason to keep moving forward, she ended up back in the place where she’d began. charming, california — old contacts allowed her a way into the gang of the wicked wolves, where she soon found erik’s old ability for drug dealing to be innate. she was good at dealing, even good at fighting for respect. within years, a promotion of sorts put her in charge of the drug dealers - in a way, she thought, this was still her looking after erik. though she didn’t care about the feud going on in charming, never did, really — she found the conflict, the violence, to be the healing balm for her aching soul. she soon began fighting at renegade gym: though lacking discipline or any sort of training, she’d been fighting since the day she was born and could take punches for hours. the pain became a shelter, a relief. it kept her alert and out of her sorrow, out of her weakness. her life became a pantheon for violence — the fights, the wolves, and the drugs she wouldn’t use. each of them a replacer for something she couldn’t get anymore. each of them filling the fight she couldn’t lead with her brother anymore.

#charming.intro #FILE / now i think alike birds.#hello i did the stupid thing

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meetthetank · 3 years

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Beast Code Chapter 1: The Twilit City

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationship: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), Original YoRHa Characters (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Transformation, gothic horror, Android Lycanthropy...sort of, Inspired by Bloodborne (Video Game), Everyday i get closer to just writing a Bloodborne AU

Summary: Break the vicious cycle with tooth and claw. Unleash the beast within and destroy your chains. But the strength to defy fate comes at a grave cost. Will it be enough, little doll? Or will you succumb to despair once more?

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31546982

The assignment to the Twilight Belt comes as a shock to 2B and 9S. Rarely, if ever, are YorHa units sent to this border of perpetual daylight and eternal night. Conditions are always reported as unstable by the infrequent scans by one of the other satellite bases that orbit earth, too dangerous to deploy scanners by themselves, and too depleted of resources for the Council to care about. The mystery surrounding the strip of permanent twilight goads curious operators and scanners alike to comb through files searching for nuggets of data, image or video files, anything they can get their hands on. All but a few pieces of data reveal tantalizing scraps and clues to the puzzle of the Sunset Belt. Photographs of dead machines with toothy, gaping maws that split their spherical heads in two and minerals warped in peculiar shapes. According to one of the situation reports from a scanner that had been sent there, there was an eerie, foreboding feeling about the place; that strange and frightening sounds would echo across the landscape and that he felt close to a forbidden barrier that separated this world from another. Though the file and its contents are now treated as a human “ghost story”, many androids, including 2B and 9S, believe at least some portion of the tale.

9S relays this story to 2B as they descend to Earth’s surface, his chattering easing some of 2B’s trepidation. The pair had fallen into an easy rhythm over the course of several assignments to Earth, most of which involved retrieving data from lost servers buried in rubble or clearing out an area of machine lifeforms. Despite her outwardly cold demeanor, 9S wormed his way past all of her defenses, forming a strong, solid relationship with the battler android. His voice is a centering point for her and assists in ignoring the gut churning possibilities of what could be waiting for them below.

“...What do you think, 2B?” his voice crackles from the comms system inside her flight unit.

“Hm?” she shifts her head to the side, glancing at his jet black flight unit cruising beside hers.

“What do you think made the target go rogue?”

She bites her lower lip. There are a thousand possible answers as to why a normally punctual, efficient YorHa Battle unit would suddenly stop responding to command and not checking in at required times. Only a few of those options were machine lifeform related complications.

“We’ll find out when we arrive, 9S.” she says curtly, eager to shut down the conversation, “Focus on landing protocol.”

He sighs, a sound of annoyance and frustration, “Yeah, yeah.”

“One affirmation will-”

“Fiiiiiiiine.”

The final phase of their descent is spent in silence. They pass through the Earth’s atmosphere in streaks of fire and light towards the border of day and night, and a continent that humans called Europe. Even as they descend, the outlines of ancient, massive structures come into view. Both androids are used to the thick vegetation eating away at the remains of human structures, but here the trees are gnarled, twisted, and void of leaves or blossoms. Their branches reach to the crimson sky and permanently setting sun like bony hands in prayer or a stag’s antlers. As 2B and 9S set their flight units down a few miles away from the outskirts of a sprawling, ancient city. It amazes 9S, as he exits his own unit, that the buildings are in such good condition considering the millenia that have passed it by. Great spires of countless cathedrals pierce the heavens, casting an ominous, looming shadow over the otherwise barren landscape. A well worn cobblestone road, lined with rusted iron lighting fixtures long since burnt out, leads into the city proper.

2B and 9S stand at the precipice of this ancient beast of stone and metal in awe of its size, and terrified of what might lurk within. A hoarse bird’s caw, jolts the androids back into awareness, 2B drawing her katana and prepares for battle.

“Heh,” 9S laughs, trying to calm them both down, “Just a raven, 2B.”

“What?”

“A large black bird. Harmless to us.” He doesn’t tell her about the chill he gets down his spine as he watches the corvid gaze down at them with beady black eyes, or how humans saw these birds as ill omens or prophets of death.

They begin the trek into the forgotten city. 2B doesn’t put Virtuous Contract away.

Pod 042 alerts 2B to the presence of an unidentifiable android signal, marking the location on both hers and 9S’ map. Since the area has yet to be properly mapped out by satellite imagery (as inaccurate as that process is) only a vague street layout is available through a very low power scan. They have no way of judging what might block their path to the target beyond featureless grey masses depicting buildings, rubble, large trees, or whatever else may lie in wait. Their target, represented by a small orange dot on the map, appears to be near the city’s main gate and inside one of the larger buildings. 2B refuses to admit it to herself, but she’s relieved to not have to delve too far into this labyrinthine city.

“I’ve never seen the sky this color…” 9S muses as he stares up, transfixed by the blood red sky and orange sun hanging low.

Though hauntingly beautiful, she won’t deny, 2B keeps her gaze fixed on the wrought iron gate ahead of them. The heavens disturb her; they are the color of death. Of war. And the sun is… wrong.

She snaps at 9S to keep focused as they approach the gate to the city. Though scans indicate there are no machine lifeforms, or any lifeforms beyond their target, she’s learned from countless combat assignments to not rely totally on what the support unit reports. She’s encountered and seen machines that mask themselves from scans or camouflage themselves in the environment, and in a place like this anything could be hiding in the shadows just outside of view.

The iron gate lies ajar, worn from millennia of neglect. Clouds of rust particles burst from the hinges as 2B shoves it open further, the metal grinding against itself with a horrible grating shriek. The sound makes them both wince, and they slip through the partially opened gate as soon as they can.

Standing inside the city gates, 9S can’t shake the uneasy feeling that claws at the back of his mind. The great ancient human structures loom above them, and though he knows that the buildings themselves aren’t alive, he can’t shake the notion that he’s being watched by them. The windows are dark, but when he passes by the light of the setting sun reflects off of them, giving them the illusion of intelligence. Suddenly, 9S feels as if he’s inside a cave, or locked in a room with no exit. Suddenly… He finds it hard to breathe. 9S tugs at the collar of his jacket as if it's tightening around his throat. His synthetic lungs fill with air as much as he can take, then he releases it moments later. It calms him, if only a little.

2B’s gaze is fixed ahead on the building Pod 042 marked as the rogue android’s hiding place. It’s a much smaller structure than the others that choke the sky, but its reach stretches across the streets like a tree’s roots. Judging by the well preserved signs that hang from crumbled doors it looked to have multiple uses. 9S commands his own Pod to run scans on the words and symbols for later analysis.

“The target’s in here…” 2B murmurs, holding her free hand up in a tight fist, signaling 9S to stop behind her.

This portion of the sprawling building is similar in structure to the massive spires above. It has the same pointed section on the roof, but much smaller in scale, and similar symbols decorate the exterior. A cross, winged humans, various flowering plants, and a number of human figures bowing their heads or supplicating themselves to the winged humans.

