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trynadollsiesplay · 9 months

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Ash Silverstone Doll Analysis

Because I knew the controversity, but I didn't think it would be... this 😬.

My opinion: Basically, Ash Silverstone's male body is an updated version of the rainbow high series 2 sculpts imo and I don't get it 🙁. I'm not saying this is a bad thing exactly. The only problem is it was released with series 4 Rainbow High Dolls. And Shadow High Series 1 dolls were way better too, by this time. Thus, it is confusing.

It has it's pros and cons. I haven't heard about these things enough. So I will share. Go down the list lol uwu. 😊

- DOLL STANDS -

(on the left is S2 Krystal Bailey's Stand, in the middle is Ash Silverstone's stand SH S1, and on the right is Nicole Steel's stand SH S1)

I didn't notice the shape to start with, but the boy dolls have unrealisticly-realistic masculine bodies. And they don't fit on the same stands as the girls do. But, they were realesed with a series of dolls with advanced stand tops. And the masc doll stand is more reminiscent of the older stands.

Also, Ash in his clothes was still extremely tight on this stand too 🤨. Weird they didn't fix it.

* Extra fact: All of Ash's pants come with drawstrings. No valcro. I feel like this should have been a thing, for the girls, some time. This somewhat offends me. Not that that's important. But I am slightly irked now. 😐

- DOLL BODIES -

Overview: Ash Silverstone's overall mold is pretty and shiny. But... that actually makes it less posable. Above, we compare on the left, Ash Silverstone, to Krystal Bailey on the right. Their upper arms are brought as close to the body as they can. And as the image shows, Ash cannot bring his elbows to his torso. Which, strongly, annoys me.

Also, the legs on Ash's mould cannot come further together, because the thighs are so thick and the crutch is a crutch. Which is fine. But also, it looks so cool. But then it does that. Ugh!

Also, mentioning the torsos. The boy torso is so unrealistic that I find it cringy. BUT, look at those collar bones. If the boy has the collarbones on his mould... why don't the girls?

The Actually body of Ash's sculpt, is like... thicker? Than the female mould. Which is both offending and crazy. The curvy doll has yet to come out yet, but it would probably be easier for MGA to recycle some of Ash's moulds, because they are thick enough.

The tiny knees on Ash look Aesthetically pleasing, but they too, are problematic. See the source bellow:

(On the left is Krystal Bailey S2, on the right is Ash Silverstone SH S1)

I find it extremely annoying, because you can feel Ash' knee connecting with the plastic of the thigh, but there is no space for it to come out. I would be fine if it didn't do that. Boys are less flexible irl typically, sure. But the knee wants to bend *release frustrated scream*

Furthermore, Ash's character can do the equivalent of a split. Showing he is above the typical flexibility abilities of most men. But his knees are less efficient than the girls? This is problematic world building. And a nitpick. And frustrating anyway.

(On the left is Ash Silverstone preforming his best attempt at the splits SH S1. On the Right is Krystal Bailey, showing off the flexibility she houlds over Ashe's mould, she is RH S2)

(First image, left side, we have a comparison of: On the top, Krystal Bailey S2, Middle is Ash Silverstone SH S1, and at the bottom Is Reina "Glitch" Crowne from SH S2)

When comparing hands, it is clear that Ash Silverstone's mold is much choppier and low quality than newer molds. I compared my S3 Daria mould and it still had the indentations, but I believe Shadow High series 1 doesn't have them. I also find the larger hand mold is held back by the closeness of the wrist. It doesn't turn as well, doesn't quite have as much movement as his female doll counterparts, because these issues. Which is annoying, to a lesser degree. His wrist pins look pretty bad though. don't know if I just drew a bad straw, or if they were all pretty bad in the same way.Not sure I wanna find out 😬.

(Image 2 gives a side view centred on the elbow joints of the two dolls, which are facing inwards. Again, Krystal Bailey S2 is on the left, Ash Silverstone SH S1 is on the right)

Ash Silverstone's wrist joint is... annoying bulky. It makes click sounds and has 3 spots it prefers to be and shifts between. The join is stiff, and takes a bit more to stop in the right position than the female doll molds. A great fidget toy, sure. Still annoying to pose.

Finally, last but not least, we have,

(on the left is Krystal Bailey from S2 RH, and on the right is Ash Silverstone from SH S1. They are both posed to better show the ability possessed by the Male doll mould)

Ash Silverstone has FLIPPING Rotation at his ANKLES!!! 🤩 why did I not pick that up before. Everything I hear about joints like waist and ankles is that they are annoying. But apart from the fact that you have to stop them from spinning when taking off his annoyingly tight shoes, they seem really strong and capable. Put him on the doll stand and he can so so much more. He could kick a ball. He could trip someone with his high heels he is wearing.

I can't tell if this is a positive or negative trait. But I don't care. I find it really exciting. Between his eyes and his ankle joints, I wanna get another boy doll. Because ankle joints are cool. His eyes are cute. And everything else can get fucked. I really don't get my own appreciation. But I can appreciate it.

Y'all, keep avoiding the boy dolls. That way I can get them cheaper 😊🤪😆.

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bookocd · 3 years

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Light As Air Chapter 6

Hi guys! I know I haven’t updated in a while, but I’m in the middle of a school semester and with my son just learning how to walk things have been hectic. With that said I’m super excited for the chapter after this and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and the next :) Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag List:

@wxstedhexrt

@power-of-words23

Summary:

In the aftermath of Kingdom of Ash, Fenrys finds himself connected with a mysteriously powerful fae female. With the confusion of her past and vast amount of power, the Aelin’s court becomes weary of Fenrys’s involvement.

Fenrys is still reeling after Connall’s death and while joining Aelin’s court has been a dream, his nightmares are still plagued by Maeve.

Vel will do anything to get the help she needs, but her past controls her emotions, and her hopes for the future clouds her judgement.

Maybe together they can mend what has been broken, but Vel’s strange origins will continue to keep them apart.

Link to Master List!

Chapter 6:

Vel felt strange wearing clothes that actually fit her.

After falling asleep immediately, with one less pillow on the bed, she woke up to a plate of food sitting on a new table along with a wooden chair. The table was placed in-between the two window, which had a beautiful view of the mountains. The food was amazing, bacon, eggs, and toast, which was better than anything she or her family had ever made. No matter the amount of cook books her father could find, cooking was never his or her strong suit.

Fenrys came to her at every meal, inviting her to join the royal court, and she fabricated reasons to deny every single time. She was surprised at her own creativity, but it became plainly obvious she was lying when her excuse at breakfast was that her stomach hurt, but he caught her doing pushups when he came with comfort food at lunch. He left the room in a huff and in the evening Fenrys had come back and all but threatened to throw her out of a window if she didn’t come down to the great hall for dinner. He also came with something new for her to wear and a comment about her own clothing being lost, which was utter bullshit.

Hence why she was wearing clothing that finally fit.

She felt more confident in the clothing, but she still fussed at the tan pants and black shirt, as Fenrys led her through the castles hallways.

“Why do you look so uncomfortable? Are the clothes not to your liking?” Fenrys must have noticed her pulling at the shirt.

“No no,” she huffed out a breath. For some reason she wanted to talk to him, to let him know why she was fidgeting. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Always,” the sincerity in his voice was actually believable.

“I’ve never worn clothes that actually fit me,” she said quietly. The continued the walk in silence and when she finally had the nerve to look at him, he was already staring at her. He didn’t have a look of pity, which is what she was worried for, but one of pure curiosity.

“Well I’m sure the boys you met went crazy with you in ill-fitting clothes, so you probably saved yourself some riots,” he said with a cheeky grin.

She couldn’t help the snort that rose from her and the incredulous look. The truth was on her tongue. The fact that she had not met anyone outside of her family until a couple of years ago, or that she pretended she was a male for all of those outings. Come to think of it, her longest conversations with someone outside of her family, who knew she was a female, were with Fenrys. At that thought, which warmed her cheeks, she opted to stay silent.

Fenrys led her to a set of double doors and stopped. Not waiting for him, she took a deep breath and went to grip the handle, but Fenrys grabbed her wrist and turned her toward him. His lips were turned down and he seemed conflicted.

“I want you to know that the moment you want to leave, I will walk you back to your room. While this court is full of my family and friends, they are… opinionated,” he cringed slightly and Vel could tell that was the nicest word he could come up with. “Even with their extreme personalities you have at least one ally at all times. No matter who says what, I will always be in your corner to help and defend you.”

She was moved by his words and he still had a hold on her hand. As she stared at him, his face started to lighten and his thumb started to rub circles on the protruding misshapen bones of her hands. It was his lack of reaction that stirred her into a panic. She needed to keep him at arms length and never wanted to be seen as weak.

She forcibly removed her hand from his hold.

“I can defend myself,” she said and immediately regretted it. His small smile vanished.

“I know you can sweetheart, but you will be severely outnumbered in there.”

Then she found herself smirking, her face changing into the mask she wore so well. His eyes widened at whatever her face was expressing, but not even he knew the extent of her own training or what she was capable of when provoked.

“You know nothing.” She turned away from him and opened the double doors.

—

Fenrys was more confused than ever. This female was a giant question mark. He had seen her scared, panicked, calm, confident, and he also had seen kindness, pain, sincerity, and empathy, but the female that just looked at him wasn’t any of those things. She looked almost ominous, with a viscous smirk and her eyes wandering to each person in the room. He didn’t even know her real name, but he knew that this act wasn’t real, she was playing the part she thought was required to survive.

Fenrys quickly followed her into the great hall. There was a large rectangular table in the center of the room, where every member of his court was now siting, except for Lorcan and Ren, who were both probably sulking somewhere. No one sat at the head, so the center of the table was very crowded. Aelin and Rowan sat the farthest away from the door and both halted their forks as Vel walked forward and suddenly stopped when she caught sight of Lysandra. The shifter was the lounging in her snow leopard form, purring, while being pet by Aedion. She was literally laying on the table. Fenrys was only glad that the shock of seeing Lysandra had taken the intense look off Vel’s face.

“Vel meet Lady Lysandra,” Fenrys said, while putting a hand on the small of her back. The cat inclined her head slightly and then went right back to her cat nap. “And the one petting her is Aedion,” Fenrys continued as they made their way toward an open seat. “You know Aelin and Rowan,” he nodded his head at the couple. Vel gave them a small smile, but it was gone within a second. She took a seat next to Elide, who introduced herself and started some small talk. Fenrys took that opportunity to make two plates of food for him and Vel. He grabbed chicken, vegetables, and bread. Taking the seat across from Vel, he slid the plate toward her. She murmured a thank you.

The room was filled with silence. The only sound was that of forks against plates and chewing. Fenrys didn’t know what to do. This court was many things, but quiet was not one of them.

Fenrys was about to open his mouth, to say what, he had no idea, but it was abruptly cut off by the door opening once more.

Lorcan walked through and halted only a foot inside the room. His eyes were wide and wildly moving between Elide and Vel.

“Why in the hell is that female sitting next to Elide?” He spat out the word female, and Fenrys body heat spiked at the tone.

“Where did you want her to sit Lorcan?” Aelin asked with her brows raised.

“Preferably in a cell,” he said quietly, never taking his eyes off Vel.

Fenrys almost started in on him until he saw Vel. She was sitting at her seat, and still eating her food, completely ignoring Lorcan in his entirety. She must have felt Fen’s eyes, because she finally looked up from her plate.

His gaze must have held only questions, because she said, “What? I don’t respond well to stupidity.”

Silence filled the room again, and Fenrys was sure the room had not felt this type of atmosphere since the end of the war. It wasn’t until Elide, Elide, started to chuckle that the tension broke.

She gazed lovingly at her future husband and said, “She’s got you there Lor.”

Lorcan didn’t look amused as he moved forward to sit on Elide’s other side. He stopped only slightly as he passed Vel. Fenrys could barely make out what he said.

“You even touch her and I will fucking kill you.”

Vel did react to that. Her whole body went stiff and she halted her chewing. Fenrys’s fear for what she would do overcame his anger toward Lorcan.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Lorcan stopped dead in his tracks at Vel’s gravely words.

The whole room froze.

“What did you say?” Lorcan’s question came out as a growl. With a noise like that, Fenrys was left wondering how the male didn’t have an animal form.

“I said do not make promises or threats that you can’t fucking keep,” Vel answered, her dark eyes near glowing.

“Okay guys this is—”

Aedion’s reasoning was cut off by Aelin. “No. I want to see this play out.”

“Aelin!” Fenrys found himself shouting.

Vel and Lorcan were staring at each other. Lysandra looked like she was ready to pounce. Rowan and Aedion were giving Aelin a “what the fuck” gaze, and Elide seemed absolutely terrified.

One step from Lorcan was all it took for Vel. She was out of her seat faster than Fen had even seen anyone physically move. Fen found himself standing as well, trying to gauge the situation unfolding in front of him, but for some reason he wasn’t scared. He had this sudden sense that Vel could take care of herself, so the only emotion left was anger. Anger for how much of a fucking idiot Lorcan was.

Lorcan cocked his head to one side, scanned Vel’s body, and scoffed.

She stepped forward and clasped her hands behind her back. Walking toward one side, she all but floated to Lorcan’s left side. Vel circled him, giving him a wide girth, but circling him all the same. His cockiness was the only thing that allowed her to do this, and Fenrys felt like he was watching a vulture, stalking an animal that didn’t yet know it was about to die. She ended her walk back where she started.

It was then that she turned and gave Fenrys a mischievous grin. He got way to turned on by this.

“How do I say throughly unimpressive, so he will understand.” Fenrys felt his lips move upward into a huge smile. Her eyes sparkled at him.

Lorcan was fuming and started toward her. Vel quickly turned from Fen and then everything happened at once. Fenrys was flying across the table, Elide was jumping out of her seat, Rowan and Aedion had swords in their hands, Lysandra was back on her hunches ready to pounce. All the court members in that time period were rendered useless when Vel leaped into the air. Her arms were wrapped around Lorcan’s middle, propelling her legs behind him. Her whole body followed and suddenly in her movements to surround his body, her legs were closing around his throat. The momentum she had gained allowed her to throw the huge fae male to the ground, landing squarely on top of him. The fork she had been eating with was suddenly pressed to Lorcan throat. The court was standing, speechless around the two. Fenrys slowly moved toward Vel and whispered her name. She whipped her head to meet his gaze, she looked absolutely savage. Fenrys was instantly hard. A cough had her looking back at the male under her.

“Now let me explain something to you,” Vel sounded breathless. “I was able to pin you, in a matter of seconds, without the use of my magic. Now I know you will probably excuse this by being surprised, but I could do this again when you are fully prepared.” She removed the fork from his neck and gracefully spun and stood up.

Vel surveyed the members of the court, who all except Aelin, looked ready for battle. Aelin, of course, look absolutely delighted.

Fenrys had the sudden need to be at her side when she addressed the group, but he pulled on the urge. She obviously didn’t want or need his help, no matter how much he desired to give it.

Vel took a deep breath and Fenrys thought he felt a spike of her power, but it was quickly distinguished.

“I know that you do not know me, and some of you probably do not wish too,” she gave a pointed look at Lorcan, who had been joined on the floor by a kneeling Elide. “I’m not here to hurt anyone, but as I just demonstrated I can defend myself and will, without hesitation.”

The female turned toward Fenrys, looking at him under long black eyelashes. “I do not even know what I’m still doing here, but one word from you and I will go.”

Dread piled in the bottom of his stomach and he opened his mouth to say something along the lines of, fuck no you aren’t going anywhere, but he was cut off by his queen.

“Fuck no you aren’t leaving. Things were getting a little boring around here.” Fenrys grinned at Aelin, and it only grew as she continued. “You have to teach me that move so I can use it on Rowan,” she elbowed her husband playfully.

She walked forward and grabbed Vel’s arm pulling her toward the door, Vel looked over her shoulder with a look of both excitement and fear. Fenrys couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard Aelin whisper, in a voice she knew everyone could still hear, “When I say use it on Rowan, I mean in bed, so don’t be worried about the buzzards safety.”

#throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #kingdom of ash #sarah j maas #Sarah j Maas boys #fenrys moonbeam #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver #rowan x aelin #aedion x lysandra #elide x lorcan

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jinmindeulle · 4 years

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crowned ∣ jwy (1)

don’t tell a soul

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader ft. san

word count: 1.4 k

genre: royalty au, prince!wooyoung x dressmaker!reader ∣ angst, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: if you want to be in the tag list so that you don’t miss the updates, just comment down below and i’ll happily add you! ♥

special thanks to my sis @myghibli for creating my beautiful headers and specially for being there, reading every piece of writing and supporting me! i love you ♥

“Hey, that’s no fair!”

I look at him through my eyelashes, trying to look as innocent and cute as possible while chewing on the Oreo that I was busy eating before Wooyoung’s arrival.

“You know the rules, y/n!” he takes a seat next to me on the grass while taking away from me the Oreo package “You can’t start eating Oreos without me.”

I smile sheepishly at him, admiring how his ash blonde hair flies everywhere because of the soft spring wind. My eyes go down his profile, taking in his perfectly shaped nose, slightly scrunched while eating his cookie. I take a deep breath and try to look away before he catches me staring, but I haven’t finished my daily admire-the-boy-that-you-will-never-have session yet. And my favorite part is about to come.

His soft-looking lips can’t seem to stay still while munching on the second Oreo, but I don’t really care because I know from memory how astonishingly beautiful they are. His upper lip is a little bit thinner than his lower one, but you barely notice it unless you’re me. A woman who is fond of looking at him with heart eyes every time she can, because she is aware of the fact that there’s not much time left for the two of them.

I sigh, looking away just in time. Wooyoung grins at me and offers me a cookie, which I happily accept. “What are you up to today?”

His charming smile disappears, turning into a thin line which hides his lips. He stares at the lake in front of us and with a quiet tone, answers my apparently not-so-intelligent question.

“Some princess from another kingdom is coming to have dinner.”

Oh. So I should have kept my mouth shut then.

“I don’t even know her, but Father is eager for us to form an alliance. Don’t get me wrong, I want the best for our people. That’s my job after all. But I didn’t want it that way.”

“I know, Woo. It isn’t fair.” I nod “But I’m sure you’ll hit it off with her and you’ll end up liking each other.”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung sighs, looking down with sad eyes, and I wish to have the power to do something more than just say those hurtful and pathetic phrases. “At least San-hyung’s coming as well.”

At the mention of Choi San, a full smile forms on my lips. One of my favorite people is coming back to the kingdom after so long?

“Are you serious?!” I try to contain my excitement, but it’s pretty clear on my voice. Wooyoung lifts his head to look at me, but his expressionless face tells me he’s not as joyful as I am.

“Why do you like him so much? I mean, he’s my best friend and I like him too, but you always seem to be on cloud nine when he’s here.”

“I don’t know” I laugh quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s just that when you’re busy with your prince duties, San keeps me company and he’s really fun to be with. He cooks deliciously too.”

Wooyoung’s mouth falls open, and for a second, I think that a bug may fly right in there if he doesn’t close it any time soon.

“Are you saying that San-hyung is good at replacing me?” he yells in a high-pitched accusatory tone.

“I’m just saying that he’s a great guy” my answer is not what he was looking for, because he pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, looking away like a three-year-old. “But you’re even greater”.

His offended manner dissolves in a matter of seconds, and the next thing I know is that I am being pushed to the ground, strong arms tight around my waist and high-pitched giggles resound in my right ear. “I knew that already, y/n, but I just needed your confirmation.”

I feel my cheeks suddenly warm up, but I just ignore it. Jung Wooyoung is one of those people who can’t keep his hands to himself for long, so him being touchy and physically affectionate is an everyday struggle for me. It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s far beyond that.

See, when you are one of the royal dressmakers, certain things are an impossible. Yes, you live in the same fancy, enormous and elegant palace that the King, Queen and Prince themselves live in and yes, you get to dress them and get praised because of your works afterwards. But the thing that you want the most will always be out of your reach.

I suppress that thought and hold onto Wooyoung a little bit tighter, hiding my face in his neck and smelling his sweet perfume. At least you get to do that, y/n.

My heart hurts just by looking at his expression. His eyes don’t reflect the glimmer that had earlier on in the morning, and now look lost and sad while waiting for me to pull out his outfit for the infamous dinner.

“Hey, where’s my cheerful and puppy-like Wooyoung?”

He focuses his eyes on me, and sadly laughs. “I don’t know.”

Sighing, I approach him with the white linen shirt that I finished for him a few days ago, his grey suit, jet black belt and matching shoes. I don’t take the tie because I know he was never able to learn how to do it properly. “As long as I have you, I don’t have to learn.” he had said, looking at me with that sheepish grin of his.

“Let’s make you even more handsome for that girl, huh.”

He never answers, taking the clothes from me and walking behind his folding screen to get dressed. I wait for him, thinking that our life is about to change forever, and that is something that only him and I will suffer. Everyone in the palace is on cloud nine about the seemingly upcoming marriage, except both of us.

Wooyoung’s expectations of freedom and a future non-arranged-marriage are out of the picture now, as well as mine of him falling for me someday. And even if he did, I would have to be part of the royalty to be actually accepted. So yeah, no Wooyoung for me. As it always had been.

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear the prince shuffle behind the folding screen. No more than three seconds later he’s in front of me, a hard, stern look on his face that I had never seen before.

“I don’t want his, y/n” he says quietly, his piercing eyes steady on mine “I don’t want to meet her and I don’t want to get married to her.”

“Then don’t do it.” I want to say. But all I can bring myself to do is sigh, and wrap the black tie around his neck softly, because I feel that making a sudden move will make Wooyoung punch me in the face out of anger.

“There’s something that I’ve been wanting to tell you, y/n. Nobody knows about it but I feel like it’s time already. And I… I can only trust you with this.”

I finish tying the knot, and straighten up the suit with my hands, trying not to blush at the contact that, despite the many layers of clothes, still makes me nervous. I don’t answer him, and he takes my hands away from his shoulders with a strength that I never knew he had.

“Are you listening to me, y/n? Please, this is an important matter for me.” His voice is still calm, but I can sense he’s losing his patience.

“Sorry, I was thi-“ my sentence is cut short, because someone is eagerly banging on Wooyoung’s chamber’s door.

“Prince Wooyoung, it’s time already!”

“Coming!” he yells, not taking his hands off of my wrists. When the woman seems to be gone, he looks at me right in the eye. “Meet me up tomorrow at 7 a.m. at our usual spot. Please wear comfortable clothes.” He whispers. I nod energetically, a little lost in his eyes.

He lets go of my wrists and puts his hands on my shoulders, leaning in to kiss my cheek. He walks to the door, but before he steps out, he turns around and with that beautiful smile of his, murmurs “And don’t tell a soul”.

When the door shuts close, all I can do is sigh deeply, touching the exact same spot that Jung Wooyoung had kissed and hoping to see him again as soon as possible.

part two: all i have is you →

Here’s the very first part of crowned ♥ I’m super happy to be writing about my baby Wooyoung!

If you are reading this, thank you so much for being here, it means a lot to me ♥ Leave your comments, suggestions and ideas on the comments below!

Happy reading!

⇢ jinmindeulle

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thenewlarislynn · 4 years

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Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 8

~~~

“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice came from the GPS device Bucky held, “we found a facial recognition match. It came from an apartment’s video doorbell from 2 blocks southwest of here. It appears she entered the building approximately 5 hours ago. I’ll scan through the rest of the footage to see if she left.”

“Thank you FRIDAY.” Bucky looked at Sam, “If she’s still there then we may stand a chance.”

“Scan complete. She left the building, but not by choice. The video feed shows three men appearing in a van. I did a search on them and discovered they’re with HYDRA.”

“When was this?” Sam asked.

“About 4 hours ago,” FRIDAY replied.

“Oh God, I knew we should have gone after her sooner,” Bucky said, his feelings of guilt evident. “Did you scan the van’s license plate?

“Yes, but the van was reported stolen a few weeks ago, so that didn’t lead anywhere. However I have linked to the cameras on the streetlights, so if it passes any I’ll be alerted.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” replied Sam. “We should go check out the apartment, see if there’s any clues that can help us out there.”

“Good thinking, Sam. FRIDAY, keep the facial recognition search active too. Just in case she goes somewhere.”

The drive to the apartment was spent in tense silence, broken only by the sound of Bucky tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Will you stop that?” Sam asked angrily, finally losing his cool.

“Look, I don’t know what you want me to do, but I’m stressed. It’s our fault she’s in this situation in the first place! Don’t you even feel guilty?”

“No, I don’t feel guilty, because we didn’t get her involved in this. She has pyrokinetic powers from HYDRA. She was clearly involved in some shady stuff before she met us. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help her. She needs our help, obviously. That’s why I’m doing this,” he paused, “But I can’t focus on what needs to be done with your awful tapping, okay man?”

“Fine, you’re right. And I’m done with the tapping,” Bucky said, putting the car in park. “But only because we’re here.” He stepped out of the car and immediately took a step back. The smell of smoke was overpowering.

“The door’s been knocked clean off its hinges. Whoever did this wasn’t worried about being discreet. Look like typical HYDRA work to you?”

“Not at all,” Bucky replied, observing the scene. “Which means one of two things. They’re either desperate or they don’t need to worry about getting caught.”

There was a couch in the room with burn marks streaked across the back. A mirror sat in the corner, a residue of black smoke sitting on its surface. The floorboards were laiden with ash, with boot prints occasionally dotting it, leaving behind a pattern that spoke of fear. A trash bin lay on its side, ash spilling out, and that’s when Bucky realized. She had been trying to leave behind clues that she’d been taken. It was a message.

“I’ve received an update on the facial recognition search, but I don’t think you’ll like where she is.” FRIDAY’s voice came from the GPS. “There’s been a murder of another S.H.I.E.L.D. double agent, and she was seen there just twenty minutes before the crime. He died of burn wounds.”

Bucky went pale, “I knew this would happen, Sam. They’ve turned her into a weapon. Who knows where she’ll be now and whether we’ll be able to find her.”

FRIDAY chimed in, “I’ve actually been able to track the van from the scene of the murder and found it parked outside a building just about a half hour from here. That was the last place she was spotted on camera.”

“Well then,” Sam stated, “it won’t be as difficult to find her as you thought.”

They pulled into a grove of trees a half mile from the facility. Far enough to not be spotted by security cameras but close enough to make a quick escape. Sam cringed as the gravel road crunched noisily under their feet. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a dewy petrichor reminiscent of a spring afternoon.

“If you want to be found you might want to walk a little louder.” Bucky grumbled.

“Hey man, I’m just trying to quicken up the pace so we can go save your girl.”

“She’s not,” Bucky blushed slightly, “she’s not my girl.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said, “and you just happen to feel so bad about this because-”

Bucky interrupted him, “Because I’ve been there before! I’ve felt the guilt of being turned into a weapon. No one should have to go through that,” he whisper-shouted. “She’s an incredible person, but that’s all the more reason why she shouldn’t be with me. I don’t do relationships, not anymore. I don’t want someone to be put in harm’s way because of their connection to me. Now come on, we need to get there before she gets hurt even more.”

Hiding in the underbrush of the thicket outside the facility, Sam observed the security measures that HYDRA had put in place. “Look, there’s only two guards outside the door. If you can get us inside, we’re set. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting past them.”

“Getting in is the easy part,” Bucky responded, “it’s getting out that’s the tricky part.”

~~~

You awoke from the nightmare, blinking the sleep from your eyes. At least, you thought it was a nightmare, but one look at your surroundings told a different story. As you opened your eyes the clean bright light blinded you, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut before slowly reopening them.

“Well, our little soldat is awake,” Alicia laughed. “I hope you enjoyed your, uh, shall we say rest?”

“What did you do to me?” The anger you had felt before was building up again. Glancing at your wrists you saw you were no longer in chains. You could burn this place down to nothing but ashes. After what they did to your family, it would only be fair.

“Oh, don’t worry. What we did to you was nothing compared to what you did to Miss Berlioz. See, our sources found out she was a double agent. And it seems that Elaine just couldn’t take the heat.”

Your voice was weak, “What,” you took a deep breath, “What are you talking about?” “You’re so inquisitive. I always liked that about you. You’ll see soon enough.” She clapped twice and a screen appeared in the wall. “We thought that by seeing your full potential, you’d be more, well, more willing to work with us. I’ll be back in a bit. Let me know what you think of the movie.” She smiled and walked out of the cell, the door blending in with the rest of the cell once it closed.

You looked at the mirrored walls and instantly knew it was two way glass. You shuddered, realizing there were probably at least ten HYDRA agents watching you. Without warning the screen started to play what appeared to be security camera footage of an empty alleyway. A woman in civilian clothes appeared on screen.

“Yes, Director Fury. I have the files. I’ll be there in an hour.” She put the phone back in her pocket. The sound of glass cracking was heard in the background and the woman whirled around and faced the screen. “Who’s there?”

