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witharsenicsauce · 4 years

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Chosen Stories From the War #30: Lady of the Oasis

(Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of gore, and parental abuse)

Nazira plucked a single dandelion from the sandy field that overlooked their humble lake. The sun was glittering over the water today and beating down on her own skin harshly. She pulled her hood up, keeping her olive skin covered. Bright green, nearly yellow eyes trailed over the oasis, and the old stone buildings that surrounded it. It was a lazy day today, and everyone was moving slowly.

She moved into the shade so she could remove her cloak, the thick garment making her hot. Under the simple fabric was a long, silken dress of burgundy that sat low on her shoulders. Golden jewelry adorned her hands and her neck, and on her arm, hugging her supple skin, was an arm bracelet in the shape of a golden cobra. That one, she kept close.

Her long, black hair pulled out of her face by a silk headband, Nazira’s snake-like eyes scanned the bright streets and took in everything she saw, filtering it through a mind programmed to assess combat, to never stand still. Majority viper, nearly half the population. Sociable. Interacted with the other species. Hard to isolate. Easy to communicate with. Next, human. Surprisingly small population, unsurprisingly unpredictable. Easy to talk to but hard to communicate with. They really liked the snakes. Use that. Less than 10% former ADVENT troopers. Exactly one Muton, named Ginnethoi. Shot in the jaw, had a speech impediment, could communicate via rudimentary sign-

Nazira sighed, squeezing her eyes shut as she leaned against the ancient stone wall. She wished she could be like her brother, but even then, she knew how hard he’d had to work to be able to turn his brain off, to get some semblance of peace.

Speaking of.

She made her way down the long narrow pathway towards the small, almost indiscriminate temple that sat a ways away from the main village. Despite its unassuming features, as she stepped up to the opening she found the walls covered in graffiti: drawing made in ancient Egypt, runes depicting the Theban triad of Amun and Mut and Khonsu. The inside was swathed in darkness, and she found as she stepped inside, it was cool, a blessed respite from the sun. Smokey incense filled the air, and nearly inaudible breathing echoed from within.

Nazira tapped loudly on the rock wall. “Ding dong!” She sang, and laughed at the grunt she received in return. No other sound followed, so she stepped farther into the darkness. “Are you awake, Zafar?”

“Unfortunately.” Her dearest brother’s voice came to meet her, and with that, her snake-like eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. He sat cross legged on his mat, facing the back wall of the temple where the stone shrine had been crudely rebuilt, and the weathered stone statue of Khonsu would be unrecognizable were it not for the inscription above him. Zafar had lit a candle before the altar, and his wavy black hair was loose from it’s ponytail, and looked wet after the anointing from that morning.

“I saw a suspicious vehicle above our little village.” Nazira cooed. “You know what that means.”

“That it’s time we come out of hiding.” He agreed, getting to his feet slowly. His chest was bare, and she quickly handed him his shirt and coat. “...You really think they’ll accept us?”

“I’m sure of it.” Nazira put a comforting hand on her brother’s shoulder. “If they embraced the Skirmishers, they are meant to help us.”

“Humans were meant to do many things, Nazira.” Zafar’s golden eyes met hers, pupils wide in the low light. “And each time they failed.”

“Not every time.” She punched him lightly. “You’re so melodramatic.”

“I am pragmatic.” He scolded her as he began to button his shirt. “Something I wish you had inherited, Nazira.”

She surged forward and planted a light kiss on his cheek. “You worry too much, it will wrinkle your pretty face.” She fastened her own cloak again and took her brother’s hand. “I believe it is time we reveal that face to the world.”

“Well, I guess it is only a skip and a hop away from Carthage.”

Jane sighed at the analogy. “Can you just say yes or no like a normal person, Commander?”

“Oh but Jane, I’m not normal~” Senuna giggled. She began to toy with the stack of papers on her desk, flipping through them absentmindedly. “Hm...and you said…?”

“They’re not registered with the Resistance Council.” Jane said. “Of course, it's not entirely unusual. But they’re also...not human.”

Senuna raised a brow at that. “I didn’t realize there were other Skirmisher colonies.”

“They’re not Skirmishers. Well, not in the way we know them.” Jane crossed her arms. “...It seems like some of the other species imprisoned by ADVENT have followed suit.”

“The others?” Senuna mused. “Well if Verge managed it…who is the leader?”

“They have two leaders.” Jane clarified. “Zafar Ba’al-Peor, and his sister, Nazira. He doesn’t show himself often. She’s a little bit more forward.” She cleared her throat. “I’m told.”

Senuna nodded slowly, her eyes seemingly glazing over as she contemplated this. “...This could be a trap.”

“It could be.” Jane admitted. “Could be ADVENT.”

“Or it could be a group of people who want to help.”

“Whatever your orders are, we’ll follow.” Jane confirmed, nodding as she did. “You haven’t led us the wrong way yet.”

“That’s the spirit.” She stood and patted Jane’s cheek. “My dear girl~”

“I’m not a child, Commander.” Jane looked away.

“Sweetheart, I held you as a baby, cut me some slack~” Senuna giggled and tossed the files back onto her desk. “Okay. Call Bradford in here and let's see what he thinks.”

“You’ve already made up your mind.” Jane protested.

“Yes, I have. But Bradford made me promise to at least consult with him first.” She winked. “And convincing him I’m right isn’t that hard.”

“I think you’d be really pretty if you curled your hair.” Malinalli said as she collapsed back on the booth. Her hair was still damp from the beach, and Pangu waddled up to her and sat at her feet, sniffing her slippers.

The Shrinemaiden stopped combing her hair briefly, looking back at her human friend. “...Really?”

“Mhm.” Malinalli picked up Pangu, who snorted and settled on her chest. “It’s already got some curl to it. If you used a bit of styling product to enhance it, it would look incredible.”

Kon-Mai stared at her for a moment, her eyes falling away as she considered those words. “...I suppose…” She conceded, finally, going back to running the comb through her tangled white locks. The strands were so fine, it was hard to untangle them without ripping them out of her head.

Her brothers were both dressed in their sleeping clothes: Gur-Rai was lounging across the booth, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with an illustration of Courage the Cowardly Dog plastered across the front. Dhar-Mon was sitting much more politely, wearing both his silk pajamas and a very comfy looking robe. Firebrand had made him some hot chocolate as well, and it all looked very cozy.

“If we are all maximizing our comfort…” Verge came over, wearing a very large t-shirt and nothing else to cover him “then I should be able to remove this.”

“Absolutely not.” Kon-Mai said.

“Why?”

“We are in public, you cannot go nude.”

“I do not have genitals!” Verge exclaimed as he crossed his arms.

“If the other soldiers see a naked Sectoid on board, who’s to say they won’t mistake you for an enemy and shoot you?” Gur-Rai cut in. “We’re keepin’ you safe, Verge.”

“...That is one of the better excuses I’ve heard.” He admitted, crossing his arms. “Still an excuse.”

They heard footsteps, and Kon-Mai looked up to see Jane enter the room. The two swordswomen locked eyes and Jane nodded.

“Hope you’re all comfy.” She said. “We’re on the move again. The Commander needs you three up bright and early tomorrow.”

“Why?” Gur-Rai asked as he plucked Pangu from Malinalli’s lap. The possum let out a squeal, then settled around his shoulders.

“Another settlement needs our help.” She chuckled. “A nearby haven has cropped up, and they’re asking to make contact.”

“I thought the Templars were our regional contact.” Malinalli asked.

“The Templars…” Jane blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Well...Molly, you’ve seen them interact with normal soldiers. Would probably be best if we had a contact that didn’t try to fight everyone we were trying to make peace with.”

“Fair.”

“Hm.” Jane nodded in satisfaction. “The Commander wants you three to greet them personally. Thinks it’ll ease negotiations.”

“How will three great, grey monsters make negotiations any easier?” Dhar-Mon spoke up, taking another sip of his hot chocolate.

“These people aren’t... “ She hesitated. “...They’re not...I...hm.” She shrugged. “Commander’s orders. Believe me, it’ll make sense when you get there.”

“In that case, we should turn in for the night.” Kon-Mai got up from her heat and pulled her sweater on, covering all exposed skin. “We must sleep well and early, greet the world with a fresh face.”

“Our faces? Fresh?” Gur-Rai laughed.

He meant it as a joke, but Kon-Mai felt the sting in her chest when he said that.

The night in the desert was unusually dark. The Avenger drifted lazily through the sky, like a bird floating on water. But despite the peace, sleep did not come easily.

At first Kon-Mai felt that the pricking on her skin might have been a sunburn, but soon she realized that the heat was not coming from her skin, but inside of her. As she laid back on her bed and tried to sleep, her breath kept coming in shorter and shorter bursts, cutting her esophagus with each movement. She sat up and noticed she was shaking, and she needed to do something but was unsure as to what…

She laid back and closed her eyes, deciding that if she wasn’t able to sleep, she could at least rest. It was better than nothing.