“This must have been a place of worship,” 9S muses aloud.

“Focus.”

He nods. Typically 9S argues with his partner about the necessity for recording data like this, or excuse his wandering attention to his designation as a scanner, but he knows the danger within the house of worship, or rather, he doesn’t know. Neither one of them knows what this rouge android is capable of.

2B presses her hand against the wooden doors to the chapel and pushes it open as slowly as possible. It groans in protest, dust falls from its hinges and frame, but it swings inward. A rush of warm air washes over them carrying the scent of stale incense and dead machines. Clouds of smoke billow out of the doorway, rising into the red sky like twisted fingers. 2B enters first, sliding in sword arm first. She motions for 9S to wait for a moment, then commands Pod 042 to switch on its flashlight.

9S peeks his head around the door, keeping a few paces behind his partner. He switches on his own Pod’s flashlight to illuminate more of the pitch black interior. Long wooden benches are pushed up against the walls, opening up the center space. Ornate candle holders, rotting books, charred incense burners, and pieces of artwork among other things 9S has no name for are scattered across the ground, each one a priceless human artifact that could fuel hours of study. Yet it’s not these that hold 9S’ attention, but the statue at the far back of the chapel, and the figure kneeling in front of it.

It looks to be made of some kind of marble, a pristine white stone that has been sheltered from time and the elements. The subject is another winged human, this one wearing splendid armor and wielding a great spear. Beneath them, a grotesque, writhing beast bares its teeth and claws at the warrior as the blade pierces its throat. 9S has never seen anything like it in person, and very few records of these kinds of sculptures remain at all. It’s both horrific and beautiful at once. He wonders what the human who made this saw that inspired it. Did creatures like these roam the world during their time?

2B steps in front of him, Virtuous Contract at the ready. The figure in front of the statue rises to their feet as the Pod’s flashlights center on them. A cloak made of feathers conceals most of their form but they appear to be a female android, perhaps a YorHa model. Though, if that were the case it would have been in the mission briefing. That is, unless...

The android turns her head to the side, glaring at the pair over her shoulder.

“So, Command sent the wolves, did they?” She asks, a distinct rumble in her voice.

2B raises her blade and keeps her gaze steady. She hears 9S also ready his weapon, the golden katana Cruel Oath.

Lazily, the android turns her body to face them. Her clothes confirm her origins; there’s no mistaking the sharp white embellishments and black velvet of a YorHa uniform; however each piece is ripped, tattered, and stitched together with other scraps of clothing or… animal hide.

The rouge android drags the blade of a bloodied top heavy sword between her fingers, cleaning the gore from it. “It doesn’t matter, dog.” Her eyes shine with a strange, purplish light that refracts around her collapsed, twisted pupils. “You will fall like the rest.”

It isn’t until the rogue android rushes forward, sword raised, that 2B sees the corpses of YorHa units piled in front of the statue, and the blood that soaks it.

She dashes backward and shoves the bewildered 9S out of harm's way. The android’s bloodied sword crashes into the stonework floor, sending thousands of years of dust into the air. 2B lunges, her katana poised to take advantage of the enemy’s opening, but she sidesteps much quicker than anticipated. The rogue’s fist slams into 2B’s chest, distorting her internal sensors and throwing her off balance. 2B watches in horror as the rogue drives her sword towards her, but a golden flash knocks the blade away.

“2B!” 9S shouts, brandishing Cruel Oath. “Are you okay?!”

She shakes her head as if it would clear the internal errors from her vision, but she assumes her battle stance next to her partner. “Fine.”

Both androids launch into an assault on the rogue, attacking in tandem. Despite 2B’s scrambled sensors, she and 9S have an undeniable synergy that comes with countless missions. 2B forces the rogue back with singular, powerful blows, while 9S jabs at any opening he can reach from the sides. However, even with their combined might the rogue deflects and maneuvers out of the way of each attack as casually as one would flick away an insect or step around a puddle. She looks to be expending no effort at all as she dances around the two YorHa. Anger and frustration rises in 2B, culminating in a harsh growl. She mimics the rogue’s tactic from earlier, rushing forward and feinting with a crushing overhead strike that is easily dodged but allows no time for recovery. She slams her fist into the rogue android’s face, sending her stumbling backwards. Before 9S can dive in with a horizontal slash the rogue dashes backward, putting crucial distance between her and her hunters.

The rogue android lowers her gaze at the pair, sizing them up, taking stock of their abilities and assessing their weaknesses. 2B watches her eyes dart back and forth between her and 9S, then linger on 9S. Sensing the rogue’s motive and deciding at that moment that the outcome is unacceptable, 2B dives in front of the strike meant for 9S. The rogue’s sword slices cleanly through her chest, coating the rogue’s clothes in splatters of fresh blood. The battler falls to her knees, clutching the wound with one hand while supporting herself on her sword.

“No!!” 9S screams and lunges at their target. “2B!!”

“Hm. Interesting.” The rogue murmurs, easily deflecting the scanner’s wild strikes.

2B watches through blurred, error obscured vision as 9S drives the rogue back. If she didn’t know any better it’d seem that he has the upper hand, but the rogue’s eyes glint in a way 2B recognizes all too well. She’s baiting him.

9S slams his blade against the rogue’s, pressing all of his power and weight into the strike. It’s the moment she had been waiting for. Suddenly she pulls back, letting 9S’ weight fall forward and forcing him off balance. She kicks his legs out from under him then shoves him into the floor. 9S lets out a startled, choked gasp as his weight and the force of the rogue’s attack cracks the stone floor, sending up more clouds of dust into the air.

Clutching her chest, 2B roars and charges at the target with blinding speed. When she sees the smirk twisting the rogue’s lips and the pointed iron rod in her grip, it’s too late. With a flash of her crowfeather cape, the android meets 2B’s charge with her own, the skewer aimed at her wounded chest. 2B tries to divert her body away, but the momentum is too strong. It’s just enough to roll her body to the side so that the spike pierces clean through her shoulder, clear of critical systems.

The pain, however, is agonizing.

It’s different from the injuries 2B has suffered in the past. Countless machine swords, spears, and axes have torn through her body and of course all of those injuries hurt, but they were manageable. When the iron bar rips through layers of cloth, skin, carbon plating and frame, and synthetic muscle fibers it's as if her shoulder has been set on fire. She clenches her teeth, muffling a scream to a low growl. Her hand wraps around the skewer, close to the wound itself. Instinct tells her to tear it out immediately, but she knows that without treatment doing so would only worsen her condition. 2B doesn’t get to make that decision, unfortunately. The rogue grabs hold of the end of the iron rod and twists it side to side, driving it further into 2B’s shoulder.

2B sinks to her knees and tries to hold back the cries of agony. Her injured arm stops responding to commands and lies limp and useless against her side. She swats at the rogue android with her weakening other arm, desperate to escape from this torment. Her strength fades along with her vision; it becomes impossible to even hold herself upright.

She must not fall, she must not… she must stay strong, she must stay alive.

She will not allow him to die…

Not for the sake of a monster like her….

9S leaps into the fight as the rogue android prepares a killing blow. A flurry of Pod fire, sword strikes, and furious movement all blur together into a white, gold, and black haze. She fights to stay awake, she fights to stand, but her body begins to shut down non-vital systems and conserve as much energy as she can. First her tactile sensors switch off, leaving her in a numbing cold. Then her hearing, quickly followed by sight. A warning flashes across the last vestiges of her vision that she is entering a forced shutdown state, and despite her audio sensors being deactivated, she swears she hears 9S cry out for her.

….

…….

………

……….

……..

….