You stepped forward out of the shadows, the fire in your hand glowing white with heat. Before the woman on screen could react you pounced into action, grabbing a fistful of her hair, effectively setting her head ablaze. She cried out in pain as you latched onto her wrists. When you finally let go, the bone was exposed through charred flesh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, not able to bear seeing what came next. Bile rose in your throat as you continued to hear the screams over the speakers, until finally a sickening thud was heard. You opened your eyes to see yourself on screen standing over the body, almost burnt beyond recognition. The footage shut off, leaving you alone in the cell with your thoughts.

~~~

Taglist:

@sydneyisnotawriter

I hope all of you are staying safe and staying home! Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

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pilyarquitect · 4 years

Text

War for Genius - Chapter 21 - Almost there

Hello again! Sorry people I had a very busy morning, and I work from 14:00 to 22:00, so I’m trying to update this in my free time.

Anyway, here’s the new chapter for you! I’ve to admit, in this chapter appears an element I originally didn’t thought I was going to put, (welp, it appeared on a dream in this same story), but someone commented in the original version if a part of the dream it’d also appear in the real situation it was going on, so I thought, welp, why not? And I put it. I hope you’ll find out soon what I’m talking about, and I hope you’ll like it 😊

As always, I’d like to thank @empro-8 for helping me editing this story. Honestly, without her help this wouldn’t be as good as it is, so thank you very much @empro-8 you’re amazing!

Welp, I’ll stop talking and let you read the chapter, enjoy it! 😉

****************************************

Beaks got out of the car immediately after parking. Five days had passed since his last visit to Huey. He positively knew, thanks to the number of strategically hidden cameras, that Graves had visited the boy constantly disguised as the various mansion’s members.

Honestly, the Waddle’s CEO was impatient for the moment when the hawk would appear as Gizmoduck. He constantly checked the camera feeds until he finally saw him in the superhero costume. It should be said that it was extremely funny to see how the falcon tried to move with that suit without losing his balance. To be honest, it was good that he practiced, since it wouldn’t be very credible if he fell face down in front of the red-dressed triplet. Beaks remembered smiling when he saw Graves enter the room, with the clear intention of following the specific order he gave him. He was surprised afterwards when after a while he saw Graves leave the room and return with chains. Not even two minutes later he left again without them. What had Graves done with those chains? Also, after this, there had been some other moments that Graves had disguised himself as the superhero to visit Huey. Usually when he brought food to the boy.

Actually, Mark was intrigued to know everything. Entering the building, the only thing the Waddle’s CEO focused on was finding his employee, which didn’t take long, the hawk seemed to hear him coming, or perhaps saw him park. The point is that Graves came to meet him saying:

"Mr. Beaks, if you’ve already arrived, does that mean I have to disappear from view, haven’t I?”

Mark smiled widely and cheerfully, replied:

"Yes, you’re right, but before answer this question, what were the chains for?"

Graves's eyes widened in surprise and after awkwardly clearing his throat, said:

"The chains... what? But how have-? Do you have cameras spying on me?”

With a confident smile, the gray parrot crossed his arms and proudly proclaimed:

"Naturally, after all, this building is my baby. I have the right to know how much is happening here."

Graves rolled his eyes, although Beaks ignored him. He then spluttered something that Beaks couldn't understand, although the CEO of Waddle didn't care. He only cared about one thing, so speaking in a slightly impatient voice he said:

"Well?"

Graves looked at him for a few moments, as if he didn't know what Beaks was talking about. Finally, his mind seemed to realize it and he began to explain:

"Ah yes, about the chains... I thought it would be more mortifying for the boy if he kept seeing the ashes mountain of what his cap was, but without being able to reach them."

Mark's eyes widened in surprise. But it was a pleasant, jovial surprise. Still recovering from what Graves had just said, he asked:

"So, you mean that you’ve completely immobilized him?"

The hawk shook his head and explained:

“Not exactly, I’ve put shackles on his wrists, with chains that connect him to the wall. It allows him a certain degree of movement, but it doesn’t allow him to reach the pile of ashes.”

Beaks looked away and began to say:

"That's…"

Graves's face contorted a little, perhaps because he feared he did wrong. With some apprehension the hawk asked:

"Have I exceeded myself?"

Beaks quickly looked back at the hawk smiling broadly and rushed to reply:

"No, on the contrary. It’s magnificent! It’s like putting salt on the wound. It may have had a strong effect on the boy’s mind. I’ll have to evaluate him first, but... it could be that Huey is already... prepared enough to get him out of here.”

Something that seemed to be hope flashed in the falcon's eyes, and with some excitement, asked:

"Does that mean...?"

The Waddle’s CEO nodded and replied:

"Yes, your work would be over. You could go. But I'll say that after studying the boy and his way of reacting to me."

Graves nodded at the gray parrot's last words. Then concluded the conversation:

"Okay, I get it. Do what you’ve to do then. I will get out of boy’s sight."

Beaks nodded one last time saying:

"Yes, I'll take care of everything from now. But before... one last question."

Graves raised an eyebrow, a gesture that Beaks took as an opening to continue talking, so he asked:

"What else have you done to the boy dressed as Gizmoduck?"

Graves's eyes widened in surprise and with slight nervousness, he began:

"I... uh..."

Beaks narrowed his eyes and in a moderately impatient voice urged the falcon to continue:

"Come on, tell me."

The larger bird sighed and then replied:

"I took the food to him, but leave it too far away from him for him to take it."

Beaks was shocked for a few moments. Falcon seemed to have taken his orders seriously. When the gray parrot regained the speak ability, simply said:

"Oh Graves, that’s cold."

Graves sighed again and speaking tensely responded to that comment:

"You told me to save the worst deals for the boy for when he dressed up as Gizmoduck, and this is what I came up with."

It seemed as if Graves believed he went too far doing this. But actually, each of those actions the Falcon had taken against the red-dressed triplet was like music to Beaks's ears. It was just… magnificent, and this was stated by the Waddle’s CEO saying:

"No, it’s okay. I'm looking forward to seeing how that has affected him."

Those words seemed to reassure the hawk, who speaking calmly than before said:

"So, I guess it means I'm leaving now."

Beaks responded:

"Yes, we’ll talk later."

After say that, Graves walked down the hall, disappearing from view. Beaks for his part inhaled and exhaled the joyfully. Everything seemed to be turning out even better than he had expected. Mark headed towards where Huey was locked up. It was time to evaluate Falcon's work in this new process’ phase.

When he reached the door, he stopped for a moment. Before entering, he’d to put on his “concerned mask" that boy. When he thought he was ready, frowned and threw open the door to the room.

Inside the little room, he found Huey, half incorporated with a deep fearful expression on his face. The boy had probably been sleeping, or at least trying to. But upon hearing the door open, he soon sat up, scared of what might happen to him now.

The boy's frightened face reflected slight confusion when saw it was Mark and not Graves who appeared. Beaks saw immediately that as the hawk had told him, the duckling had hoops on his wrists. These cuffs were connected with chains to the wall behind him. And there, there was a pile of ashes that Beaks assumed was what was left of the boy's cap.

As Falcon had said, the chains that limited the boy's movements didn’t allow him to reach the pile of ashes, allowing the boy to have a clear view of them, but couldn’t pick them up, push them away or scatter them. It was like a constant reminder of what he’d lost. Something truly cruel... fantastic!

Beaks plunged into his paper and after a sharp inhalation, cried in anguish:

"Huey? My poor boy! What have they done to you?!”

The fear that until then had adorned Huey's face disappeared and was replaced by relief. That pleased the gray parrot, it pleased him very much. It really seemed that the duckling saw him as his savior. Someone he could trust. Someone who’d rid him of torment... perfect!

Beaks suppressed a smile. He couldn't allow the boy to see through his facade. Instead, the Waddle’s CEO knelt at the red-dressed duckling side and took out the key that Graves had given him just before 'disappearing'. He removed the handcuffs to the boy. Once free, the duckling looked at him with tears in his eyes and immediately, threw himself into Beaks’ arms. He was crying and trembling.

Mark was momentarily surprised by that action. But honestly, it was exactly what he wanted. The gray parrot smiled cruelly as he hugged the boy back. Huey naturally didn't see it. Thinking about what the boy had just done, Beaks realized that if the duckling had no qualms about hugging him and seeking solace in him, that might mean that he trusted him or at least tolerated him enough to want Beaks’ help.

Maybe it was a bit early to assume it, but it could be that Huey was ready to go back to Duckburg... yes, of course. Why not? There was a way to check whether or not the boy was ready to go. The gray parrot rose from the ground, carrying the kid with him. Huey hugged Beaks tightly. He seemed to not want to be separated from him. This was the exact results he wanted!

The gray parrot, like last time, first brought the boy to the bathroom for the boy to groom himself. Once there, Huey was reluctant to enter alone. He only agreed to do so when Beaks agreed to speak to him through the door the entire time the duckling was grooming.

At lunchtime something similar happened. Huey ate. But he constantly looked at Beaks, just to make sure the parrot was still there. That he hadn't abandoned him. Beaks made mental notes of everything thinking to add it later to his progress sheet.

When Huey finally finished eating, Beaks led him to the same room that he had occupied the last time he was there. Upon entering that room, Mark gently led Huey to the desk and motioned for him to sit in the chair. The Waddle’s CEO bent down to be at the duckling's eye level and speaking worriedly (in his modest opinion, quite realistic), asked:

"Tell me Huey, what happened?"

Huey deliberately looked away, remaining stubbornly silent. Slightly annoyed, the gray parrot tried again:

"Come on Huey, I can't help you if you don't tell me."

The boy closed his eyes and speaking in a trembling voice said:

"It... it was Graves..."

Mark feigned surprise asking almost instantly:

"Graves?"

The boy nodded and continued explaining:

"Yes, I-I... I don't know why he did it... but suddenly he appeared d-dressed like Uncle Donald and-and-"

The boy stopped talking and started shaking again. His eyes were still closed, so he couldn't see the satisfied face that Beaks had, although the Waddle’s CEO knew he had to be careful. He couldn't allow the boy see him rejoicing in his pain. It would ruin everything. So, the gray parrot cleared his throat and feigning be worried, asked:

"What’s up, Huey?"

Huey visibly cringed and after trying to speak several times, finally managed to answer:

"He locked me up again in that- that-"

"That place." Beaks concluded.

The older triplet opened his eyes and nodded. It was clear that he was going to cry at any moment.

Well, it was time to take a risk. Taking a breath, the parrot asked:

"And why did your uncle take you there?"

Huey's head quickly turned to look at Beaks, and speaking surprisedly, said:

"M-my uncle? No… it wasn't him… it was… Graves…”

Oh man… Huey could still clearly discern difference between his employee and his family. It was clear that the boy needed more time for his mind to get confused enough that he would no longer see a difference between either. Trying to hide his disappointment at that fact, the parrot hastened to say:

"Yeah, sorry, my bad. *cough, cough* Why did he lock you up?"

Huey lowered his head and tremblingly explained:

"H-he said it was where someone l-like me deserved to be."

"What?!" Beaks exclaimed, feigning deep surprise (super realistic reaction by the way).

The duckling closed his eyes and weakly said:

"That w-was what he said… and then..."

"What else has happened?" Mark asked again in an alarmed tone.

The boy trembled again and answered the question explaining:

"He... he came to see me... in costume and every time he came... he... he..."

"Has hurt you?" asked the parrot with feigned concern when saw that the boy was again silent and unable to finish his sentence.

At the question, Huey nodded and replied:

"With his words..."

Mark narrowed his eyes. He knew that the boy hadn’t told everything. But he also seemed to need a push to finish telling what had happened. So, after clearing his throat again, Beaks asked:

"Is there something else?"

Huey's trembling worsened and Beaks realized that his breathing had quickened. Beaks was about to ask but before he could do it Huey spoke up first:

"Yes... but I... no... I don't want-"

Beaks sighed and explained:

"Huey, it isn’t good that you keep those things for yourself. Come on, tell me."

The older triplet inhaled and exhaled several times, probably to calm his nerves, and finally replied:

"Graves disguised himself as Gizmoduck and burned my cap."

"He did this?" Beaks asked in a shocked voice.

The Waddle’s CEO saw the boy nod at the same time as there were tears streaming down his face, despite his closed eyes, magnificent!

He hugged the trembling duckling, Beaks spoke tenderly:

"Oh, my poor boy… I'm sorry this happened to you. But, are you sure it really was Graves?"

Huey's eyes widened and he answered almost immediately:

"Y-yes it was him." then he looked away and sounding less convinced, added:

"It can't be anyone else..."

Arching an eyebrow, the gray parrot asked:

"Are you sure about that?"

The boy didn’t answer, his gaze fell on the ground. It was as if he was internally debating with the possibility that it wasn’t really Graves who was responsible for all the damage that had been done to him. Maybe… maybe the boy was ready to go back to Duckburg. Beaks decided then to do the final test:

"Huey... I think there is a way to... prevent this from happening again," he said to the boy. The duckling immediately looked up at the parrot with hopeful eyes while asking:

"R-Really?"

"Yes." replied the CEO.

The shadow of a smile began to form on Huey's features and then he asked:

"How? How could you prevent this from happening again?”

Beaks smiled widely, if he could get what he wanted, the boy would be his forever. So, he said:

"We can avoid it if you do something for me."

Speaking excited, the duckling asked:

"What... what do I have to do?"

Smiling more than before, Beaks began to say:

"You just have to..." he took out a document and a pen and handing them to Huey concluded:

"Sign this contract."

He put the contract on the table and handed the pen to Huey. The duckling took the utensil and slowly and shakily brought it closer to the paper, only stopping an inch or two from it.

"Come on, just a signature," encouraged the Waddle’s CEO anxiously.

The tip of the pen moved a little closer to the paper, but suddenly, Beaks saw Huey’s eyes open momentarily before closing as the boy said:

"I... I c-can't-"

"Why not?!" Mark suddenly yelled angrily. Huey immediately opened his eyes and looking at the gray parrot with deep fear, he tried to explain himself:

"I-I'm sorry... b-but legally only Uncle Donald could sign it."

Beaks straightened up and closing his eyes took several deep breaths to calm his momentary fit of anger. He couldn't show anger at the boy. Not yet! Before he had to get the boy to be a submissive servant, a slave who wouldn’t dare to disobey him, and it was clear that he hadn’t yet achieved that goal. He had to be... patient, even if it was almost impossible for him.

Opening his eyes again, the Waddle’s CEO looked at the boy sadly and tried to calm him explaining:

"I'm sorry to have yelled at you Huey. I have had... a very stressful day, and what you’ve told me about what they have done to you has left me... very puzzled. I just wanted... to free you, to get you out of this situation forever. This contract will put you under my protection and protect you from them.”

Mark deliberately used plural terminology to further confuse the boy. He wanted Huey to believe that his family was responsible of his torture, not Graves.

Still trembling slightly, but calmer than before, the duckling began to say:

"I know but-"

The duckling couldn’t finish because at that moment a loud alarm started to sound.

********************************************

Wow, welp, have you realized what I was talking about? If you think you know, you can write it on your reviews. Also, Beaks is really manipulative, trying to make the poor boy not trust himself about it was Graves who tortured him. Beaks is a real monster. And he was so close to get his plan succeed… thankfully Huey didn’t sign the contract. Can you imagine why couldn’t he sign the paper? I’ll be glad to hear your thoughts about it… about everything of this chapter. Also, what has activated the alarm? And what will Beaks do from now?

Okay, after say that, I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I also would like to thank to all the people who’d read this story, the ones who commented, those who reblogged it and: @mysteriouswriter72 @elianemariane17 @araminakilla20 @hakuneki07 @i-cant-find-any-creative-name @gizmovi @some-dum-wizard-bitch @infamousquack @margaretnobbs @alphatheplant @sugerheart @squackcrowquack @nsbfenro @marshmeadow12 @ohgeeeznotagain @constellations1 @isabellanajera @you-big-palooka @deathcat003 @dragonsareawesome123 @via15 @wellshit333 @ninjawarrior100 @your-salty-dorito @rowan-npg @thesuperepicawesomefireninja @duckworth-is-love @worldsbesteagle @shaz231 @cherriesandpoison @softlemonboi @rosebu-uds @mulaneysnl @ihavenonamehalp @drummergirl231 @narnour-momo-007 @via15 @trash-queen-fahey @gamerfansims389 @lesbianz4glomgoldje @jessie-00 @maclove54north @northofanvi @maditheanimaniacuwu

And if I’ve forgot someone, I’m sorry

See you in the next chapter 😉

#ducktales 2017 #War for Genius #mark beaks #falcon graves #Huey Duck

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helaintoloki · 5 years

Text

Season of the Witch | Michael Langdon

chapter nine: The Seven Wonders

masterlist

pairing: Michael Langdon x witch!reader

warnings: language, angst, violence, graphic descriptions, adult content, deception, toxic relationships, abuse, death, witchcraft, satanism and all that other good ahs stuff

notes: updated this sooner than I expected oops. This chapter is also much lengthier than usual

“Darling, what ever are you doing?” Myrtle asks as she barges into y/n’s room announced. The startled witch fumbles the tiny glass vile in her hands before quickly shutting it away in her jewelry box.

“Nothing!” She splutters, eyes wide and heart beating rapidly like a culprit caught on the scene. Myrtle simply sighs and ignores y/n’s erratic behavior.

“Cordelia requests that you stop by her quarters immediately to discuss important matters.”

“Yes Miss Myrtle,” y/n nods, then hesitates. “Miss Myrtle... have you ever been in love with someone that you could never have?”

“Oh, darling, of course not. I can have any man I want,” Myrtle smiles humbly, though she is anything but.

“Yes but... well, have you ever had to choose between the Coven and-“

“A man? No,” Myrtle scoffs. “The Coven comes first. Always. Every witch knows this, and I’d hope you know it.”

“I do-“

“Because you’re a very promising witch, one of the most talented girls I’ve ever seen. And I’d hate for you to throw that all away for a pair of green eyes.”

“His eyes are blue-“ y/n corrects, not yet realizing her slip up until it’s much too late.

“So my suspicions were correct,” Myrtle sighs, sitting down on the edge of y/n’s bed and patting the spot beside her. The young witch wordlessly moves beside Myrtle, but chooses to instead curl up into a ball and rest her head against the woman’s lap, much like she would do as a child. “I’ve felt the conflict in you, my dear. Felt your hesitation, felt the way your heart seems to skip a beat when that boy is near. You’re in love.”

“I concocted a potion,” y/n murmurs, eyes closing shut as Myrtle soothingly strokes her hair. “A Constriction spell. His powers will weaken, he’ll feel sick, any magic will be too much for him. He won’t pass the test.”

“My poor child,” she coos, watching y/n’s tears silently slide down her cheeks and onto the smooth fabric of Myrtle’s dress. “I’m sorry your first love has brought you so much heartache.”

“I can find someone else,” y/n says, looking up at Myrtle, “but I can’t find another coven.”

Myrtle smiles, cards her fingers through the young witch’s hair, and hums a gentle tune to soothe her heart.

“Are you going to tell my mother?” Y/N asks.

“Y/N/N, I wouldn’t tell her even if it meant I could never wear another Dolce and Gabbana dress ever again.”

~~~

“You asked to see me?”

“Yes, come in,” Cordelia smiles, watching her daughter enter and gently shut the bedroom door behind her. “Sit down.”

Y/N does as she’s told, sitting in front of her weakened mother. She looks tired, frail, and serves as a reminder of why giving Michael the potion is so important.

“How are you feeling?” Y/N asks gently, grabbing hold of Cordelia’s hand in search of comfort in knowing her mother is still here, still alive. Michael’s voice rings in her head, and she shivers.