The night passed much more quickly after that, and soon Kon-Mai felt the prickle of red light gracing her eyelids. She opened her eyes, the bright orange sun cutting into her window. She wondered if she had managed to fall asleep. Her bones still felt so tired though…

She stood and dressed in her armor, noticing how utterly quiet the ship seemed to be this morning. Around this time, she would usually hear Bryni banging pots and pans together as she cooked breakfast, and alarms going off to wake the first round of morning duty soldiers. But there was none of that today. She didn’t even hear the ship’s engines, and that was a constant.

Kon-Mai power walked to the door, not bothering to pull back her hair or even to tie her yukata properly, and swung it open to reveal a sudden burst of cold, purple light.

As she darted out into the hall, calling for her brothers, a wave of fear came over her. The door behind her had disappeared, as had her armor, though instead of being left unclothed she looked down to see she was once again clad in her old, torn ADVENT armor, the chestplate half cracked and discarded. Around her the Avenger morphed into the pillars of the inner sanctum.

She tried to turn around and run back to her bed, to hide like a child from a monster, but the door was gone and an infinite drop off the walkway was all that remained.

She looked to either side, analyzing the unfortunately familiar surroundings. At one end, she saw the metal path extend far off into nowhere. She had never been down that way before, and the emptiness of it terrified her.

At the other, not 50 feet away, was an apparition, glowing red, in the shape of an alien woman she knew all too well.

Abyzou.

Kon-Mai wanted to run, to turn and sprint down that hallway until she faded into shadow and nothing. But her feet brought her forward, out of her control. She stood before her mother, a demon glowing crimson, and dropped to one knee.

“My sweet girl.” Abyzou’s voice dripped with malice. “What is THIS?”

Kon-Mai looked up, only briefly. This conversation felt familiar to her somehow. “I am so sorry.” She whispered.

“What was that?”

“I am so sorry, Vox Abyzou.” Kon-Mai said, louder, her voice shaking. “I could not help it.”

“Look at you…” Abyzou raised one long, gnarled finger, also dipped in red, and yanked Kon-Mai’s head to attention, grabbing her by the chin. “Look at your face.”

Kon-Mai didn’t dare look, but she brought one hand to her right cheek. It stung, and her fingers came away bloody. Her lip felt numb.

“It will not leave a scar.” She tried to assure her. She knew it hadn’t: the cut had healed and the scar had faded and even then, she was later “killed” in an explosion and brought back fresh and clean once again.

“Look at your body.” Abyzou hissed. “Your calloused hands. Your bony hips. Look at you.”

She looked down now, and like a magnifying glass she saw every flaw, every bruise and cut and bone. She was not as thin as her brother, but her hips were wide and protruding, and the skin under them dipped in like a crease before moving to her fleshy thighs. Across her belly, there was that long scar she had given herself, inflamed and red and oozing purple and green. Even in this nightmare, she could smell that nauseating sweetness.

“There is so much wrong with you.” Abyzou ripped her hand away. “How could my precious blood have birthed something so utterly deformed?”

The words stung. “I won, Vox Abyzou.” She rasped out, knowing this conversation by heart. Every word was burned into her memory. “I destroyed the entire convoy. All the soldiers. The train is safe. You are safe.”

“And you expect praise?” Abyzou made a sound that could have been a laugh. “You were simply making up for your many, many shortcomings. A train? As if that will save us from our demise. As if that will help.” She clenched her fist, and Kon-Mai flinched. She could feel her heart racing, the temperature in her body growing hotter.

“Mother…” Kon-Mai collapsed forward on her hands, writhing in agony. She tried to keep silent, but couldn’t help the whimpers as Abyzou’s infernal magic cut into her cells and stripped her of her life. “Please have mercy…”

“Be SILENT.” Her mother’s booming voice echoed on the chamber's high walls, and with it, the pillar of purple light slammed into Kon-Mai. “THAT is what I want from you. To be silent. Be STILL. I wanted a beautiful jewel to look upon, and all I have is broken glass! That’s what you are.” She hissed, wringing her hand so hard, glowing ichor dripped past her fingers. “You are broken.”

Kon-Mai gagged as she felt her heart burst, her ribs break and her lungs pop. Her vision was fading fast as she desperately tried to get her breath back, driven by nothing but a primal, human need to survive. Her body was crumbling around her and as she let out a scream…

She sat up in bed. The sun was barely up, and the distinct shades of yellow and pink met her eyes. She heard the gentle hum of the ship’s engine, the bustle of soldiers in the bar, talking and laughing…

Kon-Mai put one hand to her chest, her heart still racing, but definitely still beating.

The Avenger touched down on shifting sand. The heat and light in the distance gave the illusion of a sea of water, vapor rising in the air, but anyone who looked out onto the dead landscape would see that it was dunes alone.

The bridge came down, and there they stood: XCOM’s pride and joy. The Commander in front, clothed in sheer white, glowing in the sun. Beside her, Bradford, Zhang and Jane, at attention, like always. And behind them, towering like pillars, the Chosen were clad in their armor.

Kon-Mai felt like she was floating, perhaps because of the lack of sleep or the heat. Her brothers stood on either side of her but she dared not lean on them, for the heat was bad and they both had enough to carry as it was.

For a while after they landed, the sand remained empty and barren, a deserted landscape with no one in sight. Jane looked over to Bradford. “We didn’t get stood up, did we?”

“Look.” Zhang answered instead, pointing out into the sand. At first, there was nothing, then Gur-Rai craned his neck.

“Someone’s coming.” He said.

Kon-Mai squinted against the bright sun, and slowly but surely, she saw a figure drawing closer and closer, moving gracefully and lithely like a snake. As it approached the ship, the figure of a woman was distinguishable, her head covered by a loose, pink hood, partially obscuring long black hair. She was tall, and her body was thinner than Kon-Mai had ever seen in a human, almost suspiciously so. Her long tunic was a soft burgundy color, and under her hood, Kon-Mai could feel her green eyes scanning over them.

The woman stopped just short of the ramp, eyes landing on Gur-Rai, and a smile of absolute delight came over her face. “My dear!”

Gur-Rai blinked, meeting her eyes in confusion. “Me?”

“You don’t remember?” The woman smiled warmly. “I had heard the rumors...but I never thought I would see you again!”

He blinked, narrowing his eyes for a moment. “...No way.” His face broke into a wide smile. “Nazira?!”

“It is me!” She took down her hood and shook out her long, silken hair. “In flesh and blood!”

Gur-Rai shoved past Jane, almost knocking her over, and ran down the ramp, practically tackling Nazira in a hug. It was then that Kon-Mai realized she was nearly as tall as he was, though still light enough that he was able to pick her up and spin her around like he was dancing with her.

“It’s been so long!” She cried, her voice muffled from her face being buried in his shoulder. “There were rumors you had left the Elders, but I dared not let myself hope!”

“But hope is what brought us here, my dear~” He pulled away, turning to the confused group (and the very annoyed Jane). “Brother, Sister, you never met Nazira, did you?”

“Was she one of your many liaisons?” Kon-Mai descended the ramp and bowed to the strange woman, who was still shorter than her, but not by much. It was a weird feeling. “I cannot say I remember you, Nazira. I am sorry.”

“Well, you wouldn’t even if we’d met before.” Nazira chuckled. “I have changed quite a bit.”

“I’ll say~” Gur-Rai let out a wolf whistle. “I didn’t know you set up shop out here in bumfuck nowhere.”

“Oh, this place is actually quite lovely. You just have to find it.” She turned away from the Chosen and looked up. “Hm. I wonder which of you is the Commander.”

“That would be-” Bradford began, but Nazira cut him off.

“I was kidding.” She extended her skirt in a curtsy. “Commander Senuna. I have heard so many stories about you.”

“All of which are true, I’m sure.” Senuna said with a giggle. She began to descend onto the sandy plateau, beckoning her present company to follow. “Is it just you?”

“My brother awaits your arrival back home.” Nazira replied. “He’s a little bit paranoid—too paranoid if you ask me. But he insists.” She turned around, staring out into what they thought must have been empty desert. “Come come, follow me.”

As they drew deeper into the heat, the vapor of mirage began to dissipate, and before their eyes emerged an array of stone houses, rising up out of the sand and dust. Around the houses, like a ring, were fields of green grass and flowers that sat as a barrier between it and the harshness of the world around. Within that ring of green and the maze of stone, a glittering blue lake sat like the pupil of an eye.

Nazira led them in through a stone archway, which opened up to winding stone paths and dry houses made of clay, decorated with colorful cloth and tents.Bradford looked around nervously. “Why are there so many snakes here?”

“Snakes?” Dhar-Mon looked at the ground and staggered, scared he was going to step on one of these mystery snakes.

“He means the vipers, Brother.” Gur-Rai chuckled. As he gestured around, the other two Chosen did notice the multitude of serpentine women, some wearing head coverings and holding back their hoods, some cloaked in modified human clothes, but not a single one holding weapons.

“The snakes are here for the same reason as everyone else.” Nazira deliberately turned and stared Bradford down. “To escape from the tyranny that is ADVENT.”

