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The Maroon Jumper | 4

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: the reader not eating due to stress/events (please eat I love you all :), Nightmares, cursing, people being general assholes

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I have to note that this includes direct quotes from Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince by J.K R*wling so the ending includes a citation just so I cover my own ass :) This is only for fun and fictional purposes not anything else!

If Draco had been bothered by what he or you smelled in the Amortenia, he only made it known to you at that moment after class. As the next day, you were back to breakfast with him and his posse as usual. He was starting to act normal, well, normal for this year, which was still odd. Honestly, thinking about it too much hurt your head. Your only real respite was Hermione. Harry, of course, had apologized and made up with you; not only was it November and quidditch was taking up plenty of his time, but Harry was ripe with theories that Draco was a Death Eater. While you knew the possibility was there, it wasn’t something you were willing to think about right now. As for quidditch practice, neither you nor Hermione minded much, you even often attended practices for the opportunity at getting some fresh air. But even with everything going on the year moved forward, and you were being pulled along.

The morning of the Gryffindor/Slytherin quidditch game, you elected to eat breakfast with your friends, which was proving to be a rare occurrence this year. Of course, this choice, as well as the gold and red jumper and makeup you had donned in brazen support of your house, earned you nasty looks from Blaise and Pansy, along with the loud boos and chants from the Slytherin table when you walked, but you elected to ignore them, your excitement for today’s match outweighing any jeers your rival house could throw your way.

The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as Harry, Ron, and Ginny approached. Harry and Ginny grinned and waved while Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head. You and Hermione followed shortly behind.

“Cheer up, Ron!” you heard Lavender call. “I know you’ll be brilliant!”

Hermione rolled your eyes, and you giggled at Brown’s idiotic flirting, but Ron just ignored her, instead, wallowing in self-pity.

“Tea?” Harry asked Ron. “Coffee? Pumpkin juice?”

“Anything,” said Ron.

“How are you both feeling?” Hermione asked, trying to break through the awkward air.

“Fine,” said Harry, who was nearly ignoring Hermione and concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. “There you go, Ron. Drink up.”

As Ron began to drink, Hermione interrupted, “Don’t drink that, Ron!”

“Why not?” asked Ron.

Hermione was now staring at Harry, “You just put something in that drink.”

“Excuse me?” said Harry.

“You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket, it clearly being the bottle of Felix Felicis he had won in potions class earlier in the term.

“Ron, I warn you, don’t drink it!”

Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp, and said, “Stop bossing me around, Hermione.”

You scoffed at his attitude, and Hermione cut you off before you could say anything.

“You should be expelled for that. I’d never have believed it of you, Harry!” She said, her tone lower so only you five could hear her.

“Look who’s talking,” he whispered back. “Confunded anyone lately?”

You all watched as she stormed up the table away from them.

“I should probably go after her,” you said. “Good luck today guys, and just in case you didn’t already know Harry, Malfoy isn’t playing today, something about being sick which is bogus,” you said, your voice dropping into the same hushed tone as Hermione’s had been.

“See you after the game?” Harry asked, and you nodded.

“Of course,” you responded. “You’d better win.” With that, you left, following the route Hermione had taken.

It didn’t take you long to find her as she hadn’t gone very far. She was near the courtyard, hiding underneath a large stone staircase.

“Hermione,” you said, pleading with her to forget the events that had just transpired and accompany you to the match. “Please.”

“Fine, but for you and Ginny, not the boys,” the two of you knew each other probably a little too well at this point.

“I love you, you know that?” You asked, a smile breaking onto your face.

“You’d better,” she said grumpily as she took your arm and began the walk to the quidditch pitch.

You and Hermione sat next to Luna, who had thankfully saved you fantastic seats despite neither of you asking, and luckily you had arrived just as both teams were rising into the air. You adored the sport of quidditch, but you loved cheering on your friends even more. The matches were one of your favourite things about school, and it was a relief to finally take your mind off everything else and simply enjoy something.

“Well, there they go, and I think we’re all surprised to see the team that Potter’s put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley’s patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, close personal friendship with the Captain does help,” you heard Zacharias Smith, who played for Hufflepuff, cut through the roar Luna’s lion hat and you rolled your eyes.

“What an arse,” you said, and Hermione chuckled, her mood lightening.

With half an hour of the game past, Gryffindor was leading sixty points to zero, Ron and Ginny’s performance had gotten Zacharias off their case, instead, picking on Peakes and Coote instead.

“Of course, Coote isn’t really the usual build for a Beater,” said Zacharias loftily, “they’ve generally got a bit more muscle —”

“Hit a Bludger at him!” you heard Harry call to Coote as he zoomed past.

But Coote, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Harper instead, who was just passing Harry in the opposite direction. You cheered when the bludger found its target, and you saw Smith’s face go white with fear. You continued to watch as Harry and Harper chased down the snitch. They were far enough away from where you were sitting that you had a hard time seeing what was going on. It wasn’t until Harry started flying back down to the ground with his hand high above his head and his fist clenched that you and the rest of your house realize that he had caught the snitch, and Gryffindor had won. You, Luna, and Hermione shouted so loudly that you didn’t even hear the whistle that indicated the end of the game.

Hermione tugged on your sweater to get your attention, “C’mon, I want to go talk to the boys.”

“Luna! We’re gonna go find Harry and Ron, see you later!” You shouted so your friend could hear you, and she nodded and smiled in response.

Once you and Hermione made it to the changing rooms, the rest of the team had gone. It looked like both of the boys were just getting ready to leave themselves. It had taken you a while to fight through the crowds of angry Slytherins and elated Gryffindors to get there.

“I want a word with you, Harry.” Hermione took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal.”

“What are you going to do, turn us in?” Ron asked, immediately taking the offence.

“What are you two talking about?” asked Harry, he had turned his back on all of you as he hung up his robes.

“Harry we saw you put the Felix Felicis in Ron’s drink this morning,” you said.

“No, I didn’t,” said Harry turning back around, a sly smile on his face, and you started to catch on while Ron and Hermione still hadn’t gotten it.

“Yes you did, Harry, and that’s why everything went right, Slytherin players were missing, and Ron saved everything!” Hermione said, her volume low in fear someone was listening in to what she was saying.

“I didn’t put it in!” Harry, as he pulled out the tiny sealed bottle full of golden liquid. “I wanted Ron to think I’d done it, so I faked it when I knew you were all looking.” He turned to Ron. “You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself.”

Ron and Hermione’s reactions caused Harry to chuckle, and you to smile.

“There really wasn’t anything in my pumpkin juice?” Ron asked, and Harry shook his head. After wrapping his head around it all, he turned on Hermione, his voice raised in an attempt to mimic her voice. “You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that’s why he saved everything!’ See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!”

“I never said you couldn’t — Ron, you thought you’d been given it too!” said Hermione, clearly offended by Ron’s rude imitation.

“Ron, really, she was just looking out,” you said, taking Hermione’s side as you so often did.

But Ron just picked up his things and pushed his way through both and shoved open the door, rudely rushing out.

You turned around sharply, angry at his sudden attitude. “There’s no reason to be a prick to your friends Ronald,” you shouted through the open door, but he continued to walk away, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“Er. Shall, shall we go up to the party, then?” Harry asked, unsure of what else he could say as he realized that his plan had backfired in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Yeah, it’ll be a perfect excused for me to knock some sense into that prick.”

“You go! I’m sick of Ron at the moment. I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done,” you and Hermione spoke at the same time.

However, Hermione caught on faster than you could, “You two go.”

You gave her a questionable look.

“Seriously, go. It’ll feel good to know someone’s telling him off,” she said, her tone even but her eyes starting to well up, but before either of you could say anything, she swiftly exited the changing room choosing a different route than the one Ron had taken.

“Well congrats on a good game Harry,” you said and sighed, causing Harry to chuckle awkwardly in an attempt to release some of the tension that had built in the last couple of minutes.

“She doesn’t realize Ron is miffed at her because she went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, does she?” He asked.

“And he doesn’t realize she’s pissed at him because he won’t stop being a prick and just ask her out, does he?”

“Touché,” Harry said, and you smiled.

“I’ve missed you, Potter,” and with that, you both slowly walked back up to the castle, many congratulating him as you walked by, and some Slytherin’s giving you questioning or nasty looks, some a combination of both, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were with Potter or because Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin, or if because you were with the Captain of the quidditch team who had just beaten their own team. You didn’t even consider the fact that it could be because you were with the guy your ‘boyfriend’ hated the most.

The Gryffindor celebration party was in full swing when you arrived causing the Common Room to be packed to the brim, not allowing you or Harry to see if Hermione had ended up here. It didn’t help that the second you entered, Harry was swamped by an assortment of girls as well as the Creevy brothers. Despite having to split up, you found Harry again along with Ginny at the drink table, and just as you arrived, you saw Hermione run out of the common room.

“Harry!” You said, just loud enough for him and Ginny to hear. “I think you should go after her. She may be sick of Ginny and my’s advice at this point.”

He nodded in agreement and rushed off after her.

“Yeah, which is to forget the prick,” Ginny said, and both of you giggled.

“So Ginny, how are things going between you and Luna?”

After that night, things were tense. You had quickly taken Hermione’s side and was ignoring Ron. On the other hand, Harry was determined to split his time between the two, so you were still seeing very little of him.

Not a week later you were visited by your family owl for the second time this year. This time the owl dropped the letter between you and Draco. You were again thankful to notice that the envelope shined silver and not red.

“Shit,” you said when it dropped, clearly disturbed by the presence of the letter.

“Well that looks exciting,” Draco said, pushing the letter towards you, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can’t make me read it,” you whined, and Draco cracked a small smile.

“It can’t be that bad love,” he said.

You gave him a look, no letter from your parents could ever be less than bad. Nevertheless, you delicately peeled open the envelope and extracted the heavy parchment that awaited you.

‘Y/n,

I have been informed that you have started spending time with Draco since my last letter, and I am glad to hear that after six years at that school, you have finally found some suitable company and are no longer choosing to poison your time by spending it with mudbloods.

Now, as you know, I have arranged plans with Narcissa for your Winter Holiday. You and Draco shall be travelling from Hogwarts directly to Malfoy Manor. Since you will be meeting his parents before you see your father and I, I demand that you look presentable, and remember the manners I’ve taught you. Your father and I will meet you at Malfoy Manor the night you return from school for dinner. As you will be staying with the Malfoy’s for the entirety of the holiday and not be returning home, I will pack and send the clothing I find suitable for you to wear throughout this visit. I do not find it necessary for myself to be involved in the wedding planning; therefore, I am leaving it up to Narcissa, who has said that she will take the time with you to plan. Your father and I will occasionally be visiting, but I expect for you to be on your best behaviour while we are not there.

You know the consequences should you decide to not take this seriously.

Signed,

Layah Y/l/n.’

When you finished reading all you could do was sigh. Not that you didn’t expect it, but seeing the words on paper in your mothers script felt like a knife to the gut. You handed Draco the letter for him to read, you couldn't not bring yourself to speak, and you were unaware whether he had been made known of these plans or not.

He read the letter rather quickly then tucked it back into its silver envelope and handed it back to you. “Well then,” he said.

“Aren’t they just so much fun?” You asked as you tucked the letter into your bag, fake enthusiasm and sarcasm lacing your voice.

Your joke caused another small smile to rise to Draco’s lips. “I am very excited to meet them again,” his statement reeking of sarcasm.

“I promise it will be the time of your life,” you said and he shook his head, ridding himself of the laugh that was rising in his chest.

“Meet me at the library this evening after class?” His tone made the sentence sound like a question, but you knew it was a statement, although you didn’t mind much, so you nodded in response. You appreciated the somewhat friendly banter that had finally blossomed between you.

You walked to your first class with Draco and Blaise, only changing ways once you had Divination. You were the only sixth year in the class, which didn’t surprise you, your peers all hated the course and had been excited to drop it this year, but you were a natural and found the class to be quite peaceful. Your classes went on naturally, which was pleasant as you had plenty on your mind with your mother’s letter. You were out of class and in the library by 5:15. You found Draco in the large leather armchairs he had chosen to use during your first study session, and that had become a bit of a tradition at this point.

“Evening, Draco,” you said civilly as you sat in the chair across from him and began pulling some books out of your bag.

“I’m just curious when you were planning on asking your boyfriend to Slughorn’s Christmas party?” Draco asked, not even looking up from his book.

You looked up. The event had honestly barely even cross your mind since you had received your invitation. “Oh, yes, Draco, would you mind accompanying-”

“Yes,” he said, curtly cutting you off.

“Draco, there is no need to be an arse about it, alright? I'm sorry for not asking sooner,” you bit back at him.

“I just don’t know why he doesn’t bloody invite me to those dinners. I’m a Malfoy for Salazar’s sake,” you weren't sure that was the real reason, but you knew that he wouldn't tell you either way.

You shook your head. “Well, I’m not the person to take your frustration out on,” you said. “I’m sorry for not asking you, but it wasn’t intentional.”

“Surprised you didn’t ask Potter,” he said under his breath.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, the volume of your voice rising. You had heard what he said but you wanted to give him the chance to redeem himself.

“I said I’ll pick you up at eight,” he hissed, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“What got your knickers in a twist?” you muttered.

“Pardon me?” he questioned.

“Nothing, darling,” you said, giving him a sickly sweet smile before opening up your book. What is it with this boy and his bloody mood swings? The study session went on in the same hostile tone, and every time you spoke to each other, it was in an attempt to piss off the other. You made snide remarks about him and he would bite back with rude remarks about your choice in company. Draco walked you to the Great Hall, keeping your hand in a tight grip the entire time, but when you arrived, standing in the doorway, you ripped your hand out of his and left him to go sit with Harry, and Hermione, keeping eye contact with him until you sat down. A scowl resting on your face once you broke the eye contact to turn to your friends who were absolutely silent having observed you since your grand entrance.

“What was that about?” Harry asked. Not only did he witness your little stint with Malfoy, but he could feel your icy demeanour from the second you stepped into the Hall.

“Do I need a reason?” your attitude was still sour. “It’s Malfoy.”

“What did he do this time?” Hermione asked.

“What didn’t the fucker do?” you asked as you violently added food to your plate.

“Hello everyone,” it was Draco behind you, his tone starkly sweet compared to how it had been in the library. “Mind if I sit?”

You refused to turn around and give him the time of day, but the entirety of your house had dropped their forks, forgotten about their food, and were staring at the platinum blonde as he squeezed onto the bench in-between you and Hermione.

“Yes,” you said, keeping your eyes on Harry who was across from you. “We do mind. Anyways, why aren’t you sitting at your table with your minions?”

“I thought it’d be pleasant for me to get to know your friends, love,” he said. It was a load of bullshit, of course, you just didn’t know why he wanted to fuck with you so badly tonight.

“Malfoy-” Harry started.

“Hey, everyone! Woah-” Ginny said as she approached the four of you. “Is that Malfoy?” she asked Harry as if the boy before her was a fake.

“Yes, he’s really here,” you said. “You know what Gin? Go ahead and pinch him just to be sure.”

Draco started picking food off of your plate, food that you had elected to ignore. “I don’t think that’s how that works darling,” he said nonchalantly prompting you to scoff.

“What is this about?” Hermione asked him.

“Can’t I eat dinner with my girlfriend and her friends?” He asked, smiling at her, which you thought was the first time you had ever seen that.

Nearly every student at Hogwarts was staring at you now, no one could believe the events that were transpiring right before their eyes. Even some of the professors were staring, although mainly Slughorn and Dumbledore were engaged in the drama transpiring.

You, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry all exchanged looks, eventually silently figuring out that he would not be leaving anytime soon. And, the silence that filled the Hall as you deliberated was deafening.

“So what are your plans for the holiday?” Hermione finally asked, her words seeming to echo around the near quiet room, but she was sick of the silence.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t told you yet,” Draco responded as he started eating grapes off of Ginny’s plate.

Ginny pulled her plate out of Draco’s reach. “It’s not like you give her much time to talk to us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that we’ve just got lots of planning to do,” he said as he put his hand over your left.

Harry scoffed and shook his head at the ridiculous nature of Draco’s tone.

“What’s the matter, Potter?” He asked. “Mad that I ended up with the girl you like to snog at parties?”

You almost choked when the words came out of his mouth, while Hermione and Ginny both turned to look at you, eyes wide as they processed the information Draco threw out onto the table

“I’m sorry Malfoy,” Harry said through clenched teeth. “I think you were just drunk and seeing things.”

“To my recollection, you two were the drunk ones. Very, very drunk. Anyways I’m sure you’ve done it both drunk and sober, what with the way she wears your sweaters and cheers you on at Quidditch games.”

“Quidditch games you’re to chicken to play at because you know I’ll beat you?”

“Gentlemen!” when you heard McGonagall’s voice, you sighed in relief. “Mr Malfoy, Professor Snape is requesting your presence, he’d like to speak with you regarding your prefect duty tonight.”