2B opens her eyes to the blinding, sterile white of hacking space. This itself is not shocking. Oftentimes she would run diagnostics on her critical systems when in a forced shutdown, both to manage critical systems and to keep herself busy.

But now, in the distance, there is an anomaly.

A single figure, black as night, approaches her. It’s shape is human up till its head, which sports pointed ears and a long snout like that of a dog or wolf. It looms over her and leaves a black, fragmented mist in its wake. But most troubling of all in this world of stark monochrome is its eye…. or what 2B believes is an eye. In the center of its lupine face is a strange geometric sigil that emits a highly saturated purple light. It feels… malicious. The thought itself is insane to 2B. Light cannot possess intent or emotions, and yet…

“This is an unacceptable outcome.” A voice booms in her head. Somehow she knows it is the entity speaking.

2B opens her mouth to respond, but instead of words, thick crimson fluid leaks from her throat.

“You will die. He will die. You cannot abide by this.”

She shakes her head. Droplets of blood fall to the pristine floor. The entity is right. If she has any strength left, 9S will live.

“Stand, little doll,” the entity commands, “Stand and unleash y-...Be——…..d.”

The entity’s voice becomes warped and distorted with audio glitches, yet 2B understands its words with frightening clarity.

“Take-......l-...s within.”

It holds a hand out to her, offering her something she can’t quite make out. The shape in its palm is amorphous, colorless, and flickers with lines of jumbled code. Somehow, she knows this piece of herself in intimate detail, yet cannot remember what this does or what its relation to the entity is.

But it promises strength enough to save 9S.

2B reaches out and takes the code in her hand…

….

………….

…………………………

………………………………………………………..

Her eyes snap open. A current of raw energy runs through her body, electrifying every nerve and sensor within her. She shakes with each pulse of her circulatory apparatus as a new, terrifying strength takes hold. 2B rises to her feet, flexing her hands, legs, arms. One arm’s movement is restricted by the iron bar still stuck in her shoulder. She tears it out with little effort, casting it to the floor. The rattling, hollow sound echoes against the stone chapel.

The rogue’s head snaps up from her combat with 9S, who is barely able to hold his sword. Something in her expression changes. She kicks 9S and points her sword at 2B, her arms shaking in a way they had not before.

2B lunges forward, her sword raised high. The rogue raises her own sword to deflect, but 2B’s newfound strength breaks her guard with one mighty strike. With blinding speed 2B slices through the rogue android’s body. Her crowfeather cape flutters to the floor, soon followed by her arm. The rouge android staggers back, an expression of shock and horror twisting her face. 2B drives her sword through the rogue’s chest, forcing her back further. Instead of drawing her sword back for another strike, a terrifying feeling takes over 2B. She leaves the sword inside the rogue’s chest and tackles her to the ground. With her bare hands and horrible strength, 2B delivers blow after blow to the android’s chest, shoulder, arms, head, and abdomen. Each piece is reduced to a pulp of flesh and metal one after the next until nothing remains but scrap.

2B throws her head back as she straddles her victim, a horrible, twisted grin plastered across her face and arms outstretched. Her body feels wrong… horribly wrong, yet for the first time since she can remember, her chest is light. She gazes up at the morbid sculpture with an emotion she can’t quite describe. It isn’t the same as a combat high, she is intimately familiar with that heady rush. This is something akin to… euphoria. A laugh begins to bubble up in her throat-

“2B?”

She’s forced back to reality by the 9S’ voice, right beside her ear. Suddenly, the terrible strength from moments before fades from her body. Her arms go limp by her sides, and it becomes hard to sit upright. Even breathing is laborious. 9S wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her gently, laying her head and shoulders against his chest.

“I’ve got you. We… I think we’re safe.” His breathing is uneven and ragged, much like 2B’s. He swivels his head back and forth, searching for any lingering threats as quickly as possible. “Pod, run a scan for machine lifeform or android signals in the immediate area,” he commands.

Pod 153 is silent for a moment, then emits a grating, hideous garbled noise. Words try to break through the audio distortions but neither 2B or 9S is confident it isn’t simply what they wish to hear.

“Alert:” Pod 042 begins, “Interference from unknown source is preventing accurate scans of the surrounding area. Proposal: Relocate to an elevated aaaaaaa…..a-r-....rrr……”

The same audio distortions come from 042, mingling with 153’s until they both cut off, leaving the androids in silence. “Pod?” 9S calls to the floating support unit. “Pod, respond. ... Pod?”

2B mutters weakly to her own Pod, but it's the same as 9S’. No response at all.

9S pulls up a small data screen, map data, from what 2B can tell. Or… where map data would be. Instead, there’s a blank, grey screen and a little message box that reads No Data.

“What the-...” 9S whispers, flipping through different screens at a frantic pace. “Where-... There’s… all the data is gone!” he shouts, “No map, no signal scans… I can’t even connect to the Bunker…”

“We’re stranded…” 2B muses aloud.

Silence passes between them. Only the ominous wind passing through ancient wood and stone reminds them that the world hasn’t stopped moving around them.

“We should move to a higher area, like your Pod said.” 9S suggests, rising to his feet. “Can you stand?”

When 9S offers a hand out to her, 2B takes it without thinking. His touch, even through his thick gloves, calms the beast pacing inside her.

Beast?

…..What does that mean?

2B rises to her feet, her hands lingering in 9S’ for a moment longer than she normally would. There’s a fog in her head that distorts her equilibrium. She leans on 9S for support, to which he wraps his arm around her waist and positions himself under her shoulder.

“I got you.” He says with a small smile.

2B feels just a bit lighter.

They exit the chapel and make for higher ground. 9S rationalizes that if they simply continue up stairs or inclines they would find a space clear of whatever is interfering with the Pod’s satellite connections. Perhaps it’s the fog that creeps across the cobblestone streets or the odd angle of the sun (not that it makes sense to 9S or 2B but they have to consider all possibilities), or perhaps it’s something beyond that. There’s a strange, eerie feeling about this city that neither can explain, and neither want to talk about. As if there’s a presence constantly watching over them.

They climb the stairs of one of the massive sprawling religious buildings. From what 9S assesses, it seems to have one of the tallest spires in the city. Only a larger time-keeping building looming in the distance is larger. If he could reach the top he should be far enough above whatever is interfering with the Pods. When he relays his plan to 2B who only nods, her eyes unfocused and breathing shallow, worry starts to lace its icy fingers through his chest. Something is wrong with her.

9S’ first instinct is to prepare a data backup with the bunker, but the Pods are both out of commission for the time being. His next is to contact command and ask how they should proceed, to the same conclusion. Climbing the spire is the only course of action he can take, but first, he has to make sure 2B is safe.

He leads her through the castle of worship, now supporting most of her weight. That… frightening show of strength must have exhausted her power supply. There are plenty of well preserved wooden benches that stretch across half of the main worship chambers, at least it would be more comfortable than the stone floors. Under watch by the countless grotesque statues that sit in the rafters, 9S helps 2B onto a long bench, laying her on her back. She hisses and grinds her teeth as she moves. She must have sustained internal damage from that fight…

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, “I’m going to go to the roof to get a clear signal.”

All 2B gives in response is a slow nod. He lingers by her side before leaving, a moment longer than needed.

Now alone in this spacious, hollow, human structure, 2B takes stock of her condition. There’s pain in her shoulders, particularly her right arm. Her legs are tight, most locking up from the strain of the previous battle and trekking up to her current location. Her back, as well, is tense beyond discomfort. It spasms and jolts if she breathes too hard. At least these are injury related, explainable. The black wolfman with purple eyes lingering in the corners of her vision, is not.

She sees the entity in the shadows, lurking just out of view. 9S walks right past it, not even sparing a glance at the tall, gangly creature. It doesn’t respond to 9S either, instead focusing on 2B and only 2B.