He said nothing, but Gur-Rai saw his hand move to his gun.

They came to one slightly larger house near the center of the small town, shaded by intricate red rugs that looked similar to ones they had seen in Nuwa’s room at Vorontsovo. Nazira pushed aside the cloth that blocked the door and stood to the side. “Brother, I’m home and I brought friends!”

As they stepped inside, the surprisingly cool air hit their skin first, causing most of the company to shiver. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, Kon-Mai saw that the inside, though made of the same clay, was neat and swept clean, with more colorful rugs covering the bare concrete floor. At a low table on the other side of the room, she saw a man with long, wavy black hair sitting with his back to them. In his hand was a steaming cup of tea: she could smell the peppermint and it gave her some vague comfort.

“Ah.” He said as he rose to his feet, straightening up to reveal his tall, thin, lanky figure. He turned, and greenish-yellow eyes scanned the room, landing on Senuna. “And so the mysterious Commander shows herself. Welcome to Dakhla Oasis.”

“It is an honor.” She smiled, and her teeth flashed pearly in the low light. “I assume you are Zafar Ba’al-Peor?”

“Yes, I was the one who sent word to you.” He confirmed. He scanned the room, and Kon-Mai could see his mind processing everything at a mile a minute. His gaze fell on Gur-Rai and…

“Damn it.” He sighed. “You again.”

“Oh come on now.” Gur-Rai walked right up to him and socked him in the shoulder. “You missed me~”

“I will miss the peace and quiet more.” He growled, but Kon-Mai saw just the hint of a smile on his face. “Please keep your unholy transgressions with my sister to an indoor noise level.”

“Oh, I’ll be quiet as a mouse, Zafar. I’ll make no promises for Nazira~” Gur-Rai snaked one long arm around Nazira’s waist.

“Stop that, you dog~” She giggled.

“Yes, stop it please.” Bradford snapped. “You can play later. It’s time we got down to business.”

“Of course.” Zafar sat at the narrow end of the table, and Senuna plopped down criss-cross-applesauce across from him. She leaned forward, a smirk on her face.

“What do you need from me?” She asked.

The afternoon seemed to drag on, in that way it does when one is experiencing something unpleasant like a class lecture. Or, in this case, a debate gone very, very awry. While Jane, Bradford and Zhang stood behind their Commander, backing her up in the event that Zafar foolishly tried to attack, the Chosen hung back: Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai relaxed by the doorway, and Gur-Rai was sprawled across a nearby couch one of the only pieces of furniture in the room. Nazira sat beside him, laying back comfortably on his chest.

Senuna raised her cup of tea to her lips, eyes unmoving as they met Zafar’s golden gaze.

“Well?” He pressed, his tone anxious.

“You’re asking for a lot.” She admitted.

“It is nothing short of what we need.” He assured her. “We have access to supplies; food and water and there’s an Elerium deposit in the mountains of Al-Wahat.” He was trying to maintain a calm demeanor, but from the tapping of his finger on the table, she could see he was anxious.

“I know. But 100 soldiers is too much for us to spare.” She shook her head. “As it is, we only carry about 75 with us on the Avenger. The rest are stationed at other havens, and they’re already spread thin. Most don’t have more than a few.”

Zafar chewed on his lip. “We are being targeted by ADVENT.” He elaborated. “I only ask for what we need, and I would never ask this of you without offering all I could in return.”

“I can spare 50, at most.” Senuna said.

“It is not enough!” He snapped. Before Senuna could react, or Bradford could draw his weapon though, he sighed and sat back. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay.” She looked at him sympathetically. “...How have you been sleeping?”

“Poorly.” He admitted. “It is not me I fear for. I may be taken back to ADVENT. I will suffer, but what is the suffering of one man? It is my people I fear for: the Vipers have eggs here, and many are already nesting. At least one human couple has children. Besides them, the denizens of this oasis simply want a place to live in peace, and if ADVENT finds us they will all be dashed under a trooper’s boot.”

Senuna sat back, and Bradford spoke up. “What did you do that makes you such a hot commodity?” He said with resounding snark. “I kind of doubt you’re more important than the Commander.”

Zafar turned his golden eyes on Bradford. “It is not what I did, but who I am. Who…” He gestured to Nazira. “Who we were. Our mere existence could incite rebellion. You’ve seen it with the Skirmishers.”

“Indeed.” Nazira rose from her seat. “Imagine if the Elders old forgotten pets suddenly rose up and usurped them.”

“Old forgotten…?” Bradford narrowed his eyes.

“You really don’t see it?” For the first time since they arrived, Zhang spoke up. “Look at their eyes, Bradford. They’re snake eyes.”

All of a sudden it clicked. The tall, lanky bodies, the black hair, the eyes, “You two are Thin Men!”

Zafar nodded, almost in relief, but Nazira crossed her arms, her confident smirk just a bit tense. “You’d be right, although ‘Thin Man’ is hardly the appropriate term for me, at least nowadays.”

“I don’t recall any female infiltrator units.” Zhang looked at her sideways. “There was only the Thin Men, was there not?”

“I’m well aware of that.” She fiddled with her tunic as she searched for the words. “The Elders changed us into the image they saw fit, with no regard for who we truly were. They stole us away from our home, molded us to their liking, and assigned us an identity. An identity that I knew was not mine.” She met his eyes with confidence. “I’m a woman now, I always was, and I always will be.”

“That is fair.” Zhang nodded. “That does leave the question of how you two escaped.”

“Each ADVENT unit has a chip.” Jane said. “I assume yours malfunctioned, like the rest?”

“Perhaps. One of the human engineers assumes it’s some kind of hardware rot.” Zafar spoke up. “Nazira’s broke before mine did, but mine followed suit quickly after.”

“Rest assured, Commander, we are chip free.” Nazira settled back into the loveseat, leaning back against Gur-Rai’s chest.

“That’s quite a story.” Senuna laced her fingers together. “You truly think ADVENT is hunting you? Don’t they have better things to do? Like hunt me?”

“I would have hoped so...no offense, Commander.” Zafar cleared his throat. “But before coming to Dakhla, Nazira and I were accosted constantly by ADVENT soldiers and troops. I would very much like to believe we are safe here in hiding, but I can’t be sure. I can’t take that risk.”

Senuna seemed to ruminate on this. “I’ll see what I can do to help you, Zafar. I can’t promise anything, but...maybe I can call in a few favors.”

Zafar’s face seemed to relax immensely. “...Thank you, Senuna.”

She nodded. “In the meantime, would it be possible for my soldiers to deplane and relax for a bit? Your city is lovely and they’d love to explore~”

“After what you’ve agreed to? Please.” He took a sip of his now cold tea. “It’s the least we can do.”

“So what is it you do for fun in this lonely little town?” Gur-Rai asked as Nazira took his arm in hers and dragged him through the streets. His siblings followed behind at a distance, walking slowly to give the two a wide berth.

“Farming, fishing, guard patrol…” She sighed and flipped her hair. “It is incredibly dull here, but maybe dull is what I need.”

“Really now? Haven’t found someone to replace me yet?”

“Replace the Chosen Hunter?” She cackled. “A few have tried. None can measure up, figuratively and literally.”

“Thank you…” He trailed off. “But I don’t go by ‘Hunter’ anymore. XCOM calls me Darkstrider.”

Nazira was silent for a moment. “Hm. I always figured your name was the one thing the Elders gave you that you liked.”

“It’s not bad…” He shrugged. “But let’s face it, I was never good at hunting.”

“Well, you found me.” She giggled.

“Yes.” He nodded. “And then I let you go.”

“You made the right choice.” She assured him. “I would have suffered a slow demise in the Elders’ grasp. Out here, people know who I am and actually respect it.”

He brushed a lock of long, black hair behind her ear. “I am glad you regret nothing, Nazira.”

“I only regret not knocking you out and taking you with me.” She said. “More for your sake than mine.”

“My sister would have hunted you down.”

“Maybe she would have actually found us.”

“Not likely, she can’t see six feet in front of her own face~”

“I can hear you!” Kon-Mai snapped behind them.

Nazira broke into a laugh and led them farther down the narrow streets, towards the oasis in the center. To one side, one of the houses was topped by a tall, magnificent tower with a makeshift satellite atop it. She stopped for a moment, pointing up at it. “That’s what we used to call your people.”

“They’re my people now?” Gur-Rai chuckled.

“They always were.” She beckoned them toward it. “Come, let's get out of the sun. I am burning out here.”

“I agree.” Dhar-Mon sounded hesitant. “But perhaps one of us should check on the Avenger?”

“Didn’t I just say that’s a radio tower?” Nazira raised a brow. “We can call them in there.”

“I…” He blushed, turning briefly purple. “Yes...you did.”

“His girlfriend is on the ship~” Gur-Rai leaned over, barely bothering to whisper.

“She is nothing of the sort!” Dhar-Mon was blushing so hard, he looked like a grape. “I am worried about all of the personnel! Not just Malinalli!”