Draco released his tight grip on your hand and gave everyone the fakest smile you’d ever seen. “It was a pleasure eating dinner with you all, really it was quite amusing. We should do this again some time,” he said, then swung his legs back over the bench, and swiftly departed.

“Everyone, go back to your dinners, gawking is rude,” said McGonagall loudly, then returned to her seat at the top of the hall.

“I’m going to bed,” you said and rose departing the hall, not having touched your food.

You exited the Hall quickly, viciously aware of all of the eyes following you out. You couldn’t help but imagine the rumours that would be flying around the school tomorrow, but you did your best to push them out of your head. You tore into your common room, halfway between your exit from the Great Hall and your walk to your dorm you had started crying, and the last thing you wanted was for someone to see you cry. Clearly, sometime between breakfast and 5:15pm, someone had told Draco Malfoy that you and Harry had been sneaking around behind his back which just wasn’t true. And what was even more clear that Draco was livid about it, and you weren’t sure if he would listen to your excuses this time. You weren’t sure how long but at some point after you found your bed Hermione and Ginny entered your dorm.

“Y/n?” Hermione asked softly when she saw you lying on your bed, your face buried in a pillow.

“I’m sorry-”

“For what? Not telling us that you occasionally snog Harry?” Ginny asked. “Who cares, I mean it's in the past, and I think we’re both more curious how that came about, we’re not pissed at you.”

“Still,” you said as you dragged yourself up into a sitting position, your face streaked in mascara and tears. “I should’ve told you I don’t know why I didn’t

“Sure you should have but the thing is, we’re your friends, and we’re here for you through everything. We aren’t going to judge you for something like that,” Hermione said and, she and Ginny took seats on opposite sides of you.

“I’m just more curious what it was like,” Ginny teased and nudged you with her shoulder.

“Now tell us why Draco was acting so weird because I have a feeling that you know,” Hermione said.

“He thinks Harry and I are sneaking around behind his back,” you said. “Which we aren’t.”

“Anything else?” Hermione asked, why did she have to be so smart?

“And in potions when we were brewing Amortentia he smelled me, I think, and I started to smell him I think but the scent disappeared while I was trying to smell it. Slughorn explained that happens when you’re unsure of your feelings.”

Ginny ran a hand through your hair comfortingly. “Malfoy is so bloody dramatic,” she muttered.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, your voice had started getting hoarse from the crying.

“Maybe you should tell him?” Hermione said. “He’s had his reasonable moments in the past with you. And Y/n?” you looked up at her. “It’s a pretty big deal if he smelled you in the Amortentia.”

“He said that he smelled ‘Vanilla, old books, peonies, and firewhiskey’” You recounted.

“Shit that son of a bitch is astute,” Ginny said.

“Yeah, that’s pretty exact,” Hermione whispered regarding the potion, considering the possibility that Malfoy was indeed in love with you. “Y/n why don’t you take a shower, go to bed, and talk to Draco in the morning?”

You nodded, “That’s probably a good idea.”

Hermione woke you up the next morning from a restless sleep. The entire night you were riddled with nightmares in anticipation of the coming weeks, of your father and mother, and the darkness your world was about to be enveloped in. After you both got ready, she walked you down to the Great Hall, where you split once you arrived. You approached the head of Slytherin’s table, where Draco was perched, slowly, anxiety boiling angrily in your stomach.

“Good morning,” you said to everyone there once you arrived. “Draco do you mind if we step outside and talk?”

He shared a look with Blaise that lasted a long moment before turning to you and giving you a single nod. He rose and followed you out of the hall, and out of the castle into the now empty courtyard.

“What is it?” He asked impatiently, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you started. “Draco I haven’t been spending much time with Harry, even as a friend. But I haven’t been sneaking around behind your back with him.”

“Really because that's not what I’ve heard,” he snarled.

“After the quidditch match Hermione, Ron, Harry, and I got into an argument in the changing rooms. Hermione and Ron stormed off, and Harry and I just walked back up to our common room together, that’s all,” you explained. “And the sweater is mine, I just like them larger cause I like tucking them into my jeans.”

As you were talking, Draco started pacing around the courtyard and running a hand through his hair. “You have to understand how it looked, you and Harry leaving a changing room together, alone.”

You nodded. “Of course, I just sometimes need you to not assume the worst of me.”

As you finished, he stopped his pacing and looked at you. “Alright, is that it?”

“No,” you said, as you started to become a bit more confident. “I, well I smelled you- in the Amortentia in Slughorn’s class but,” you paused, afraid of what you were about to admit. “But, Draco I’m- scared.” you finally caught his eyes and made eye contact, and you paused for a moment to try and drag your thoughts into comprehensible sentences. “I’m scared of my parents, I’m scared of the war that's coming, I’m scared of my feelings for you because how am I supposed to know how you feel about me when one moment you’re yelling at me and hurting me then the next you’re buying me books and joking with me?” You wiped your eyes, angry at the tears that were forming, you hated crying in front of him, you hated looking weak in front of him. “Draco what happens if I fall in love with you just for you to do something awful? You- you can’t trust me! And fuck Draco that hurts. Merlin, Draco I’ve been trying to not fancy you since our third bloody year, but you've always just made it so hard."

He stared at you in disbelief, of course, he didn’t know this you didn’t once make it obvious which he was aware was intentional. He didn’t know how to respond, what to say. He had loved you for so long and he couldn’t believe that you reciprocated his feelings in the slightest. He could tell you that you held his heart in your hand and that if you wanted to crush it, you could. That he would never be able to love anyone else. But, he was still Voldemort’s errand boy tasked with something terrible he couldn’t rope you into. He loved you, and he would rather be the source of your pain than the cause of your death.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said, unable to meet your eyes.

“Look me in the eyes and say that Draco,” you said, entirely shocked by his words.

But he didn’t. Instead, he turned and left you in the middle of the courtyard, utterly alone.

You weren’t sure whether or not Draco was still planning on picking you up for Slughorn’s Christmas Party, but you decided to get ready and go anyways, everything about your relationship had been unpredictable this far, and you didn’t expect that to change now. The two of you hadn’t spoken since that morning in the courtyard, and you had stopped eating meals with him and the rest of the Slytherins entirely. Of course, plenty of drama was circulating, rumours about your relationship on everyone’s lips but you had gotten good at blocking it out. You donned a cherry red dress along with gold accessories, hoping that if Draco did accompany you, he would despise your chosen colour pallet, you had to admit that sometimes you found joy in pissing him off. You weren’t ready to go until 8:27pm at which time you descended down into the common room and out of the Fat Lady’s portrait into the Hall where you found Draco dressed in a slick black suit.

“You showed up,” you observed coldly.

“I never miss appointments,” He said as he offered you his arm.

Still livid with him you refused it, walking away towards the dungeons where Slughorn’s office resided. Your pace was quick but not rushed, easily defined as elegant, and it took Draco a moment to catch up to you.

“Keep up Malfoy,” you said, keeping your gaze ahead of you.

The two of you did not exchange another word for the entirety of the walk, Draco simply confused by your behaviour as he had only seen you act like this at society events. The cold demeanour you donned not unlike that of many purebloods he knew. When you did arrive at the party, you took his arm and plastered a fake but convincing smile on your face before entering.

“Ah! Miss Y/l/n,” Slughorn exclaimed excitedly when you entered. “And Mr Malfoy, well don’t the two of you just make the most handsome couple! You know I paired up Lucius and Narcissa in a couple of projects their sixth year before they started dating?” He said, more to Draco than to you.

“Well, then I owe you, my life Professor!” Draco said with a charming smile.

He bellowed in laughter at the half-hearted joke. “You could certainly say that young boy! Now I hope you two enjoy tonight, and Miss. Y/l/n, please come speak to me when you have a moment. Now- ah have you seen where Mr Potter has disappeared to?”

You shook your head. “Professor we’ve just gotten here, you’re the first person we’ve seen!”

“Ah my dear tell me how you didn’t end up sorted into Ravenclaw,” Slughorn chuckled again before disappearing.

“I’m going to get a drink would you like anything?” You asked Draco, walking away before he could respond.

When you arrived at the elaborate bar, a red drink in a coupe glass caught your eye. You picked that up for yourself, and a silverly drink in a whiskey glass for Draco. You turned to return to your date when you saw Ginny and Luna arm in arm.

“Good evening! You both look lovely, Luna I adore your earrings,” you said and smiled, excited to finally see them together, Ginny had confessed her crush on the Ravenclaw to you last year.

“I was so excited when she said yes I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Ginny said shamelessly, and you caught Luna blush.

“Oh Merlin don’t worry, I’m just happy for you. Have you told-” you trailed off, Ginny well aware of the nature of your question.

“I told Ron and Harry last week, I plan on telling mum and dad when I get home,” she said, absolutely beaming.

“Gin! I’m so happy for you, you have to tell me everything when we get back, alright?” You said she had told you and Hermione back in her third year, and you were so happy she was ready to come out to her parents and family.

Ginny dropped Luna’s hand for a moment to hug you around the glasses you were carrying. “Thank you for everything, Y/n,” she whispered.

“I'm here for you through everything Gin,” you promised. “Now you two have fun tonight!”

“It is a perfect night,” Luna said thoughtfully. “Tell Draco hello for me, Y/n.” She said, and with that, she and Ginny disappeared into the crowd, Draco appearing in the spot behind them.

You reached out the drink you had picked up for him, and he accepted it. “They’re together?”

“They are here as a date, yes,” you said, anticipating nothing but judgement from him.

“Then Blaise owes me five galleons,” he said, and you looked at him questionably. “He always thought she’d end up with Hannah Abbott, I was sure Weasley would end up with Lovegood, and it looks like I was right.”

You were surprised Draco hadn’t had a more offensive bet with his friend, but you decided to not challenge him on it. “Yeah she’s fancied Luna for over a year now, it’s all she talks about.” As you were taking a sip of your drink, you noticed Harry across the room getting cornered by Slughorn and Snape. “Draco I’d like to go ask Harry if he’s seen Hermione if you don’t mind.” You expected a fight, but Draco just shook his head and indicated for you to lead the way.

“Y/n! I was just thanking Professor Snape for providing me with such well prepared students,” Slughorn exclaimed as you and Draco approached him.

Snape nodded, “Mr Malfoy and Y/l/n, have been quite talented in potions since their first year.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you thanked both your teachers, although you were acutely aware of some tension between Draco and Snape.

“I’d like a word with you, Draco,” Snape said suddenly, seemingly coming up with this out of thin air. “Follow me, Draco.”

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy suddenly looking resentful at his Head of House pulling him away, and you and Harry exchanged looks.

“I’ll be back in a bit, Y/n — er — bathroom,” he said, and turned to leave.

“Wait! Harry have you seen Hermione?” You asked quickly.

“She’s avoiding McLaggen!” He called, not bothering to look back, intent on his mission to follow Malfoy.

“Oh to be young and to have a date to run from,” Slughorn hiccuped. “What are your plans for the holiday dear?”

“Well, my family has arranged for me to stay with the Malfoy’s as they’ll be travelling and they don’t trust me to be home alone,” you lied through your teeth with a smile on your face.

“Do enjoy yourself dear,” he said and smiled.

You nodded as you prepared your next lie, “Of course I will sir, thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go look for Hermione.”

“Go! Go! Don’t let me keep you enjoy the party!” he said, ushering you away and turning to two of the Weird Sisters who had appeared.

It took you a few minutes, but you eventually found your friend hiding behind some fabrics. You had seen her silhouette outlined through the material and instantly recognized her. You quickly slipped behind the decorative curtain, which spooked her.

“Woah! Y/n, how’d you find me,” she sighed, relieved it was you and not McLaggen.

“I’m just a good friend,” you said and smiled. “Is he really that bad?”

“I don’t know if it was even worth it,” she admitted.

“Well when Snape found Draco and me, he decided he had to have a word with him, and Harry followed them out,” you said.

“No, he did not,” said Hermione as she rolled her eyes, fully aware that Harry had followed the two.

“Yes, so I’m sure this means we’ll be getting more Death Eater conspiracies,” you scoffed.

“At least you’re here now to save me from my nasty date.” “Does his breath smell as bad as I said it would?” You asked.

Hermione nodded slowly, and you giggled, “I knew it!”

You and Hermione flitted around the party for a while longer although when you got tired of dodging McLaggen and realized that neither Harry nor Draco would be returning, you both decided to head back to your dormitory. Hermione still had to pack, and you just wanted to get a good nights sleep considering your next two weeks would be spent at Malfoy Manor. But, of course, neither of you went to bed until around two in the morning, electing instead to stay up and talk, about everything ahead of you, and her about Ron and Harry’s idiocy. You knew that once you fell asleep, you wouldn’t have your best friend again for two weeks, no letters, not a word.

You awoke to a grey sky and rain, the weather reflecting exactly how you felt. You had been dreading this day since September and here it was. It didn’t take you long to get dressed and to get your things together, but once you did, you had wished it had taken you longer. Once you had your things together, you and Hermione walked to the Great Hall where you assumed you would be meeting Draco.

“I’m going to miss you,” said Hermione as you approached the entrance to the Hall.

“I’m going to miss you more,” you said, and dropped your bags, hugging her tightly.

“I would tell you to write,” she said, chuckling sadly.

“Not if my parents have any say in the matter,” you said as you released each other from the hug. You gave her a smile, and forced a positive attitude. “We’ll see each other soon! Two weeks is nothing.”

Hermione was well aware that you were trying to convince yourself of this fact, but she let you fake a smile for your own sake. “Exactly,” she said.

“See you soon,” you said again before finally leaving her, and heading to the Slytherin table.

It was only Draco and Blaise sitting there, which perplexed you although you chose to not remark on the fact, instead, revelling in the lack of Pansy’s cold glare as well as Crabbe and Goyle’s incessant remarks for one morning.

“Morning, Y/l/n,” Blaise said when you approached the table as he was the first to notice you.

“Good Morning Blaise.”

“Morning, darling,” Draco piped as if last night had simply not happened.

“Blaise and I missed you when you disappeared last night,” you remarked, beside the fact that you and Blaise had not spoken last night, despite this Blaise seemed amused by your antics. “You didn’t even come to say goodnight.”

“Yeah mate, where did you disappear to? I was hoping you'd tuck me into bed,” He asked.

“Snape dragged me off to have me do a couple of things and by the time we were done I figured you’d both be asleep,” Draco explained, although the fist he was making around his fork was telling you otherwise.

“Well then Zabini and I will have to have a word with Professor Snape,” you teased, and Blaise chuckled, that was a first.

Draco rolled his eyes at both of you, “Let’s just get to the train, we wouldn't want to miss it.”

“No, but Y/l/n has to challenge Professor Snape to a duel for stealing her boyfriend!” Blaise said a little too loud, attracting a glare from Professor McGonagall, and a series of giggles from you.

You playfully kicked Blaise from under the table, “Shut up, Zabini! You’re gonna manage to get me detention over the break.”

“Which is exactly why we should be going,” Draco said, giving both of you dirty looks.

“Fine, but for the record, you’re a buzzkill,” said Blaise, rising from his seat and pointing an accusing finger at his friend.

As the three of you exited the Hall, you looked over to the Gryffindor table to see your friends still seated, and you were sure that you were not going to have the chance to say goodbye to Harry, Ron, or Ginny, which you had to find peace with for the time being. Once you boarded the train, you continued to follow them into their usual compartment, which was on the opposite side of the train from the one you frequented. When you sat next to Draco and across from Blaise, all humour fell away, and the reality of your situation set in, and you were suddenly sick to your stomach.

“Y/n, are you alright? You’ve turned green.” Draco noticed after a moment.

“I just get a bit sick sometimes on the train,” you said quietly.

“We haven’t started moving-” said Blaise, and Draco shot him a glare, silently telling him to shut up.

“Sorry, I’ll be fine don’t worry about me,” you said and received nods from both of the boys who chose to move forward with a new conversation, allowing you to rest your head against the cold window.

You remained in this position until you were at least halfway to Kings Cross, unable to repress the nerves that tore your stomach to shreds. You were only interrupted when Draco alerted you that he had to step out of the compartment for a moment to which you responded with a nod.

Draco made his way down the train to Potter’s compartment, where he opened the door without any warning, “Potter, Weasley.”

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Ron asked, distaste clear on his face.

“It involves a shared interest, do you mind?” He asked, this possibly being the most civil interaction the boys had ever had.

“Is it about Y/n?” Harry asked, and Draco confirmed with a nod. “Come in.”

Draco stepped into the compartment, closing the blinds behind him. “I don’t wish to be long, but as you know, Y/n’s parents read through all of her mail.”

“Of course we know that Malfoy,” Ron sneered. “We’re her friends by choice.”

“Let him finish Ron,” Harry muttered, and Draco gave him a slight, possibly thankful glance.

“Well my mother does not read my mail, especially if it comes from Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, or Pansy Parkinson,” Draco said, and Harry was beginning to catch on. “Now since I would not like for Y/n not to be miserable for two weeks, and she’s already bound to be if you address letters to me from one of those three people I will pass them along. Just put your names inside the envelope, and I promise not to read them.”