Cordelia Goode will be nothing but a pile of ash.

“About the same,” Cordelia smiles gently, moving a piece of hair away from y/n’s face. “But it won’t be that way for much longer. Michael’s test is approaching, and when he rises, I will fall.”

“Mom, don’t say that-“ she begins to protest, but Cordelia simply shakes her head.

“I know it isn’t what you wish to hear but it’s the truth. If not Michael then someone else. I am fading, and I need you to be ready for when I’m gone.”

“How can you be so calm?!” Y/N cries, tears welling up quickly. “You’re dying! And instead of trying to fight back, instead of trying to live you’re giving up!”

“Y/N,” Cordelia says sternly, and she settles. “We can’t defy the laws of the coven. My mother faded so I could rise, and now I must do the same. It’s law. But you won’t be alone, my love. You’ll have your sisters, you’ll have Myrtle. You’ll have Michael.”

“But I want you,” y/n sniffles, and falls into Cordelia’s arms as she begins to sob. “You’re the reason I have this coven in the first place.”

“And you’ll be the reason this coven continues to grow and thrive. I’ll be gone, but you, y/n, will still be here to help guide your sisters.”

“I’ll miss you,” she whispers shakily, clinging tightly to her mother.

“I’ll be with you,” Cordelia whispers into her hair, “always.”

~~~

“Michael?” Her voice calls from outside of his bedroom door, and he smirks.

“Come in,” he calls innocently, perfectly playing the part of the good little warlock she thinks he is. He doesn’t bother turning around as the door opens and she enters, too busy pretending to adjust the collar of his uniform.

“Hi,” y/n calls shyly, shutting the door gently behind her. “I left Binx outside. I know you don’t exactly enjoy his presence, and I wouldn’t want to throw you off in any way on such an important day.”

“You’re too kind,” Michael smiles, finally turning to face the witch. In her trembling hands rests a small slice of cake, wrapped neatly in cellophane. “What’s this?”

“An apology,” y/n smiles sheepishly, “and a good luck gift for your test. I baked it myself.”

The cake is chocolate devil’s food cake coated in purple frosting and dusted with glittered black sprinkles. He can smell the sweetness of it, can taste the chocolate on his tongue, taste the potion mixed into the once white frosting.

He’d found the remnants of her little concoction left behind in her haste and easily uncovered its purpose. The little bitch was trying to poison him, and it excited Michael, knowing there was a darkness to her, a motive, a selfishness buried underneath the innocent persona she showed off to the world. He saw her slip up as an amateur move, but viewed the attempt as something to play with. Once Michael claimed his title as the alpha he’d easily be able to cage her in his grasp. And he’d suffocate her, remold and reshape her, redesign her into his perfect match: a woman both evil and sinister. And when that was done? Well, there’d be no stopping him then. A powerful man with an almost equally powerful woman by his side? They’d reign hellfire together, and that was the plan, wasn’t it?

“Oh, y/n, you shouldn’t have,” Michael coos, taking the offering with one hand and grabbing hold of her own with the other. “You didn’t need to make a cake for me to forgive you, silly.”

“I know,” she smiles nervously, hands clammy in his own as she delivers the undeserved apology. “But I’d like to be in good company with our new supreme.”

The two are playing a game of cat and mouse, tip toeing around one another as they test the waters, test their limits. Miss Mouse thinks she’s in charge, that she’s the cat waiting to pounce on her prey. If only Miss Mouse could see she’s dangerously close to the cat’s snapping jaws.

“I have to pass the test first,” Michael sighs, a hint of false insecurity laced in his voice. Miss Mouse takes the bait.

“You will,” she affirms. “Eat the cake. I added an incantation to it as it baked. For good luck.”

“If you insist,” Michael says, carefully removing the cellophane before picking up the slice with his bare hand and taking a generous bite. Y/N licks her lips in anticipation, watching him devour her craft. Crumbs fall with each bite and frosting stains the corners of his mouth, but Michael slowly runs his tongue along his lips and savors every bite.

“You’re very talented,” he says, and she smiles absently.

“Oh, it was nothing,” she murmurs, wringing her hands together as he finishes the last of it.

~~~

“Guided by ancient tradition witches survive only if united under a strong, singular authority. Every generation needs its leader, The Supreme. No simple test could ever determine the sovereign among us. We rely on seven.”

“The ‘Seven Wonders.’ Seven Acts of magic so advanced each pushes the boundaries of craft into art.”

Telekinesis

Y/N does not feel an ounce of worry in her bones as Michael summons the horse whip. Telekinesis is an easy feat, achieved by any low leveled witch or warlock. She’d mastered the ability at only three months, reaching for dropped toys and bottles. Constriction spell or not, such a power was achievable. So when Michael sent an innocent smile her way y/n had no trouble returning it, although she didn’t miss the way Myrtle glanced disapprovingly at the two.

Concilium

Her stomach churns slightly, but y/n does not yet sink into her worry as she watches Zoe and Madison waltz. He smiles, whip keeping time as he guides their fluid movements. It’s almost beautiful, their dance, but it makes y/n nervous. The potion should be in effect by now, yet he does not show any signs of struggle or difficulty. The smugness on his face shows the exact opposite in fact, and as she watches her sisters waltz her bottom lip begins to bleed, tired from being worried between her teeth.

Transmutation

Y/N spots him hiding behind the stalks of wheat easily, and silently approaches from the rear. The hay doesn’t crunch underneath her feet, nor do her bracelets clink or jingle as she reaches out to tap his shoulder. But with a puff of smoke he’s gone, and she jumps at the light pat on her shoulder. He stands behind her now, beaming like a child would to their mother for a deed well done. Y/N can only muster a weak smile in return, swallowing nervously as the taste of defeat begins to coat her tastebuds. Why isn’t it working?!

Divination

Y/N watches from the sidelines, leaning against one of the wooden beams holding the barn together. Michael approaches her slowly, lifts her off the ground with the flick of his wrist, retrieves the pocket watch from underneath her, then gently sets her back down with a wink. God damn show off.

Pyrokinesis

Michael only grows stronger with each test, and as he slits his open palm y/n turns away in disgust. She is not repulsed by the blood nor at the boy himself, but at her failure. She did everything she was supposed to do, everything the spell book said to. Yet Michael continued to pass each test with flying colors, and y/n only seemed to grow sicker while her mother grew weaker. She was failing.

Vitalum Vitalis

Y/N had found the same rat she’d created during her first in depth encounter with Michael. The poor thing had died out in the cold, pathetically covered by the hay. Her caring hands delicately rest the creature in Michael’s open palms, and she ignores his piercing gaze as he observes her.

She watches as his plush lips mold into an o shape, gently blowing life into the lifeless creature. It only takes seconds before the animal is alive and scrambling out of his grasp. Y/N watches horrified as Binx chases after the rodent, and hits the ground just before her feline sinks his teeth into the rat’s neck.

Descensum

Y/N sits in a wooden chair and watches Michael’s preparation for his descent into hell. She’d been out for five minutes, and it would’ve been longer if not for Michael using his magic to wake her.

She’s scared now. The potion was meant to stop him early on in the game, and if it decides to work now he’ll be gone forever. And it will be her fault.

He approaches her carefully, a warm hand pressing gently against her cool cheek. The single tear that drops from her eye tickles his fingers. Y/N isn’t sure who the tear is for: Cordelia, Michael, herself, or maybe all three.

“Wish me luck,” he smiles smugly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Oh, get on with it already,” Myrtle scoffs, and Michael only smirks before taking his spot on the ground.

“Good luck,” y/n whispers, watching as his blue eyes shut close and his soul descends into hell, descends back home.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

tag list: @ticklish-leafy-plant @gx-nji @anacerta @bluebirdbts @heda-mikaelson @redlovett @fuck-yeah-bruno-buccerati @ateliefloresdaprimavera @quechulitaaa @theeonlyroman @hecohansen31 @frenchzodiacgirl @michaelsapostle @spider-stud

#american horror story #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x witch!reader #michael langdon fic #ahs fic #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #cordelia goode #season of the witch

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theshatteredrose · 4 years

Text

Turquoise Lotus Father (Treasure Seekers 2) - Chapter 18 - Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction

AN: Somewhat early update this week; got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow which will take a few hours. Health taking a turn again because that’s what’s 2020 is about, apparently. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet

Chapter 18:

Night-time in the labyrinth was a lot brighter than Drayce had originally thought. The light from the half-moon filtered through the thick canopy with surprising ease. Thought nowhere near as bright as the daylight, he could see a few feet in front of him.

He, however, wished his had his coat with him. The labyrinth was rather cold at night.

He also wished that he didn’t have his wrists tied tightly behind his back. His arms were starting to ache from the unnatural positioning, and his wrists were becoming itchy and sore. Unfortunately, under his current circumstances, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Despite the discomfort and mild pain, Drayce still fidgeted and tugged as his wrists. They were currently in a small opening, Drayce along with Tokala and Runihura were forced to sit on the ground while Keane did another quick survey of the area.

They seemed to be heading in a north-westerly direction. Of course, he couldn’t be completely sure. It was hard to keep track of his surroundings with Keane grabbing him at random and dragging him around. And the lush greenery around them was the same. But his inner compass or maybe just inner knowing told him that they were heading toward the upper left-hand corner of the floor.

It was an area that he hadn’t had a chance to inspect himself. So, he had no idea what he was being forced into.

Drayce winced as a sharp pain raced up his arm. His wrists were really starting to hurt. The coarse rope tied around them was not remotely comfortable. He needed to stop fidgeting. Injuring his wrists further wasn’t going to do him any good.

He turned to his left were Runihura sat, leaned against the base of a tree. He was doing a good job at hiding his pain, but Drayce knew that he was in the need of a healer. And he needed one soon.

“Runihura, are you doing ok?” Drayce asked, genuinely concerned.

Runihura peeled open an eye to look tiredly at him. “…Managing.”

Drayce wasn’t sure how truthful that was. Still, there was little he could do otherwise. “Good. Stay with me, ok?”

A simple nod of the head from Runihura was the only response he got. He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes. He was getting weaker, wasn’t he…?

“Drayce?”

The soft murmur of his name caused Drayce to turn to his right where Tokala sat, huddled against his shoulder. “Do…do you think Salim is ok?”

Drayce’s gaze softened. He had to find a way to comfort him. Words were all he could do. “I bet he’s at the Crescentia right now. Fiorello will patch him up. I bet he’s as mad as shit right now, too.”

Not to mention Blayke. And Ashton, too.

He wondered how…worried Zohar was. Everyone else for that matter.

Though his wrists were also bound behind his back, Tokala pulled his legs to his chest. “I…like Salim. A lot.”

Drayce tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner. “Like?”

Tokala rested his chin on his knees. “He’s…more than a friend or brother to me.”

“Oh, I see.” Drayce wasn’t entirely sure what made Tokala tell him that, but he wasn’t going to stop him.

“But I don’t know how Salim feels about me, ya know?”

For the first time in what felt like hours, Drayce felt a smile twitched onto his lips. “Really? Hah, I’m more than certain that Salim cares for you greatly in return.”

Tokala lifted his chin from his knees to instead bury his face into them in a, well, defeated manner. “…We’re better off being just friends,” he murmured.

The small grin on Drayce’s lips immediately slipped away. His heart went out to the poor therian. He could only wonder what he was feeling. After seeing someone so dear to him get shot and then dragged into the labyrinth as a hostage?

Keane suddenly reappeared from the shadows and marched purposely into the small clearing.

“Up on your feet,” he ordered as he leaned down to snare Drayce’s arm and literally hauled him to his feet.

Though Keane’s touch unsettled him, Drayce didn’t fight back. It would do no good. He also noticed something; he appeared agitated. Were things not quite going to plan? Or were they taking longer than he would have liked?

Tokala was pulled to his feet by Bronson while Runihura struggled to stand, relying heavily on the tree for support. Keita stood nearby with a rather unreadable expression on his face as he watched Runihura move.

“Let’s move,” Keane ordered once again as he turned back in the direction he came and proceeded to pull Drayce with him.

They fell into a tense and rather terse silence. Only the sound of their feet against the soft grass could be heard. With Keane’s hold on his arm tight and constricting, Drayce could only allow himself to be pulled along. And attempt to concentrate on their surroundings.

When they turned a corner and toward a path that was surrounded by streams of water, and an archway made from a spiral tree root, a sense of familiarity appeared. He seemed to recognise this path. The unusual structure with the tree root, thin paths, and the pools of water was familiar to him.

If he remembered correctly, he had been here only once. And it was the furthest upper left-hand corner of the map. Well, so far.

As Keane roughly pulled him through the archway, everyone else promptly following, a sound of distress was heard. Drayce immediately looked behind him to find that Tokala had buckled forward, his ears folded back, and he desperately pulled at his arms.

“Hng…” Tokala uttered, seemingly through gritted teeth.

Despite Keane’s grip, Drayce turned around toward the therian. “What’s wrong?”

“M-my head,” Tokala replied, once again the words seemingly being ground out through gritted teeth.

Headache? This place?

It was the same place where Caelem noticed Tokala looking pale. Was there something here that was affecting him? Wait, Keane led them right here. Could that discomfort be somehow connected to the lotuses?

Keane unexpectedly released his hold on Drayce’s arm and the sudden release caused him to stumble forward slightly. But he didn’t make a break for it for obvious reasons; Tokala and Runihura were still hostages, and where exactly could he go? He doubted he would get very far with his wrists bound behind his back.

He did turn around to face the bandit leader, however.

As Keane reached into his jacket, he knelt down to the ground. He pulled out the parchment that he stole from Drayce and placed it on the ground. He then reached into his jacket a second time and Drayce knew that he was gathering the silver lotus tokens that were also stolen from him.

Sure enough, Keane revealed the three silver tokens.

Flattening the map onto the grass before him, Keane placed the three silver tokens within the centre of the map. The lotus symbols within the tokens began to glow, each a different colour; one a turquoise blue, one a crimson red, and the third a light violet. Each light pulsated once, twice, and a third time before the light abruptly faded.

A flurry of leaves and twigs suddenly burst forth from the thicket close to where they all stood. It was as if someone had taken a sharp blade or hatchet to the foliage in order to clear a pathway to the other side.

That was probably exactly what happened. Like how the Moon Legacy cleared a path for him on the floor below.

Quickly turning back to the map and tokens, Drayce was able to witness the tokens taking on a glowing red colour, as if burning from within.

That must have been exactly what had happened as the map abruptly began to darken before it burst into flames. The bright orange flames quickly engulfed the parchment and the tokens.

When the flames died down, there was nothing left but a small pile of ash. The map along with the tokens were gone. Their purpose had been fulfilled.

So that meant…

“Keep moving,” Keane briskly ordered as he grabbed Drayce’s arm again and tugged strongly, causing him to whirl around to face him, practically crashing against his chest. As he did, Keane sent him a conceited smirk. “We’re getting close now.”

Yeah, but to what? The Shining Lotus? Or the Cursed Blade?

As Keane fearlessly lead the way to the opening in the forest wall, gladly dragging Drayce with him, it looked as though that they all were going to find out soon enough!

Passing through the opening, they stepped into a surprisingly spacious clearing. Pools of water surrounded a narrow path that lead deeper in still. It honestly wasn’t something Drayce had expected. There was no obvious landmarks or signs of ruins. Nothing like the stone tomb-like structure that was hidden on the first floor.

They still had to do more searching, it seemed.

He couldn’t help but wonder about Keane’s motivations for all of this; What was he hoping to achieve from all of this? Why had Tokala been taken hostage? Why was he?

Hgn, there was just too many questions. And he didn’t have the time to find answers to them!

Tokala suddenly released a loud, pained scream. “S-stop it!”

Drayce whirled around in time to witness Tokala brazenly break his own bindings, only so he could clutch at his head with his hands. His ears flattened against his hair as he buckled forward. He then lurched forward abruptly, as if something had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward.

“T-Tokala?” Drayce murmured.

Keane, however, wasn’t surprised by Tokala’s reaction. Instead, a smug smirk twisted its way to his lips. “So, he is the one. How lucky are we to get you on the first go?”

“What’s going on? What’s happening to him?” Drayce demanded to know.

Keane chuckled lowly. “The Cursed Blade is calling him.”

“What?” Drayce’s heart dropped down into his stomach.