“Girlfriend or not, she sounds lovely.” Nazira used her shoulder to heave aside the huge stone door that marked the entrance to the tower. “Come, we can place a call to them inside if you are so desperate to see her~”

The inside may have been narrow, but it was far from empty. The stairs leading up top were but an addition on the side: in the center was a maze of stone shelves that held various books, from fiction to technical know how, including a very worn out “Radio Communication for Dummies”.

“Are you not worried this will start a fire?” Kon-Mai asked.

“Not at the moment. All the electrical gear is at the very top.” She looked over the two. “I assume you know how to operate a radio? Or would you like to browse our collection?”

Dhar-Mon began to open his mouth, most likely to take her up on that offer to read books, but his brother cut in. “They’ll be fine, right guys?” He gave them a look. “Why don’t you go upstairs and put in that call.”

“But I do not-” Dhar-Mon was once again interrupted, this time by Kon-Mai sighing.

“Of course, Brother.” She sneered. “Protect yourself down here.”

“Oh I will.” He winked as Nazira pulled him into the maze of books.

Kon-Mai took her older brother by the arm. “Come. They want some time alone.”

“Well that is fine.” He grumbled. “But I still do not know how to use a radio.”

“I have some experience.” She assured him. “If we put our heads together, we can most likely figure it-”

Dhar-Mon snapped his fingers. “That is it! Psionics! You are a genius, Sister.”

Kon-Mai smiled. “Is that all I am?”

“No.” He put a hand on her back, both as comfort and to protect her from what was becoming a steep drop. “You are kind and beautiful as well.”

Summary: At the beginning of the chapter, we are introduced to a character named Nazira, who examines her hometown while reflecting on it’s inhabitants. The haven is made up of Vipers and humans at least, with one notable Muton. Suffering from a headache, she abandons her current thoughts and joins her brother, Zafar, in what appears to be meditation at an ancient temple, dedicated to three Ancient Egyptian gods. Nazira tells Zafar she saw the Avenger today, and the two agree that it is time to make contact, though Zafar is nervous in doing so.

On board the Avenger, Jane informs Senuna that Zafar has made contact, and Senuna agrees to meet with them at their home. Jane goes to the Chosen, who are relaxing after their day at the beach, and inform them that Senuna wants them present for negotiations, to which Dhar-Mon and Gur-Rai comment that their faces may only serve to scare them away. That night, Kon-Mai has a nightmare about Elder Abyzou, who made several disparaging comments about the former’s appearance in the past, which Kon-Mai still holds onto.

Landing in the desert, the group meets Nazira, who is revealed to have been one of Gur-Rai’s old flames, and they are excited to see one another. She leads them to Dakhla Oasis, where she introduces them to Zafar and negotiations begin. Zafar wants 100 soldiers to guard the oasis, and Senuna informs him that that is not a possibility. Zafar is adamant, saying that as he and Nazira are escaped Thin Men, the Elders accosted them regularly, and he fears his people will be caught in their wrath. Zhang expresses some confusion towards Nazira, who clarifies that she is a woman, despite the gender the Elders assigned to her while she was in their service. Impressed with the story of their escape, Senuna agrees to call in some favors, but makes no promises as to whether they’ll be able to help. In return, Zafar allows the Avenger’s crew to rest and relax at the oasis.

(Well, I meant to wake up earlier to post this but I hit snooze too many times and now it’s late afternoon! Oh well, at least it’s out, and I’m quite proud and excited for this arc of the story. Thing are about to get very, very exciting.)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom war of the chosen #cw gore #cw abuse

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tiny-smallest · 5 years

Text

nonfluent

Rating: T Characters: Gaster, Sans, Papyrus (barely, as he’s a wee infant) Warnings: mentions of child abuse (and nope not who you’re expecting either) Description: Good people don't always make good parents, even when they love their children. W. D. Gaster is no exception, though he does try. Oh, does he try.

Also on AO3!

I could have SWORN I uploaded this here but I suppose not? I can’t find it in my tags? So... enjoy this thing from roughly 2015-2016! Featuring scientist Dadster.

One more day.

He has to give it one more day.

Of endless numbers, of problems with solutions seemingly at his grasp, only to slip away at the last moment.

One more day of the endless hum of machines, of the blue paper of blueprints, and their white pencils, and terrible coffee.

He’s so tired, but he must give it one more day, at least, bare minimum, for he owes that much, especially to his own.

“daddy look i-”

“Not now, Sans.”

“but i can help, i can-” There’s a crash and he whirls around in his chair. The boy is on the floor, in a lab coat far too big for him (how did he even get it off the hook...?) surrounded by stacks of paper. Thank goodness he didn’t fall far or knock over anything important.

“Stop while you’re ahead. I brought you plenty of toys; please utilize them instead of destroying my workspace.”

Science is far too serious to allow for little bones running around willy-nilly trying to "help." A glance over his shoulder shows the child glaring at his “invention” of popsicle sticks and glue. Despite the fact that he is right, that such a devise is utterly useless to him, that he cannot allow Sans to simply run around the lab doing whatever he pleases...

There is a pang. He cannot keep doing this; the boy will be hurt. Surely there is something else he can do?

All problems (except the barrier) have a solution. Think. What is it that he can do here?

Wait. The lab coat. The invention. Sans wants to imitate him. Maybe there is something less dangerous he can imitate.

His eyes light on the tiny toy violin, a knickknack really, that a colleague had given him for his desk. A congratulations for a job well done at a piano recital long, long ago...

... Hm.

Music isn't going to save the world. Music isn’t going to get them past the barrier, if such a thing is possible. Music isn’t going to win the ensuing war. He should not be spending time on music, not when he has work to do, or sleep to catch a bit of.

But it's safe for little bones, so when he comes home that night, he finds their dusty old piano and spends a night fixing it.

Music is safe for little bones, and the act of cleaning it reminded him of the beauty of the instrument, and so every night, he can put aside hands shaking with fatigue and a mind berating him for slacking in order to pick his son up, and set him on his lap, and teach him a simple song.

The first song he teaches him is You Are My Sunshine. Sans listens, enthralled.

"Music is the language of emotion," he tells his small son as his long fingers guide his hands to the keys. Such tiny, delicate hands.

"And as with all emotion, sometimes it is the truth, and sometimes it's a lie. But this song, from me, will never be a lie."

He nods as if he understands, but he is so tiny. He cannot possibly understand.

That is fine. He will in time, and they’ve nothing but that.

Music cannot save the world, but that is okay too, he supposes. They can sing as tiny hands find their way to the proper keys, and he can smile at the small voice rising in harmony with his own.

Sans does not seem to have any interest in learning anything but that one song. But as long as his son is happy, and they can enjoy replaying this one every evening, everything is fine.

Someday little bones won’t be so little anymore, and he will teach him the proper way around a lab, but for now, this is how they’ll connect, and...

He is finding that chasing that endless answer is easier, that one more day is easier, if there is this to look forward to. Who knew such preciousness existed in this world? It was as if he had known on some level, protecting it, but was seeing it through a fogged window, never engaging with it.

Now that window is clear. And, as the days pass, he realizes that so is his conscious, too.

He is so bad at emotion when it comes to the language of normal speech.

"Wear your coat."

He never planned on having a child.

"Your vegetables are good for you."

He never planned on surviving to adulthood, truthfully.

"No, growing boys need sleep."

His parents had sucked the life from him, a drop a day, until the idea of spending decades in his own bones felt unbearable.

"Fine, one more story."

Open affection frightens him. He cannot stand touch.

"All right. One more song."

Even the words ‘I love you’ feel too much.

"You're grounded. No, I don't want to hear it; what you did was wrong."

As if the words themselves would peel away too much of his Soul, and reveal the shriveled underside.

"Here, I made you tuna fish today. And I included a ring pop. Please don't propose to the teacher again as a joke; I'll die of shame."

He cannot bear to do that.

"Your report card is wonderful. You did well. I see you excel in science."

But he finds other ways to tell him those three little words.

“That was beautifully played.”

He hopes it is enough.

It happened again it happened AGAIN.

One child was hard enough; now he has two!?

How could this experiment go so wrong!? As desperately as he runs the calculations, he can’t find an answer. Does the universe enjoy seeing him suffer? It’s the only reason it would give a man like him not one, but two gifts he does not deserve and can’t properly care for!

He struggles to breathe as the walls feel they close in on him. Smuggling the infant home proved to be an ungodly difficult challenge, not because the baby made noise, but because the trembling of his limbs would not cease. At least he managed it by some miracle, but his knees protest moving so much as another step once his front door closes behind him.

He looks so much like him.

That face shape must be so similar to what his own parents saw when-

No, no, he needs- he needs control again he needs to calm down he-

“daddy?”

He raises his head, staring, as Sans pads down the stairs in bunny slippers and a t-shirt with a pun on it. He hands the child to him quickly, struggling for breath.

“Take him to your room. He can share the bed with you.”

Sans doesn’t argue. Frightened eyes stare up at his father, then to the baby, and then he disappears upstairs and leaves Gaster to his shuddering breaths in front of the door.