“How can we trust you won’t?” Ron asked.

“Even if you can’t, isn’t it better I read them than her parents?” Draco asked. “And as I said earlier Weasley, this is a shared interest.”

“He’s right, plus he’s offering so you know it’s coming from, well, a decent place,” Harry said slowly, after last night still unable to trust Malfoy.

“I know I don’t deserve her,” Draco said, almost inaudibly. “But there’s no changing our situation and I would do anything for her.”

“We’ll hold you to that Malfoy,” Harry threatened.

“I am aware, Potter,” Malfoy said, and with that, he left the compartment to return to you. He found you in the same spot with your head up against the window but you had changed into a black dress and expensive witches robes, clearly something your mother had picked out. The outfit looked wrong on you, and for once, he could see exactly how you did not fit into the world you had been born into.

Part 5 - The Emerald Manor

@whatawildone @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker @pillowjj @pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @oi-itsemily @lukehemmingslut831 @peachybeannn @lovebynorth @bubblesam06 @voidnarnia @bethii1

Rowling, J. K. and Mary, GrandPré, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. New York, NY: Arthur A. Levine Books, an imprint of Scholastic Inc, 2005.xn

#the silver letter #red writes #Draco Malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you

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puckngrind · 3 years

Text

What’s In a Name: Epilogue - J. Toews

Epilogue.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah welcomed Lincoln into the world in 2020.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,827

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

2025.

The rink has seemed like home for Bekah since meeting and marrying Jon. This morning it was a bit different as she kneels in front of her now five year old tying his hockey skates.

"Tight enough Linc?" Bekah asks and Lincoln stands to his feet.

"Yes, Momma. Maybe even better than Daddy does it." Bekah muffles her laugh from Lincoln's comment.

"Good. Now, let's get this jersey and your helmet on." Bekah stands and pulls over the house hockey green jersey over his pads. She feels someone staring but doesn't take her focus off the very squirrelly Kindergartener who doesn’t have the patiences for her to stop. Tapping his helmet she hands him the gloves and the eyes she felt moves closer.

"Hey there! Do ya'll know you have the same last name as the Hawk's captain and your son is wearing his number too. That's cute." Her comment was laced with a sense of entitlement and Bekah bit the inside of her cheek.

"Yup. Heard his foundation bought the jerseys for the league too." Bekah replies and turns her focus back to Lincoln as she rubbed lightly along the JT foundation logo on his shoulder. The woman then got called by her own son and scurried off before continuing.

"Is Daddy going to be off work before my game starts?" Lincoln's voice is muffled with his mouth guard in place.

"He should be here any moment baby boy." Bekah leans down to reassure him. "Speaking of!" Bekah eyes Jon coming through the doors of the rink. He embraces Bekah as he does every time he comes home before turning his attention to the kids.

"Sorry I'm late but looks like you’ve got this covered." Jon whispers after his lips brush hers.

"We are all set. And the fake Louis over there thinks it's cute Linc is wearing 19 and has the Captain's last name too." Bekah smirks.

"Well maybe Scar should run by with her Daddy sweater on." Jon shakes the toddler's hand. "Hey baby girl!" Bekah laughs and goes to take Scarlett out of the toddler carrier attached to her back. The now two year old in her St. Patrick's Day Daddy jersey goes running after Lincoln who started walking to his team. "You would think she runs this place." Jon laughs grabbing Bekah's hand as she tucks the carrier into Lincoln's bag.

"She had grown up coming here. Linc has been taking classes since she was 7 months old, Tae."

"I'm gonna go save Linc from the relentless questions I am sure she’s asking him." Jon heads over to scoop Scarlett up and wishes Lincoln's team good luck playing their first game. The three walk up to sit in the stands and Scarlett starts cheering as the team takes the ice.

"Coot! Core! Let's go Inks!" Scarlett's chubby hands clap.

"You really think he's okay playing with these older boys?" Bekah's leg is bouncing on up and down and Jon's hand settles her.

"Yes. He's playing up because he's good not because he's our son, Beks. No one knows he's five." Jon whispers to calm his wife's nerves.

Lincoln's first hockey game started and even though he was the youngest on the ice by two years, you would never guess. The Toews genes evident in how he played. Bekah, Jon, Scarlett cheered as he scored his first goal and then laughed as he jumped up in excitement but didn’t land on his skates. Bekah looked towards the scoreboard and realized the same mom from earlier was staring at Jon. "I might never get use to people just staring at you." Bekah whispered not realizing she even said it out loud.

"I know Babe." Jon's lips kiss her temple. "Maybe you should bring your Louis with you next game." Jon chuckles knowing the Louis Vuitton collecting dust in the closet was never coming to the hockey rink.

"Funny Tae... funny." Bekah bumps her shoulder into his side. "Maybe if Scar decides potty training is actually something she's interested in I could bring a real purse with me." Bekah spins one of Scarlett's ringlets around her finger.

"She won't even be three until February." Jon bounces his mini-me on his knee and she laughs.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, boys and girls are different." Bekah knowing where Jon was going with the conversation and how she already had Lincoln trained by Scarlett's age. "There you go Linc!" Bekah shouts as Lincoln dives in front of a puck and Jon's laugh rings out.

"You would never know Momma wasn't really into hockey ten years ago. Would ya?" Jon kisses Scarlett's head. “Now she’s rocking the hockey mom life.” Bekah eyes Jon and he mouths, “sexy at it too.” Bekah feels the heat in her cheeks but turns her attention back to the ice.

The game ended and Jon helped Bekah put Scarlett back in her carrier then met Lincoln and his team.

“There’s my boy!” Jon scooped Lincoln up with all his gear on. “You played hard. We are so proud of you.” Jon drops Lincoln down and the three of them start taking off his gear while Lincoln talks a mile a minute recounting the entire game.

“Did you see my double shift dad? See how I used my skate to kick the puck out of the corner?” Lincoln’s little voice sounding just like Jon and both parents laugh.

“We sure did Linc. Now let’s get home and get ready for Auntie Rin, m’kay?” Bekah feels Scarlett bopping up and down on her back while Jon tries to control Lincoln’s excited dance as he attempts to undress him the rest of the way.

The car ride home was filled with giggles of Brynn’s arrival and recap of the game. Bekah grazed her finger down Jon’s arm and he shifts as she moved to his leg. “What was that for?” She questioned and sees Jon smirk.

“Nothin’ Beks.” The sly smirk permanently graced his face for the rest is the ride. Bekah dropped it knowing if it was something he was hiding she’d find out soon enough.

The kids bolt inside the house as soon as they are unbuckled. “Don’t go too far Rin will be here in less than an hour!” Bekah called out and hears a door shut from behind her and spins on her heals to see her best friend rounding her car.

“How about like one minute? You should know my driving skills would get me here faster!” Brynn opens her arms waiting for Bekah’s embrace. “Now help me with these crazies!” She pulls open the sliding door to a choir of squeals.

“Hey kids!” Bekah leans in and unbuckles Derek and Brynn’s newest edition to their family. Morgan’s little fingers make grabby hands at Bekah. “Hey sweet girl. You taking it easy on your Mommy?”

“You lied about 18 month old girls, friend. Lied.” Brynn answered.

“Mom’s right Aunt Beks.” Jack, the oldest, pops out and half hugs Bekah. “Morgan is giving her a run for her money as Dad says.” All three adults laugh and Jon scoops up Brynn’s middle son, Jameson.

“How about you boys take Morgan to find Lincoln and Scar. I’m sure they are in the playroom. Remember how to get there?” Both boys nod and run in the house with their sister in tow.

Jon and Bekah flank Brynn as she breathes out. “I love them but they can be a lot.”

“And you are doing a damn good job. Have you heard when Morgan can be adopted yet?” Jon moves to the back of her van to take out the suitcases.

“Caseworker says she’s different than the boys even though it’s the same birth mom. So in the land of foster to adopt... We shall wait.” Brynn laughs. Derek and Brynn decided to be foster parents not long after Lincoln was born. They took placement of Jack and Jameson not long after finishing all their paperwork. Jack was 3 and Jameson was a newborn. When the couple found out that the birth mom had another baby and she could either go into foster care with different family or them. There was no question. They needed to keep the siblings together.

“So glad you decided to spend the boys’ fall break here Rin. I’ve missed you.” Bekah slid a drink over as Brynn launches herself up to the kitchen stool.

“Me too. How do the kids get up here? I see the pictures.” Brynn laughs while taking a sip.

“Have you seen my children, they climb on everything! Scar swings her tiny self up there and then jumps down. It’s resourceful.”

“They are Jon’s kids, there is no denying that.” Brynn laughs with a sip.

“Hey! I should take offense to that but I might have to agree there.” Jon presses his lips to Bekah’s temple and she leans into him. The friends fell into easy conversation until they were interrupted by Morgan who wanted a snack. Jon handed the toddler enough fruit snacks for all of them and she toddled back. “I’ve wondered this for awhile. Why is she not a J?”

Both women just look at him. “Tae, I’ve never thought about it. Jack and Jameson. A J girl name makes sense.” Bekah looks at Brynn who just shrugs her shoulders. The caseworker said her and Derek could change any of the kids names but they decided to leave them for a few reasons then gave the boys new middle names when they were officially adopted.

“They are all alcohol brands, but is that just...” Jon questions and Brynn’s mouth drops opens.

“I... how... ummm...” Brynn starts and her eye go wide. “At least they aren’t named after the place they were...” Brynn looks down the hall then back to her friends, “conceived.” Her face lights up with mischief.

“Rin, Linc and Scar aren’t named after that.” Bekah answers with a puzzled look written all over her face.

“Sure they are. Lincoln was in your Lincoln Park place and still miss that roof, every time I come here...” Jon starts laughing as he’s caught on.

“But Scarlett? Are you saying she was in Columbus? Like Scarlett and Grey? Because that’s not the case.” Bekah runs her hand over her face.

“Beks, we live on Red Maple. R-E-D.” Jon laughs while pulling Bekah into his side. “And everyone in this room can do the math on Scar’s birthday and my last cup win.”

“Oh. My. No!” Bekah responds sending both Jon and Brynn into a fit of laughter.

“So if Jon makes the All-Star game this year, maybe we can expect a Seattle named baby to come out of the trip?” Brynn snickers knowing she’s getting under her best friend’s skin.

“Speaking of trips. I miss you coming with me.” Jon seems to have changed the subject before hearing his name being called and he retreats to answer the kids.

“Bekah, you know you could go with him Wednesday. They play in St. Louis. I’ve got the kids and Kelly lives here now. I’m sure she can help if something goes crazy, which I don’t plan on that happening.” Brynn jumps off the stool and backs up to look down the hallway. “Seriously, you should go.”

Brynn was right. After the shut down of the economy in 2020, Kelly and Zack made the decision to move back to Chicago where Zack started teaching at DePaul for help with future college tuition. Bekah and Jon hadn’t gotten away as much as they had in the past without taking the kids. Taking a day and a half to go watch him play and enjoy dinner alone did sound amazing.

“You sure Rin?” Bekah sounded giddy.

“Yes, very much so.” Brynn had wandered into the living room that was now the Sedona inspired room. Prints hung of Jon and Bekah’s first trip, wedding day, the first time they took each kid and a family picture from the past summer when both kids hiked most of the way up. “I like the new one!”

“Speaking of new ones.” Jon’s stealth like entrance made both ladies jump. “I have something for you, Babe.” As he spoke, he pulls out a puck from his pocket. Bekah spins it in her hand and tears come to her eyes.

“Lincoln’s first game 8U game. October 18, 2025.” She sees that Jon had Lincoln sign the top too. “Tae.” She squeaks out.

“We might need a Lincoln shelf.” Jon wraps his arms around his wife and pulls her in.

“Tell him!” Brynn breaks the couple’s embrace as she spoke. Jon looks down with his eyebrows raised.

“How about I come to St. Louis with you this week?” Bekah stands on her tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “Just me.”

“YES!” Jon shouts out. “Seriously, Brynn? You are making this happen?” Jon turns and pulls her into a hug.

“You two lovebirds...” Brynn started and looked at how Jon lifted Bekah up in the air in so much joy about a few moments alone. “Still after all these years I’m happy as hell for you but also your passion for one another is...” she starts making a heaving motion.

With that, Bekah and Brynn soaked up their time together. Let Lincoln take a day off school on Monday to play with what he calls his cousins. And really with David’s kids living in Manitoba, Kelly and Brynn’s kids were the closest thing he had to cousins near him.

Monday night was a home game. Jon rented a box and invited Kelly and her family to join. The kids had so much fun cheering on the Hawks. After years of going to games they still loved the atmosphere. Tuesday morning came quick. Bekah left a giant list of instructions for Brynn which made her laugh. Jon took Lincoln to school before taking a morning skate. They flew out that afternoon. Jon interlaced his fingers in Bekah’s as the plane took off.

“You look like a first time flyer Beks. What gives?” Jon kisses her ear sweetly.

“Just worried about the kids and Rin and...” Jon’s lips land on hers to stop the rant swirling from her brain to her lips.

“They will be fine. Promise.” Jon pulled his arm around her and she breathed him in. The flight was short and the drive to the hotel was too. “You know you’ve never stayed here but could’ve all those years ago. New Years. Winter Classic.” Jon places her bag on top of his and grabs his wife’s hand.

“Yeah, I didn’t make the wises choices back then.” Bekah whispered.

“You are here aren’t you? We are here... so those choices lead to now.” Jon’s knuckle pressed the button. “And while it took some convincing..”

“Sorry.” Bekah mumbled as she pressed their floor.

“Baby, don’t be.” Jon kisses the top of her head as the door opens and leads them to their room. Opening the door he drops the bags as Bekah closes the door. His body pressing hers agains the door and lips locked together. Pulling at her legs to wrap them around him. They break and Jon’s lips slide down her neck. A moan escapes from her lips.

“Tae.” She tries to continue but Jon’s lips are on hers again. His hands tight around her with the door holder her up. “Tae.” She moans out again. Jon leans back a little to look her in the eyes.

“Ca va, mon amour?” Jon leans back and takes in his wife.

“I’m okay. Extremely turned on but also slightly worried about your teammates hearing us as they check in. Plus, there are things I would like to do to you that I cannot do pinned to this door.” Bekah leans to bite at his lips.

“Well for starters we aren’t on the team floor. I made sure of that. Now, what things are you talking about?” Jon pulls both of their bodies away from the door and carries Bekah towards the bed.

“First, Captain, I’d like you to rid you of these clothes.” Bekah wiggles free of Jon’s grip and stands to her feet. He grunts as she starts to take off his clothes. Running her fingers over his still well toned abs followed by her tongue until her teeth find his boxers. She pulls on them with only her mouth and Jon helps with an approving grunt. “When is the last time we didn’t have rushed sex Tae?”

“Too long Beks.” Jon barely gets out as his entire body reacts to Bekah’s lips running along the bottom of his shaft. “C'est cela.” He moans out as he finds the edge of the bed. Bekah continues until she wraps her lips around him and he stops her. “I need you undressed and up here.” He lifts her up and slides her tunic dress over her body then her leggings. “Damn sexy Baby. Damn Sexy.” He stands to carefully removing her bra then underwear kissing her skin as more is exposed.

“Really?” Bekah questions placing her hands over her breasts. “Sorry. Just feeling not as perky as I once was.” Bekah doesn’t look up at Jon with her admission. He pulls her chin up to make her eyes meet his.

“Rebekah, you are more beautiful and sexy than ever. I’m so fucking lucky you are mine.” He shifts her to lay her on the bed and hovers over her body.

“I’m lucky too. I just went from confident at hell to catching a glimpse of my stretch mark in the mirror.” She ran her hand over the mentioned mark from her last pregnancy. Jon met her hand with his lips.

“This means you worked hard to bring our sassy daughter into the world.” Jon moves up to her breasts and sucks one in between his teeth. “And I’m glad I currently don’t have to share these.” Bekah’s breath hitches then she laughs as he moves to do the same to the other. He kisses down her stomach and moves his way between her legs. Spreading her lips with his fingers he sucks on her clit causing Bekah’s hips to jump off the bed and her hand to land in his hair. Jon hums in approval. He moves his fingers to scissor deep inside her. Bekah went to call out his name and bit her lip. Jon looked up and kissed her thigh. “Beks, no one to wake up. Let me hear you.” He moved back to circling Bekah’s clit with his tongue as she moaned out.

“Tae. Fuck. Tae.” Bekah feels her orgasm crashing over her. Jon doesn’t let up as it washes over her. Her legs tremble and toes curl up his back. She loosens her grip and he quickly shifts up her body to press himself fully in her. Both moaning in the familiarity and need for each other. Jon presses his lips to hers and stays there. “Tae, move please.” Bekah tries to press her hips up and Jon smiles.