The sight of it makes her stomach turn. She tries to close her eyes, but the glowing, purple sigil is burned into her vision. With a groan she digs her knuckles into her eyelids as if she could carve the hallucination out of the air. Defeated, 2B lets her arms down once more. One hand touches the cool stone floor, decorated with elegant mosaics, and she suddenly realizes how warm she is. According to the warning messages displayed in her vision her body temperature is ten degrees above normal levels.

“Pod,” she groans, forcing herself to sit up, “retrieve water from storage-”

“Report: Mail notification received from Command.”

The monotone voice of her support unit shocks her. Pod 042 had been silent up until now due to whatever interference was in the area, and now it’s getting messages from Command? 9S must have established a connection from the roof.

Her heart sinks. If that’s the case he would contact her. The first thing she’d hear would be his voice.

She opens the message, dreading its contents.

Subject has accessed confidential records. Eliminate the Target.

At the top of the spire 9S takes in the view of the entire city, the wind rushing through his hair. It’s breathtaking. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. The sky dyes the entire urban sprawl red, as well as the mountains on the horizon. His pulse races as he drinks in the terrifying awe of what the ancient humans were capable of, hoping to remember every last detail of the buildings, the streets, and the magnificent sculptures that litter the city. It’s all so well preserved that he feels as though a human might appear, walking down the cobblestone streets as if nothing were wrong. As if they didn’t go extinct.

Reluctantly he draws his attention away from the splendor of humanity’s ruins, and shakes away the creeping emptiness that comes with that line of thought. He can’t think about that now. He and 2B are stranded. 9S produces a holographic terminal that mirrors Pod 153’s settings menu. Pod’s diagnostics on his end show buildup of foreign material in and around certain receivers, something that 9S expects, but that is only part of the problem. It seems that the atmosphere in this place is clogged with various chemicals and particles that make satellite transmissions more difficult. Considering all of the decaying metal and stone it’s no wonder that there’s so much particulate in the air. Once Pod’s receivers are clear 9S has Pod 153 hover just above the spire’s tip. It stays suspended in the air, the small light on the top of its body turning on and off at regular intervals.

“Connection established.” Pod 153 announces moments later. “Proposal: Contact the Bunker for support.”

“Great! Set up a relay connection for Pod 042 as well.”

“Affirmative.”

9S opens a data screen laden with information and begins composing his message to Operator 21O. With an unreliable connection a live call would be too risky, a simple text based message won’t be distorted or cut out. He records a brief message, attaches a transcription of his words, and sends it to the Bunker. Hopefully 21O would send something quickly-

A flash of movement in the streets below catches his eye. Something running on all fours... “Pod… run a scan for machine lifeforms…” He says, a chill creeping up his spine.

Pod 153 floats down to his side. “Alert: Multiple machine lifeforms detected. Proposal: Regroup with Unit 2B.”

“But-”

That thing didn’t look like a machine…

“Alert: Anomalous signal detect-”

Pod 153’s words are drowned by a horrific, mournful howl that reverberates through the entire building. 9S clings to the ornate decorations on the spire and covers his ears with his free hand. His body runs cold. He’s never heard a sound like that before. Nothing the machines make comes close to that. The pain and sorrow in that noise is something that no animal could produce either. That left only one possibility…

Another roar wracks the building from within…

2B clutches the sides of her head, the data screen long dismissed.

No…

Her chest strains under her panicked breaths.

No.

She hadn’t been watching him. She hadn’t been keeping track of his questions and behavior…

No… No.

And now she…

No no no no no .

She has to…

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

NO.

She will not do this. Not again.

Her skin feels… tight.

She will fight off every single goddamn android Command sends until there are none left but her and him. She will not be a part of this cycle again. Her hands curl into fists as a surge rushes through her body, alighting her nerves with energy. With power.

A shadow moves across the stone floor of the castle of worship. The entity, its form inky black, its sigil emitting a baleful purple light, glides towards her. It bathes her in the highly saturated light, a light not even shielding her eyes can diffuse. It bores into her core, it peers into her mind. It speaks into her mind.

“You will not allow this to happen.” Its voice echoes off the hollow shell of where humans once sought God. “But strength comes at a price, little doll.”

The entity plunges its claws into her chest. Heat explodes throughout her body to the point where she fears she might self-destruct. The boiling tendrils of this ethereal monster sink into her artificial heart and her Black Box. Something activates, or… unlocks, and suddenly she feels… confined. Her body… it’s too small….

“Time to pay the toll…”

It rips its claws, now writhing shadow-like whips, out of her chest, then vanishes. 2B’s vision is obscured, but not by warnings and error messages, by blood. Red veins pulse on the edges of her sight in time with her heart. Each beat sends waves of heat, electricity, and agony through her body.

“Stand, little doll. Stand, and unleash your beasthood.”

A scream forms in 2B’s throat, but it cannot break through her swelling throat and gritted teeth. She takes frantic, shallow breaths. Her limbs shake, her fingernails dig into the stonework floor. It’s so hot…

2B rolls onto the floor and rips away her tight uniform. Far too tight. Parts of her dress were already beginning to tear as her muscles swell. Blood trickles from various wounds where her skin has split, revealing the thick, synthetic muscle cords that lie beneath. Her blindfold is next, but removing it does not help her vision. One eye is unfocused, blurring all of her vision.

She drags her fingernails across her body and lets out a deep, animal snarl when she tears into her own flesh. Looking down at her hands, she recoils at the sight of long, black claws that split her fingers down the center. Skin falls from them in long strips to the point where the mechanical joints of her hands are exposed.

Something snaps inside her, somewhere in her upper back. She howls in agony, in sorrow, as her spine lengthens, twists, and grows too fast for her body to maintain. Her insides are compacted and grind against each other, sending sickening vibrations throughout her. Her throat finally opens up, allowing her to breathe. She watches as puffs of steam escape her mouth into the warm twilight air.

Another crack and something explodes out of her lower back. Her balance is thrown off and she falls forward, smashing her face into stone. Another snarl, this one combined with the gnashing of fangs. Her mouth warps, splitting out of her face into a muzzle. Eyes follow, one swelling to fit its now spacious socket while the other stunts and refuses to change. She claws at the peeling skin of whatever she can reach, spilling more of her blood in the process. Everything hurts, everything itches, but oh god the power feels so good.

A growth springs from above her unchanged eye, weighing her head down and hunching her body over. She supports herself with one enormous hand, the other scooping the wires and tubing that spills out of her torn stomach and forcing them back inside her abdominal cavity. The twisting extension of her spine, a tail, thuds against the floor and counters the weight of her head.

2B shakes the mane of bloodied, white hair from her functioning eye, turns her head to the sky, and roars.

#nier automata #2B #9S #2B9S #fanfiction #nier fanfiction #Tanks fics

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misskittysmagicportal · 4 years

Text

All You’ve Got Is Gold Part 1

FandomAU!: Billy Delaney/Cormac McNamara x Female OC

Warnings: Slight NSFW, mostly steamy fluff. Guys this ended up being long as fuck. And it’s really only chapter one. Or Part 1.

Jeanie leaned over the bar at Ewan's to pour herself another whiskey, ignoring the bartender as he chastised her. "C'mon lass, don't the wee ones file in to the grounds tomorrow?"

"Wee?" she gulped around her swallow. "Ewan, they're pubescent. You know me though, I like to have a bit of a glow every new semester. That way the parents think I'm truly invested in the well-being of the brats." Jean waved her glass around in the air. "Ok, not brats. Most of them are well-behaved and genuinely interested in learning. Not like the little bastards in America. I'd have 40 to a classroom back there. Saint Fergus barely has 40 students in the entire school."