“N-no, stop it!” Tokala half screamed, half sobbed as he continued to lurch forward in a completely unnatural manner. “I don’t want it…I don’t want it…I don’t want it!”

As if prompted by Tokala’s scream, the trees around them shuddered violently.

In a truly ferocious explosion of leaves and branches, a column of blackish-green mist appeared from a thick grove of trees and foliage to the right of them. It spiral upwards in a violent twisting motion. The column grew in tighter and tighter until it moulded into a tall beam of energy.

With a sound that could only be described as crackling lightning, the mist dissipated. And in its place was a long, black blade.

Drayce drew in a sharp intake of air. “That’s…”

“The Cursed Blade.” Keane sounded manically joyful at that.

The blade floated in mid-air for a few very intense moments before it abruptly shot toward them. Handle first. And stopped directly in front of Tokala.

“N-no,” Tokala sobbed as his trembling hands reached toward the blade. Moving on their own accord.

He then wrapped his hands around the hilt of the blade and it fully rested in his hands.

No, Tokala…

“Heh, it’s time,” Keane murmured. “Tomlin, Bronson!”

“Yes!” Bronson replied and strode forward, while Tomlin stayed at the back, his coffins at the ready.

“I’ll get Crim to grab the blade,” the small necromancer stated. “Shithead, you restrain the kid.”

“Got it!”

Drayce could only watch as Tokala, with the Cursed Blade in his hands, whirled around to face them. His once vibrant brown eyes were dull and red. With tears rolling down his cheeks.

That tree-like wraith that Tomlin had pulled on Drayce a couple of times already appeared in front of Tokala while Bronson attempted to slip around the back of him. However, Tokala raised the Cursed Blade, and promptly brought it down into the wraith, effortlessly cutting it in half. He then pivoted on his heel so flawlessly, and slashed in Bronson’s direction.

Thankfully, the pugilist lurched himself backwards and avoided the blade by the sheer skin of his teeth.

For such a big guy, he had some sharp reflexes. Which was lucky for him!

Tomlin uttered a curse or two before he summoned two more tree-like wraiths. Only for Tokala to abruptly cut them down a mere second later.

The way that Tokala handled that blade was incredible. But he wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t a masurao. How could he wield is to effortlessly?

Unless…

Drayce’s eyes widened with fear when his gaze caught sight of a mass of bright blue. The sound of scurrying feet and the aggressive gnashing of pinchers soon followed.

Just their luck; a toxipede was drawn by the sounds of battle!

Drayce instinctively felt the need to yell out a warning to everyone involved, but especially Tokala as the massive insect was right behind him. However, before he could even form the words, Tokala wordlessly turned around, and with a single swing of the Cursed Blade; took the head off of the Toxipede.

A green, gooey like substance, likely that of the FOE’s blood, spurted into the air and spluttered messily on the surrounding area. None of it hit Tokala, however, and he lowered the Cursed Blade to his side just as the headless body of the toxipede crashed to the ground.

One single attack. It happened so quickly. A single, simple swing of the blade…

That…

“Shit,” Keane suddenly muttered. “That kid either knows how to use a sword, or…”

“Tokala!” Drayce couldn’t help but call out in alarm as the therian spun around to face them once more.

“I-I can’t stop!” Tokala managed to sob out as he took a purposeful step forward. “I can’t control it!”

“Yup, he’s being controlled,” Keane commented in a dry, deadpanned manner. “No matter, we’ll get the other one then.”

With a feeling that was a mix of fear and concern, Drayce spun around to face the other man. “You planned this?”

Keane peered at him from the corner of his eye before he turned his focus forward once more. “In a way. If you don’t know, according to legend, should the Cursed Blade be freed from its confinement it will go to endless lengths to hunt down and destroy the Shining Lotus. For destroying the Shining Lotus will grant the Cursed Blade even greater powers.”

So, he knew all along!

Panic appeared in Drayce’s chest. “No…We can’t let a sword like that into idle hands! Don’t you know how much damage it could do? The Shining Lotus is the only blade in existence that can defeat it. If it’s destroyed…”

Keane continued to stare forward, his expression tight and terse. “…It’ll make things more interesting around here.”

Drayce could only glare at the other dragoon before he whipped back around to focus in on Tokala. He was surrounded by tree-wraiths once more, three of them to be precise. And their long spinney arms and grabby hands were all attempting to snatch away the Cursed Blade.

But in one effortless, fluid motion, Tokala struck them all down.

If Keane was right, then it was pointless even trying to take the Cursed Blade away from Tokala. Nothing would stand in his way. Rather, stand in the way of the Cursed Blade itself.

Tokala was suddenly directly in front of Tomlin. The Cursed Blade raised above his head, ready to strike.

Out of pure reflex, Tomlin raised his coffins in front of him to act as a shield. They offered the barest of protection and resistance, however. The blade cut through them both so easy. Honestly, it looked as though those coffins were made from nothing but paper.

With his coffins practically disintegrating before him, Tomlin promptly fell down to one knee. His raised his hand to cover him mouth as he coughed harshly. Despite his hand against his mouth, splatters of blood were seen escaping through his fingers.

He was coughing up blood!

W-wait…wait a second. Shashi told him something super important about the Cursed Blade. Ugh, what was it?!

“Tch,” Keane growled out as he summoned three Decoy Shields in quick succession and barked an order toward Bronson. “Get him out of the way!”

“R-right!” Bronson stuttered as he leapt to his feet. He darted forward and behind the row of Decoy Shields. He managed to stay on task even as said shields were systematically destroyed around him.

Quickly scooping small Tomlin into his large arms, Bronson picked him up and carted him off, putting as much distance between him and Tokala.

Bronson somehow managed to get away without injury. But Tomlin…he was limp in Bronson’s arms. Almost lifeless as blood seeped from his mouth.

He…wasn’t in good shape.

“This is annoying,” Keane hissed as he summoned more shields to distract Tokala. “Where’s that fucking blade already?”

Well, maybe he should have figured that out before he summoned the Cursed Blade!

“P-please, someone stop me!” Tokala sobbed as more tears rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else!”

“What we do now, Boss?” Keita asked, promptly reminding everywhere that he was still there. Drayce honestly forgot about him. And Runihura!

“Distract the idiot,” Keane snapped in response.

Keita immediately paled at the thought. “B-but…”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Ah, Drayce remembered what it was that Shashi told him!

“Wait!” Drayce abruptly interrupted, prompting Keita to jump in surprise while Keane simply turned toward him. “Don’t interact with the blade!”

Keane raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“It’s capable of inflecting a dangerous toxin on those who come into contact with it, even if that contact is another weapon or shield,” Drayce explained. “That’s why it was hidden.”

And Tomlin seemed to be infected by that toxin. It worked so quickly. No, it worked immediately. How potent was it? Was there a cure for it?

Once more, Keane’s expression darkened as he turned his focus forward. “…This complicates matters.”

Drayce’s Decoy Shields could also offer as a distraction for Tokala, or rather the Cursed Blade. But how was he going to get said blade away from Tokala? Not to mention, seal it away again without anyone else getting hurt.

Or potentially killed…

“Tokala!”

Wait, that voice…

Tokala’s widen in recognition as he turned in the direction of the voice. “S-Sal?” he stuttered before an expression of utter fear appeared on his face. “N-no, don’t come near me!”

“Drayce!”

And that was Blayke! The others…they found him!

But…was it too late?

#Etrian Odyssey #etrian odyssey 5 #fanfiction #turquoise lotus father #the treasure seeker #Angelward Guild

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nitewrighter · 5 years

Text

Zen and the Art of Hovercycle Maintenance (Part 2)

Read Part 1 Here

----

“So you lost him,” said Genji, pressing his hands together in front of himself. His image on the collapsible table screen warped slightly and Jack glanced up at Junkrat, holding a makeshift antennae to allow for vidcom communication over his head.

“Not... lost,” said Jack, “We should know where he is as soon as he comes online.”

“If he comes online,” said Genji. Jack could feel the glare from behind his visor.

“He transcended as soon as the explosion happened,” said Jack, “McCree’s searching the bottom of the gorge right now and we’ll be joining him as soon as Orisa’s patched up. We were just calling you in case...”

“In case...?” Genji tilted his head.

“In...case you might have anything on you that might narrow our search,” Jack said a little sheepishly.

“Jack, I--” Genji started but was cut off by the sound of pulsefire.

“Genji, any time you could join us would be nice!” Tracer could be heard offscreen as more pulsefire sounded in the background.

“Give me another minute!” Genji shouted back before turning his attention back to the vidcom, “To answer your question, no. I don’t have anything. We don’t keep track of each other like that. He’s not a mission partner, Jack, he’s my teacher. You know I had my misgivings about this mission as soon as I heard Torbjörn and Junkrat were on it--”

“We’re spread thin and we needed a medic--” Jack started.

“And I took your word on that,” said Genji, “And now he’s missing.”

“Admittedly, the only reason I brought him along was because Zhou’s performance proved that you didn’t necessarily need military training to keep up with our current strike teams,” said Jack, stiffly.

“You didn’t think he could do it,” said Genji, “...at least not like Angela or Captain Amari could do it.”

“We didn’t anticipate medical assistance would be that needed,” said Jack.

“So you brought him around for what? So he wouldn’t feel left out?” said Genji.

“We still need a medic, it’s protocol!” said Jack.

“Genji!” Tracer could be heard offscreen again.

“30 seconds!” Genji shouted back.

“Did you think he could do it?” Jack fired back, “When you brought him on board with us, when you and he agreed that he could help out on field missions, did you really think he could handle everything Talon or anyone else could throw at us? Or did you just need him around because you weren’t sure of yourself?”

Genji visibly flinched at his words. “I--” he started but was cut off by more pulsefire in the background.

“Genji!” Angela’s voice could be heard this time, “We need you flanking!”

“You don’t have time for this,” said Jack.

“Update me as soon as possible. Shimada out,” said Genji, clicking out of the comms channel.

The vidcom channel blipped to a blue screen and Jack huffed and massaged the bridge of his nose and the migraine that was just starting to bloom there with his thumb and forefinger.

“Do I still need to keep the antennae up?” asked Junkrat.

“No,” said Jack rising to his feet and squinting in the dry desert wind, “Let’s just get back to searching.”

---

Zen’s gyroscopics were completely out of whack as his vision flickered back on. Immediately he realized he was no longer under the baking sun of the southwest, but rather, in a large, somewhat grubby but well-kept workshop—maybe a garage? A bunker? A massive mechanical hand passed in front of his face and he nearly flinched but then realized his body wasn’t responding enough to him to flinch.Two omnics were stooped over him, one a hulking yet polished multi-use unit donning a fur-collared leather vest and derby hat, and the other a basic laborer unit that had clearly heavily self-modified with yellow and blue visual receptors and a green hood.

Zen’s vision cut out again.

“Oh whoop,” said one, he couldn’t tell which with his orientation still malfunctioning and his vision off, then it flickered back.

“Sorry about that,” said the Omnic with yellow and blue eyes, tweaking at something below Zen’s neck.

“I-I-I-I” Zenyatta’s voice was caught in a loop.

“Hang in there, I got this,” said the skinnier omnic. Zen felt the pressure and brief shock of wires connecting and then being wrapped up in insulating tape, then his voice seemed to return to him.

“Where am I?” he said, trying to move his head but finding even his neck unresponsive.

“Somewhere safe,” said the skinny omnic, “We found you at the bottom of the gorge… y’know, most units with your make would be bricked by that kind of fall.”

“I am not like most units,” said Zenyatta. He tried to move again. The larger Omnic, who was working on Zen’s shoulder, glanced up and made a hand waving motion while shaking his head.

“Don’t try to move just yet. We had to shut down most motor functions to make most of the repairs,” said the skinny Omnic.

“And you know what you’re doing?” Zen tried to ask the question as respectfully as he could.

“More than most,” said the skinny omnic.

“Who are you?” asked Zenyatta.

“I’m Bars. He’s Bob,” said the skinny omnic.

“…Bob hasn’t said anything,” said Zen.

“Bob doesn’t say anything,” said Bars, “He gets his points across fine though.”

Bob started motioning with his hands then. ASL, Zen recognized it but hadn’t downloaded the language into his memory banks from the Iris. Most cochlear implant technology of their day had rendered the language pretty rare, but still Zen resolved to learn it. There were plenty of Omnics who opted for binary over organic languages as a point of pride and distinction, but the Shambali had prided themselves on being ambassadors, and thus had equipped themselves with countless organic languages. ASL was… an interesting choice, all things considered, but there was a gentleness in Bob’s motions as he signed, a strong sense of dignity and purpose of speech.

“Bob says the Boss will want to talk to you about how you got to the bottom of the gorge.”

Bob signed something a little more insistently and Bars moved his head in an exaggerated movement that imitated a human rolling his eyes. “You know I ain’t calling her that. She’s the Boss. Only you get to call her ‘Miss Ashe.’”

“Ashe!?” Zenyatta said the name in alarm. Bob turned around to grab a small screwdriver off of a nearby counter and Zenyatta saw the decal on the back of his vest: the words, ‘DEADLOCK REBELS, EST. 1978’ arching over a winged skull biting down on a padlock and chains.

“Yep!” Bars answered, apparently mistaking the shock in Zenyatta’s voice for excitement, “The Calamity herself! You’re real lucky we found you! You’re in the safest place in the Sonora!”

Oh I very much doubt that, thought Zen.

“You almost done, Bob?” said Bars.

Bob held up one finger in a ‘wait’ gesture, tightened a screw, then gave a thumbs-up.

“All right,” said Bars, “Restoring motor functions.”

Zen felt sensation flood back into his limbs and he pushed himself up off of the table he was splayed on. He circled his wrists and worked his fingers, finding them in suitable working order. He swung his legs over the side of the table.

“Take it slow,” said Bars, “Gyroscopics might not be 100%--”

Zen stumbled off the table and was caught by Bob.

“...calibrated,” said Bars.

“I---My thanks,” Zenyatta managed as Bob helped him up to his feet. Zenyatta glanced down at his feet, clanking awkwardly against the concrete of the workshop’s floor. The nine lights on Zenyatta’s forehead glowed brightly for a few moments before he perked up. “I cannot seem to access most holo-networks,” he said with conern.

“Oh yeah. Security measure. You need clearance for that,” said Bars.

“...may I have clearance?” asked Zenyatta.

“That’s up to the Boss,” said Bars.

Almost on cue the door swung open and an intimidating woman, all black and white and red and gold, stepped in. She gave a sharp look to both Bob and Bars and instantly they shuffled off to the side, practically fading into the background as she stepped toward Zen. She stared down Zen on that worktable, her winged-eyeliner framed eyes narrowing and her lips pursing, before her expression immediately softened (practically collapsed) and she suddenly seized Zen’s hand in her own.

“My friend, I cannot fathom what kinda hell you just went through for us to find you at the bottom of that gorge, but all I can say is thank God Almighty we did. How are you feelin’?”

Zenyatta was caught completely off-guard by the hospitality of the woman who, up to this point, Jesse McCree had described as ‘The most terrifying force of nature this side of the Rio Grande.’

“I... am well,” Zenyatta managed.

She released his hand, “Good to hear,” she said tilting the brim of her hat back with her thumb, “Well, sir--Can I call you sir?”

Sir??? Zenyatta was still trying to figure out how to adjust to the fact that this woman wouldn’t tear him apart and sell him for scrap with one look. “’There is no need for such formality. ‘Zen’ is fine,” said Zen.

“Well Zen,” said Ashe with a slight smile, “I don’t mean to intimidate ya, but I’m basically the law out in these parts, so I’m gonna need you to tell me how you ended up at the bottom of the gorge. It’s for security reasons, you understand. From what I gathered at the scene of the explosion, some punks calling themselves the ‘Sidewinders’ showed up and blew your convoy straight to hell-- but I’m gonna need you to tell your side of the story so we can... piece the whole picture together, as it were.”

“The whole picture?” said Zen.

“Yes, indeed,” said Ashe, leaning against the worktable next to him. She gave a low sharp whistle and Bars picked up an Orb of Destruction from the shelving behind him and tossed it to her. “Care telling me what this is? We found them scattered along the bottom of the gorge along with you. Figured they might belong to you,” she put the orb in Zen’s hand and that still-half-panicked part of him briefly considered using it, causing enough of a disruption to get out of there, but he knew he was outnumbered here and even if he transcended he wouldn’t get far. He realized he had taken too long to respond because Ashe spoke again.