“I love you Beks.” He simply says as he pulls out slightly and starts a rhythm making both moan and spill out affirmations in the moment. Jon feels Bekah tighten completely around him and with a few more movements of his hips they both hit their high. Jon crashing into Bekah’s body, chests heaving from the intensity. They stay like this for a moment then a beeping sound starts in the direction of the pile of clothes.

“Tae, what is that?” Bekah questions and Jon laughed. “What?”

“I set an alarm to make sure we made it to team dinner.” Jon moves to find his phone. Turning off the alarm he looks at a notification. “Oh, dinner on our own. Fantastic!” He jumps back in bed and wraps Bekah up.

“Can we still go get dinner?” Bekah asks.

“Or order in.” A sly smile crosses Jon’s face and Bekah nods. “Hey, did you tell Brynn we were trying for a third already?”

“No, why do you ask?” Bekah looks up at him.

“Well she mentioned the whole naming of kids thing and Seattle plus she suggested this trip...” Jon trails off.

“Oh, no, but she’s Rin. I swear she knows things without me telling her.” Bekah jokes. “Oh, shit. What time is it?” She looks at Jon’s phone. “Get your shirt on, we need to FaceTime the kids!” Jon heads to his luggage and quickly pulls out two Hawks shirts. He starts to FaceTime and Bekah looks at her now sexed looking hair and quickly braids it to the side just in time.

“Hey guys!” Jon waves at the screen seeing Brynn, Lincoln and Scarlett sitting on the couch. Bekah notices Brynn’s face with Lincoln asked what they have done since they got there and Jon talked about getting to the hotel and checking in. The family talked for a little and said their goodbyes. Jon gets up to head to the shower and looks back.

“J’ai besoin de nous.” Bekah whispers just looking at the floor.

“Babe, did you just say I need us?” Jon comes back over and pulls her up to his chest.

“Yeah. That’s right, right?” Bekah bats her eyes.

“It is. You are picking up more French from my mom’s FaceTime lessons with Lincoln aren’t you?” Jon kisses her cheek and she feels the heat rushing to them.

“Yeah. Speaking of, he said, ‘j’ai mon voyage’ and also ‘tabarnak’ the other day.” Jon starts laughing. Hard. “Shit, what did he pick up?”

“Well, I had enough is basically what j’ai mon voyage means and...as for the other. I’ll talk to my parents. I’m sure they didn’t mean to teach him what some deem a cuss word.” Bekah’s mouth hangs open. “Babe, I’ll fix it, okay?” He moves her braid and kisses her again. “Back to the I need us. Explain.”

“Just that. I need us. I love our family and our life and even this team but at the end of the day it’s me and you.” She spins her ring around her finger.

“Well, Beks... J’ai besoin de nous too.” Jon whispers. “I told you hockey is almost over and then it’s just us being parents and husband and wife.”

“You really think you are done Tae?” Bekah questions.

“Yeah. Dach is ready to be captain. I have four rings. Kaner and I are talking about going out together. This team has what it takes to win another one too. Now, I would love baby number three to experience some of this hockey life.” Jon rubs Bekah’s lower abdomen.

“Are you asking if you think that got me pregnant?” Bekah laughs and Jon nods. “Well, you might have to try harder Mr. Toews.” She smirks and heads towards the shower. “And if so... I’m not naming the baby Louis!”

“Death of me Beks. You will be the death of me!” Jon scoops Bekah up and heads towards the shower.

#jonathan toews fic #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#j toews #What's in a name fic #WIAN epilogue #finally letting it out #maybe more to come

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spectralscathath · 3 years

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Fria's Day Out- RWBY drabble

Ruby spent all of volume 6 trekking across Mistral and nearly getting killed due to the stupid Relic of Knowledge, and now General Ironwood's trying to give it back to her? When there's a perfectly good Vault there?

Absolutely not.

(AKA this was not your best plan ever, Jimmy)

Ao3 link

"You're giving the lamp back to us?" Ruby asked, brows furrowing in confusion as James held out the relic. He thought it was a good idea, at least until the vault could be safely opened.

"Who better to safeguard it than the people who already protected it?"

Ruby reached out, hand resting on the relic, before she shoved it hard against his chest, looking aghast as she darted back like it had burned her.

"Are you crazy? That thing's a Grimm magnet, we nearly died, like-" she paused to count on her fingers, "three times?" She glanced at her teenage friends for clarification. "Three, was it three?"

"Manticores on the train, Apathy at the farms, Leviathan at Argus." Weiss rattled off, ignoring Winter's horrified gasp.

"And you want us to keep carrying it? We came here to throw it in the Vault in the first place!" Ruby stared at him like he was an idiot, and right now he was able to somewhat understand her reasoning.

Still, he pulled up some bluster. "Well, Fria's bedbound, so the Vault can't be opened right now. She's in no state for it."

"I mean- this is Atlas, right? Do you have hoverbeds? Wheels? You guys have invented the wheel, right? Just push her along, it can't be that dangerous."

"Well-" James started before Winter cut in.

"Actually, sir, it might be good for her to get out and about." Winter noted, face completely impassive as he beheld her treachery.

"She'd be remaining in the military base as well, Mr Ironwood!" Penny chirped cheerfully, oblivious to how he was beset on all sides by treason. "And we could set up a guard!"

"See?" Ruby squeaked determinedly. "I vote we throw that lamp from heck into the Vault and never look back!"

"We can't just wheel Fria to the vault," James rolled his eyes. "That's preposterous."

James pushed Fria's bed along, one of the wheels clicking on every rotation like a shopping trolley. "This is undignified."

"Oh, I'm having a great time, pet," Fria chuckled, a Barstucks takeaway cup held in her shaking hand. The concoction inside was some awful pink monstrosity that looked incredibly malevolent. "You ignore him, Winter, my son's just taking himself too seriously again."

"Mom, please." James groaned as Winter laughed, no restriction on the bell-like sound. Fria really brought down her guard.

"I can't believe you've got a mom, Mr Ironwood." Ruby skipped alongside them, holding the relic like it was about to jump up and bite her. James didn't know which of his scientists gave her the tongs but he was going to have a word with his R&D about loaning equipment for frivolous purposes. "I always thought you were raised by a pack of soldiers."

"You should have seen him at your age, he was a hellion," Fria gossiped with her, Winter's eyes sparkling as she hid her smile with a sip of coffee. "Running around Mantle and constantly getting into trouble, I think some of your old graffiti is still down there."

"Graffiti?" Ruby's eyes lit up with mischief. "But he's so serious!"

"I'm standing right here."

"Is that what he does now, walks around all serious?" Fria cackled. "Dear me, James, you haven't gotten boring, have you?"

"I'm afraid he has," Winter jumped in before he could defend himself, her tone dour and her twinkling eyes anything but. "It's quite a shame, from your stories he sounds like quite a rabble rouser."

"Oh he was!" Fria snorted gracelessly. "I could tell you stories- have I told you stories? I can't quite remember-" she frowned, James's gut twisting as the damnable memory loss wiped some of her spark.

"You have, Fria," Winter reached down and took Fria's hand, black gloves gentle as she clasped wizened fingers. "But I'd be happy to hear them again, if you like."

"Aren't you good?" Fria smiled again. "And you, Ruby, I swear, you Huntresses get younger every year."

"Oh, well, I'm just a prodigy," Ruby preened like a peacock under the praise. "I got into Beacon two years early."

"Really? My, that's impressive. Did the old man let you in himself?"

"Ozpin?" Guilt flashed over Ruby's face. James decided she should never play poker. "Uh- yeah, um, he did. It was cool."

"How is that old coot anyway? Still talking in riddles?" Fria asked as Ruby grew more and more uncomfortable, James keeping half an ear on the conversation as they reached the lift down to the Vault. He wheeled Fria onto the platform, shivering slightly at the chill in the air. The cold always gnawed at him even with extra coats on.

Ruby's babble broke off as the platform under their feet moved, bringing them down the passage before it opened into the cavern in the heart of Atlas, Ruby's eyes going wide with childlike wonder. "Wow…"

James felt a bit of pride at that. Atlas's Vault was very nice indeed. The geometric blocks floated in the air around them, icy blue flames flickering in torches as they descended towards the platform, a cavernous drop awaiting below. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"Yeah!" Ruby looked around, awestruck. "I never saw the one in Haven, Yang did- and she doesn't like talking about it aside from saying it was weird and there was a tree and a desert, but this is amazing! How are those blocks floating? Why is the fire blue?"

James opened his mouth to answer before realising he didn't have one, jaw clicking shut as he was left to shrug. "Dust?"

"Oh, not magic?" Ruby pouted for a moment before something shiny caught her attention. "That door is huge! What's it like inside, Yang said the Haven one led to a desert, how cool is that?"

"I don't know. I've never seen inside." He couldn't help be curious as well. "The Atlas vault hasn't been opened since Ozpin lifted the city into the sky, in a past life. It was before my time."

"I remember, I think." Fria piped up. "I was only a girl, but a floating city is rather spectacular."

"I can imagine." Winter mused. "Fria, would you like me to hold your Very Berry Hibiscus Coconut Milk Refresher with Extra Whip?" She said it with a straight face, because she was a stronger person than James could ever hope to be.

"Oh, yes, thank you. It's very nice," Fria handed it over, a quaver in her hands.

James raised a brow. "You need to hold her coffee?"

"Well, you'll have to help her up to the Vault, sir." Winter stated like it was obvious.

"Huh?"

"James, pet, did you think you were going to roll me up the stairs?" Fria laughed, tiredness beginning to steal across her eyes. They didn't have much time left before the excitement of the day turned to fatigue.

"What stairs, there's no stairs- oh my gosh there's stairs now!" Ruby squeaked excitedly as the staircase formed, practically bouncing in place. James sincerely hoped the relic clasped in her tongs didn't go flying. It would be such a hassle to get it back if she dropped it off the edge.

James hesitated. "Mom, are you sure?"

"I can't walk well, but if I'm going to open a Vault for the first time, I'd like to get up there myself." Fria stated with that rock-solid determination he'd seen a million times, dark blue eyes steady and firm, and that was that.

"Alright." He carefully, carefully helped her out of the hospital bed, struck by how small and frail she was now. He supported her with an arm under her shoulders, and wondered if she'd let him get away with carrying her up.

Fria's eyes glowed brilliant blue, azure flames springing to life for a moment as she formed a walking stick from thin air, gnarled wood and ice crystals melding together to perfectly fit her hand and height.

Seeing her perform magic never got old.

Fria rested some of her weight on the stick, most of her weight on James, her legs shaking as she set her jaw and started hobbling towards the Vault with him.

"Mom, are you sure?" He didn't want her to hurt herself.

"James, I'm feeble, not dead." She informed him briskly.

"Uh- if you want I can scatter you guys up?" Ruby offered, having gingerly shifted the relic into her actual hand, holding it at arm's length. "It's fun, like being in a tornado. And it'll be quicker?"

"I'm not sure about that-" James started, remembering the tournament footage of Ruby's semblance before Fria nodded eagerly.

"Well that sounds exciting, scatter away, dearie!"

"Mom, please-!" James suddenly found himself caught up in a swirl of red, shooting forward like a bullet from a gun and broken apart into pieces (he felt like it should have hurt but it didn't), before suddenly he was on his feet again, too fast for him to comprehend as rose petals floated in the air around him and Ruby collapsed to her knees.

"Wow, you are heavy, Mr Ironwood, what are you made of, metal?" She leaned against the golden metal of the Vault door. "Whoo- okay, I'm never picking you up again, no offence."

He dearly wanted to tell her the answer to her question was 'yes' and refrained, instead checking on Fria. "Mom, are you alright?"

She laughed, her hair a mess and her eyes bright. "That was fun!"

He sighed in relief. "I really think we should get this done sooner rather than later. I'm glad you're okay." She was in a very good state today, they'd waited for that, but he didn't know how long it would last. How long until she forgot where she was and who she was and who he was.

Fria nodded, leaning most of her weight against his side as her eyes blazed with fire, her hand shaking as she touched it to the Vault. The sharp lines of the overlapping rectangles began to glow pale white, the light racing up to the top of the door. The golden facets of the door began to drop, and a wave of roaring heat washed out over the three of them, bringing with it the smell of sulphur and brimstone.

Ruby coughed and covered her face, her nose already turning red. “For a Vault of Creation, I was expecting something- I dunno, more cheerful?”

Cheerful was not how he would describe the cavern within, thick streams of magma dripping from the walls and pooling around a slender path of rock that led to a pedestal, heatwaves shimmering in the very air. It was like the inside of a volcano, maybe it was one, and there above the pedestal, the relic of creation floated, a pearlescent white gem that had been sculpted into the handle of a paintbrush, golden filigree elaborately ensconcing the jewel as snow white threads formed the brush.

“Ruby, place the lamp in there and we’ll close it up.” He ordered, sweat forming on his brow.

“Right!” She ran in, careful to avoid the edges where molten rock bubbled hungrily, setting the lamp down in front of the pedestal and scattering out, her petals catching fire from the sheer heat in the air. James waited for her to pass them by, scooping up Fria as he walked down the stairs, eager to get away from the heat at his back.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he carried his mother back to the hospital bed, holding off on any feelings of joy at a task completed. Until the Vault door closed and Fria was back in the safety of her ward, there was still danger.

“Yes, James, I’m fine,” she smiled weakly at him, her eyes returned to the dark blue that was so similar to his own. She looked so drained, even that small bit of magic sapping her strength. “I’m just tired. Not as young as I used to be… the magic takes more of a toll now…”

“Well, rest up, alright?” He gently placed her down, tucking the quilt around her. “You did good, mom.”

“I did my job.” She stated, whispers threading through her voice and undercutting her surety. Because she was an Ironwood, much like himself, and they did their jobs no matter the cost on themselves. “But yes… I think I’ll rest a bit... Winter, will you keep my drink cool for me?”

“Of course.” Winter studied him. “Sir, shall I stay here until the Vault’s closed again?”

“No. I’ll guard it. You take my mother back to her room so she can rest.” He smiled at Winter, before he gave Fria a gentle hug, always careful with his right side. He didn’t think he’d see her again. The transfer of power had to be kept secure. This was already too much of a risk. “Thanks, mom.”

“I had fun,” Fria smiled as she nodded off, a large white Beowulf with cyan eyes forming from a glyph, grasping the hospital bed in its claws as Winter guided it to walk with her, escorting Fria to the lift out.

James watched her go, ready to wait for the vault door to close. He could still feel the heat from here. “Miss Rose, are you alright?”

“I’m good, in the red but good,” she sat on the ground, staring up at the Vault. “I know that I knew it was a paintbrush, but I was really expecting a spear, or a staff, yunno, something more impressive?”

“You don’t think painting’s impressive?” He chuckled slightly, choosing to return to somewhat of a good mood.

“That feels like a trap question.” Ruby eyed him suspiciously, her hands and belt looking empty without the relic she’d been guarding on the trip here.

“Fria paints.”

“Definitely a trap question.” She smiled a bit, and it reminded him of Summer. She really did look so much like her mother. “Your mom is cool.”

“I know she is.” He hoped she slept well, and could remember today. If she had happy memories, he’d rather she was lost in them, rather than anything else. “At least the relic’s safe now.”

“Yeah. It would’ve been really stupid to just carry it around in the open up here, I mean, it draws Grimm. Yeesh.” She looked up at the open Vault. “Well, at least now it’s locked away and no one can get to it. Ugh, could you imagine if I took you up on your offer?”

“... I'd rather not." He hoped he lived that particular idea down soon. It really wasn't his best.

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

A quick drabble about what would have happened if Ruby remembered The Entire Point of Volume 6. Toss Jinn into the Vault already, she'll live with it.

#rwby #james ironwood #ruby rose #winter schnee #rwby fria #Fria Ironwood should be canon #my writings #apparently I never got over this

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tropinano · 4 years

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hrnmg... some robot fuckboy hcs 4u... just lore on the fact they’re weaponised in general... like fairly sure the green one is just stuffed with explosives... also like they don’t seem to ever try to defend themselves unless given orders to and I hrmm... also also they do everything together do u think they are like ??? when told to do something individually or in smaller groups??.... or what about them going on a dinner date romantic or not and cause they can’t eat they all just stare like 👁👁

oh so you wanna get TECHNICAL (minor spoilers for the gumpos who havent played yet)

Based on the quick glimpse I took around the 1010 district I'd say older models WERE VERY weaponised but over time they were taken out to become more cosmetic/streamline, but obivously they still have hidden weapons/lasers/....BOMBS because I feel those are main parts of their style?? like they still have the navy soldier vibe I wouldn't be surprised if they set something off during concerts for effects obvs...and another reason maybe is that Neon J is a paranoid old coot so he'd like to keep his gun sons at the ready please and thanks

Omg you r right..they never defend unless told to in the battle DOINK i bet theyre programmed to not feel pain/their memories transfer over to the next robot instantly so its like a minecraft instant respawn cheat mode situation, I could also say that they are programmed (as kpop lads) to not break their flirtatious/happy persona because attacking fans is a big no-no in the Big Book of Celebrity Fails (Vinyl City GOLD Edition) and negative emotions/screams destroy them anyway so they are LITERALLY PROGRAMMED TO NOT FEEL NEGATIVE do you think that was the same during the war? cause if they were programmed to feel pain/negativity/COWARDICE i bet the robots wouldn't have fought so...willingly hahaha at least thats what i think

I'd say they do practically everything togethurrr BUT they WILL go solo for the lolz. Have you ever seen those kpop boy vlogs where they go through haunted houses and stuff? I'd say it's a lot like that hahaha that'd be so funny. But yea I feel J-Dawg does give them at least SOME sentience so they could keep their audience even if it's not the whole group you know like streamers sometimes they play with friends but they're just as entertaining on their own.