Ewan took it as a sign and gave her a generous pour one more time, "Heard you cannae keep any professors for the pay. But your husband-"

"EX. As of last spring," Jean corrected.

"EX-husband found some new blood in a few of his University students."

"Aye," Jeanie imitated the Scottish brogue with perfection. "They're all in the corner over there with Dr Purves now."

She had half a decade to assimilate to the culture of the small, boring town just outside of Aberdeen where she followed Gordon and married him without any family or a job. He became head of the Physics and STEM department at the University of Aberdeen, working on projects and female students alike. Jeanie, having abandoned her Master's in Education, was really only qualified to student-teach at a local boarding school. Before long, lack of interest and the economy drove the numbers down to four or five dozen and a position of Headmistress open. At least it was a place to live and an existence that kept her mind off everything else.

"I would say don't look now, because here comes one of his students, but my darling who can keep their eyes off him." Ewan pointed behind his friend with damn near literal hearts in his eyes.

Jeanie glanced over her shoulder as a young man, early 20s? She couldn't tell. But he approached her at the bar. Her first glance became a double, and nearly a stare. Embarrassed, she whipped her head around quickly and blushed in Ewan's general direction. "Sweet Virgin Mary," she exhaled under her breath.

"I normally go by Delaney, but I suppose in certain company Mary will do," a soft Irish lilt.

Jean slow blinked as the bartender broke into a cheshire grin. She took a deep breath and turned towards the man now beside her and held out her hand. Blood pulsing in her ears because.. he was stunning. "Brave of a Celt to set foot in the land of Picts. Even braver for him to be in the presence of the biggest asshole in all of Scotland."

"Well from what I've heard she's more of an Ice Queen than an asshole," he squinted before smiling brightly. Green eyes sparkling in the low light of the bar. "Your.. partner put me up to it anyways. You know, say the bit about the ice. Sorry," he blushed but still held on to her hand firmly. "I've heard you're rather pleasant from the others. Just aloof as it were"

"EX!" Ewan and Jean exclaimed together, and the young man blinked responsively. "No sorries. Cold-hearted bitch is what some of the 6th years call me when I confiscate their illegals. Headmistress Jean Turner, but the two friends I have call me Jeanie. Drink?"

"Just one? I'll take 5. I have to catch up with the others." He hooked a thumb at the group of obnoxious men groping the female students who hung off of them as if they were celebrities. Taking what he was offered, chugging it quickly and shuddering. "Billy. Delaney it is. Well occasionally."

Jeanie and Ewan watched as he basically pounded every shot placed in front of them. Squinting off and on, as if he was trying to adjust to the ambiance. "Is it hot? It's hot in here. God I hate people. Those people. I will never fit in with the misogynists and knobs who prefer rugby and football to actually learning about the world." He pulled at the collar of his sweater before taking it off and draping it over Jeanie's chair. He wore a striped tee shirt underneath "Sorry. Sorry. I've got my nose in tech and books and maths algorithms most days. I forget how to socialize, so I really just want to blend in with the norms."

"You.. are.. fit." Ewan sputtered.

Billy snapped back to attention, his mind having drifted off to the same group Jeanie's eyes kept staring at. "What?"

"He's saying you are fucking fit, mate" Jeanie gaped.

"My body? I'm not really certain about that. I'm rather spindly wouldn't you say?” he shrugged while his cheeks flushed profusely. "My arms? Is it my arms? I swim. Clears my head from all the clutter." He was rambling now.

Jeanie and Ewan started laughing. "Relax! we're taking the piss, love. Your every move is being scrutinized. Now why abouts did Dr Purves send you over here? Surely he has fucking with me on his mind. Not unusual, humiliation has always been the name of the game."

Billy made a gesture that resembled adjusting non-existent glasses. He immediately dropped his hand and pulled a tenner out of his pocket. "To melt the ice, Gordon said. He gave me ten quid to hit on you."

"One of his students. What a lovely parting gift. I guess you're worth the loss of the house and the car," Jeanie stood back slightly to properly size him up.

Billy bit the entirety of his bottom lip, furrowing his brows, "I reckon you're worth more than a tenner to sleep with."

Jeanie blinked a few times, head tilted to the side to make sure she heard correctly. "SEX?!" she laughed, unable to help herself. "I don't exactly know what all of this," she waved her hand down his body, "would be doing even in the vicinity of sleeping with this," pointing to her own.

Confusion came over his face, "Am I supposed to be.. Is there something wrong with you that I don't notice? I, I can be kind of oblivious to loads. I think, really, Gordon goaded me into coming over here for my benefit as much as his amusement. I don't have too much experience, but you seem quite lovely you know. Your hair is," brows furrowed again but in thought, "Nicely red in this lighting. Reminds me of my friend from Ireland. Hannah."

Jeanie pinched the bridge of her nose as Ewan audibly guffawed from beside her. "Saints preserve us," the Scotsman said between gasps for air. "Donnae if you are taking the piss now, bloke, or are you really this bad at pulling birds."

Billy grimaced, the entirety of his face beet red. "Honestly, I never make it this far. I guess they usually pull me and I let them?" He started to fan his face, "seriously,,how fucking hot do you keep this pub?" His forehead bent forward to rest on the metal and wood counter of the bar.

Ewan covered his mouth and ruffled the curly head in front of him. "What a wee babby, Dr Purves sent into the lion's den. You just drank half a bottle of my best whiskey and mortified yourself in front of my favorite woman in this whole country. Maybe you ought to drink some water and have a sit for a few. We'll give you something to take to the bell-end in the back."

Jeanie and Ewan's eyes met, and she bit back a smile before leaning over to wrap an arm around her husband's latest protege. "Oh Ewan, I don't think it should be only a story. Why not give the evil genius a bit of a show. Right now he can see Mr Delaney is headed towards a spectacular crash. Im embarrassed. Mr Delaney's embarrassed. You're without very expensive whiskey. Gordon will never let anyone live this down for the semester."

She put her mouth near Billy's ear, "Ten quid is worth SOMETHING. Don't you think? Just look at me." He obliged quicker than she expected. Emerald eyes gazed upwards at her while the heart banged wildly in her chest. "What comes next?"

"I reckon I ought to put my arm on your waist. Right?" his voice now low in her ear and a hand slipped around her hips to draw her as close as possible.

No further guidance was needed as the liquid courage kicked in. Billy stood up and took Jeanie's face in his large hands before he drew her into a rather passionate kiss. Hers instinctively buried in his hair, their tongues dancing as the thought he hustled her entered the back of her mind. How was it that just a few minutes ago he looked ready to vomit at the thought of trying to come on to anyone, not just her. Now he was kissing her like they were Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. Jeanie’s back slightly arched as Billy dominated her personal space with his height, a hand dangerously on the curve of her backside.

Ewan held his own face, eyebrows lost in his bangs as he watched the two of them go at it for well, he lost time. Glancing up he noticed just about everyone else in the pub was watching too. Gordon positively green with envy and turning purple with anger. Ewan saw him lean to a colleague and mouth, "That wasn't the fucking deal."

"Job done you two," he cleared his throat and practically shouted to break them up.

Jeanie's mouth was cold as it kissed the air. Billy had stumbled backwards a bit, mouth turned down ever slightly in a whoops motion. He walked, swayed really and floated by every single patron, including the group of men he came in with earlier. Fingers pulled at his bottom lip before he passed a devilish grin over his shoulder in Gordon's direction.

Jeanie and Ewan gobsmacked, but pleasantly amused, looked at one another. Mischief in their eyes as Jeanie noticed Billy's sweater draped over the bar. "Mr Balderston, I think I have a grad student to visit this week. It seems Mr Delaney might need his sweater because the Scottish nights get awfully cold."