Over the next few weeks, he prepares a room for the infant. A cradle, toys, infant safety measures. But the rest, and indeed, as much as possible, he leaves to Sans.

When the infant cries, Sans is there. When the infant is hungry, Sans, clever child, easily figures out how to feed him. Gaster supplies everything that’s needed, including a babysitter on school days, and Sans does the rest. He avoids both children... easy enough, with his workload.

The window isn’t foggy, but now, it is closed. Panic walls him in.

And, selfishly, he does nothing to stop it.

“why don’t you ever tell me you love me?”

Why are you in an unauthorized area in the middle of the school day asking such a deeply personal question?

But the words, thankfully, don’t leave his mouth. He is too busy staring at his son in a dumb stupor.

“where did i come from?”

“Why does any of that matter?” Oh, no; the wrong response. He knows as it falls from his mouth, but there’s no taking it back.

“because the kids at school say you’re a mad scientist and you made us. but if you made us you’d love us, right?”

Within seconds he tries to figure how schoolchildren could know his sons are the results of illegal experimentation, but for once, logic decides to remind the rest of him that paranoia has the wheel at the moment.

“but you never say you love us and you won’t stay with us.”

“I have a lot of work. And you, young man, have school.”

“it’s recess.”

“That doesn’t mean you can waltz off school grounds!”

“why not? you get to mix up kids in your stupid lab!”

This is not at all where he wants this going. He rubs his temples.

“Sans-”

“you don’t even listen to me play anymore! you missed my science fair! and i spend all my time with papyrus but you don’t take more than five minutes every day to check with us!”

“I said, I’m very busy.” The excuse is hollow. Sans is turning blue with fury and his eye is

glowing?

“that never mattered before! why does it matter now!?”

“I-”

“you didn’t want us, did you!? either of us! you don’t love us, so why did you make us!?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“you didn’t mean to.” He had not meant it in the context Sans was taking it as. He had meant ‘I did not mean to be so awful, to make you wonder these things.’

But Sans... clever child... is beginning to realize another possibility to explain their existence.

“... we were an accident. that’s all we are to you. accidents.” He eyes his father with a look that chills him to his core, and as Sans turns and begins to stomp away, he finds his feet moving, an arm reaching for his son’s shoulder, no, wait, don’t go; he’s sor-

“get OFF OF ME!” Sans’s low voice rises to a shriek, and he whips around, eye surging with magic—why oh why had he given his son those abilities-

He grabs his Soul, he feels the PING more than he hears it, and the feeling of the metal floor beneath his feet being stolen away is frightening enough until he realizes his son still doesn’t know how to properly use that blue magic of his, does not know how easily the grip slips or the right amount of force to apply or-

And then suddenly, air whistles around him, and his son grows smaller and smaller as he falls, until the child is only a dot, and before the blinding agony overtakes him, he realizes that there will never be one more day; he will never get to give Papyrus those piano lessons or even teach Sans a new song, if he’d ever wanted to learn one, and now the window will close.

Forever.

#undertale #undertale sans #sans #gaster #w.d. gaster #dadster #undertale gaster #my writing #//glances at other fandoms okay so apparently 'damaged dad tries to parent' is a THING i'm drawn to

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incandescent-eden · 5 years

Text

At The Ballet [AU Edvron]

Desc: Devron has always found the ballet beautiful, and there is none as lovely as his significant other, Eden, the primo of the Royal Ballet. After all, how can Eden blame him for wanting to be more like them? Eden disagrees completely. As they share an afternoon, Devron cannot help but marvel at his relationship with Eden.

TW/CW: body stuff, slightly derogatory/abrasive language

Word Count: 2246

“No.” Eden’s voice was flat.

Devron gasped, pretending to swoon, as he lay back on the floor by Eden’s bed. “No what? I have done nothing wrong.”

Eden scoffed, raising an eyebrow. Their gray eyes flickered from the pointe shoes on the bed to Devron’s hand resting innocently on his stomach. “Liar.”

“What? I haven’t technically done anything wrong. Yet.”

“You were thinking it, that’s bad enough.”

Devron sat up lazily, leaning on the plush blankets as Eden sat on the bed next to his elbow, rubbing a white towel over their messy, dark curls. “I wasn’t going to wear them,” he promised.

“Good.” All the same, Eden took the shoes from the bed with one hand and carefully wrapped the straps around their bedpost.

“You’re no fun,” Devron harrumphed.

Eden slapped his hand with the towel. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face, golden boy,” they said gruffly, but they couldn’t conceal the small smirk at the corner of their mouth.

Devron only smiled wider, scooting on his knees to rest his head on Eden’s lap. “I can’t help smiling when I’m happy. That’s what people do when they’re happy, Eden. Just because you have a permanent scowl on your face doesn’t mean I have to.”

Eden snorted. “If you’re gonna start some sappy bullshit like ‘Oooh, Eden, I’m happy just being with you,’ I want to remind you that last week, you told me I was the most insufferable, most argumentative, most cantankerous person you had ever met.” The smirk was prominent on their face by now. “I have to say, I was impressed with your big word choice, but showing off your private tutor much?”

Devron flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said quickly, lifting his head off Eden’s lap so quickly and with such force that he fell on his arm. He screamed before slapping his non hurting hand over his mouth. “I wasn’t gonna… I wasn’t trying to…” he stammered.

Eden laughed, wrapping the towel over their shoulders as Devron tried to come up with an excuse. Their shoulders shook, up and down and up and down. The room itself was small and bare save for Eden’s desk, bed, and drawer, and their laugh filled it easily. It was hot, and Devron had long since removed his binder and tossed it onto Eden’s bed. The sole small window was open ajar to let in some air.

Still red-cheeked, Devron couldn’t help but smile. There was something about Eden’s laugh, not quite high and not quite low, rich like autumn: crisp and cool and sharp, but underneath it all, there was cinnamon and chocolate and apple and the warm embrace of a muffler in the chill air.

Sunlight came in through that window, yellow and weak and pale. Earlier, while Eden was bathing, Devron squinted, grimacing into the light. Since then, the sun and Devron had both changed positions, and, although unsure of the sun’s opinion on the matter, Devron was quite happy with the repositioning. As he pouted, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly to ease the pain and watching the shining silver dust drift down in the sunlight, he marveled at the pointe shoes.

They were dusky pink, specially made for Eden. Devron sighed. How romantic! Specially made silk slippers, like in a fairy tale - and Devron did not doubt the shoes very well could have been made by fairies or elves or the like. The silk shimmered in the sunlight, iridescent rose and white and green and gold, as if enticing the lazy rays of sun to dance, trapping them and rejoicing all the while. Even the dust fell in awe in a circle around them, never touching the surface of the slippers, but deferentially making way for them.

Eden fell back onto their bed with a grunt, laughter still etched faintly on their face. “You’re so stupidly romantic.”

Devron snorted. “You like that, though,” he said.

In response, Eden rolled over onto their stomach, tucking their legs up onto the bed. “Sure. Whatever you wanna believe.” Still, a smile drifted onto their lips. They rested their chin on their arms, eyes half closed. The day was the kind of stifling hot that begged for an afternoon nap, and Eden never could stay awake long after a bath.

Rolling his eyes, Devron launched himself off the floor, climbing onto the bed to sit, cross-legged, next to Eden. Warily, they peered at him.

Devron raised his hands, palms opened. “I’m sitting on this side. Away from the slippers.”

Satisfied, Eden yawned and closed their eyes.

They sat quietly. Devron scooted back against the wall, resting his head. From the outside, there came the tinkling of bells on bicycles, a few children yelling something about a ball, and the buzzing of bees around the meager pot of tiny red flowers Eden kept on the ledge and had miraculously kept alive during the past three months. There was a quiet ticking, as well, from the clock that rested haphazardly at an angle on Eden’s desk, counting the seconds as they passed.

“How many seconds do you think we’ve been together?” Devron asked, eyeing the flower pot, just visible in his line of sight.

“What.” Eden mumbled. Their eyes were still closed, their shoulders relaxed.

It was good to see them dozing off. As of late, they had been coming home so late from rehearsals that Devron had taken to falling asleep at the desk with a small oil lamp lit so they wouldn’t trip in the dark. It wasn’t Eden’s fault, of course. The closer opening night got, the more frazzled Eden became. Even the manager begged them to give their body a rest, reminding them that sleep was equally if not more important than training every day, but Eden couldn’t bring themself to do it, instead going on long walks through the city at night, counting every lamp post and flowerpot and bench they passed.

Over 20,000 lamp posts, they once told Devron proudly. I’ve counted up to 15,641 of them. Devron couldn’t complain at first; after all, it was during one of these nightly walks that Eden met him, in the park, trying and failing desperately and miserably to imitate the elegant movements of the ballerinas. Ballerinas like Eden.

Lately, though, he wished the walks would stop. That Eden would come right before the sun disappeared completely beyond the big hill opposite this tiny room. That they would return before the sky turned purple and then blue and then black with only the warm orange pinpricks of the lampposts below lighting the night and that they would just eat and rest on Devron’s shoulder and fall asleep in his arms.