ALSO HAHA about the dinner date ;) Even if they don't eat with the amount of advancements in technology at such an alarming rate/J-Dawg is a literal cyborg I would say there's SOME ways a robot could uh...'eat' even if it's just to feel included with humans/purely for the experience even if it doesn't do anything...I would say on a dinner date they'd make up for the lack of stomach with their mouth hahaha i can see them just talking and talking while you eat your human spaghetti or something. good boyfriend material if you like listening to people ramble lmao depends on your tastes

ty anon 🥰🥰 also this was my first time writing in a good bit/first time doing hc things but feel free to talk tome whenever!! my brain is full and my ass is fat ❤️

#nsr #no straight roads #1010 #nsr 1010 #hcs #character hcs #ask #writing #neon j

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soul-heart-and-beyond · 3 years

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The Disgusting Truth

Versus!: @andy-squirrel-and-friends

As he was reading some papers in his study, the buzzard had been wondering about the results of all the latest information that F.O.W.L. had gotten so far. With Bradford and his old partner Black Heron having given away their main advantage in this little battle, this war of ideologies between Bradford and Scrooge, more minds had to be put on what the next steps would be for both sides. While not having that journal of Finch’s findings, they have been able to spy on Scrooge’s escapades and managed to do a last minute swipe for some of the ones already found. Now all that was left were a few more before that part of their plan was complete. If anyone with a brain was looking at their situation, it would go to using the genie they just acquired to bring about their goals and be done with it, although Brandon had suspected that Bradford would not go through with that plan.

By now, he was sick on how the older buzzard went about trying to justify his reason for not using such items, such tools that they have readily available at their hand to swiftly alleviate the situation and make F.O.W.L.’s goal a reality. Blabbering on about how they weren’t evil, just trying to bring about order into the world and not reckless evil. $*”If only there were a way to refine all of this. It has a goal, it has the intent, but..... it lacks the vision needed to see it through. Hmph, such wasted potential....”*$, the buzzard mentioned to himself silently as he truly was disappointed by how things were moving along. Yet, he didn’t really have enough time to finish the papers that he was reading as a message was being transmitted to him over his communicator. Picking it up and hearing for someone on the other side, someone who didn’t have the voice of any of the more ‘colorful’ portion of F.O.W.L. was asking for him. $*”Yes, Brandon Buzzard here. What do you want?”*$, he questioned with a nonchalant tone as he adjusted his glasses. Apparently, they had wanted him to start looking through the Money Bin for any leftovers there that they could use. $*”That is possible, however, it would be very unwise given that both Bentley and I no longer work for McDuck and Bradford terminated his relationship with him somewhat..... ‘in person’.”*$ He wasn’t given much to work with as the voice on the other side still told him to go and retrieve any salvageable items from there and come back with them. $*”Look, if I do this absurd task for F.O.W.L., I better have that transportation ready to drop me off and retrieve me along with anything I find. I rather not want to go through Bradford’s mistake so he can gloat about me following in his bad example. I do not work like that. Have that helicopter prepared and absolutely no buffoonery. Scrooge and his merry band of misfits, outcasts, and jokes may know of our presence, but I wish that the whole world did not know of it as well. Good day to you.”*$, Brandon replied with a more demanding and stern voice to compliment his distaste and underlying aggression for this mission he was tasked with. Why place him out on the field when this would have been a job for Bradford’s subordinate or the tech lass? Even someone as dull as Steelbeak would be more fit for this than him but perhaps they were still recovering their wounds from being spanked by an old coot and his several kids, the magic-wielding one aside.

Straightening his black tie as his dark magenta eyes peered over to some of the objects lying on his desk, Brandon’s eyes squinted as a small sigh escaped his nostrils before he headed out of his study. $*”This mission better grant me access to a small squad, as going in alone would be lunacy.”*$, he mumbled to himself as he made his way for the transportation department of the base so he could get his ride to the bin. It would be a long night, one that he would rather spend adapting his own plan to these latest events. Fortunately enough, he did get a small amount of Eggheads to escort him on this mission, four to be exact, and as they boarded a gray chopper, after securing their places it floated from the helipad point and flew off towards Duckburg. During the ride, he thought once again about how his future would be secured but stopped as he had just remembered where that would have gone. There were only two options, and he personally hoped that he would never have to resort to the second one. With that thought now quelled, he could prepare himself for the gargantuan task ahead of him, which probably did not help as this would be after Bradford’s small takeover to some of the defenses and obstacles Scrooge was having installed in the bin.

#(Honestly I'm not sure how you want Andy to meet him so I'm going to leave it off as he and his team are going to the bin for this one.)#(Then follow your lead. Yeah; it took a while but I did get into Brandon's mindset rather quickly.)#(It..... doesn't help much that he somehow miraculously has the same character motivation as Bradford but not as muddy.)#(And they do have differences; ones that people like like or dislike either of them for.)#(I just feel bad that I called upon a whole character to some degree....)#Out Of Soul (ooc)#When the Ends Justify the Means... Even if Terrible Things Happen Along the Way (Brandon Buzzard)#Andy Squirrel (andy-squirrel-and-friends)#DuckTales 2017 Universe #Extra Time Attack Mode! (Rps)

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chaoticevilbean · 3 years

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Atla Youtube Au, Sokka-Centric

1/?

“What’s up, ma dudes? Time for another session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. This time will feature Lady, Warrior, Gurl, and Princess.” The male was wearing his Southern Water Tribe facepaint, and from his background, it seemed he was indeed in one of the Water Tribes’ territories. His hair was white for this particular video, long and pulled back into a tail. His irises were bright blue, and once again left no clues as to whether it was the real coloring or just contacts.

“Alright, so this story is a bit strange, as per usual. As you all know, my friends are activists and Lady takes that to the extreme. Well, they did it again. What do I mean, you new viewers ask? I mean they started another rebellion. Now, maybe it’d officially count as just a bunch of protests, but I personally believe that once the number of protests in a single city is more than five in as many days, it’s the start of a rebellion. And yes, I did say another. I’ve got it all in a playlist if you wanna look.”

The background behind the videographer changed as he presumably walked around as he spoke. Snow and a clear sky were shown, and there didn’t seem to be any other people in sight.

“Now, it all started because of a previous thing my wonderful Lady did. If you’ve already watched the video, noice. If you haven’t, pause this and find the one labeled ‘Lady Vs Old Coot’. Very inspiring. Anyways, so they came back here and thought that maybe at least that Old Coot had changed, but no. No, instead there’s been no change. Or there hadn’t been. We all came as a group, but only myself, Kuzon, Lady, Bluey, Princess, Gurl, and Warrior. Bandit, Ballerina, and Knife would’ve come, but they were all busy. Or Ballerina and Knife were busy. Bandit hates it here cause there’s no land. Nothing to see.”

“So, we’re all here, and we spend the day touring and exploring and stuff, and then we meet up for lunch. Well, Lady starts ranting about how they’re so disappointed in everyone, especially the Old Coot, and demands that we do something. Immediately, Gurl, Warrior, and Princess all pledge themselves to the cause, and then guess what they do? Guess what they flippin’ do?” The Youtuber gave a sarcastic and slightly pained chuckle, dark seal markings emphasizing his features as he looked around a little.

“If you couldn’t guess, they asked me, me, to help them plan their course of action. Now, these are my friends. Basically my family. I’ve been through a lot with them, from overthrowing corrupt organizations to taking down drug rings to literally being Kuzon’s father one time. And through all of these things, I’ve somehow become known as the one who’s really good at planning. But they asked me to help plan a stinkin’ rebellion. I do it, obviously, but the fact that they even asked.”

“But then, apparently they told all of these people who’re following them in protest that I helped organize everything. And no one decides to tell me this, so I keep helping from the sidelines. We reach day three of protests, and it’s lunchtime, so I think I’ll just walk on over and bring some food to these people who’ve been standing outside the Council all morning. I get there, and I get mobbed. Everyone’s either thanking slash congratulating me, or they’re complaining about the protestors. It takes me an hour to find Lady and ask them what the Spirits happened because of all these people just crowding around and yelling at me.”

“Lady apologizes, but the damage is done. The warriors are asking me to end the protests. I tell them I can’t. They get mad because I’m supposedly the one in charge. I am not the one in charge. I am the one who the people in charge asked for a favor and got dragged into this mess. No one seems to get it. Then the heckin’ Council calls me in and tries to make me end it all. I kept trying to say that it’s not my fault there’s a rebellion. It was the will of one person, aided by the wills of three other people, that inspired the hopes of everyone who’s protesting. I just helped them do the most damage so they have a big impact and this doesn’t take a year.”

“So here I am.” The camera turned around, and started panning to show the barren ice devoid of any life. “I’m currently out here attempting to hide from everyone. I have enough supplies to last me a week on its own, three if I make the most of it all.” The screen showed several bags, including a green Earth Kingdom satchel, a blue Water Tribe satchel, a black Fire Nation duffel, and a yellow Air Nomad backpack. A few items are attached to the duffel and backpack, though it’s unclear what. “I’ll wait out the protests, since Bandit’s giving me a play-by-play of the progress. Once that’s done, I’ll just head back and hope that no one’s still under the delusion that I’m in charge.”

“Thus ends this day’s session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. I’ll be back in an hour after I figure out what else to video and get bored enough to post again. Hope y’all like junk food, cause that’s all I’m serving. That being said, I’m signing off. See ya.”

The video cut to a picture of a boomerang with ‘Boomeraang’ written in calligraphy on the flat side. The entire vlog was titled ‘Lady’s 75th Revolution’.

True to his word, another video was posted about an hour later, this one titled ‘Furry Friends and Shock’.

“Sup, dudes. I’m back as promised, and this time, I’ve brought friends. Say hello to Fluffster, Rookie, and Baby.” The screen flipped, and three wolves were sitting like trained dogs in front of the Youtuber. “The biggest one’s Fluffster, since he’s obviously the floofiest. The smallest one’s Rookie, he’s pretty young. You can tell because his paws are a bit too big for him. He’ll grow into that. Then Baby’s this lovely little gal, and she’s super sweet. Took forever to stop her from licking my face.”

The three wolves wagged their tails as their names were spoken, and people who had watched that far were already commenting about how either it was impossible to tame wolves, the canines were incredibly cute, or disbelief at how it’d only been an hour and he already did something weird.

“Now, these beautifuls are strong predators. Usually, they’ll avoid humans, but I’m alone and my facepaint makes me seems less like a threat. They approached me pretty casually, not stalking or anything. I didn’t even notice they were there until I looked around again. And they’re much more tame than most wolves would usually be. Again, it’s likely because I seem unthreatening. Please do not try to do anything like this without training. I literally just did this by chance. I named them and they understand their names, but most animals wouldn’t. I mean, Foo Foo Cuddlypoops didn’t. I don’t think he did.”

Avataratlast: Who’s Foo Foo Cuddly Poops? Another friend?

- Banditrocs: Probably an animal.

Keepitreal: how did this dude manage to tame three wolves? it’s only been an hour?! and why does he wear that makeup? i’m so confused, was this all planned? does he have a crew?

- Boomeranglife: You must be new here.

“So, I’m gonna sign off soon, mostly so I can give these three some love. I think the best course of action would be to answer some of my commonly asked questions, tell you all a bit about wolves, and then give you the official goodbye until I get bored enough that my resolve crumbles. That’ll take at least another two hours with the fact that Lemur somehow managed to sneak my notepad into my bag. I wasn’t gonna bring it because I left in such a hurry, but then I’m inventorying my stuff and find it. Lemur’s such a pal.”

“Alright, gotta start the answers so I get cuddle time with the canines. My frequently asked question get put in a list thanks to my subpar hacking skills. Don’t tell Knife I said that or they’ll make good on their promise to lock me in a closet. Let’s get to it.” The screen split to show a list of questions on one side, the wolves on the other. Some of the questions were blacked out, probably due to being inappropriate.

“So, if it’s blacked out, those are hateful, nasty, or have far too many swears. The first question is the same as always, asking what my name is. My response is the same as always. Smiley emoticon. The next is my age. Under 50, above 10. My gender? Male. Is this a profile or something? Seriously, all these are about my identity. Sexuality? I let the people theorize cause I don’t care about what y’all think, unless you’re a bigot, then get off my channel, pretty please with The Moon on top. Real hair color? Hmm, I guess I can probably give you that. It’s not white. Eye color? Not white, either.”

Actlikewater: is everyone getting this?! he’s giving us information!!!

rockbeatsfire: what r y’all getting hyped up for? he hasn’t said anything

- powertoBoomerang: have you watched these before?

- - rockbeatsfire: i watched that parkour one

- - - powertoBoomerang: one - watch them all. two - you need to be more specific, and three - he never says anything about his identity besides pronouns. we have information. we can figure this out!

- - - - CaptainSparky: Are you sure about that?

- - - - - powertoBoomerang: we can figure this out maybe!

“What’s my nationality? Theorize, ma dudes. I ain’t gonna say, so go to one of those lovely blogs. Boomeranglife is really sweet, they’ve got a bunch of videos all about this sort of stuff. Actually, it might only be about my channel. I don’t really know. I just saw one of their videos and started questioning if I really was a Spirit. Ask them, and give them some love. They a nice peep.”

“What is my favorite animal? Either sabertoothmooselion, flying bison, or flying lemur. Is that seriously a commonly asked question? Am I gonna get spammed with artwork now? Do I need to have a lesson on how to draw flying bison and lemurs and all that? I’m gonna do it anyways, and all artwork is accepted, so long as you keep it PG-13. I’m around kids.”

“Am I single? I don’t know. Really, I don’t know. I could be dating Warrior, or I could be stealing Kuzon. I literally have no idea. I platonic flirt with everyone, and I’m horrible at reading social cues when it comes to romance. Wheaty? Apparently had a crush on me until three months ago. They told me when it ended so I would relax and I had to explain my oblivious nature and crippling anxiety. Ballerina? We’re married according to a small town and soulmates if you listen to a certain nomadic troupe. I might even be dating everyone on the team, heck if I know.”

“Am I a bender? Heh, that’s a good one. Can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. Who am I? Hold up, Ima search this.” There was the sound of keys tapping as the screen showed the videographer searching himself up. When the screen loaded, there was a bleeped out sound and the three wolves rushed towards him in concern.

“Holy Spirits! Tui, La, Yue, and Agni! *bleep* I’ve got a Wiki page! They gave me a *bleep*ing Wiki page! I’m not even that popular!”

Livelovemurder: he knows we see this, right

- Boomeranglife: I’m still recovering from him mentioning me, but I don’t think he realizes he is a celeb here

Azulastan: someone get this boy some tea! His video from literally an hour ago already has thousands of views! someone call Bandit!

- SouthernChief: on it! I’ll spam the comments of that last video. Hopefully they respond!

- - UncleTea: Good man/woman/enby!

Livelovemurder: wow, our first reaction to seeing him hurting is to contact Bandit. didn’t she once launch him into a tree?

- UncleTea: that was the first time they were officially friends. now they’re best friends

“Alright, I think we all earned some wolf facts. Did you know that wolves can live over ten years? Pretty long for any wild animal, even longer for a predator in a wasteland like this. Wolves are also extremely expressive for animals, and they’re very social. Wolves can get much bigger than dogs, except polar bear dogs, and despite what most people think, they don’t usually hurt children. Even the really small ones. They’re more likely to adopt your kid than try to hurt them. I personally believe it’s because they’re a lot smarter than most people credit them. Comment #WolfRights below and I’ll see if I can start a movement.”

“Now, I’m signing off once again, so say goodbye to Rookie, Baby, and Fluffster. See ya.”

The second video ended. Comments were pouring in about the clip, and Boomeranglife had already gotten another thousand subscribers in the time it took for the video to be played twice through. SouthernChief did indeed spam Bandit’s latest video, and had the earthbender ignore them until they mentioned that the guy from Boomeraang didn’t think he was popular.

- Bandit: He what?

- - SouthernChief: he doesn’t think he’s popular

- - - Bandit: I’ll take care of it.

Time Skip 5 Hours

The next video was titled ‘Who Sold Me Out?’ The starting screen showed Gurl in their Hei Bai mask, very clearly holding the camera. They waved at the screen before flipping the view around to show what was in front of them. The Boomeraang guy was sitting squashed between what appeared to be several people hiding underneath blankets. He was glaring directly at the camera, face set in a scowl that was once again greatly emphasized by his facepaint.