Orientation came and went, and the students seemed to settle in quicker than normal. Quite possibly because this was the lowest attendance in the school’s 150 year history. They had been in danger of shut down, but Jeanie was informed that first Monday by the Board of Directors that an anonymous group of donors had decided, against their wishes, to purchase the school. Even if no students came back the following school year, or they were down to only 15 or 10 or 5, Saint Fergus would remain open for unknown reasons.

To say she was relieved was an understatement for Jeanie. Much needed repairs were being made, and someone had come to put together a state of the art security system. Which really confused the faculty and dwindling staff. Who would steal anything from this junk heap? Even their books were falling apart. Except they weren’t.

By the end of the first week, the girls in their dormitories and in the hallways were abuzz with brand new Literature and Maths books. They were suddenly interested in Oscar Wilde and Pythagoras. Jeanie watched as three 4th years sat in the windowsill and audibly cracked open their copies of “The Happy Prince,” stars in their eyes.

“Have you ever seen anyone as good looking as Dr McNamara? Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll pay attention to anything else but that voice,” she held her book against her chest.

“Oh c’mon Siobhan. It’s all about the eyes. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like them. Proper green. If he sticks around, I’ll tell Daddy to talk to all of his barrister friends. Get them to enroll their kids here next year.”

The third girl was clearly in a daydream out the window, “All I heard today was blah blah blah ‘important in oratory history of Ireland’ blah blah. Lemme tell you, he can give me an oral exam any day.”

Jeanie cleared her throat and the students jumped nearly a mile high. “It would do you girls a kindness not to sexually harass our newest teacher at Saint Fergus.” The smallest hint of a smile on her lips. “Honestly, how is it that I'm headmistress here and have no bloody clue who this mysterious Dr McNamara is?”

“Well rumor has it, Miss, that he bought the school. Dr Purves hired him for a project at the uni, and he asked to be right in the thick of the school.” Siobhan shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh he’s installing the security system and having a new science laboratory built,” the daydreaming girl chimed in.

“I thought it was a grad student that was teaching here this semester? Have any of you heard the name Billy Delaney? I’ve been looking for him the last week or so, but I can't find him in Aberdeen housing. I’d like to return his sweater.” Jeanie’s face flushed pink, and the girls all cast a knowing grin in her direction.

“Has Miss got a crush herself?” Siobhan teased. “There’s no student teachers this year, but did you say Billy Delaney?”

“Yes. Does that name sound familiar to you too?”

The girls stood and handed Jeanie paperback books one by one. A stack of them, young adult novels that had grown incredibly popular the last few years. A stone wall with a glowing green and gold light graced the cover. “A Green Pool of Light: Emerald City to Oz Book 1” blazed across the top in that standard stereotyped font that represented all things Irish. The daydreaming girl, Aila Jeanie would come to find out, opened her copy and ran a finger down the page. “Yeah, he’s like a gender bent Hermione in these books.”

Jeanie frowned and flipped through the pages. The girls all started to laugh, not mean-hearted but in the way kids do at adults when they become lost in the world of anyone under 20. “That’s Dr McNamara, Miss Turner, and he’s living in the Boys Dorms.”

Jeanie blinked a few times, too many times in disbelief. The girls dissolved into hysterics and headed off to their next set of classes. Things maybe just got a bit easier but harder at the same time.

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

Jeanie stared incredulously at herself in the mirror. When exactly was the last time she showed up to any man’s room wearing only a coat and her underwear? Or well, a sweater in this case. She waited until the school was dark and quiet, she couldn’t risk one of the students seeing her dressed this way. On her way to do a dance of seduction. No, that’s humiliating. This was all humiliating.

What in the hell am I even doing? She thought. But it was too late, her legs carried her into the halls and across the floors and up into the West Wing where the boys slept. Tip-toeing quick and stealthy to the only source of light on this side of the school.

Jeanie took a deep breath and knocked on the open door. His back was to her, sitting with one foot up on the chair, a knee drawn up to his chest in the most awkward of positions. His dark head was bent over an abundance of little digital boxes spread across a desk that he tinkered with under a magnifying glass. Several computers and laptops spread around the room running codes attached to various projects simultaneously. Lost in his work, he ignored her.

Sighing heavily, Jeanie knocked louder this time. She raised one hand up the door frame, leaning in the most tempting pose she could muster at 11pm on a Thursday. His head popped up, and he only glanced over his shoulder in her direction before going back to his work.

“Well took ye long enough to find me, Miss Turner. Wanna see what I’ve put together for the school?” he queried without paying any attention to her attire.

Jeanie felt the bile rise in her throat. How in the hell was she ever going to feel better about herself when this man wouldn’t even acknowledge her? Was it too late to just slip back down in the shadows and melt away like she never existed? Still she took a breath and made her way to the desk and stopped directly behind him. She bent forward over his shoulder, her hair brushed against his face and neck. There was a nearly inaudible hitch in his breathing as she picked up one of the boxes. Did she make him nervous? Good, she thought and chewed her lip to prevent a smirk sneaking through.

“Well Mr Delaney. Or is it McNamara?” She studied the box carefully and poked at it with her nail.

“Doctor” he interjected huskily. He was nervous. “I’ve got a PhD,” he corrected.

“Are you even old enough for a doctorate?!” she retorted.

“I’m 24, thank you very much. I suppose that’s quite young to have several PhDs, but I don’t really keep track. If it makes you feel better, I'm also a chef. Cooking is just science after all,” he said almost dismissively. “Oh, That is L.I.S.A. you’re holding. Large-scale Interface Security Application.”

Jeanie snorted; she couldn't help it. “Do you mean an alarm system?”

“No it’s a specified security application that only I know how to program and,” he caught himself. “Yes. It’s an alarm system.” He rolled his eyes and gently took the machine back from her and placed it amongst the others.

“If you're working with Gordon on some kind of secret project, why are you teaching Literature?” Jeanie launched into everything without really meaning to. “You know Dr Delaney or whoever the hell you are, several of the girls brought to my attention that there’s a character in those young adult novels written by Hannah O'Flaherty. “A Pool of Green Light?” They are quite popular with our 1st-4th years. You're Billy Delaney aren't you? That’s why you gave that name in the pub the other night instead of your real name. That being Cormac McNamara, am I correct?” She placed her hands on hips hidden in the mass of wool and cable knit.

"Delaney is part of my last name. Hyphenated.” once again correcting the headmistress.

"Don't see much of that in men"

"Well it and my brain are about all my parents left me,” he moved to face his chair towards Jeanie and abandon his project.

"Well I bet they're proud of you, Cormac. Or Billy. Whatever.” she waved her hand dismissively. “You lot discovered.. what's it called?"

"Dimensional Dark Matter Transport with the possibility of Inter and Temporal"

"I mean, Portals. Or to put it in tv nerd terms: Beam me up Scotty"

"Precisely!” Cormac exclaimed and stood up excitedly. “And your ex-boyfriend-"

"Husband"

“Yes, husband. Well couldn't have been good at it if he's your ex.” He bit a finger absently, staring off towards the ceiling. Then snapped back to attention quickly, “Well he wants to find a way to make it.. Portable. Not just in plotted locations around the globe. And my business partners, em Hannah and Brett if you will, would like it privatized. Dr Purves, he wants the highest bidder."

"Military?” Jeanie blanched at the thought. Then her voice drifted off, “So the books ARE real.. You three are real. Hannah hid the stories in plain sight for the entire world to discover" And for the first time, she noticed a framed photo on the vast desk. A trio of happy young people: red-headed girl, pretty with large blue eyes. A floppy haired, tan surfer type. And a tall, lanky boy with oval glasses and severely parted hair starting to curl. Jeanie took the frame and traced her fingertip along the glass. “Sarah, Zack and Billy. This is like finding out Harry, Ron and Hermione are living, breathing people. And here you are, in my school.”