“I mean, you’ve had that plant for three months,” Devron mused. “But I watched you plant it, so it’s been more than three months times however many seconds.” He paused. “Although, does it count as seconds we’ve spent together if we weren’t actually together, like literally together, for all of them? Is it seconds since we started being, you know, friends, or partners, or just seconds since we met?”

At this, Eden groaned, pushing themself up slowly. Even sitting up in bed was graceful when Eden did it. They sat back, turning to face Devron. “Stop thinking so much, idiot. What time is it?” Their eyes flitted to the clock on the desk. 6:43 in the evening. The sun would not set until later in the night, but the light streaming in was paler than it was before, more white than gold, and had taken on a dull quality. The air in the room was cooler, like the stuffy heat had cleared out, sensing it had overstayed its welcome.

“Okay,” they continued, rubbing their hair and yawning. Devron stifled a laugh, biting his lip. He saw the stray calico who often hung around by the window, and whom Eden had unofficially dubbed ‘Orange,’ do that once. “Okay, so. We’ve been together for ten months, fourteen days, seventeen hours, and fifty-eight minutes. That’s since we’ve met. I don’t know the exact seconds, so let’s not count that. In total? Probably something more than two hundred sixty-two million.”

Devron stared, slack-jawed. “You counted?”

“Well, I multiplied, more or less, I don’t have time to count every second in a day, but – ”

“No, but you counted! You counted the exact number of days since when we met?”

Eden frowned. “What? Does Mr. Romantic find that strange?”

“Not at all,” Devron straightened up gleefully. “So do you usually count the days you’ve spent with someone or…?”

“Depends, are you usually this dense, or do you reserve that for me?” Eden scowled. The tips of their ears were red, nonetheless.

“Oh no, I’m definitely usually dense,” Devron confirmed. “I just reserve a special level of dense for you. Because you mean so much to me,” he said, laughing.

Eden swatted his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you were trying to break your toes and ankles in the middle of the park when we first met.”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Devron protested. He rubbed his elbow with concern, remembering the pain that refused to fade after he hit the ground, how Eden had chastised him after seeing his clumsy attempt at a sauté.

“No, of course not,” Eden rolled their eyes. “You were just trying to go en pointe with about uhhh, let’s see, no training, in your twenties.” They grabbed Devron’s shoulders suddenly. “How could you be so stupid?”

Devron blinked. “Eden. I’m – I’m not doing it right now. I’m never going to try again. Don’t worry.”

Eden relaxed, slumping back. “Sorry. I just. I don’t get it. Why would you do that?”

“Because ballet is beautiful,” Devron said sheepishly. “I saw you on that stage, and I wanted to be like you. Everyone is beautiful at the ballet.” He shrugged. “I promise I won’t try to do pointe ever again.”

It was Eden’s turn to stare. “How could you ever think to do pointe in the first place? That kind of thing is only done through hard work and proper training. From a seriously young age. Some students never go en pointe if they aren’t ready. It’s not just a rite of passage or an elitist thing, it is actually dangerous without the proper training and proper shoes fitted just for you. Besides, how could you think ballet was beautiful?”

“Wait, what was that last part?”

“Ballet is so frustrating. It’s beautiful and awful and hard, and it’s… it’s so ugly.” They frowned.

Devron rested their head on Eden’s shoulder, taking their hand in his. The towel wrapped around their neck was soft from wear and fading. He saw how Eden would curl up on their bed after a long rehearsal. The way the sweat beaded on their forehead long after they should have cooled down, holding their feet with shaking arms. The black and brown and yellow bruises on their feet, stripes of red and angry purple across their legs and ankles from tying the tight straps of their pointe shoes. The anger and the frustration and the pain that they kept caged behind a furrowed brow and clenched teeth.

“I know,” he said softly. Eden squeezed his hand, resting their head on Devron’s.

But then there were the times when they came home glowing, a grin blazing across their face that could not be suppressed no matter how they bluffed and tried to keep cool. The days when they nailed every single jump, twirl, and leap, barely registering it as they flew and fluttered and spun like sunlight itself refracted in the water of the fountain in the town square where Devron liked to sit and feed the stray cats and pigeons during the summer. There were rehearsals Devron watched where, even without costumes or proper lighting or audience in the plush velvet seats, Eden seemed to leave a trail of stardust as they leapt through the air, leaving the air shimmering behind them with magic. And then, on actual show days, fully suited in embroidered jewels and moonlight tights and their fairy silk slippers, they straddled the world of the fairies themselves, drifting in and out of fantasy and reality. Devron saw it in the awed eyes of the audience members, dolled up in their pearls and velvets and lorgnettes as they watched Eden, enraptured.

He couldn’t think of a way to tell them all this, so instead, he said simply, “I still think you’re beautiful when you do ballet.”

Another hand squeeze. “I think you need new eyes.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Eden hummed. They turned, kissing Devron’s hair. “Promise me something?”

Devron sighed. “I’ll never be able to do pointe?”

Eden nodded, their lips still pressed just barely against Devron’s hair. “You started too old.”

“C’est la vie, I guess.” He had no hopes of ever doing pointe, not since that first day they met ten months ago. “What do you want me to promise you?”

“That you’ll never try to do something as stupid as try to do pointe again,” Eden said softly.

“Awww, you do care!” Devron grinned, pulling away from Eden’s shoulder to smile at them.

“Shut up,” Eden said, still holding Devron’s hand in their lap. The corners of their mouth tugged upward in a small grin, though they could not look Devron in the eye.

Chuckling, Devron rested his head on Eden once more. For all their leanness, their shoulder was surprisingly soft. “I promise.”

#writeblr #creative writing #creative fiction #ballet au #original story #original writing #original characters #my OC #ocs #ballet #au #alternate universe #romance #tw: body talk #tw: derogatory language #luxtruran trio #edvron #yes the title and one of the lines IS a reference to A Chorus Line

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kiraswritten · 7 years

Text

Hate’s a Strong Word (Reader x Bucky)

pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cursing a/n: you know, the typical ‘hate you but wanna fuck you’ scenario we all love when it comes to Bucky.

thank you so much for 200 followers, you all are amazing.

comments are greatly appreciated, lemme know what you think!

“He’s unbearable, I can’t stand him.” You rant as you stir your oatmeal on the dining table.

Sam scoffs, “Didn’t you want him to fuck you senseless? I heard correctly the day you met him, right?”

“Well, yeah, that was before I found out he was an insufferable jerk! He always goes out of his way to be rude to me, and hey, why aren’t you agreeing with me, I thought you didn’t like him either?”

Sam shrugs his shoulders, “It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s more so our dynamic, you know? I don’t actually hate the guy, he’s cool. I just like pissing him off, is all.”

You roll your eyes at your best friend, “So basically I’m the Bucky in your story and he’s you. Great.”

Sam lets out a chuckle, taking a bite out of his breakfast burrito, “I don’t think he’s purposefully being a jerk per-se, it’s just the two of you suck at talking to each other.”

You snort at Sam’s reasoning, “What makes you say that?”

“Oh I dunno, maybe the intense sexual tension between the two of you causes your brain to short-circuit preventing you from having a normal conversation with him?”

“Excuse me?”

Sam rolls his eyes, dramatically flailing his arms over his head, “Are you serious? You don’t notice that sexual tension between you and Bucky? Every time the two of you are in the same room, it’s like you both are ready to pounce each other.”

“No way, all I wanna do is punch him.”

Sam snorts, nodding his head, not believing your words at all. “Uh-huh, yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that, maybe it’ll sound more believable once you’ve said that fifty million times.”

It was well into the afternoon and you couldn’t shake away the conversation with Sam out of your head. You were slacking during your work-out, which Steve noticed.

You told him you were just feeling tired, he told you to take the rest of the day off, which prompted you just staying all day in bed.

You hear a knock on your door, you yell out it’s open, not wanting to get out of bed.

The door pushes open, you expected to be Steve or Sam but instead Bucky entered your room, his hair tied into a messy top bun, a towel hung over his left shoulder, shirtless, wearing black sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

You gulped, seeing the hard muscles of his abdomen glisten in sweat, the firm outlining of his ‘V’ leading straight to his crotch, you quickly shake your head, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Steve told me to come and get you, says something about extra training for tomorrow.”

You nod your head, crawling off your bed, you slip on your slippers and follow him out of your room.

The walk towards the living room was silent, you stared shamelessly at Bucky’s back, biting down on your bottom lip at how firm and wide his shoulders were, you then thought of how good it would feel clawing his back, your nails digging onto his smooth skin, red, angry marks along his shoulders whilst he pounded into you over and over.

You were too lost in your thoughts, not realizing Bucky stopped walking, you walk straight into his back.

“Oomph.” You let out, bouncing back, you managed to catch yourself from falling.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, confusion etched onto his face.

“Y-yeah, sorry about that.”

“You should pay more attention where you’re going, the hallway is a straight path, don’t get why’d you do that.”

You roll your eyes at his remark, “Thanks for the info genius, I’ll be sure to remember that.”