“Alright, I only got a few minutes to get this out before the others get sick of hiding under blankets. Who the *bleep* sold me out‽ Just because I didn’t realize how popular I am doesn’t mean you needed to call Bandit! Seriously, who was it‽ I’m out on the ice, having the time of my life sketching Baby and Fluffster and Rookie, and then, out of nowhere, Bison is flying towards me with Kuzon and Princess. Then they practically drag me back and I can no longer feel my legs because there’s four people on them. Whoever it was, you’re on thin *bleep*ing ice. I was fine! I was more than fine! I wasn’t the alleged leader of a rebellion!”

“You done?” Gurl asked from behind the camera.

“Yeah, I’m done.” The screen flipped back to Gurl.

“The dude’s been majorly *bleep* off because someone tattled on him. You have the thanks of the rest of us and the anger of one squished Youtuber. He refused to come out of the house, so we all decided to stay in tonight. The protests are over for the day anways, thanks to the fact that the Council is starting to give in. We promised an afternoon of peace so they could discuss it all without worrying. And we’ll be bringing you rebounders to the morning rally as well. NO EXCUSES!” The last words were thrown towards the guy on the other side of the camera, and a loud groan was heard. “He’s gonna do his outro and then y’all are gonna say goodbye.” The view reversed again.

“Signing off for now! See ya, ya traitors!”

The screen cut out.

SouthernChief: i regret nothing

UncleTea: He looked like an angry toddler, OMS.

Boomeranglife: gals! pals! dals! I got big news!

- Livelovemurder: spill

- - Boomeranglife: the NWT is having a bunch of protests all across their cities!

- - - Tyleestan: do we know who’s leading it?

- - - - Boomeranglife: no, NWT is too secretive! i just heard it from a merchant that left as they were starting. we live about as close as you can get to the north pole w/out actually being there

- - - - - SouthernChief: sucks, dudes. next time, for sure

- - - - - - rockbeatsfire: next time there’s a rebellion? does that actually happen a lot?

- - - - - - - Boomeranglife: seriously, watch the videos. I recommend in chronological order instead of by playlists

- - - - - - - - rockbeatsfire: alright, alright, i’m going

#sokka #atla #atla youtube au #youtube au #avatar the last airbender #smellerbee #katara #aang #toph #azula #zuko #suki #haru #teo #appa #momo

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professorspork · 3 years

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today in the Andromeda Galaxy, GLITCHES TRIED TO KILL ME BUT I MADE IT WORK. or, well. Helen made it work, actually, and I was very grateful. (Elaaden, what do you have against my triangle button working? and wtf was that Nomad bug where suddenly I could see through time and the world contracted and my hair turned white????)

anyway.

this morning I joked to Helen that I was feeling very “I love all of my crew equally”/“I don’t care for Cora” so today I made a concerted effort to get to know her better--and tried a few Nomad combos where she wouldn’t sound like the fun police. (turns out, she and Vetra get along great! and also when I put her with Peebee she gets very self-conscious about how she’s totes not appropriating asari culture and it’s v embarrassing. on the OTHER hand, she makes fun of Peebee for peeping on Jaal and like, again, wtf, let me have my ot3.)

I started out finishing up that Morda drive core mission that glitched, and of course I gave the krogan the drive core in exchange for the outpost because I LOVE KROGAN and also RYDER LOVES OUTPOSTS. win/win tbh. but honestly the best part was getting to pick the dialogue option talking to Addison “fuck Tann” and Ryder actually getting to say fuck! it’s the little things.

after closing out Elaaden I decided to try and finish up a few errand-y missions like scanning plants, etc. in doing so, I got to play soccer with my very best friend Liam which was a heartwarming lot of fun, and fought TWO architects because just one was not enough. Peebee’s ex stole our beloved Proof Of Concept (I know the bot is called Poc, but honestly I think full-naming it is much cuter) and I was all “of course I’m gonna help you we’re in this together” which threw Peebee off her game because she’s still thrown every time someone cares about her. I AM, AGAIN, CANNOT EMPHASIZE THIS ENOUGH, GENUINELY SAD I’M GOING TO HAVE TO CHOOSE AMONG ROMANCE OPTIONS. this experience could not be more different from the main trilogy, where I romanced Liara out of a sense of obligation/curiosity faaaaaar more than any genuine interest or investment, and wasn’t tempted* to deviate from that by anyone else along the way. there are a thousand mechanical reasons why I think romance works much, much better in Andromeda than it ever did in the main series--among them the very pointed focus on found family throughout, the more nuanced ability to craft a unique Ryder by doing away with paragon/renegade and instead having the more robust conversation trees, and the overworld chatting on the Nomad giving EVERYONE the amount of personality off the bat that my OG crew had to like bite and claw for for two and a half games-- but like. I’m not gonna lie a big part of it is just that I just think more of these people are more interesting as potential partners. I THINK I AM AN ANDROMEDA GIRL.

* well that’s a lie I would have romanced Tali in a heartbeat if I weren’t playing fem!Shep and that was illegal. and I’ll probably romance Sam Traynor after that. so. it’s not a total bust.

but I digress.

saved that scientist’s baby on Voeld, and afterwards had my first ACTUAL, HUMAN conversation with Addison about--shockingly--the nature of friendship. I was genuinely surprised and pleased! look at us go! I also did some spying for that STG agent, and got the world’s most badly delivered “gee, are you really going to believe that old coot?” speech out of my main suspect, which was hilariously insulting.

and then, partly due to Helen’s advice and partly because, again, today was Learn To Appreciate Cora Day, I finished out her loyalty mission! I was shocked to find Sarissa alive after all the build-up-- I was certain that after that long a drum roll for how key she’d be in the Initiative’s growth that we’d find her mega-dead-- but as Helen pointed out to me, the trope is Don’t Meet Your Heroes, not Your Hero Is Probably Dead, Actually. her whole “be calm, soldier” routine @ Vedaria was kind of grating in the moment but is very cute after the fact, so fine. the whole muted sounds and gravity tricks of that final fight were super fun, even though I did accidentally jump into space once or twice. the big biotics lightshow was v impressive, but after I took a pretty hardline stance on Sarissa: come clean and shut up, and you’re fired. I did get a little offended when the asari captain was like “you could have killed us all, it was only dumb luck that Ryder found us” bc EXCUSE ME, SOME OF IT WAS DUMB SKILL, but still. it was good to get that all settled, and very good to hear Cora say what was immediately obvious to everyone but her, which is that her compulsion towards mentors and plans would have made her a poor Pathfinder but makes her a perfect XO.

then I hit level 50 and spent a lot of time upgrading my gear, and like-- a kind god would have put the loadout console next to R&D and the buy/sell screen so I wouldn’t have to run up and down the Tempest corridor like an idiot. but whatever. Baby’s Fourth Beam Gun TM (an Avenger with a beam emitter) is working out splendidly, I’m slicing and dicing with my asari sword, and I’ve just put seeking plasma bolts on my Eagle which delights me. still shopping around for my ideal sniper before I commit but we’re getting there!

then I went to start the new planet, but then realized Ark Natanus was right there, and ended up backtracking twice. First I ran back to the Nexus thinking there’d be another fun homecoming cut scene for the asari like there’d been for the salarians that I didn’t want to muddy with adding turians, too, only that didn’t happen. boo! I did remember to check on my mom, tho, so that was nice and emotional. then I went back to Netanus to start that up, only to realize I was wearing a very ugly and entirely face-obscuring helmet-- and once it was clear the entirety of the mission was going to be me emoting at Rix, I restarted the mission with a different armor loudout. yes, I am that vain, but only because opportunities for mlm/wlw solidarity are rare in this game (Gil’s been quiet lately, lol) and Rix deserved my best. though after doing all this, I am wondering: why do all the SAMs have different voices? surely making even one AI as smart and unique as SAM is difficult; then making each Ark’s SAM unique feels like an unnecessary burden? but whatever.

H-whateverthefuck is by far my favorite planet to Nomad around on. I’ve been complaining about the lack of low gravity mechanics since the Mako in ME1 (WE WENT TO THE MOON, THE LITERAL MOON, OUR MOON, AND NOT EVEN THAT HAD LOW GRAVITY?) and so this felt like pure vindication. (also, in general but very aggressively NOT for this planet because of the radiation, shout out to the Nomad for letting me get out no matter how poorly or vertically it’s parked, because lord knows I glitched the Mako many times trying to pause and get out in ‘impossible’ places the Nomad handles with ease.) anyway. the concept of a broken-up planet is terrifying, and the reality of it was eerie as all get-out. what neat execution!

and speaking of a neat execution, I’m so relieved going with the interrupt and firing at Meriwether while she held Sid worked, because I was again legit scared I might get Sid killed. as you’ll recall re: my Jaal loyalty mission, that’s the second time I was genuinely quite nervous there would be real consequences to screwing this up! I give the game a lot of credit for building a world where it feels like I really could screw up that badly. I’m very proud/fond of Sid, and the whole security camera mechanic was delightful-- a more fun version of the kind of stuff KOTOR always made me do. back on the Tempest, I decided to flirt with Vetra while the flirting’s still good, but tbh her flirt option (“I care about Sid bc I care about you”) wasn’t even all that romantically valanced, if you ask me! but also I love that Sid’s idea of justice is fast-tracking having cats in Heleus.

phew! with so many big things now out of the way, I’m not sure how much dithering I can/should do before continuing with the main mission. but that’s a decision for future me.

#leah plays mass effect andromeda

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gegenji · 4 years

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Advent of an Amazing Aether-Administrating Apparatus!

RP Partner: @onehundredplumblossoms Date: 24 June 2020

Nenemo Nemo evaluates the Namazu, the exterior hull holding fast against the furious storm that rocked Gloam not long ago. The town is already starting to look more orderly, apart from the numerous windows under repair and waterlogged furniture in the street waiting to be broken down and replaced. For an independent community Gloam is relatively well off, due to the ceruleum, so it isn't damage they can't bounce back from. Continuous storms however, who could say. Nenemo Nemo: > For her part, Seseka seems satisfied that the submersible hasn't been severely compromised in any way, and only needs to send her mammets scurrying about the hull to check for anything out of the ordinary. Very little but cosmetic damage is found. She clutches a cigar between her fingers, running a hand through her shortened hair.

Chachanji Gegenji peered awkwardly into the warehouse, draped in an azure-hued rain slicker that was likely rather new - though perhaps not unwarranted given the weather he's had to deal with around Gloam in his past outings here. Seeing Seseka and her mammets inspecting the Namazu, he pushes his way in - and into conversation with the older Lalafell - with awkward steps and equally awkward small-talk. "So... ah... h-how's th' Namazu lookin'? All th' gadgets still in one piece after th' storm?"

Nenemo Nemo: "Ah? Oh, yes yes, she's quite fine. Your construction was solid. Nothing but scratches so far. I can't perceive any damage to the propeller either." Nenemo Nemo puffs a small cloud of cigar smoke. Her recent infirmity doesn't seem to dissuade her any.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Tha's good!" he chirps, meandering in closer and looking over the vessel a little himself. "I did bring back s'more'a me tools in case any repairwork'r anythin' needs done, 'long wit all th' stuff on th' list Ms. Aya gave me." And Virara, but given Seseka's reaction to his wanting to bring her in the first place... he figured omitting that part was probably for the best right now.

Nenemo Nemo: "I don't have any use for you right now. If it so comes that Miss Foxheart has a need of another modification, however, your craftsmanship will no doubt be called upon again." Nenemo Nemo states with her low, somewhat raspy voice. She seems slightly unfocused. It might be the effect of her mammets. Judging from what was alluded to before, some 'part' of Seseka seemed invested in them all, especially the red one. It might be that she's in the midst of 'multitasking' even now.

Chachanji Gegenji: "'n I'll be 'ere ta do it if'n it's needed..." Chachan reassured, tapping lightly on the more armored chest-piece of his rain slicker. Protection against rain and zombie sahagin, from the looks of things. He watched the mammets go about their business in silence for a couple moments, a couple wary glances sent Seseka's way, before he spoke again. "Um... w-were ya able ta put t'gether those... um... thin's tha'd keep th' zombie fishmens away?"

Nenemo Nemo: "Yes. I've had my boys set them up about the beaches and shorelines of this island. With any luck they will be prevented from entering Gloam again. However, I would not expect that we would be able to continue producing such devices with reckless abandon. After all, I was only able to make a surplus of disruptors here because the island is privy to a large supply of surplus Imperial communicators and parts. What with the circumstances of their independence." Nenemo Nemo muses without looking at him.

Nenemo Nemo: "Should the cultured drone problem spread beyond the vicinty of Dagon and Hydra itself, I doubt even the Empire proper could produce enough disruptors to keep every shoreline of Eorzea free of them."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Well, hopef'lly we'll be able ta deal wit th' pro'lem at th' source once we're down there... Right?" Chachan offered, though the question at the end rather clearly belied his own uncertainty of that. He fidgeted a bit, scratched at his cheek. Another awkward little silence. "Um... s-so... given all th' parts 'n stuff 'ere... ah... c-could ya be able ta make another'a of a diff'rent gadget? I-if'n ya wanted ta, a'course."

Nenemo Nemo blinks, shutting her eyes momentarily and leaning back. Some tension seems to leave her body before her eyes flutter open again. Thus unoccupied, her concentration also broken, she turns to Chachanji. "I was wondering when you'd get around to asking me whatever it was you really wanted. No one comes to an old coot like me for anything but to make a request. Well, what is it?" Nenemo Nemo places her cigar in a round glass ash tray in front of her.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Th-tha's not true! I... I wanted ta make sure ya were akay, too," he stated, silently admitting he had a request. "I... jus' didn't know which would be th' easier ta bring up first... 'n both ended up bein' kinda... difficult." He rubs at the back of his neck. "S-still, since we're on th' topic of gadgets 'n makin' stuff... I-I figgered thi' would be th' best one ta... um... start wit?" He gives an awkward shrug and smile.

Nenemo Nemo rolls her eyes. "Get on with it. I'll try to help you as best I can. It's the least I can do for your superb service."

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-akay..." He nods before taking a deep breath. "Um... w-would ya be able ta make 'nother one'a those um... aether-pullin' gadgets tha' ya used ta help me back when we were testin' those potions'a yers? Y'know, me 'n th' folks from th' Roadhouse? Ya... um... saw what extra aether does ta me 'n... I-I dun want ta risk somethin' like tha' happenin' while we're down there. I mean... g-given th' bigger zombie fishmen we saw, I-I 'spose it COULD be handy? But... I can't really... control it well."

Nenemo Nemo presses her bronzed spectacles up with her pinkie. "Ah yes, your condition. I remember it well. But that wasn't a device for "clearing aether," so much as improvising via the effects of an existing trinket I simply had on hand. More study would be needed to understand the vagaries of your physiology, such that I have a grasp exactly of what your bodily transformation entails." Nenemo Nemo: "In particular, I find it curious that you are able to gain mass so easily, yet lose it all without any discarded matter. It is a strange characteristic." Nenemo Nemo seems to mean matter as in any solid substance in this case...

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah... w-well, I dun really understand it meself..." he admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck again. "Jus'... whenev'r I take in extra aether... tha' happens. I thought it'd jus' last until I actively used it up 'r it was taken outta me but... ah... some recent events have shown me tha' jus'... after enough time... I go back ta normal. Still... it's th' fact tha' it happens tha's th' pro'lem... 'n if'n somethin' caused it while we were down there..." He looks down at the warehouse floor. Chachanji Gegenji: "I... I could put ev'ryone in danger."

Nenemo Nemo: "If it concerns you so much, then don't go. Why must it be you who risks yourself for the safety of others?" Nenemo Nemo questions him, a clear, calm look in her eyes.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Well, fer one... I... thin' I hafta go 'cuz otherwise Ms. Ririco might not work wit us?" He scratched at his cheek. "I mean, ya were th' one tha' said tha'." A pause. "But... I... I want ta be able ta help, too. Ta try 'n make sure ev'ryone tha's goin' down there comes back safe. Ms. Aya, Ms. Portia, you, 'n those we're goin' down there ta find. I dun thin' I could stand it if'n I stayed behind... 'n I find out ya guys got hurt. Or worse. When I coulda been there. Done somethin'."

Nenemo Nemo: "That. That there. Worrying about things you can't help. That's what I mean when I ask this of you." Nenemo Nemo points at him with the stub of her sizzling cigar. Nenemo Nemo: "I think the little brat would probably assist us so long as you delivered on your promise. I don't expect that she will lie, as... fixated as she is. But even so, you talk about this like it's something only you can do. Why?" Nenemo Nemo doesn't seem hostile, more that she's genuinely curious.