“You’re still a bit shaken, I take it?” said Ashe.

“Y-yes,” Zen said, desperate to buy time while he came up with any possible excuse for what he was other than ‘I’m with Overwatch.’

“Probably a sensitive type,” Bars spoke up behind her, “Artsy-type omnics might take longer to process than Omnics like me or Bob, boss.”

Artsy? Zenyatta thought, and then he blurted out, “Yes! Art! Yes! The orb is.... art. It represents duality. Destruction and Harmony. We omnics exist at the cusp of that. The parts of a machine clicking together to form a greater whole as well as... destroying... things...”

“Guess the triplets were right, for once in their goddamn lives,” said Bars.

“Mm,” Ashe gave a nod before turning back to Zenyatta, “The scene showed signs of a scuffle. Pulsefire indents in the road.”

“Yes, the uhhh, the gang, the...”

“Sidewinders.”

“The Sidewinders were shooting. A lot.”

“Some indents show they came from your rig too,” said Ashe, folding her arms, “Now, ain’t no law against protecting yourself. If you have some ‘pacifist artsy’ reputation to maintain, ain’t no one’s gonna blame you for not letting yourself be a sitting duck on Route 66.”

She really does keep a close eye on these roads, doesn’t she? Zenyatta thought, almost panicking. “Yes. The rig was... equipped with...” Zenyatta’s mind was racing, “Hard-light drones. Of course, those dematerialize completely when they are destroyed, thus having no wreckage alongside the road.”

“Hard-light drones...” Ashe strolled around the room thoughtfully, “Pricey stuff, that Vishkar tech. You must be big stuff in the art world, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, I am... very famous,” said Zenyatta.

Bob seemed to perk up and started signing very eagerly, prompting a laugh from Ashe.

“Slow down, slow down, big guy!” said Ashe, knocking the side of her fist against Bob’s arm. She looked at Zenyatta. “Sorry, he’s excited. Bob’s a little starved for culture out here. I tell him he always was the classier one between us.”

Bob made an ‘Oh you,’ gesture with his hand before signing again.

“He says your work is beautiful,” said Ashe, picking up an orb of destruction.

“Oh... thank you,” said Zenyatta.

Bob continued signing.

“You can’t expect me to say all that--” Ashe started but Bob signed a gesture that was probably ‘Please?’ and Ashe huffed. “He says the intersection of---” she looked back at Bob who signed some more, “The intersection of contours and spherical symmetry evoke the astronomical, but the etchings seem almost religious--likely non-Western. Tibetan?”

“Oh--yes--that... that is what I was going for,” said Zenyatta, “It’s Nepali, actually. You have an excellent eye for art, my friend.”

Bob seemed to swell with pride.

“A famous artist.... I used to keep better track of all that,” Ashe was tossing the orb of destruction up and down in her hand with a sigh, “My folks were always throwin’ these galas and whatnot. More of an oil tycoon crowd than the avant-garde, though. Maybe if I went along with that life, we might have met under better circumstances,” she caught the orb, “But that’s the price of makin’ your own life, and choosing your own family.”

“I... still think the circumstances we’ve met under are fortunate,” said Zenyatta, “Your uh...Bob and his compatriot have done excellent repairs to me.”

“He’s really somethin’ ain’t he?” said Ashe, smiling at Bob.

“Yes, well,” Zenyatta tented his fingers a bit nervously, “If you have any more questions...”

“Not particularly,” said Ashe, “You’re welcome to stay and re-orient yourself as long as you need here, Bob can fix you up a glass of Glenwales--”

“I really must be going,” said Zenyatta, stumbling toward the door, “I still need to connect to your holonet to arrange my transportation.”

“The gang and I can drop you off,” said Ashe, “It’s the least we can do--”

“Thank you, but the... art gallery I was heading towards will probably be very concerned as to my whereabouts.”

“All right, suit yourself,” Ashe shrugged.

“I’ll... still need to connect to your holonet to get in contact with my friends,” said Zenyatta.

“Clearance code is Caledonia-9,” said Ashe.

Zenyatta focused briefly and made a chiming sound.

“My thanks--” He started but suddenly winced from loud feedback of this comm.

“Oh--sorry--Must be some residual damage from the fall--” Bars started but was cut off by the sound of McCree’s voice over the comm.

“It’s connected! He’s got a signal! Zen! Zen are you there? Tekharta Zenyatta are you alive?! It’s McCree! Zen, just ping me if you’re alive!”

“McCree?” Ashe’s face twisted and her red eyes flicked to Zen with fury.

“I--I can explain---” Zenyatta started.

“Bars,” Ashe said the name in command, her voice flat.

Zen barely managed to turn his head in Bars’ direction when felt something jam itself into his neck and suddenly electrical currents were running all over him. His limbs spasmed, and he saw Bars looking at him with that steady bicolored look before his vision cut out. The pain itself was only a brief burning metallic throb before unconsciousness swept over him once more.

---

Zenyatta wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he came to once more. Only this time he could tell all functions below his neck had been shut off. He glanced down to see that, as what was apparently an additional precaution, he was bolted into his seat by several semi-modified industrial clamps, like a vehicle held in place by a parking boot.

“Right,” Ashe’s voice was the first thing he heard when he came to, “Let’s start this again. And I think I should establish that I really, really do not appreciate being lied to.”

#bobyatta #tekharta zenyatta #bob overwatch

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cookieswriting · 5 years

Text

Make This Right Pt. 3 (SEAL Team)

Awareness returned to Clay in the form of flickering light across his eyelids, which stopped as soon as he started to shift. The movement spiked agony in his leg again, bringing back memories of where he was and why he was in so much pain. The blonde groaned, rolling his head for a moment to ensure he still had proper movement.

“You just can’t keep yourself out of trouble, can you GQ?” Sonny’s voice drifted down to him, and relief flooded Clay. Not only did Sonny’s snark mean his brothers were safe, he’d been found. Getting him out, though...probably a different story.

“Just trying to keep things interesting…” His voice drifted off as he remembered the fact that his team believed that he’d sold them out to his father. “The others okay?”

“The hostiles you warned us about moved on without seeing us, thank you, and the rest of the team continued with the mission while I came for your sorry ass. So...what’s the damage? Is that blood on your leg?”

“Yeah...compound fracture that...frankly is hurting a hell of a lot more than it did when I first fell,” Clay replied, easing himself into a sitting position and trying to get a look at his injury without pulling on it.

“Probably adrenaline wearing off, gotta hurt like hell. Stop moving so much, you might make it worse. Let me give the team an update and make sure they don’t need overwatch...don’t go wanderin’ off.” Clay ha-ha’d and watched the Texan duck out of view.

Once he was alone, Clay returned his attention to the blood caked onto his pant leg. With slightly shaky fingers, he reached down to pull the fabric away from his skin, and stars burst in his vision at the first tug. “Oooooh fuckfuckfuckfuck, don’t pass out, don’t pass out…” Not trying that again until the team gets him the hell out of his hellhole.

“If you really were this bad-ass SEAL capable of erasing my steps, you would’ve seen all of this coming, you know.”

Impossible. Not happening. I’m actually hallucinating...wonderful. Opening his eyes, Clay found his father sitting against the wall to his left, a smug grin on his face. “All of what, Ash?”

“The sabotage, the fact that your so-called brothers turned on you the second the news broke, hell, that damned hole in the floor. You think you are going to surpass me making bullshit mistakes like this? You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

Clay rolled his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be that lucky if I have to listen to you even when there is no possible way you’re here…”

“Don’t pretend that it matters whether or not I’m physically here, because even still I’m messing with your head, and that is what matters. Because regardless, you know it’s all true. You’re in this predicament right now because you weren’t paying attention to your own damn feet. This team doesn’t care about you the way you care about them...the way you need them.”

Clay shook his head, fighting the rise of nausea that had nothing to do with his pain. “Yeah, maybe I made a careless mistake because I was too worried about my team...maybe it’s got me fucked up that they don’t trust that I wouldn’t sell them out.” He was silent for a long moment, breathing through the pain and grief. “Even if you cost me everything...even if I lose the career I love and the only true family I’ve ever had, because you are more worried about your fucking money and fame...I won’t regret a second of my life as a SEAL. Because I got to learn what true SEALs look like...men who would die for one another, and men who would never jeopardize the integrity of their mission.”

Jason Hayes could not identify a time when he’d wanted to strangle one Ash Spenser more than having to listen to his youngest teammate lament the perceived loss of his team and his career. Not if I have anything to say about it.

“Four, you need to hurry the hell up and get down here. There should be room for everyone, might end up needing everyone...but the kid definitely needs you ASAP, Trent. He’s delusional...talking to me like I’m his father but eyes staring right through me.”

“Shit,” Bravo Four muttered in response, repelling down into the space next to the team leader. He tugged a glove off with his teeth and pressed the back of his hand to Clay’s forehead, which didn’t garner even the slightest response. “He’s burning up…” The medic shifted down towards their injured teammate’s leg, and the others carefully joined them in the tight space.

“I just don’t understand why, Dad...what did I do to make you want to ruin me?”

The question tore out Jason’s heart, made him imagine his own children asking something so vulnerable. With a growl, he grabbed Clay’s face with both hands and leaned in close. “Listen to me, Spenser...listen to my voice. Ash isn’t here. Bravo is here...your brothers are here. Do you understand me, kid? Clay, look at me!” Slowly, pained blue eyes focused on him, and Jason felt a glimmer of hope as Sonny and Brock landed. “That’s it, there he is...we’re not abandoning you, Clay. We’ve got your six, brother...out here and whatever it takes to get this bullshit with your father out of the way once we get home.” He looked up at Trent, whose face had gone pale and grim. “This is going to hurt like hell, but the team is all here, and we’re going to get you home. Do you understand me?” Clay slowly nodded, tears filling his eyes as reality seemed to finally sink back in.

“I’ve gotta pull the fabric away from his leg, and it’s not gonna be pretty. This’ll be safer for all of us if you each take a limb and hold him steady. If it’s a compound fracture, I’m going to have to set and splint it before we can move him,” Trent explained. “Not liking the idea of giving him morphine with the hallucinations.” The team deftly positioned themselves around their fallen brother, Sonny and Jason each bracing a shoulder while Brock took his uninjured leg and Ray offered the strap of his gun to Clay.

“Can’t help with the pain, brother, but this’ll help protect your teeth. Open up…” The blonde obeyed with a shaky breath, and bit down once it was in place.

Pained eyes turned to the team leader once more, and Jason couldn’t be sure if he was seeing Bravo One or his father again. “We’ve got you, Spense. You don’t need to be strong right now, let us take over from here brother.”

Clay watched him silently for a moment, breathing heavily through his nose, gaze seeming to pass in and out of focus, before he closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto Ray’s knees. He reached up to wrap his fingers around Sonny’s and Jason’s wrists. Bravo One clenched his jaw, sympathetic to his teammate’s impending agony, and nodded to Trent.

“I’m sorry, kid…” With quick and sure hands, the medic tore away the pant leg and yanked firmly on the bone, the resulting snap and barely-muffled scream sending Jason’s stomach rolling. The wounded man arched against the rest of the team, and Ray leaned over him murmuring a soft prayer. “Splint kit,” Trent called. Sonny handed over the requested supplies with one hand, maintaining pressure on Clay’s shoulder with the other. “I think the hallucination came from infection...where the bone broke through the skin is a mess; that combined with the fever...” He didn’t need to say anything further.

“Okay, then we need to get Goldilocks the hell outta Dodge and to a place that can give him the good drugs, so let’s get moving shall we?” Sonny demanded, squeezing Clay’s shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort.

#badthingshappenbingo part 3 #SEAL team fanfic #clay spenser whump #clay spenser #jason hayes #sonny quinn #trent sawyer #brock reynolds #ray perry

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artistic-writer · 5 years

Text

Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Chapter 10

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: 2 for 1 on story updates! Woo! This one is a bit shorter than the last, which was a monster compared to others, but I warn you, this chapter has lots of feels and a plot twist squeezed into its modest length. My chatbox is awaiting your yelling. Many thanks to my lovely beta, @kmomof4 who persuaded me that this would work as a CS fic in the first place.

I don’t think it would be a problem, but just in case, this chapter features graphic descriptions of extubation. Readers be advised.

Taglist: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @hollyethecurious @deathbycaptainswan @branlovesouat @delightfully-difficult-pirate @flipperbrain @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @doodlelolly0910

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“Stop it,” Killian grumbled, peeling one eye open to look at Emma. She smiled sweetly and watched the particles of dust flutter in the sunlight spreading itself across Killian's face. He squinted and rolled over onto his side with a groan, his face pressing itself into the cool, crisp pillow. Emma was laying on her front, propped up on her elbows, her entire body glowing in the daybreak sunlight as she laid beside him naked.

“Stop what?” Emma whispered, shuffling herself forward so she was closer to him. Killian could smell her and inhaled deeply with a yawn, savouring the way she invaded his senses with her familiar post-coital scent. Finally opening both eyes, Killian's gaze flicked over her body with a smirk, the smoothness of her behind absorbing the heat of the sun. Instinct told Killian to reach out and his hands itched to feel her skin against his.

“You seem to have an obsession with watching me sleep,” he quipped huskily. Killian's hand snaked out of the crisp white sheets and brushed a lock of Emma's sun drenched hair behind her ear. It was soft and messy, but unmistakably that which he enjoyed so much.

Emma leaned into Killian touch, shivering as he trailed his long, skilled fingers down her neck. Emma's eyes fluttered closed and the familiar, welcome ache in her bones crept up her spine. “But I like-,” Emma gulped, her words cut off when Killian's lips made contact with her skin as he kissed her arm, humming with a smirk when he heard her gasp.

Killian rolled his weight forward, pushing gently against Emma’s shoulder, his hand drawing lazy circles on the delicate skin. The room was warm, even warmer in the sunlight that tumbled across the whiteness of the bedsheets, and Emma fell backwards onto the downy pillows with a silent laugh. Killian's fingers danced down her arm, jumping to the soft curve of the side of her breast where his hands paused against her skin.

“You like?” Killian teased, watching Emma's expression as she writhed beneath his touch. Emma's back arched off the bed, pressing the hardness of her blushed nipples into Killian's palms, his breath ghosting over the buds.

Emma gulped, squeezing her eyes tightly closed when she felt the longing between her thighs ignite. Her skin burned but she wasn't sure if it was because Killian set her ablaze with passion or the sun had crept to her side of the bed already. Killian smirked, rolling Emma's nipple under his thumb and leaning down to kiss at the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Emma's hair tickled at his face, catching in the week old growth that littered his jaw.

“Killian,” Emma whimpered, her voice barely audible through his kisses. “Don't stop,” she breathed, her hands reaching for his head and holding his lips to her skin with a firm grip in his sleep messed hair.

“I’ll never stop,” Killian panted against her, the words leaving a damp residue on her skin as he made his way down her throat.

“Don't leave me,” Emma whispered and Killian frowned against her sternum, her words confusing him as he tore his mouth from her skin, noticing the room had been dulled by the sunlight disappearing. Killian pulled back to look down at Emma, her skin turning ashen and grey under his touch and he pulled his fingers away as it changed, rolling away from her and panic filling his body.

“Don't let me go,” Emma pleaded, her eyes filling with the salty water of tears.

“I won't,” Killian stammered, shaking his head. His heart beat faster in his chest, thundering painfully in his ears and his eyes tried desperately to focus on Emma's as they crumbled from her face.

“Don't give up on me,” Emma's words echoed, almost distant despite her being so close to him. Killian flushed hot, jumping from the bedsheets as Emma's lithe figure began to twist and distort before him. Her already pale skin turned darker, cracks visibly appearing like dark chasms all over her body and when Emma reached out a precariously fragile hand, her fingers began to fall away, leaving a sprinkle of dark, black and white ash on the pristine bedsheets.

“Emma!” Killian shouted, the room falling dark around him. The perfect, white window frame fell away, falling from view with a cracking sound. The ceiling pulled away and Killian watched it fly off into a never ending sky, overcast with blackness and rumbling with thunder. Killian took a shaky step back, watching the previously inviting wooden flooring beneath his feet splinter and shard in all directions.