"I could show you if you want but.. Miss Turner, why are you only in a sweater?" Cormac stepped back and lifted his glasses and put them back down. He took them off hurriedly as if he was embarrassed to be wearing them. Turning once more to face her "Is.. Is that MY sweater? You're only in. Jeanie, Where are your pants?"

"Well I planned on seducing you Mr.."

"Doctor" -

Jeanie sighed as if she had been defeated, "DOCTOR Delaney-McNamara"

"Well Ive mucked that up I suppose,” a deep crimson set across his ears.

" I mean you can have your sweater back,” Jeanie arched an eyebrow seductively. Pulling the sweater over her head to reveal only a pair of her nicest black panties and bra underneath. Nothing else.

"Thank you it's quite my favorite-" Cormac’s eyes widened when he noticed the headmistress in front of him wearing nothing but lingerie. He squinted briefly while scratching his head. “Oh.. Jeanie. That’s..” his voice drifted off lost in shock.

Ignoring the embarrassment growing in her chest, Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest. “Why in the hell did you take your glasses off?”

“Oh, em.. Hannah always tells me I’m far more attractive without them.” he shrugged.

“Just like how Clark Kent is only slightly, by a molecule,” Jeanie pinched her fingers together, “less sexy than Superman with his glasses"

"But his glasses are fake,” Cormac ignored the obvious joke. “Right now I can just see shapes. Lovely, curved shapes! but only shapes." waving a hand in her general direction again.

Jeanie sat down on his bed without the sweater, to protect her now she just decided to go with her original plan. She crossed her long legs and leaned back with one hand back on the mattress. "Ok give us a look with the glasses on, Delaney.. Mcnamara?" This was frustrating.

"No, I reckon I'll have the kids call me Cormac" his hands on thin hips as he glanced upwards in thought

"Yes, erase that line of authority between yourself and 11-15 year olds. Don't underestimate them, Billy. Or Cormac. Or whatever. You are probably the smartest professor Saint Fergus has ever had, but you’re handsome. My girls will eat you alive"

"I wouldn't go that far!" he was exasperated for some reason.

"You have five PhDs and can’t even legally rent a car in America yet," Jeanie pointed out.

Cormac waved her off dismissively. “No! Not the smart or genius part. That is true,” he agreed without pretension. “It’s the handsome part,” he rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Look McNamara, I can’t tell if you’re being humble or an asshole. Your constant squinting and inflamed cheeks are ruining my perception.”

"Inflamed.." he touched his face "It's rather distracting. You in your. I may realize now that's your intent. I'm not really NEW to this, uh women coming on to me. It's just not always quite so forward?"

"Had I known you were a doctor of Quantum Mechanics, my approach would be a little less intense. 10 quid or not, you were the one kissing me last night." Jeanie got up off the bed "Ill go, but can I take your sweater with me? The students don't need to see this"

"Oh, em do ya have to? You're already here, and I'm sure quite lovely to look at."

"Cormac put your glasses on"

"Really?" he was adorably confused "I would have to take them off if we-"

"Have sex?"

"I didn't mean to imply- I've never really-" he nervously put his glasses back on. Then started fiddling with his hands and chewing on one.

"No fucking way!” Jeanie sat up quickly “But you're-"

"Oh please don't say hot."

"Well-travelled?"

"I am not completely virginal, I'll have ye know! I've done tings. SEXY tings. I've put my mouth and fingers in places on a woman. I'm just picky about where I’d put my penis."

Jeanie’s amused now, she can’t help it. An eyebrow raised and a laugh ready to escape because he's pacing around and gesticulating wildly now. "Are.. are you getting more Irish?"

"MAYBE I AM!" he shouted louder than he meant to, then unexpectedly pulled his shirt over his head.

Jeanie laughed at the absurdity now. "Cormac. Or Billy, whatever you are more comfortable with." She kneeled on the bed coming to the edge of it. "We don't have to do this. I'm not asking you to justify your virginity; that your business. It’s a patriarchal construct anyways to make us feel like we have to engage in sexual activity. Then when we do, we’re trash. It’s a no-win situation for anyone. I LIKE you. We have all school year to get to know one another better."

“I think Dr Delaney-McNamara, but Cormac works just fine for you” his tone all at once softer and deeper.

There was a weird electricity in the air, which very well could have been the obscene amount of tech equipment in the small dorm room. It could have also been that the atmosphere switched so fast from mortification to that moment your body knows something is going to happen. Jeanie’s head began to swim when she realized the young man in front of her was unbuttoning his jeans to step out of them.

“Bloody hell...” was all she could utter before he wrapped her up in his arms.

Jeanie’s hand on Cormac’s hip and the other tangled in his hair as they found themselves in another kiss. Mouths dancing together. She sat back and pulled him down so that he was laying completely on top of her now. His skin was hot almost like a sunburn. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Jeanie thought maybe a literal electricity had settled in him from using the portals so often all these years. Their tongues pushed back and forth, she realized his body began to feel similar to one of those static glass balls. The kind you press your hand against and every single hair on your body raises? It was strange and exhilarating and comical all at once.

The thought was fleeting though because Cormac’s lips made its way down Jeanie’s neck. The breath caught in her throat as he bit softly before trailing to her chest. His large hand gripped the flesh of her hip, snaking it around to grab at her backside before settling it between her thighs. The other struggled to unhook her bra while in their current position, his annoyance eliciting a giggle.

Managing to roll them so that she was on top now, Jeanie deftly reached behind herself to finish the job. Her breasts free, Cormac took one in his mouth. His tongue was warm against her skin as he began to suck and lick at a nipple and the flesh around it. Alternating between each hungrily, hand still lost in between her thighs. A finger began to trace the fabric of her panties.

Audible gasp now, as Jeanie fumbled to reciprocate any way she could. Kissing his forehead? or rocking her hips against his hand, she began to float outside of her body. What was she doing? Trying to feel wanted after all of this time? Maybe give the other adults something to gossip about over the weekend. Attractive new professor, the benefactor of Saint Fergus, fucking the boss his first week in. Jeanie was his boss, but also his subordinate? Because Cormac, with Brett and Hannah, owned her livelihood now.

“What a fine mess we’re in, Delaney,” she managed amongst the new spate of kisses.

Ignoring Jeanie’s frank statement, Cormac took to nibbling her throat again. Exchanging now for harder bites, just enough to let her know he had the upper hand. Fingers deftly pumping rhythmically with the pulsating of her body. He found that part of her with ease. The button Gordon never could without neon arrows.

“I walked through an alien portal at sixteen and made one of the greatest scientific discoveries none of us can talk about,” That Irish lilt heavy in her ear. “A fine mess has been the last decade of my life, Ms. Turner.”

There was almost a reckless abandon as Jeanie unexpectedly came. She cried out; it echoed off the dorm walls briefly before Cormac clamped a hand over her mouth. Their eyes both wide before they lost themselves in a fit of giggles.

Lying beside each other now on the bed, Jeanie felt self-conscious while Cormac absently twirled a finger in her mass of red hair. She felt his green eyes staring as she traced the infinity symbol with the tip of a nail on his chest. Their breathing patterns quickly marched in time together.

“Not sure why I have a gut feeling your timidity was a fucking game,” Jeanie spoke without a hint of anger. More like curiosity.

“Only just a little. I am far more capable of handling people in small doses. There's a certain anxiety hanging around the average university student. I finished undergrad in a year and graduate school in another. Never really fit in with most people my age. I thrived in a boarding college like this one. Never more than 15 children a class. Miss Murphy let me do as I please because I kept mostly to myself, even when she and the others were strangely codependent on my brain.”