You walk past him, towards Steve who was talking with Sam.

Sam looked at your strangely, wondering what their conversation was.

“(Y/N), starting tomorrow I want you to train with Bucky. Hand-to-hand combat isn’t your strongest suit so you need to work on that.”

“What about Nat? Why can’t I train with her?”

“She’s gonna be on a mission with Clint for the next two months, I don’t want you waiting for her to come back to train, just go with Bucky,”

“But I-” you let out a huff, “Fine, it’s like I have a choice.” You see Sam grinning mischievously, you shot a glare at your best friend.

You had a new mission in life and it was to kill Sam Wilson.

You knew that he was the sole reason to why you were stuck training with the Ice Princess of the Avengers Tower, and your newfound reason to live was to destroy Sam at all costs.

What you didn’t understand was how he got Steve to even agree with him; Steve knew how you and Bucky didn’t get along, you racked your brain for any plausible reason why Steve would ever do this. If he thought that by forcing you to train with Bucky would make you friends, he was so wrong.

“Stop slacking your shoulders, that’ll give you less momentum to strike your opponent!” Bucky yells at you, pulling your fists up and forward.

You glared at the brown-haired soldier openly, keeping your fists up like he instructed.

It was only week two of training with Bucky and you’ve never felt this much hatred and sexual attraction towards anyone before in your entire life.

Spending majority of your day with Bucky confused the hell out of your body; one moment you’re seething with rage and the next, your whole body would be tingling from excitement when his skin touched yours.

You never told anyone about this but for some reason you knew that the others sans Bucky had some kind of idea of your attraction towards the Winter Soldier.

Out of training you’d flinch every time Bucky was near you, you’d be so jumpy when he’d tap you on the shoulder, prompting you to run away, Sam would be snickering in the corner with Vis.

“Pay attention! If you do this during a mission, you’d be dead!” Bucky snaps his fingers at your face.

“You’re such an ass Barnes! Lay off!” You snapped, pushing him away.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side, “Two weeks of training and you suck more than ever at sparring, pretty sure none of the things I’ve taught you stuck.”

Oh fuck no, it’s definitely on.

You lunge forward, throwing a jab towards Bucky’s left rib, he deflects it perfectly, you take two steps back, prompting him to take a step forward.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you growl, taking a step forward, you prepare for a punch, Bucky readies himself to deflect it once again, the last second you spin your body, your position now behind Bucky, you kick him at the back of his knee, he falls forward, you grab his flesh arm, twisting it behind his back as you take another step forward, bringing your knee to his back to slam him onto the mat.

Bucky falls with a loud thud, you pinning him down perfectly, one knee holding him down, the other pressed onto the mat, you were placing all of your weight onto him, he lets out a grunt, tapping his metal hand onto the mat as a sign of defeat.

You smile triumphantly, getting off the super soldier. He brings out his flesh hand, you grab it to help him stand up he suddenly pulls you down with him, his legs wrapping around you.

“Not bad,” his voice gruff, “you still need work though,”

You were straddling him, your ass directly sitting on his abdomen, both your arms being held by his hands.

“You’re a fuckin’ cheater is what you are Barnes, I played fair.” You reasoned, trying not to focus on how close the two of you were.

Bucky smirks, “The bad guys don’t play fair Doll, and I used to be one of them, I’d know.”

“Yeah you made your point, let me go.” You feel your cheeks heating up at the close proximity, your eyes following a single bead of sweat trailing down Bucky’s neck.

“You really want me to let you go? I reckon’ you rather enjoy this position,” he teases, a playful smile across his face.

You bite your lip to prevent yourself from making a noise, you were terrified you’re voice would crack and everything would come out; out of everyone in the whole tower, Bucky was the last person you wanted to find out your secret.

Bucky’s smile grows at your silence, he can hear your heart beat quicken at his words, though you tried to regulate your breathing, your heart rate ratted you out.

“Speechless are we? That’s a first.” He teases you once more, his hands now letting go of your arms, he trails them down to your waist.

You take a sharp breath, your whole body tingling from the sensation of Bucky touching you, all of your reasoning went out the window, you forcefully grab him by his tank top, yanking him upwards.

You press your lips against his, his hands now cupping your ass, pulling you flush.

The kiss was messy, rough, all tongue and teeth, and you loved every second of it. Your hands now wrapped around his neck, your hands snaking through his hair, you drag your nails along his scalp, earning a moan from him.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, you do it once again, his hands on your ass tightens, his flesh arm slapping your ass, making you squeak.

“Like me spanking you, huh? Fuck Baby, you taste good,” he groans, pulling you into another mind-blowing kiss.

The two of you continue making out, you grind your clothed core onto Bucky’s bulge, his metal hand grabbing your waist, “Don’t start what you can’t finish Doll, keep doing that and I won’t be able to stop.”

You grind your hips once more, earning a hiss from Bucky.

“You don’t hear me disagreeing Buck, in fact,” you pull his head back by the short hairs on his head, you lick a trail down his neck, sucking on his collarbone, “want ‘ya to keep goin’, mark me yours if you’re not chicken,”

You grin at his scowl, his hands fly back into your ass, cupping them as he stood up, carrying you with him.

“Hold on tight,”

Whistles and howls were sent towards the two of you as Bucky carried you in his arms, you smiled against his neck as he ran towards his room. He shuts the door behind him, he drops you on his bed, crawling on top of you as you watched him look at you with lust.

“We’re so gonna get shit for this,” you say, snaking your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours.

“You realize that’s why they forced us to train right? Always talkin’ about the sexual tension surrounding us,”

“Damn, Sam told you that too?”

“Nah, it was Steve, though can’t deny what they we’re sayin’, I want you,” he states breathily, capturing your lips once more.

Hands wander all over your body, the contrast of his cool metal hand and his warm flesh hand made you dizzy, he quickly peels off your yoga pants, along with your black lacy thong.

Bucky moans, breaking away from your kiss.

“Fuck, if I had known you were wearing this…” he says as he dangles the lingerie out.

You smirk, “What would you have done James?” You say sexily, a shiver running through Bucky’s spine.

Bucky visibly gulps as you take your time taking off your tank top, along with your sports bra, freeing your breasts. He bites down onto his lip, stifling a groan. “You’re breathtaking, absolutely breathtaking,”

You feel your cheeks heat up from the comment, you push him backwards, his back pressed against the mattress.

You crawl onto his lap, your naked pussy pressed against his clothed erection.

“Wanna know a secret?” He nods, staring at you with hooded lids.

You smirk, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear, “Every night since we started training, I finger myself to the thought of you, you got me so worked up these past few weeks Buck,”

Bucky cries out, bucking his hips against you, earning a quiet moan from you.

“Fuck Doll,” he gasps, his flesh hand gripping onto your waist, “sorry about that Darlin’, didn’t mean to,”

“Should do something about it Barnes, been so wired up these two weeks…”

Your hands trail up his chest, you pout, “You should take this off Barnes, feelin’ kinda lonely being the only one naked.”

In an instant, Bucky has you lying on your back, his tank and shorts gone, leaving him in his boxers. You moan at the sight of his almost naked, you couldn’t wait to have him inside you.

“Of course, I should help you, a pretty lady like you shouldn’t be kept waitin’,” He grins, planting a kiss onto your neck, trailing down to your collarbone then stopping at your breasts.

You inhale at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, you closed your eyes in pleasure as you felt his tongue envelope your left nipple, your hands digging into his comforter.

Bucky began to suck obscenely, alternating between sucking and licking your hardened bud, his right hand groping your other breast, his nimble fingers rubbing and pulling until your right nipple became erect. He does the same thing to your other nipple, loving the feeling of his tongue and lips on you.

“Bucky,” You gasped as your rubbed your thighs together. Bucky smiles against your skin, “Like me touchin’ you Darlin’?”

You nod your head, your hands still gripping onto his sheets, he trails his lips downward, kissing your stomach, navel, stopping at your pelvis. You gasp once again, feeling his hands gripping at your thighs, he pries them open, exposing your dripping core.

“Fuck,” He licks his lips hungrily, “All for me?”

You whimper, “Bucky, please,”

“Please what Baby? Use your words, tell me what you want.”

“Bucky eat me out, use your tongue, fingers, anything! Just touch me-oh!” He inserts two of his fingers into your wet core, pumping them in and out.

Bucky watches you squirm in pleasure, biting down onto his lip as you began bucking against his hand, he speeds up, using his thumb to flick at your clit.

“So responsive to my touches, shoulda done this ages ago,”

“Bucky, your mouth!” Without missing a beat, his fingers were replaced with his tongue, your hands snaking through his brown locks, pushing his face closer onto you.

“Fuck your tongue!” You cry out, your whole body buzzing.

Bucky smirks against your pussy, bringing his metal hand to your clit, rubbing as he thrusted his tongue in and out.

“Oh fuck,” You clench your thighs around his head, thrusting your hips to meet his pace, “Bucky, I- I’m so close, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh fuuuuuuck,”

Your orgasm came crashing down, gasping frantically for air, you continued to grind onto Bucky’s face as you came down from your high. You laid down on his bed, chest heaving as you lazily opened your eyes, revealing Bucky’s state.