“Killian.” Emma's voice faded away, further and further on each pleading gasp. “Killian,” she cried, the sound barely leaving her mouth before her beautiful face dissolved into a volcanic heap on the pillow.

“Killian!” His name echoed loudly in the air, clashing with the roll of thunder and a flash of lightning. Killian flinched at the sound and he saw a flash of white behind his eyes as he pinched them closed and let the world swallow him whole.

Killian jumped in his seat, his head slipping from his hand and jolting him awake. It was a nightmare, so vivid and real to him that Killian's body had responded by sweating and sticking his shirt to his skin. After hours of waiting, worrying, the material had become as ragged and aged as Killian felt. He blinked rapidly, flashes of Emma's charred remains and shrieks of despair ingrained on his memory. Killian never wanted to feel the loss he did right now, and it had only been a dream that had made him feel this way. The reality of right now was far scarier.

The slow hum of machines and the rhythmic beep of Emma's monitored heartbeat filled the room, reminding Killian where he was. He glanced around and noticed the darkness outside of the window, the town lights of Storybrooke like amber candles along the streets. A few noises outside of the room caught his attention, and Killian snapped his head in the direction of two talking doctors, discussing a patient beyond the huge glass doors. The privacy curtains were pulled together, but he could make out their conversation through a tiny gap in the rough, white material.

Killian relaxed back into his seat, his hot skin cooling against the vinyl. “It was only a dream,” he told himself tiredly. Killian sighed, covering his face with his slightly sweaty hands and dragging them over his face with a yawn. His mind raced with the image of Emma fading to ash again and hot goosebumps prickled his skin. Killian cast a weary, sorrowful glance upon the real Emma before him and couldn't fight the pang in his heart.

Emma was still unconscious, her features unchanged and the machine still breathing for her with a forced rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was pale, slightly swollen around her eyes and cheeks, but she was there, real and palpable. So many of Killian's questions remained unanswered by her silence and with each huff of the ventilator, his heart wrenched in his chest. Killian grabbed the warm, wooden handles on the chair and shuffled it forward, bumping his knees against the plastic bed frame, ignoring the dull pain shooting through his legs. He laid his hand on Emma's arm, drawing deliberate lines across her forearm with his thumb. Even in slumber, Emma's body reacted to his touch, and her skin turning tiny bumps under his fingertips.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian breathed, lifting Emma's heavy hand from the sheets and kissing her knuckles. There was a small graze to the skin there, probably inflicted when she fell, and Killian wished he had been able to catch her. Killian would always catch her if she let him. The scuffed skin had started to heal already and Killian wondered how long he had been asleep. He tilted his wrist, and flashed a glance at his watch, the smeared glass face reflecting his tired features back at him. It was seven in the evening; nine hours since Emma had fainted.

“Come back to me,” he breathed faintly, giving her hand a tiny squeeze. “I need you to be alright.”

The door to Emma's room was suddenly pulled open and a doctor breezed in, his head tilted down and his eyes busily searching over Emma's electronic notes in front of him. His white coat whipped behind him and a short, blonde nurse that followed him slid the glass door closed behind them. He was probably nearing retirement, his balding head littered with only the smallest smattering of silvery grey fuzz. Killian reluctantly dropped Emma's hand and stood up from his chair awkwardly, pushing it back from the bed with a scraping noise. He barely had time to dry the clamminess from his hands on his pants before the Doctor offered him a hand.

“I'm Dr Mendez,” he chirped, not letting his gaze meet Killian's once.

“Killian.” Killian gave him his hand and they shook stiffly. “Killian Jones.”

“How is our patient doing?” Dr Mendez asked half to Killian and half to the nurse at his side. She was a rounded lady, her hips and shoulders the same width and her short, stubby arms fiddled with the flow of Emma's IV.

Killian watched Dr Mendez as he walked around the other side of the bed, flicking his eyes over the numbers and lines on Emma's monitors. “She hasn't moved, or said anything,” Killian said sadly, rubbing his hand together in front of him nervously. Any second now he was expecting to be ejected from the room when the staff found out he wasn't family.

“Well, she is in a medically induced coma, Mr Jones.” The doctor peered at him with a narrowed gaze, mentally noting the difference in surnames. “She won't wake up yet.” Dr Mendez nodded towards the nurse and she nodded back, a silent gesture they had obviously both practised many times before.

“Why? When will she?” Killian pried, concern rushing into his veins. “I need to-.” He paused, biting his tongue. He had so much to say to her, to prove to her, and he felt like it had all been ripped away from him so suddenly. “I just need her,” Killian sighed, rubbing a single finger over the skin behind his ear.

Dr. Mendez stopped and looked at Killian, halting his hurried questioning. He had lots of patients, too many if he was honest, but the tone of sadness in Killian's voice made him stop for a second. Delivering news was easier when it was good news. Finally, he turned his head to meet Killian's wide-eyed stare and offered him a soft smile.

“We are going to monitor her for the next few hours, but so far she has responded well to the antibiotics we have given her.” Dr Mendez folded his arms over his chest as he spoke, taking in the broken shell of a man in front of him. Killian didn't respond, waiting for more information that the doctor might have to give. “I know this seems extreme, but she has a rare complication from her pneumonia, and this is for the best. We caught the pneumonia early,” he offered with a tight-lipped smile.

“Can she hear me?” Killian asked and Dr Mendez nodded with a smile.

“Most patients that have been in a coma say they could hear the voices of their families,” he said, not committing to any answers that might give Killian any hope or take any away.

“When they woke up,” Killian confirmed to himself. Dr Mendez swallowed hard and fiddled with his name tag. It was plastic with a metal swivel that had become twisted, and he straightened it up against his pocket.

“Miss Swan is strong,” he said confidently. “It won’t be long and she'll be off the machines.”

“So, she'll be okay?” Killian's eyes fell back on Emma's tired frame, and he swore her hair had lost most of its colour. The colour was greyer, muted and her lips were dry and cracking underneath the tube. Killian stepped closer to her, gulping a lump down his throat as he reached out a tentative hand and stroked Emma's messy hair flat.

“This is all a precaution.” Dr Mendez motioned around, pointing the equipment out to Killian as he spoke. “We are breathing for her to reduce the risk of permanent damage to her lungs.” Whilst he spoke, the nurse busied herself with inputting data to Emma's chart held on the tablet in her hands.

“Or the baby's,” the nurse mumbled sweetly lifting her gaze from the bright screen of the tablet with a soft smile.

Killian nodded as they spoke but he didn't hear the words after what the nurse has just revealed. Killian's gaze was fixated on Emma's chest, the gentle rise and fall simulated in time with his ragged breathing. It hitched in his throat, the overwhelming urge to cry pricking in his eyes once more. Adrenaline coursed through his body, Killian's entire body tingling with fear and his heart changing its beat with love for a child he hadn't even met or even knew had existed until just now.

“Thank you,” Killian offered weakly not looking at the doctor or the nurse.

“We'll give you some privacy,” the doctor offered back, motioning the nurse to follow him from the room.

Killian ignored the sounds of the hospital when the door opened, and heaved a breath, blowing out a huge rattled sigh as the tears fell. The nurse's words bounced around Killian's brain and he stilled his hand in Emma's hair. Light, nimble fingers rubbed some of the soft curls between their tips, and a silly gasp escaped Killian's chest.

“Did you know?” Killian smiled sweetly towards Emma's unresponsive face. He turned over his warmed hand and brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek. Emma's skin was cool to the touch and a little oily from her fever.

“I mean, you would have told me, right?” Killian quizzed, his brow knitting together in a frown. “Of course you would have,” Killian scolded himself instantly, shaking his head a little. There was no sound to reassure him of his words, only his own mutterings and the regular beep of the machines. His body tensed and his gut fell away from him, the uncertainty of his future suddenly very real. Their future.

“Do you even want kids?” Killian's questions came thick and fast, tumbling from his mouth like water over a fall. “We haven't talked about it.” And why would they? They had barely dated.

“How many? Do you want a boy or a girl? Will you go back to work afterwards? What will we tell other people? Have you thought of names?” Killian rambled, his voice jumping and hitching as he became a little irritated by the one-sided conversation. He ran a quick hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his ear harshly with his blunt fingernails.

“I can't believe you didn't tell me,” Killian exclaimed sadly, his hand languishing slow trails up and down Emma's arm. “Were you angry at me?” Killian waited but Emma returned no answer. Killian watched her, his eyes skimming over her face for any sign she was listening. Emma's eyes rolled under her eyelids, a remnant of the deepest induced sleep she was hidden in.

The whole misunderstanding with Shelley weighed heavy on Killian's mind and he swallowed his sadness down with a gulp. There had been hardly any time to explain, to ease Emma's worries and fears, and Killian felt a sudden distaste for himself in his mouth. He couldn't live with himself knowing that Emma had known she was pregnant and hadn't told him because she was angry. It was all his fault. If only he had worked things out earlier. Killian was one hundred percent sure Emma, however incensed with him, would never have held this sort of information from him. She was good, and pure and innocent.

“You didn't know, did you, love?” Killian's question fell on deaf ears and he got no response from Emma's lifeless body. Killian's lip quivered and he bit down on the flesh until it turned white. “You don't know,” he confirmed sadly.

Killian took a step back and dropped back into the chair behind him. The flimsy vinyl creaked under his weight as he shifted around uncomfortably. Killian reached out and gripped Emma's thin wrist in his nimble fingers, smoothing his thumb over the soft skin there and tracing the outline of the petal on her tattoo. Killian thought it felt warmer than it had before, but it was probably just Emma's fever.

“I promise you, anything you need, anything the baby needs,” Killian's words trailed off and his lips twitched into a thin, sideways smile. He was going to be a father and although woefully underprepared, his tension was laced with excitement. “We made a baby,” he giggled nervously, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her damp forehead.

“Emma,” Killian began, dropping his face to her ear and stretching out his palm over her flat stomach where life had yet to show. “I love you.”

Killian's head whipped up, the high-pitched whirr of an alarm sounding from Emma's heart monitor filling the room. There was a little red light flashing on top of the screen, and Killian watched the numbers in the corner start to increase. Killian pulled his hand from her body as she began to heave, her whole body going rigid and arching itself from the bed. Emma's eyes shot open, watery and bloodshot, and she fixed her gaze on Killian's petrified expression. “Emma,” he breathed, rushing closer to her so hard that he cracked his skull on an overhead swing arm lamp. He winced but ignored the pain when his forehead began to throb.

Emma struggled, her weak limbs swinging wildly by her face, grabbing for the offending tube down her throat. Her tingling fingers scratched numbly at the clear plastic, her eyes wide with panic. Emma was dazed, still heavily drugged and confused, and she didn't understand what was happening. She couldn't breathe, her throat was stretched by the medical equipment that had been breathing for her, and now her lungs were scorched by the red hot pain of the need to inhale.

Emma shook her head from side to side, her hair flicking wildly on the pillow where she lay. Adrenaline surged through her, prickling uninvited heat over her skin, and Emma wretched and heaved. She could barely focus through the tears in her eyes and the world went fuzzy around the edges of her vision. With what felt like her last ounce of energy, Emma lifted her arms and reached for Killian, eager to free her lungs from the searing pain, silently begging him to call her her doctor.

“Emma, no!” Killian soothed quickly, sure she would grab for her tube. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed. “It's alright,” he nodded quickly, his own breath quickening with the increase in Emma's heartbeat. “Can somebody help?!” He called out hysterically, shooting a quick glance to the doors, and no sooner had the words left his mouth, a gaggle of nurses and Dr Mendez rushed into the room.

Emma struggled against him, an unknown strength finding her suddenly, and Killian turned back to her, holding her gaze. He placed a quivering palm to her cheek, smoothing away her tears with the soft pad of his thumb, his heart thumping in his chest so fiercely he thought he might have a heart attack. “I'm here, love. It's alright, I promise.” Killian felt Emma relax, a single tear falling from her eyelids and rolling down her cheek as she nodded slowly in compliance.

“Step aside!” Dr Mendez snipped, shoving Killian aside with a gentle elbow. Killian staggered backwards, his rubber-soled shoes scuffing against the tiled floor. He fumbled blindly with his shirt sleeves, wrenching them up to expose his inked arms and bunching them over his elbow. Killian's sweaty palms found his face, clinging to the sides of his cheeks as he helplessly watched the swarm of medical staff around Emma.

“Emma. Emma, my name is Dr Mendez,” the doctor said softly, his words short and curt and his breath hot against the skin of her cheek. Leaning closer still, Dr Mendez pointed and instructed his staff in the right direction for what was to come. “You have a tube down your throat, so we need you to breathe out of your nose, okay?” He waited for Emma to nod at him, her eyes full of understanding but no less scared. “It's okay,” he soothed. “It will be out soon.”

One of the nurses, one Killian had not met before, ran over to the ventilator and switch it off. The machine powered down with a dizzy hum, its lights going out with a blink. The same nurse, dressed in different coloured scrubs to the others, quickly detached the tube connection with a click and let the rubbery pipes fall to the floor. It hit the ground silently and was crushed under her weight when the nurse stepped forward even closer to the bed.

“Now, honey,” she began, her thick, southern drawl tumbling from her mouth fast and messily. “I'm going to sit you up and when I tell you, I want you to cough for me, okay?” Her words were almost a blur and Emma barely made any out through the echo in her ears. Emma shot a quick wide-eyed glance at Killian, urging him silently to help her. She was gulping for breath, struggling to calm her breathing through her nose as it filled up mucus.

Two nurses sat Emma up, her bed creaking under the strain of its electric motor. Another nurse flicked on the lights, the whole room flooded with a sterile, white hue. Emma pinched her eyes closed, the light stinging behind her eyelids. Her hands found the bed rails and Emma held on, gripping the off-white plastic, her patience for the obstruction in her throat waning fast.

“Emma, honey, you’ve been in an induced coma and we are going to extubate you,” the lead nurse continued. “Do you know what that means, sweetie?” The nurse was kind, her words soothing and she brushed a tendril of hair from Emma's sticky forehead tenderly.

Emma calmed. Of course she did, she was a doctor after all. And this was a test, to see how well Emma could communicate and show cognitive function. It was one of the ways doctors knew if a patient was ready to breathe on their own. Emma could hear Killian, but she couldn't see him through the wall of nurses. Her mind was torn between thinking like a doctor and thinking like a patient, scared one minute and then feeling brave the next.

“Help her!” Killian snapped, his temper and frustration bursting into the room. He was done with standing on the sidelines. He was done pretending to be family just to see Emma. Technically now, he was family, and the urge to protect both Emma and the baby was uncontrollable. “She can't breathe, damn it!”

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” Dr Mendez took a step towards Killian, blocking his view of Emma. Another nurse stepped between them, crowding Emma's bed until she was completely hidden.

“Don't tell me to calm down!” Killian growled throwing his hands up into the air. “I'm done being calm!”

“Sir, you can't shout in here!” One of the nurses chimed in lifting a wall mounted telephone receiver. She kept an eye on Killian whilst dialling a few figures with a stiff, gloved finger. “Security,” she spoke into the handle, her one-word answer a statement.

Killian shook off a tall, thin male nurse who grabbed his shoulder. “Get off me!” he snapped, wrenching his shoulder forward and eyeing the sheepish nurse. “Touch me again-,” Killian gruffed low, but his words were cut off by the sound of Emma suddenly gulping a huge desperate breath.

Killian instantly softened, his cheeks flushing red with a mixture of nerves and adoration. His instant calm was noticed and Dr Mendez wove a dismissing hand towards the nurse on the phone. She uttered a few words, following orders but still suspicious of Killian's rage, and told security things were now fine.

Emma's body shook as she coughed, her eyes streaming with yet more tears. One of the nurses dabbed at her tears with a small piece of scratchy paper towel, but Emma welcomed the feel of it against her skin. It meant she was awake, but she could not remember how she had got here, and as the sea of staff parted in front of her, Emma finally focused on what she wanted to see the most.

“Killian,” she croaked, a tiny weak smile curling her lips. Killian's face spread into a sprightly grin and he heaved a sigh of relief at her words. Emma saying his name was everything. It meant so much and the wash of comfort that accompanied it was all Killian needed right now.