Chachanji Gegenji: "'s... not tha' it's somethin' only I can do," he admits, quietly. "Honestly, wit Virara comin' along... she could prolly handle th' fishmen all by herself. But..." A longer pause. "I want ta help. I want ta be there fer me friends. I want ta be able ta tell th' captain tha' he's got friends... a family waitin' fer 'im back in Limsa. I want ta do me best ta protect ev'ryone, ta see ev'ryone come back safe." He turns and places a hand on the Namazu. "I dun doubt th' Namazu can get ev'ryone down-- Chachanji Gegenji: --there. 's what's waitin' down there, tha' unknown... it worries me."

Nenemo Nemo: ".... Hm." Nenemo Nemo seems unimpressed. However, she slips off her stool to the ground, brushing off her sooty coat, pausing momentarily to sneeze. Nenemo Nemo: "PSCH!..."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I mean... ev'n me condition could be useful if'n I could -control- it," he insists. "But... oh, ah, bless ya."

Nenemo Nemo: "Alright fine. I don't know why you're so particular about this. It seems to me that any number of people could do what you intend to do. You don't need to put yourself in such needless danger on their behalf. But if it's what you seek out, I suppose I could cobble something together."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Mebbe they could... 'n mebbe better than I ever could. But... I'd still want ta try. Ta be there if'n I can be, ta help if'n I can. Protect who I can." He scratches at his cheeks, which have reddened a bit in embarrassment. "I... want ta see ev'ryone safe, 'n be able ta do all I can ta make tha' happen."

Nenemo Nemo: "It is a shame you cannot put that motivation forward towards your own personal goals. That aside, such a device would likely need to adhere to your body to properly channel aether into it, in the manner of a focus, attuned to your body's frequency much like that of a portable aethryte crystal. Not suitable for teleportation, but other wavelengths of energy can be funneled through it." Nenemo Nemo: "The problem is regulating that flow. I would have to study your body more carefully, but I suspect the issue is a cascading effect in which the body's massive conduciveness to aether pulls in greater and greater amounts until it can contain no more. It is a marvel you haven't exploded yet." Nenemo Nemo notes with disarmingly casual ease.

Chachanji Gegenji: "It -is- me personal goal, though. Ta see ev'ryone down there. Ta see them safely back. If'n th' captain's down there... if'n yer student's down in th' other one. I want ta see them back safely. Whether fer joyous reunion 'r..." A quiet pause. "... fer proper burial."

Nenemo Nemo: "Chachanji dear. You want these things, but not for yourself. You're only considering the needs of those around you. Believe me. I am an expert on selfishness. I have spent my life fleeing from my responsibilities, over and over again. I even faked my own death to get away from them."

Nenemo Nemo 's tone takes on a quiet, sullen tone. Nenemo Nemo: "Wanting to protect others is admirable. But you must value your own life as well. Only then can you weigh properly when and where you mean to sacrifice it." Nenemo Nemo: "A device like this could be considerably dangerous for you."

Chachanji Gegenji shakes his head. "I... do want these thin's fer meself, though," he admits. "'ve nearly lost me family ta the razin'a Doma. Me brother to a coma. A girl I onced loved 'cuz I was too afraid tha' I was more hindrance than help. I... I don't want ta lose anyone. Not if'n there's somethin' I can do about it."

Nenemo Nemo: "..."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I... want ta know I can protect people. Save people. Maybe not be a 'hero' but... at least try ta be somethin' close."

Nenemo Nemo sighs, narrowing her eyes. Nenemo Nemo: "But you're still talking about others. Have you ever considered what you'll be doing years from now? What of your trade? How do you want to advance it? Is it really just to save others' lives, and nothing else?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "But tha's the purpose of a crafter, ain't it? Ya make thin's fer others," he states. "Sure, some folks do it jus' fer profit but... there are those who make thin's 'cuz they want to see others usin' them. Ta see their lives bettered by it. Tha's what I want ta do wit me trade 'n... well... wit meself as well."

Nenemo Nemo shakes her head. "... What a waste. If nothing else, you might make a decent test subject. I can't teach those who aren't willing to learn." She doesn't seem terribly upset, however. Nenemo Nemo: "Fine, I'll make your little gadget. Don't blame me when you draw in so much aether you pop like a balloon."

Chachanji Gegenji gives an awkward chuckle. "S-speakin'a test subject... I... kinda was one a'fore, 'n I thought mebbe th' results'a tha' might help." He reaches into the bag at his side, pulling out a thin lockbox and - from that - he produces what looks like an Arcanist's codex. "There was... um... an alchemist tha' wanted ta try'n replicate what I do. Ta make super soldiers 'r somethin'. These are her notes. If'n they can help... 'n-n if'n ya need ta study me proper... tha's fine too."

Nenemo Nemo pulls the notes into her grasp rather hastily. "Give them here. What are their credentials?" Seseka questions, apparently forgetting her own are rather dubious, so long as she remains unrecognized and a fugitive from Sharlayan. "No, don't bother telling me. I'll discern them for myself. These could perhaps serve my purpose well without needing to do partial biopsy."

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah... sh-she is - or was - a member'a th' Alchemists' Guild?" he offers quickly when she all but snatches the tome from him. "'n-n she was able ta kinda-sorta replicate th' results wit 'er assistant so... I-I guess she figgered at least part'a it out?" He scratches at his cheek, though it pauses at 'biopsy.' He didn't really know what the word meant but... perhaps it was the rabbit that was his spirit animal... he had a feeling that it wasn't a very good word in regards to his own well-being.

Nenemo Nemo: "Drawing ambient aether into the body without proper training or a suitable focus is highly dangerous. It could potentially result in overaspecting, or aether poisoning, or the suffusion of your body with other aetheric maladies. Not to mention the surrounding environment could suffer a catastrophic loss of aether as a result, depending on how depleted it already is. I will have to account for this with the device. A tomestone might be capable of acting as a regulator." Nenemo Nemo: "Many allagan devices are designed to be able to efficiently self-regulate aetherflow such that they cannot exceed capacity, storing the aether away in containers until they can be safely disposed of. I could perhaps re-purpose such a circuit to your needs, and allow for an infusion. Transforming back will be trickier. And most likely, the device would restrict you to an infusion that doesn't exceed the healthy limits your aetherpool could sustain for a short duration." Nenemo Nemo: "In other words, you would only be able to grow so large. Has that dissuaded you enough?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "W-well, if'n it helps... 've had a lotta... practice wit it recently," he offers, a bit of a grimace crossing his features of memories that were obviously a little bittersweet. "So, hopef'lly tha' should help?" He paused as she continued, trying to follow along with her jargon as best as he could. To what success was debatable. "W-wait, so thi' wouldn't jus' be a device tha'd keep me from changin' ev'ry time I get too much aether, but let me activate it 'n control it?" Chachanji Gegenji's eyes grow wide with awe upon seeing you. Chachanji Gegenji had obviously not been dissuaded at all.

Nenemo Nemo: "Practice? How so?" Nenemo Nemo nods. Nenemo Nemo: "It would be an aetheric regulator, similar to that which keeps Allagan devices from overloading. The excess would be stored for use in giving you a safe, regulated infusion of aether, such that for a brief amount of time, you could perhaps grow in size." Nenemo Nemo: "After a certain amount of time, or when you have completed your use of it, the excess aether would be siphoned off of you and stored in a crystal, to be discarded or kept with you as needed."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I made friends wit some... well... they called 'emselves Pixies. They're like Sylphs but more... person-lookin'?" he explained. "'n they liked playin' pranks 'n stuff. 'n tha' included messin' wit me condition once they knew'a it. Tha' 'n... sometimes their pranks backfired 'n needed help dealin' wit th' mess. Which often tended ta be large, too. So... yeah... a lotta practice." A sigh, then a shake of the head. As if to dismiss the negative memories and focus more on the positives of the-- Chachanji Gegenji: --here-and-now. "I... thin' I get what yer sayin' 'n... tha'd be really impressive if'n it can do tha'. I... still ain't wholly comfortable -usin'- th' ability but... I can't lie tha' there's been times I thought it woulda be useful. Like durin' th' storm when th' larger zombie fishmen showed up." Chachanji Gegenji: "But... wit th' difficulty I have usin' it... 'n worryin' 'bout gettin' too big 'n causin' more pro'lems or fear... I hesitated, y'know?"

Nenemo Nemo tilts her head to the side Nenemo Nemo: "... Pixies? I know not of such an organism. Don't you mean sylphs?" Nenemo Nemo thinks to herself. "They sound like sylphs."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I mean, they looked a lot like Sylphs. They jus' called themselves Pixies." He shrugs.

Nenemo Nemo: "Are you sure they weren't just sylphs under a different name?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "'s possible, I jus' went 'long wit it ta try'n keep them happy. Upsettin' 'em jus' meant more pranks."

Nenemo Nemo 's mouth flattens into a thin line. "It would be useful to dissect one. Already deceased, of course. Then I could determine if any physiological differences exist. I believe the sylphs have more in common with seedkin than beastkin or spoken... which are really just beastkin who talk... This categorization really needs to be revised. If only I had been able to continue at the academy..." Nenemo Nemo mutters to herself.

Chachanji Gegenji gets a bit of a worried look, uncertain how the likes of Gria would take to offering up one of their own - deceased or not - for such practices. "W-well, anyroad, 'cuz'a them I spent a lot more time big then I had since... well... since gettin' th' ability ta begin wit. So I 'spose I have them ta thank fer all th' practice."

Nenemo Nemo: "Hm. It will be useful. You may have an inherent feel for how much your aetherpool is able to accommodate of foreign aether." Nenemo Nemo stretches her arms out at her sides. "Much like the limitations of holding one's breath, or straining your muscles to their limit.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Tha's... a neat way ta put it," the little smith admits.

Nenemo Nemo smiles and taps her fist against her chest. Nenemo Nemo: "Immaterial and material are my fields of study. The aetherpool, and by extension, one's anima, are waveforms, true, like an invisible aura of energy within ourselves, but they are as much 'you' as your flesh and blood. And I am quite familiar with manipulating that immaterial half of you." She glances at her mammets. Nenemo Nemo: "People speak of it as a spiritual energy, like a soul, but I believe one day body and 'spirit' will be as manipulable as one's clothing."

Chachanji Gegenji: "'s still 'me', huh...?" he echoes quietly to himself, a soft smile drifting across his features. The phrase reminding him of a more pleasant collection of memories. "Chagenji is Chagenji," he murmurs quietly with a chuckle before looking back up at Seseka. Seemingly having missed the last part about the goals of body and spirit manipulation in the process. He awkwardly tries to cover that fact, though. "W-well, seems like I was right tha' ya'd be th' best person ta ask fer help on thi'."

Nenemo Nemo: "Of course I am. I am a professor of aetherochemistry, and far more versed in these matters than any of my tedious peers. Aside from perhaps Loloki. But nevermind that ruin-diving, dust-encrusted scarab." Nenemo Nemo recounts her peer with a faint tone of amusement.

Chachanji Gegenji: "... Loloki?" he echoes, the name seeming... vaguely familiar. Perhaps he had encountered her once? "W-well, if'n thi' gadget will be able ta do all th' thin's I thin' yer sayin' it can... 's ev'n more than what I was hopin' fer."

Nenemo Nemo: "I will need to do some limited testing on you, but I expect I should be able to succeed. In return, I only ask you work hard procuring any materials I require for the construction of a device. Oh, and out of curiosity, how did you manage a solution to the matter of well, your clothes?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "Oh, ah... tha's a bit of a group effort, act'lly," Chachan admitted. "I know a tailor who's partner changes size - though not ta th' degree I do - 'n made special cloth ta accommodate 'er. Tha' plus th' runic leatherworkin' I learned from th' Nu Mou 'n... well, 've managed ta make at least some outfits tha' scale wit me ta some degree. I hafta wear them fer a bit, a'course. 'Soulbindin'' I thin' was th' term fer it."

Nenemo Nemo: "Hmm... Nu Mou? You've been to some strange places. I've not heard of these people either. A leatherworking cooperative?" Nenemo Nemo: "I will have to draw upon your knowledge to make certain my methods of adapting the device to fit you properly aren't inconsistent with theirs."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Cooperative's prolly a good word," Chachan stated with a chuckle. "They 'pparently REALLY liked bein' able ta help others. 'course, they were SUPER strict 'bout the rules of th' exchange. Like... if they asked fer three frog legs fer their work, they wanted EXACTLY three. No more, no less. Got... kinda scary 'bout it, honestly..." A brief shiver. "A-anyroad, yer helpin' me out a lot wit all thi', so I'll help ya wit as much of it as I can."

Nenemo Nemo: "Yes, yes that's fine. I will get to work immediately with the immediate research needed to plan the specifications of this regulator, so for the time being, shoo!" Nenemo Nemo ushers Chachanji off hastily, clearly more obsessed with the idea of putting together the device now than anything else she was previously working on. Hopefully she won't be TOO distracted from her work maintaining the submersible until it is used again.

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah... w-wait, there was th' other reason tha' I came too... th-th' one tha' wasn't jus' lookin' fer a favor!" he interjected quickly as he's being Lalafellhandled out towards the door. "I-I mean it tha' I want ta see all'a ya akay! 'n-n I saw Mr. Alec say somethin' ta ya tha' seemed ta freak ya out! S-so... um..." A pause at the door, since she had managed to jostle him all the way there. "I-if'n yer in trouble, 'r... 'r jus' need an ear ta bend. Lemme know, akay?"

Nenemo Nemo grins toothily. "Don't you worry about it dear. Worst comes to worst, I'll just put him to sleep with one of my lectures!" Nenemo Nemo: "But thank you."

Chachanji Gegenji pouts, but relents. "I-if'n ya say so. Jus'... wanted ta put tha' offer out there, is all. We're all in thi' t'gether, right?"

Nenemo Nemo: "Of COURSE we are. Don't sweat the details, Chachanji darling. It's just a bit of old people chattering about, that's all. I won't divulge the secrets of my research to him so easily."

Chachanji Gegenji nods before heading out the door. "Akay. Jus' know yer one'a th' ones I want ta keep safe too, Ms. Seseka." He adjusted his bag. "A-anyroad, I should get these spices ta Ms. Aya. Let me know if'n ya need me!"

Nenemo Nemo: "Go already! I have to get to work on your device! Don't make me boot you out the door!"

Chachanji Gegenji: "'m goin', 'm goin'!"

Nenemo Nemo shooes him away, all but booting him bodily from the warehouse.

#ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv rp #rp log #seseka #chachanji

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house-of-hoskins · 5 years

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Flyers highlights in the 2018-19 season

Even though there were many ups and downs here are some of the best moments

That first glorious game against Vegas that left all of our jaws dropping and our pessimistic brains confused

Knock Knock

Gritty shooting that ice guy in the back

Gritty falling on ice on his first day

Gritty in general

Coke dealer Lehtera

Ch ch ch chia!

That was a nice West Coast Road Trip

Remember that game against Tampa where we tied it up in 10 minutes? Yeah, that was fun, just don't talk about the end

That iconic moment in time where we all loved Stolarz

A big shit show we all don't wanna talk about

But guess what? That big shit show led up to FIRING H*KSTOL

Hart's sexy debut, a win against the Red Wings

Hart's second game, a win against the Predators

tK iS tHe ReSpOnSiBlE oNe

Parking Garage incident

We got to see Flyers prospects Morgan Frost and Joel Farabee score hattys in the world juniors

Giroux in the ASG

That one winning streak that happened

The Beanpot Trot

JVR's and Coots' hattricks

"I normally have one ham and cheese but tonight I had two and I'm feeling pretty great" ~Patty 2k19

Penguins blew a 3-1 lead🤫

Wired TV series, which included TK calling Malkin a nerd

Hartman steam rolling Dahlin in his first shift

I really wanna see what Bailey's miles are on his car

P H I L M Y E R S

Claude Giroux is gonna be a dad (like an actual one, not figuratively).

It's always a good day when we beat the Penguins

B I G S A M

Does Neuvirth even exist at this point?

Just remember this offseason is gonna be huge!

And a thank you to all the past Flyers who have played for us this year (wither we liked them or not): Jordan Weal, Dale Weise, Cal Pickard, Christian Folin, Anthony Stolarz and Wayne Simmonds

Although this season didn't turn out the way we wanted just remember that this season absolutely needed to happen and was the first stepping stone in the right direction. We got rid of the GM and head coach, got some good, young players and more in the making. And as sad as there is no post season for us, just remember that there is a very bright future ahead.

#flyers #flyers lb #claude giroux #carter hart #philadelphia flyers #philadelphia #nolan patrick #travis konecny

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shadowluverworks · 5 years

Text

Remissionem - Chapter 1

Finally getting to post this! If you guys would rather read it on archive, fanfiction, deviantart, or inkbunny, you can find it under the username: Shadowluver1242

Special thanks to @galoots for reading through and editing this! Read the story below.

The Wound A Word Opens

Scrooge McDuck: the richest duck in the world. He has more money than one could ever dream of, and he made it square. On top of being a businessman, the duck’s a world-renowned explorer. Solving mysteries and rewriting history is his pastime, and his family shares in the love of adventure...that is, all but one. Donald Duck is not as graceful as his uncle, not as smart as his twin, and much more prone to getting hurt than having fun. After losing Della to the call of the great unknown, his view of the “family business” soured even more. However, his three nephews, Della’s kids, have shown the same passion their mother and great uncle shared. After many deliberations with himself, he finally conceded in allowing the triplets to accompany the entrepreneur in his travels.