You bit down on your lip at the sight of Bucky, he was smirking down at you, his face dripping from your release, he licks his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re delicious Darlin’, can’t get enough of ‘ya,”

You let out a breathy laugh, unable to say a single word, you were spent, your whole body tingling from Bucky just eating you out. The man was skilled, a tingle ran through your spine as you wondered what would happen next.

He hovers above you, his boxers off, his hands on either side of your head, he captures you into another breath-taking kiss, Bucky moans at how your tongue caresses his, he cups your cheek with his metal hand, grinding his hard erection against your folds.

“Bucky please,” You groan against his lips.

“Really need me don’t ya Darlin’?”

You whimper, not caring at how desperate you sounded, you’ve been thinking about him for weeks and now that you’re finally in this position, you couldn’t wait any longer.

Bucky pushes his length into you slowly, waiting for you to adjust to his size. You whimper at how thick he was, he began peppering kisses all over your face to distract you.

Once he filled you to the hilt, he pulls out fully before slamming inside you, you immediately pull him close, he brings up your leg onto his shoulder for a better angle.

“Fuck, Bucky, yes!” You cried out, your walls clenching Bucky’s cock as he thrusted in and out of you.

“Fuck you feel so good Doll, don’t think I’ll be able to last long, fuck,” He groans, his head resting on your shoulder.

You hold him tighter, feeling your orgasm close by. He notices your moans more high-pitched, he speeds up his pace, biting and sucking on your neck and collarbone.

“Bucky I’m-” You cry out, the pleasure too much; the mixture of his cock stimulating your g-spot and his love bites pushed you to the edge, cumming on his cock.

“I’m cumming- Shit! Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” His hips juts out uncontrollably, his cum spurting inside you, he groans against your skin as the two of you came down from your high.

Bucky places a chaste kiss on your neck, as he pulled out, you let out a sigh from the feeling.

You didn’t want to open your eyes, you were too embarrassed as you replayed what had happened seconds ago in your mind. You bring your hand up to cover your face, Bucky lets out a chuckle.

“Why you hidin’ Doll?”

“We just had sex Buck,”

“Yeah, so?”

“Do I really have to say it?”

“It’s cute, you bein’ this shy when moments ago you were moaning my name-”

“Ugh, Bucky!” you sit up, smacking him on the arm.

“What? I think it’s adorable how you’re actin’ right now.”

You chew on your bottom lip, “So... what now?” You ask him.

Bucky shrugs, “I... I dunno, I mean, if you want a repeat of this, I’m all for it but if you would like this to be a one time thing, I’m fine with that Doll.”

“Oh-I... I mean, I would like this to happen again but I mean-I uh-”

“You have feeling’s for me?” He grins cheekily, “You like me?”

You groan, slapping him on the arm again, “Yes! Even though you’re a jerk at times.”

“Sorry about that Doll, whenever I’m talkin’ to you, I get nervous. But I do... I mean I like you too.” A soft smile appears on his lips.

“So, I guess we’re dating now?”

Bucky nods his head, chuckling, “Even though we did kinda mess up the order, I would like to take you out on a proper date.”

“I’d like that.”

TAGS: @feelmyroarrrr @softwintersoldier @buckysbackpackbuckle @plumfondler @papi-chulo-bucky @gallifreyansass @thatawkwardtinyperson @mermaidinplaid @angryschnauzer

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fourtimesinabluemoon-archive · 7 years

Text

nonfluent-- not able to speak or write a particular language

One more day.

He has to give it one more day.

Of endless numbers, of problems with solutions seemingly at his grasp, only to slip away at the last moment.

One more day of the endless hum of machines, of the blue paper of blueprints, and their white pencils, and terrible coffee.

He’s so tired, but he must give it one more day, at least, bare minimum, for he owes that much, especially to his own.

“daddy look i-”

“Not now, Sans.”

“but I can help, i can-” There’s a crash and he whirls around in his chair. The boy is on the floor, in a lab coat far too big for him (how did he even get it off the hook...?) surrounded by stacks of paper. Thank goodness he didn’t fall far or knock over anything important.

“Stop while you’re ahead. I brought you plenty of toys; please utilize them instead of destroying my workspace.”

There is a pang. He cannot keep doing this; the boy will be hurt. Surely there is something else he can do?

All problems (except the barrier) have a solution. Think. What is it that he can do here?

Wait. The lab coat. The invention. Sans wants to imitate him. Maybe there is something less dangerous he can imitate.

His eyes light on the tiny toy violin, a knickknack really, that a colleague had given him for his desk. A congratulations for a job well done at a piano recital long, long ago...

... Hm.

But it's safe for little bones, so when he comes home that night, he finds their dusty old piano and spends a night fixing it.

The first song he teaches him is You Are My Sunshine. Sans listens, enthralled.

"Music is the language of emotion," he tells his small son as his long fingers guide his hands to the keys. Such tiny, delicate hands. "And as with all emotion, sometimes it is the truth, and sometimes it's a lie. But this song, from me, will never be a lie."

He nods as if he understands, but he is so tiny. He cannot possibly understand.

That is fine. He will in time, and they’ve nothing but that.

Music cannot save the world, but that is okay too, he supposes. They can sing as tiny hands find their way to the proper keys, and he can smile at the small voice rising in harmony with his own.

Sans does not seem to have any interest in learning anything but that one song. But as long as his son is happy, and they can enjoy replaying this one every evening, everything is fine.

Someday little bones won’t be so little anymore, and he will teach him the proper way around a lab, but for now, this is how they’ll connect, and...

Now that window is clear. And, as the days pass, he realizes that so is his conscious, too.

He is so bad at emotion when it comes to the language of speech.

"Wear your coat."

He never planned on having a child.

"Your vegetables are good for you."

He never planned on surviving to adulthood, truthfully.

"No, growing boys need sleep."

His parents had sucked the life from him, a drop a day, until the idea of spending decades in his own bones felt unbearable.

"Fine, one more story."

Open affection frightens him. He cannot stand touch.

"All right. One more song."

Even the words ‘I love you’ feel too much.

"You're grounded. No, I don't want to hear it; what you did was wrong."

As if the words themselves would peel away too much of his Soul, and reveal the shriveled underside.

"Here, I made you tuna fish today. And I included a ring pop. Please don't propose to the teacher again as a joke; I'll die of shame."

He cannot bear to do that.

"Your report card is wonderful. You did well. I see you excel in science."

But he finds other ways to tell him those three little words.

“That was beautifully played.”

He hopes it is enough.

It happened again it happened AGAIN.

One child was hard enough; now he has two!?

He looks so much like him.

That face shape must be so similar to what his own parents saw when-

No, no, he needs- he needs control again he needs to calm down he-

“daddy?”

He raises his head, staring, as Sans pads down the stairs in bunny slippers and a tshirt with a pun on it. He hands the child to him quickly, struggling for breath.

“Take him to your room. He can share the bed with you.”

Sans doesn’t argue. Frightened eyes stare up at his father, then to the baby, and then he disappears upstairs and leaves Gaster to his shuddering breaths in front of the door.

Over the next few weeks, he prepares a room for the infant. A cradle, toys, infant safety measures. But the rest, and indeed, as much as possible, he leaves to Sans.

The window isn’t foggy, but now, it is closed. Panic walls him in.

And, selfishly, he does nothing to stop it.

“why don’t you ever tell me you love me?”

Why are you in an unauthorized area in the middle of the school day asking such a deeply personal question?

But the words, thankfully, don’t leave his mouth. He is too busy staring at his son in a dumb stupor.

“where did i come from?”

“Why does any of that matter?” Oh, no; the wrong response. He knows as it falls from his mouth, but there’s no taking it back.

“because the kids at school say you’re a mad scientist and you made us. but if you made us you’d love us, right?”

“but you never say you love us and you won’t stay with us.”

“I have a lot of work. And you, young man, have school.”

“it’s recess.”

“That doesn’t mean you can waltz off school grounds!”

“why not? you get to mix up kids in your stupid lab!”

This is not at all where he wants this going. He rubs his temples.

“Sans-”

“you don’t even listen to me play anymore! you missed my science fair! and i spend all my time with papyrus but you don’t take more than five minutes every day to check with us!”

“I said, I’m very busy.” The excuse is hollow. Sans is turning blue with fury and his eye is

Glowing?

“that never mattered before! why does it matter now!?”

“I-”

“you didn’t want us, did you!? either of us! you don’t love us, so why did you make us!?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“you didn’t mean to.” He had not meant it in the context Sans was taking it as. He had meant ‘I did not mean to be so awful, to make you wonder these things.’

But Sans... clever child... was beginning to realize another possibility to explain their existence.

“get OFF OF ME!” Sans’s low voice rises to a shriek, and he whips around, eye surging with magic—why oh why had he given his son those abilities—

Forever.

#ooc #this is actually related to tangerine #just not in the way you think

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