Cormac’s eyes still trained on Jeanie while he spoke. “I didn't mind. I DON'T mind. My tinkering and projects work bloody fantastic now!” he exclaimed with pride. Those long fingers combed through Jeanie's hair. His gaze became nostalgic, “I transferred my AI tech into the lab at Aberdeen. There's my personal version. She's asleep right now,” he chuckled, gesturing towards the wall of monitors.

Jeanie grimaced, “She?!”

“Oh yes! SILVIA! I suppose she'll become LISA’s big sister.”

“You invented a primitive android.” her response was incredulous.

“No no. SILVIA was a lie detector I installed artificial intelligence in to play ch-..” Cormac caught himself. For the hundredth time that evening, “I suppose. Yes,” he tapped a finger against the soft dimple in his cheek.

“You suppose!” Jeanie reeled with laughter once more.

Cormac’s face flushed pink, “You know what I did to you was just basic anatomy that’s easily taught by reading a damn book. I reckon you'd be interested in what else reading has taught me about a woman's body.”

And so it began.

#robert sheehan #billy delaney #me and mrs jones #fluff #steamy?#cormac mcnamara #robert sheehan character fic

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thequeerwitch · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: Nuissance

Albert Wesker x Reader

AN: Thank you all for the wait. This chapter wasn’t initially going to kick off the fanfic, I was intending to make most of the events in here oneshots. But I thought, why not just make them all chapter one. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing!

I entered the gym holding an ice pack over my eye. Wesker was lifting weights with his shirt off, alone at the bench press. Cocky as ever, wanting to show off those muscles of his. I’ll admit, the first time I saw him in this state it caught my eye. Those rock hard abs of his still managed to make my nethers tingle, but you learn to keep your composure after seeing them for the hundredth time. I hung over the bench press with a sly smile plastered to my face. “Hey hot shot.”

He stopped for a moment, turning his head to me. I could tell behind those sunglasses, his eyes went to the ice pack over my eye in an instant. This assumption was confirmed when he asked, “What happened?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing.”

He stood and carefully took the ice pack away from my eye. “Who gave you that black eye?”

“It was nothing, Wesker. Just a sparring match gone wrong.”

“Tell me who did this.”

“Why do you care?”

He scoffed. “I don’t, I was just wondering what face I should see in my mind when I imagined you getting your ass kicked.”

I shoved his hand out of the way, replacing the ice pack over the bruised area. “For you information, just because Miller managed to land a good hit doesn’t mean I completely lost the match. He walked away with a nice fat lip of his own.”

Wesker shook his head, no doubt rolling his eyes under those dark shades. He sat back down on the bench.

“Y’know you look like a douche, right?”

His head snapped to me. “Excuse me?”

“You know I’m right. You’re wearing sunglasses in the gym when you’re all by yourself in here.”

“Not entirely alone, you’re here nagging me too.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Shut up, you’re getting off topic! Why don’t you just take ‘em off? It’s not like me knowing your eye color will make much of a difference.”

“You’re a pest, you know that?”

“It’s my job to pester you. Now are they coming off by choice or by force?”

Wesker stood and towered over me. “You know damn well you would lose this fight.”

“Oh please. You think I’d let you outsmart me? Besides, you wouldn’t lay a hand on a lady, would you?”

“Are we talking about a lady or a bitch?”

I reached up and took the frames of the sunglasses, no protest so far. I lifted them from his nose and brought them in front of me. Staring back at me were a pair of warm, brown eyes. When I looked closer, I realized they were actually dull orange. I couldn’t contain the short gasp that passed my lips. He took his glasses from my hands and replaced them, then wordlessly returned to his workout. Before I could respond, my watch started to beep. My que that my break had ended. I quickly changed into my work uniform—white button up blouse, black slacks, and my lab coat—and I departed for the labs. As I walked through the hall, I pinned my name badge to my lapel and tied my blonde hair into a bun at the crown of my head.

After a long day in the labs, I retired to my quarters. We had a field mission later that evening, so with my later afternoon cleared, I decided to go on a quick hike around the complex. I traversed through the upper halls, passing Miller as I left. He scoffed as he laid eyes on my face. “Your eye looks fabulous,” he said.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “I know right, it’s a new fashion statement. I like to call it ‘Abuser’s Violet.’”

“Whatever, I still call a rematch.”

“You’re on, see you on the helipad.”

I went down to the foyer and before I opened the door, I heard hushed voices echoing from upstairs.

“Wesker.”

“Miller, a word?”

“Yes sir?”

“So where’d Martinez get that black eye of hers?”

“Huh? We sparred earlier today. What’s it to you?”

“I want you to stay away from her.”

“Wesker, we work together. You can’t be serious!”

“I’m warning you, if I ever see you anywhere near her, you’ll have to deal with me.”

“Y-Yes sir…my apologies sir.”

Both sets of footsteps left the hall, so I exited the front steps of the mansion and jogged through the forest. The smell of fresh air brushing past my nose freed me from my chaotic life, at least for a moment. All that occupied the atmosphere were thumps from my feet against coarse dirt and the hum of songbirds. I had become accustomed to the rustling of leaves in the forest years ago when I first came here, so it was more comforting to me than anything. It let me know I wasn’t alone. Normally, the natural sounds allowed me to clear my head. But this time, my mind raced faster than the jackrabbits in the forestry. All I could think of was the voices I heard in the hall.

“I want you to stay away from her. If I see you near her, you’ll have to deal with me.”

Why would Wesker care about Miller and I sparring? He didn’t care about anyone but himself, right? Besides, he’s too invested in his work to notice anyone. Women and men alike showed subtle romantic interest, but he always turned them down. At most, he came across as an older brother to Birkin and I, albeit a distanced older brother in college with Birkin and I being kid siblings in middle school. He’s always been distant, why would he care now?

Before I knew it, I was at the top of a massive hill overlooking a brilliant sunset over the forest. The sky above ran orange, and the tops of the trees were peppered gold. I shielded my eyes from the sun and looked down at the trees. I heard footsteps behind me and I whirled around, taking a fighting stance.

Wesker shook his head. “At ease, soldier.”

“You ass! Don’t sneak up on me like that! What are you doing here?”

“I believe I am permitted to hike the outskirts of the complex, or was I unaware that you owned the forest.”

“You following me or something?”

��I was in the area, heard your giant footsteps and decided to see who was spying on me.”

“Don’t get cheeky,” Before I could finish my statement, the alarm went off on my watch and I shut it off. “Whatever, we should get going if we want to make it to dinner.”

“Lead the way then. Since you own the forest, you must know it be heart.”

I rolled my eyes and walked ahead of him, but he quickly mathed my pace. “By the way, what was all that with Miller?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You didn’t have to intimidate him over a little sparring match.”

“Maybe he should learn not to hit a woman.”

“Y’know what I think? I think you care about me more than you let on.”

“What on earth gave you that impression?”

“Why else would you care so much? You’d think the idea of me getting an ass kicking would be the happiest news in your eyes.”

“Why are you pestering me all of the sudden?”

“It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

“Listen Tweety Bird, when are you going to realize that I don’t care?”

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Then either grow a couple of inches or quit being a nuisance.”

“That would be my other hobby, annoying you is just so much fun.”

We made it back to the mansion and entered the dining hall. Birkin was already at our normal spot. As usual, he was poring over a file rather than paying much attention to his food.

“Put your file away, William,” I said, “Your soup is getting cold.”

“You’re not my mother, Victoria.”

I didn’t respond, I was too invested in the slab of steak and vegetables in front of me. I finished my dinner early and went to suit up, then I met the team in the briefing room and together we boarded the helicopter.

#Albert Wesker #albert wesker x oc #albert wesker x reader #resident evil #Resident Evil Game #resident evil fanfic #x reader

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