There were, of course, strict rules to follow. Donald doesn’t just give the responsibility of his nephews’ lives to anyone. Even with his inhibitions, he relinquished his family to Scrooge McDuck. Heaven help the old miser if something were to happen to those three. Donald had already lost one family member too many, and he’s determined not to lose another.

The sailor had made a personal vow of no more adventuring. Those days were long gone for him. He had never felt as much of a rush and received such enjoyment out of it as his kin did, which is why he’s currently relaxing on the hammock of his house boat. His family has another journey planned for today, but rather than worry about them returning safely, as he usually does, he attempts to keep his mind at bay with a nap. But fate never seems to be on Donald’s side, and at a loud shout of his name, he’s awakened by the thwack of his face meeting the boat’s wooden floor.

With a groan, he rubs his head as his eyes open sleepily. In front of his beak are spat-clad feet, and he doesn’t need to guess twice to know who’s interrupted his beauty sleep, “Scrooge?” He sits up with a scowl. He should ask why the old duck is on his boat, but then again, his boat is in Scrooge’s pool. Feeling rather agitated at the rude awakening, his mood is more combative than normal, “What do you want?!”

The Scottish duck pushes away the slight pain in his chest at the absence of ‘Uncle’ before his name. That’s been increasing in regularity ever since the events of the Sunchaser. Maybe his nephew had only been referring to him as that in front of his great nephews all this time? After his reputation had been dirtied in their eyes, Donald has been more frequently dropping the ‘Uncle’ and simply calling him ‘Scrooge’. He despises that.

But that’s not what he’s here for. Ever since the Shadow War and nearly losing his family for good, he’s been trying to rekindle the relationship long lost between him and his nephew. It’s been a rocky road at best, and the two of them have been known to lose their tempers at a drop of a hat. So today he chooses to keep the smile on his beak as he addresses the duck kneeling before him, “Came teh invite ye. Teh kids ‘n ah thought it might be fun teh have a sort of...” he waves a hand around, trying to come up with the words, “...family adventure.”

He can feel his fight or flight instinct kicking in. Scrooge is skilled at many things in life, talking to his own kin, however, was a skill he did not possess. Part of him wants to run and pretend he never asked while the other is still hopeful his nephew will accept his offer. Though the rather confused look that comes over Donald’s face as he stands up does nothing to soothe the old duck.

The sailor crosses his arms in front of his chest, “You know I don’t adventure anymore.” He looks his uncle up and down. The old man is good at hiding his feelings, but Donald has known him for years.

Scrooge was obviously nervous, “A-Ah knoo, but, well it’s just been a long time since ye’ve gone ‘n...ah jus-”

Donald holds up a hand to stop him, “I don’t adventure anymore because someone always gets hurt.”

His uncle blinks as he turns away to walk out onto the deck of his houseboat. He’s not surprised when he’s followed, “Thas’ nae troo! We’ve bin on several trips now ‘n everyone always comes back in one piece!”

Donald leans over the railing and looks over his shoulder at the other, “In one piece, yes, but I have to take care of the bumps and bruises!”

Dark turquoise eyes flick away at that. Sure, there are small injuries here and there, but no one had lost a limb or worse! You can’t live if you’re afraid to get hurt! In the past, Donald had been the one to sustain most of the injuries, and perhaps that is where the insecurities are coming from now. But the boys are skilled where their uncle is not. They take after their mother and himself. But then even Della had...

Scrooge frowns at the duck across him, “Thas’ part a teh fun! A bruise ‘r a scar lef’ behind tae remind ye of teh adventure when ye got it! Ye’ve got tae make memories while ye can, lad! Besides, those wee boys are much more capable than yer givin’ them credit fer.”

Donald’s eyes narrow and he straightens, glaring at the other, “I know they’re capable, why do you think I let them go with you?!” He can’t protect them from everything, they would never live!

His uncle’s brows furrow, bringing a hand to his chest, “Donald, ah knoo ye worry fer them, but ye can-” Scrooge cuts himself off, his eyes lower to the boat floor. He can’t finish that sentence because it’s not true.

But his nephew knew what he was about to say, and it only seems to stoke the sailor’s internal furnace, “I can what? Trust you?! I think you’ve made it very apparent that I can’t!” Scrooge’s eyes lift to glare at his kin. His instinct is to defend himself, but he keeps his beak shut for once, jaw clenching.

Donald continues in his fit, “The only reason I let the boys go adventuring with you is so they can get it out of their systems. So that maybe they’ll grow bored of it while they’re still young and can move on with their lives before something terrible happens! I know they’re already better at it than I was because they still actually want to go. They’re only ten years old, but I trust them and their decisions in this! Do you know how sad it is that I trust children more than I trust the adult in charge of them?!”

For a long time, Scrooge knew how Donald felt deep down, but hearing it so blatantly out of the young lad he raised, that all faith in him was lost, it stings. Like many times before, Scrooge abandons any hurt feelings in exchange for anger. His teeth grit as he takes a step forward, “At least when teh boys are with me, a successful businessman, they might learn a thing er two on how tae supply fer themselves once day instead a livin’ on a boat in their uncle’s swimmin’ pool and moochin’ off his hard-earned wages!” He wanted to take that back as soon as he said it. He knows more than anyone that even if Donald was lazy in nature, the duck had tried everything to hold on to a job to support his family. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, he would take any job if it meant providing a safe environment for the boys to grow up in.

Scrooge’s outburst was out of line, but he can’t take it back. Especially not with the hurt expression that quickly flashes across his nephew’s face. Though it’s instantly hid behind anger once again, as their family is known to do. Donald’s fists shake at his side, but he doesn’t blow his top. Instead his voice lowers to a mock calm, “Really? Alright. Why don’t I just see how much they’re learning, then?” With that, he gives his uncle a shoulder shove out of his way and marches off the boat, shouting, “I’ll get Launchpad to move the boat back to the marina after!” over his shoulder. The old coot wanted a family trip? He’ll get a family trip.

As the sailor enters the mansion to most likely cut through and get to the front yard where Launchpad and the children were waiting, the rich avian allows his face to fall in shame. This is not the way to repair the bond with his kin and he knows it. He hadn’t meant a word he said; Scrooge didn’t want Donald to leave, quite the opposite actually. He scolds himself for letting his anger once again take control of his tongue. This adventure is no longer sounding as fun as it did a few minutes ago.

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

Donald mostly ignores what exactly the treasure they’re after is. Most likely something gold and cursed if he knows his uncle. It had been several hours since their argument this morning and they both had time to cool down, but neither made a move to apologize. They mostly avoided one another.

The Duck’s and McDuck’s are good at arguing, not so much at having heart to hearts; a trait that Donald has attempted to break in his nephews. From a young age he made sure to talk out any disagreements with the boys, whether between they and him, or among the triplets themselves. Kids can hold onto grudges, but Huey, Dewey, and Louie had always been inspiring at resolving their fights before it ruined any relationships.

Scrooge had not been raised that way. He had, in a sense, raised himself since the age of 13, and, knowing nothing about being a parent, had raised Donald and Della from a young age as well. Della had always been better at talking about her feelings, but it wasn’t the same for Donald, at least not with his uncle. He’s learned a lot raising her sons, but the way the relationship was severed between his uncle and he is something not easily mended.

Donald sighs, his glance once again settles on the old duck. They had pushed their anger away for the children, not wanting to bring any negative feelings to the adventure. Webby and the triplets crowd around Scrooge’s seat next to Launchpad in the cockpit of the Sunchaser. He’s explaining the history of the location and what they’ll be looking for, but the sailor isn’t listening. His mind is years away in the distant past when he and his twin had the same wide and excited eyes the ducklings now have. Where had the time gone?

When they arrive several hours later at the ancient Mayan Ruins in Central America, the crew managing to escape a water landing by a feather’s length, his uncle takes the lead through the deep jungle while he brings up the rear himself, leaving Launchpad and the plane behind. They have yet to truly enter the temple ahead, but small native structures could be seen rising and falling through the thicket. The trees above them grow together so close in their canopy, only small rivers of light can be seen cascading through the leaves and lighting the world around them.

The dirt path they’ve taken eventually turns to a stone one. So battered is the path, that the stepping-stones are often broken or missing in places. Small green flora has managed to take root, and they rise up a few inches out of the small cracks of earth the pathway gives way to.

The group hikes for a few miles before the trail leads them to a small mountain, or rather large hill depending on how you look at it, gradually rising them higher out of the undergrowth. Huey occupies himself with identifying different plants, animals, and insects they pass along the way, while also keeping a sharp eye out for any poisonous ones. Webby next to him is jabbering about the native culture and history of the ruins around them.

Louie trails behind, just in front of Donald. He wipes the sweat off his brow as his bangs cling to his face; he should have packed a t-shirt. The humidity is suffocating, as if you can take a handful of the air itself, and the heat draining. You can practically feel yourself becoming dehydrated. He doesn’t know how the others can manage so well.

Dewey stays closely behind his great uncle, wanting more than anything to swing through the trees on vines and cut his way through the vegetation. Scrooge had strictly advised against such acts however, insisting he would lead the way on this expedition, and that everyone was to stay behind him. The kids have noticed his behavior is a bit off today, but don’t bring it up.

The old duck grits his teeth. Curse the arthritis in his hips. The pain in his legs had started this morning after his and Donald’s argument, and had seemed to only get worse the farther he traveled. He’d hoped moving would bring some relief, however it only increases the closer they get to the temple. It was almost as if his experienced body is giving him a warning. But that’s ridiculous; surely, it’s just one of the many days when his age is making itself known to him. Nevertheless, he’s being extra cautious today just to be safe, especially with his nephew keeping a close eye on him.

He’s sure he’s slowing the group down with his sluggish pace. He hates the fact his cane is proving to be more and more necessary. Most days he has no symptoms whatsoever, and finds little use for it, but then there are days like today when he doesn’t know if he can remain upright without the extra support. Scrooge shakes his head to focus on the task at hand; he can’t let himself be distracted, that’s when someone can get hurt, and that’s not going to happen today.

The group has reached a rather open area, making him take pause. To their right, more jungle reaching up and over their heads as the hill continues upward. To their left, an unnaturally clear view from the trees that shows how high they’ve already climbed. A gravel-like hillside drops abruptly to jungle nearly a hundred feet below. Off in the distance you can barely make out the bright light of the sun reflecting off the metal wings of the Sunchaser in a small clearing near the lake. More jungle filled mountains continue for as far as the eye can see.

Ahead of them, the path leads to a stone door with a rather threatening face carved into it, a trademark symbol of the natives that used to inhabit this land. The door is attached to the beginnings of the temple; however, hundreds of years have made the living forest become one with it, and most of the structure is covered under vegetation. It looks as if it was built into the mountain itself. The entrance lays about a hundred yards yet ahead of them. The senior duck’s eyes narrow; something isn’t right. Everything is too perfectly cleared away.

Donald hasn’t been watching exactly where he’s walking. The sounds of the forest have distracted and brought him back to adventures of old he’d shared with his family. Looking to his right, his attention is further distracted by a blue morpho fluttering about before silently landing on a native flower blooming on one of the many trees. He hasn’t noticed his uncle and the kids pause at the clearing, that is until he collides with his elder.

The old duck is pushed a few feet ahead and nearly collapses with a wince when the stone he steps on suddenly lowers underneath his weight. The switch seems to have activated a centuries’ old booby trap, as massive boulders are swiftly released up in the hillside to their right and swing on their ropes tied to the tree tops above them. Four stones in total, each twice the height of Scrooge, sweep along the path in front of them, swinging back and forth and threatening to push them over the edge.

The experienced avian sends a glare behind him, hands on his knees as the sudden movement sent a wave of pain through his body. A pink flush blooms across the younger duck’s face as he gives a grin and a shrug accompanied by a small giggle in embarrassment.

Louie rolls his eyes, “Great! Now what?”

His older brother garbed in blue smiles at him, “Aw, come on! It’s not so bad! We’ve had worse death traps than this!” As if to prove his point, he runs ahead of the group towards the first swinging rock. Pausing to watch its movements, he waits until it just passes in front of him before running quickly to the next safe spot between the first and second boulders. He turns around to his family with a triumphant grin, “See? Not so hard!”

The other three children and their elder move to follow him, leaving his uncle behind. Donald takes a few steps forward to where Scrooge stood but a moment before, watching his family wait for the rock to swing ahead of them. He holds his breath to keep himself from yelling out as his anxieties surface.

Now that he was focused enough to observe the awkward landscape before him, the layout makes sense as the death trap revealed itself. The boulders are supposed to crush any potential robbers and send them flying through the sudden break in the tree line down to their demises on the jungle floor, or at least that’s the idea. Donald can only picture tiny duck bodies soaring through that very air and meeting an unfortunate ending, but his family runs past the stone, and quickly joins Dewey on the other side. He releases the air in relief. This is why he doesn’t go on these trips, they are far too stressful for him now with the children along.

As he attempts to calm his racing heart before his family goes to the next stone, a distinct snapping makes him whip his head up to the jungle hillside next him. It sounds as if young saplings are breaking. The sound catches his uncle’s attention as well, making him pause as the kids continue onward. Scrooge’s fingers grip tightly to the cane he leans on, the pain has come to an all-time high; something is definitely wrong. Donald’s eyes widen as his body is rapidly dwarfed in comparison to the fifth massive boulder hurdling down the hillside towards him. The overgrown jungle must have temporarily kept the stone at bay before crumbling under the weight.

Time seems to slow down, and yet it all happens too quick for anyone to process. Instead of feeling the rough surface of the boulder making contact with his face, Donald feels two distinct hands push his limp body a good five feet away. The duck grunts as he bounces and slides across the rough surface before quickly turning his head back. He stares unblinkingly as a nauseating thud enters his ears, a body flying lifelessly through the air to his left and down to the hillside. Rocks slide along with the figure as it rolls along the rock face before falling down the drop-off into the trees, snapping branches and vines under its weight. Birds flee the scene up into the sky and other wildlife run to hide from the sudden noise before the form finally lands on the ground out of all their view.

Then all is quiet. The branches shake back and forth, before stilling once again. The forgotten fifth stone swings unaffected, as if it didn’t happen. Donald makes eye contact with his family ahead who stare in equal horror back at him. It feels like hours pass as they process what had just happened, all staring back at each other as the once life filled jungle is dead silent. Finally, it seems to hit them all at once, as they stare in the direction the body flew before crying out in shock, “SCROOGE!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Donald never remembers running so fast. After the kids made it safely past the swinging boulders, the five of them run down the hillside as quick as their legs can carry them. Huey’s shaking voice tries to determine if someone can survive such an ordeal. Louie’s sobbing, repeatedly screaming, “He’s dead, he’s dead!” Dewey remains silent as the scene replays in his head over and over, tears stinging at his eyes.

Webby is the only one who seems to keep it together as she makes the group stop on the path to catch their breath; they’re all hyperventilating. She grabs Louie by the shoulders and gives him a good shake, “Louie! He’s not dead! We’re gonna find him and we’re gonna get him home!” The boy sniffs in response but says no more.

Donald can see the girl trembling. He’s the adult, he’s supposed to be calming the children down and making a plan to help their uncle! But at the moment, he feels like he might vomit. The sound of Scrooge’s body crumpling under the weight of the boulder still stuck in his head. He no longer feels like an adult, he’s a scared child. He simply exists alongside the kids.

Webby forces Huey to stop his dead-end rambling and focus with a smack across the face. The red garbed boy seems a bit hurt by the action, but he pushes his feelings away for the time being, and determination enters his eyes. Together they track the trajectory to locate where their uncle’s body could have landed. Finally pinpointing the most probable location, the group runs once again. Leaving the path, they venture into the deep thicket. Dewey leads the group, moving branches and leaves nearly as big as him out of the way for his followers. He’s not sure what else he can do, he’s not as smart as his older brother and Webby. But he can at least clear a path for them. It’s a while before anyone says anything, the only sounds to be heard are the twigs breaking under their webbed feet, and the still quiet sniffs of the youngest triplet.

They spot something up ahead. Donald feels himself run faster, ahead of his fellow ducklings. There’s a small clearing where broken branches lay scattered across the ground. One limb, still attached but hanging, swings back and forth melodically. The sun shines through a small break in the trees from its missing appendages down to the forest floor. All Donald can see is red.

A broken and crumpled body lays entangled with vines and branches. The family pauses in shock, taking in the scene before them. Their uncle’s body is motionless, his clothes in shreds. His top hat and spectacles landed relatively close together a few yards away in the tall undergrowth; his cane a few yards on the other side of him, hooked on a low branch. His feathers, once as white as freshly fallen snow, now a dirtied mix between brown and red. So much red. Donald’s heart sinks.

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