Enjoy my fics? Buy me a Ko-Fi!

#fragments of home #foh #ch 10 #angst #fluff #in the same ch?#architect!killian #doctor!emma

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sebspocketsquare · 5 years

Text

the eleventh night: Bucky kisses.. part 5

You were sitting on the floor in front of the couch, your torso placed between Steve’s legs and a cute santa hat on your head. It was time for secret Santa in the tower, and all the seats on the couches were taken. You didn’t really mind though, seeing as Steve gave you one of the couch pillows to sit on.

Nat was going to start out, opening her gift first. When you saw what was inside her box, you couldn’t help but laugh. She pulled a very revealing lingerie set out, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, haha, very funny.” She said, examining it. “Who the fuck did this?” She asked, and everyone but you averted their eyes. “That’s the beauty of secret santa, Nat. It’s a secret.” You teased and she shook her head, letting out a long breath. “I’ll figure out which one of you fuckers did this.” She mumbled.

Next, it was Steve’s turn. His box was relatively small, and you craned your neck so you could watch him open it. He pulled out a small, gold watch smiling. “It’s got the shield in it.” He mused, turning the watch so we could see the face of it, decorated with his signature shield. “That’s super cool.” You whispered to him, and he nodded, smiling as he slipped it on his wrist. You thought you saw Sam smile proudly as he did so.

Bucky was next, and you felt your heart begin to race. You’d gotten Bucky, and you put a lot of thought, time and effort into his gift. You’d made it yourself. But as he opened the box and looked inside, his smile faded from his face. “What is this?” He asked, his voice void of any emotion. He pulled the trinket out of the box slowly, narrowing his eyes. “A dream catcher? Really? I’m not a child.” He spoke harshly, and your eyes immediately darted to the floor. “Is this a joke?” He asked, his voice shaking with anger.

You felt your face heat up and tears pooling at the edge of your eyes. You stood up slowly, using Steve’s leg to steady yourself before you looked over at Bucky. “I um.. I’m sorry you don’t like it.” You whispered, your lower lip trembling. His face fell instantly to one of regret, but you were too busy sprinting out of the room to notice. “Good job, Buck. She spent weeks trying to find the perfect stones to weave into that.” You heard Steve say, but the rest of the conversation was drowned out as you got further down the hall.

You felt relief when you finally reached the hall where your room was, wiping your cheeks hastily with the sleeve of your sweater. You had just about made it to your room, when you heard heavy footsteps behind you. “Y/N!” Bucky called, slightly breathless from running up the stairs, you supposed.

You wiped your cheeks again before you turned to face him, forcing a smile on your lips. “I’ll get you something better.” You told him as he approached, noticing he had the dream catcher in one of his hands and a small present in the other. He shook his head, “I don’t want another gift.. I.. I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it, I just.. I thought Sam or Tony were trying to be assholes.” He told you, his cheeks tinged pink. You shrugged, chewing on the inside of your lip.

“I.. You have nightmares so frequently, I thought it might help..” you whispered and he nodded, bringing the dream catcher into your line of sight. “You made this?” He asked, and you nodded silently. A small smile graced his face as he looked down at you. “I’ll hang it right above my headboard. I promise.” He murmured and you smiled, a real smile, as another tear escaped from your eye. “You really like it?” You asked, your voice thick with emotion. He let out a soft chuckle, pulling you into his chest gently. “Of course I do. Thank you.” He whispered against your ear, making your heart flutter.

When you finally separated, he held out the small present to you. “You never got to open your gift.” He told you and you took it carefully, your fingers fidgeting with the bow on top. “Is it from you?” You asked softly and he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not very good with gifts, but.. I hope you like it.” He said as you unwrapped the box. When you finally opened it, your jaw dropped slightly. “Bucky are these..” You paused, pulling the chain out of the box. “My dog tags? Yeah.. I had them pulled from the archives.” He said softly as he watched you run your fingers over the metal plates. “But why.. Why give them to me?” You asked, your gaze meeting his.

He chuckled, coming a few steps closer to you. "You don’t know?“ He asked, and you shook your head in defeat. “Because, you beautiful, silly girl.. I’m in love with you.” He said slowly, kissing the tip of your nose. “You.. what?” You asked, your eyes wide. That only made him laugh again, “I have been for a long time.” He continued, his free hand finding your cheek. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” he whispered, right before he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

(This is something that I’ve reposted from my old blog, therealjamesbarnes. I’m just gonna tag a few people that I know I’ve tagged in my other works! If you want to be tagged when I update this post with links to each part that’s posted, shoot me a message!

@plumfondler @mindingmyownbusiness @buckyshattergirl @preserumsteverogers @jayattemptstoruletheworld @aveatquevale- @soitmightgetweird @farfromjustordinary @dracris33 @fuckythebuckybarnes @sebbyyystan @supersoldierslover @coveredamity @thewinterbro @bluedahlia87 @sophiealiice @breenieweenie @ash-castle @sebashtiansatan @thescarsweleave @buckyappreciationsociety @specs15 @berjhawn @lowkeysebastianstan @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @moondancewrites @danyofwesteros @ballyhoobarnes @spinsterlocity @rachelle-on-the-run @potatobuck @jamdropx35 )

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky drabble #sebspocketsquare #sebspocketsquare christmas #sometimes i write #christmas bucky

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turnupswritessometimes · 5 years

Text

The One With the Zombies - AshEiji - Ch5

Title: The One With the Zombies

Chapter: 5

Word Count: 4673

Description: Another what it says on the tin from me - it's a Zombie Apocalypse AU because how else could this anime/manga get any darker? Whilst on the run from the outbreak of zombies, reporters Ibe and Eiji stumble across a New York street gang, safely huddled in an abandoned warehouse. As if the undead weren't surprising enough, Eiji finds himself becoming closer and closer to the gang's leader, mysteriously dubbed Ash Lynx. But safety doesn't last forever and soon it's only Ash and Eiji. And they're up against more than just zombies.

Note: This is available on A03, and I would recommend you follow it there, as I remember to update it. I would post a link, but then Tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

Eiji had never been glad that he hadn't been able to pull a trigger.

The two dark shapes had not been zombies. They were moving slowly, but they hadn't been dragging their limbs behind them. No, it had only been a very tired Ibe and Max.

There had been no time for a happy reunion. Ash had given them a sharp nod and they had nodded back.

They kept walking, though Eiji had wanted nothing more than to collapse into Ibe's arms and sob. He ha been scared - so scared - and he wanted someone bigger than him to tell him it was okay now, the danger had passed.

The danger hadn't passed.

They had walked until dawn. After an hour or so, Skip had gotten tired and Ash had given him a piggyback without saying a word. So they had continued walking – until they had been bathed in amber light and they could see a house in the distance.

Nothing was following them. Eiji glanced back every ten seconds until they had reached the building. Every moment that he wasn’t looking behind him, he was sure that there were hands reaching out towards him – fingers ready to grab at him. But no one had followed them. Which probably meant that the zombies had been occupied with other things.

It was a farmhouse. They climbed over the wooden fence and passed empty barns and stables until they came to a sprawling, wooden house. It was like something from a book – from Anne of Green Gables or the Wizard of Oz. Empty windows with checked curtains were visible from outside and there were two rocking chairs on the porch.

As good a place as any to stop had been the thought that Eiji was sure was going through everyones minds.

Max kicked the door open and had traced the room with the nose of his gun. With the light outside, the inside looked pitch black, the furniture just shadowy shapes that looked like crouching figures. It was empty. So they had entered.

They had found Skip a room with a quilted blanket and a painting of sheep grazing outside pinned to the wall. He had fallen asleep before his head had even hit the pillow. Max and Ibe had taken the double bed in the backroom, with the gun resting on the bedside table. Bones and Kong collapsed in the attic room – twisted around each other on a twin bed.

Ash had volunteered for the first watch. Eiji had followed him. He had expected Ash to sink back on one of the rocking chairs with a ciggie and watch the dawn. Instead, he was leaning against the door, still looking taut.

“Get a few hours sleep.” Ash said. He hadn’t even needed to turn to know Eiji was there.

Eiji pushed past him – he had started to ignore Ash’s commands. Whenever he told him to go to sleep, he had always stubbornly stayed up, leaning against the door and standing with him. It didn’t matter if they didn’t say a word. Ash was lonely. Eiji wanted to make him less lonely. Everyone else had thought he was crazy when Ash would tell him to get him something and Eiji would say “no,” even if he was getting up to oblige. Ash’s bark was less than his bite. So Eiji settled himself into one of the rocking chairs, his back aching from relaxing after so long.

“I can’t,” he said, and it was the truth.

“Yes, you can. There’s not as many of us now, you have to take a turn sleeping so you can take a turn on guard. We can’t share it anymore.”

“I really can’t.”

Ash’s eyes softened. He was still holding his gun. Not fiddling with it; he was ready to shoot it. “You’re scared of what you might dream.”

Eiji nodded, his gaze not leaving Ash’s green eyes.

“From my experience, your brain stops giving you nightmares once life becomes one.”

“Experience?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day,” Ash said. “But the main thing is that you will be able to sleep. You need to sleep, Eiji. You’re exhausted.”

“So are you.”

“Two hours,” Ash said. “Sleep for two hours, okay? Sleep in the living room and I’ll wake you up if you have a nightmare.”

“You promise?”

Ash nodded. There was dark smudges under his eyes. “Two hours.”

“Can I sleep here?”

“Inside.”

Eiji pushed himself out of the rocking chair, feeling his knees give way as he stood. He caught himself on the door and passed Ash again. He felt a hand on the small of his back and turned to see Ash giving him a sleepy smile. The sun behind him made him glow.

Eiji opened his mouth slightly – then realised he didn’t know what he was going to say and closed it. Instead, he put a hand on Ash’s wrist; making sure that he was real. Real and warm and here. He could hold him.

It was strangely hard to pull himself away, but he eventually managed it. Managed to make the two steps over to the sofa and collapse onto it.

Ash had been right. Eiji drifted off almost immediately, and when he did, he hardly dreamt at all. Everything was dark. Not a scary kind of dark – a warm, comforting dark that was protecting him from everything. There were arms around him. He didn’t know whose arms, but they were warm and real and there.

So he slept.

Ash hadn’t meant to watch Eiji. He knew it was exceedingly creepy, so he only allowed himself a glance every five minutes or so. It was just simply less nerve wracking to glance inside than to look out over the day. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched; of being followed and he hadn’t wanted to stop at all. It had been for the others. They needed to rest. He didn’t.

So he allowed himself a single glance every five minutes. The door was half-open and golden sunlight brought out the browns and reds in Eiji’s dark hair, like the iridescence of a blackbird’s feather’s. His hair was thick – thick enough to cast a shadow on his expresso coloured skin. Expresso coloured, apart from rosy pink cheeks and rosy pink lips. It was only obvious because of the bright orange jacket.

Ash loved that jacket on Eiji. He liked it more than the sweaters and the button up shirts. It just suited him more – the boy who didn’t bat an eyelash at a gang leader. Who lit up the room with his smiles and glowed when he laughed. A boy like that should wear huge orange jackets. He needed to stand out.

Of course, Max Lobo couldn’t know that Ash was doing this – and as he appeared from one of the backrooms, Ash glanced away, back out the door.

“You decided whether to tell him or not?”

“We leave once everyone’s had a couple of hours sleep.” Ash said. He didn’t bother to keep quiet – Eiji hadn’t moved a muscle in almost two hours and was breathing deeply. He was far gone. “We can’t stop.”

“Are you going to sleep?”

“I don’t need to.”

“Right.” For once Max wasn’t patronising. He leant his elbows against the porch railing, looking out over the abandoned farm. Ash joined him, after a moment. He didn’t want to, but he suspected that it wasn’t the end of the conversation.

“We can’t stop,” he repeated.

“Is it about Griffin?”

Breath left Ash for a moment, so he nodded instead. He tapped his fingers on the wood in front of him and wished he had thought to roll a cigarette before. He hadn’t realised quite how much he wanted one until he remembered.

“There’s no time,” he managed to say. “He’s running out of time.”

Max was silent for a moment. Ash had barely been able to get the words out – hadn’t, really, been able to get them out – and he wondered if Max understood them.

“Are you sure there’s time?”

Ash didn’t reply. He watched a woodlouse crawl out of the woodwork and scuttle across the top on the bannister, the sun glistening on it’s back. Ash let it crawl across his cracked fingernails. Cracked and dirty, he realised, with a certain satisfaction. Worker’s hands. Man’s hands. He wasn’t impeccably clean anymore and there was a certain relish in that. It was easier to think about the state of his fingernails than the state of his brother.

“Ash, what happened back there,” Max said. He was still looking at the horizon. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You see a lot of zombies?”

“A fair few coming out the city. They didn’t behave like that – that was –“

“Organised.”

“None of the others have organised themselves like that. It was like they were after something.”

“Someone,” Ash said. He tapped his fingers with more speed. “Some brains. That’s all they want. They must have – they must have figured out that there were a lot of us in there. All drawn to it because it’s the only place with anyone in it for miles.”

“They figured it out, did they?” Max repeated. He sighed. “Smart zombies.”

“Fuck off, Lobo. I know as much as you.”

“You’re – admitting that you don’t know something?” Max put a hand to his chest, rolling his eyes in mock surprise.

Ash could have knocked his teeth out. He hoped he conveyed that with a facial expression. If he did, Max had no reaction. He lowered his hand, and smiled slightly.

“Rest,” he said.

“No thanks, dad.”

He got a wince at that and remembered to file it away for future reference. ‘Dad’ got under Max’s skin.

“Then just sit. Your legs need to take a break.”

“Like I would do anything that you tell me to do.” But Ash’s body was betraying him. He was sinking into one of the rocking chairs and suddenly it hit him just how tired he was. Every muscle that he had suddenly relaxed, as though he had just stepped into a hot bath. He was sore. Every part of him was sore. He had been tense for so long and it felt good to relax.

Just for a minute, though. Just until everyone had rested. Then they had to get going again. He had to go to New York. He had to get to Griffin.

After all, he told himself as he stared at the silhouette of Max Lobo, Griffin had been abandoned too many times.

He hadn’t even realised that he had fallen asleep until he heard his name being called from somewhere high above him and he realised that he had to open his eyes. He did, peeling eyelids back that felt as though they had stuck in place.

It was hot. A hot day. One side of his face was boiling hot, sweat trickling down his temple in the humid heat. He was sweating – right through his shirt, he was sure. The air felt thick and he could hear bugs chirping in the distance.

Eiji was over the rocking chair, one hand on it to steady it. His brown eyes looked gold in the morning light and for a moment, Ash had forgotten everything. He smiled up at Eiji, because he was alive and there – because he looked absolutely wonderful in the daylight.

Then the previous night hit him like a freight train.

“What’s the time?” he demanded, all but jumping out of the chair. It creaked and groaned, rocking to itself as if it was consoling it’s loss.

“Midday,” Eiji said.

“We need to leave. Have you got your stuff together?”

“Max and Ibe left.”

“What?”

"They've gone to find more supplies," and at the look on Ash's face, he added. "You're out of bullets. Max is too. And the others."

"Fuck." Ash said. "Fuck – fuck that. As soon as we get to New York we'll get more bullets."

"I said you'd be angry." Eiji had stuck his hands in his pockets and the jacket made him look small. He looked up at Ash from below his fringe.

"What did Max say?"

"Something like 'oh well.'"

"Of course he fucking did."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Ash said. He found himself smiling slightly. "You don't have to apologize for everything, you know."

Eiji shrugged.

"Did they take Skip with them?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck," he ran a hand through his hair, looking out over the porch. The sky was blue – midsummer blue – the kind of deep blue that you only saw in story books. "We could go – just us. I can send a message to Skip and ask them to wait here for a couple of days."

"Here doesn't seem safe," Eiji said, carefully. He hesitated, drawing the jacket closer around himself. He must have been boiling. "I don't think it's a good idea to go alone."

His English had gotten better – loads better, since he had arrived. But now he seemed to be struggling – hesitating to find the words.

"You don't trust me?" Ash found himself smirking.

"I do." Eiji's voice was strong. He made eye contact as he said it, then he wavered again. "I don't want Ibe-san to worry about me."

"You don't want to lead him." That was the answer behind the puzzle of Eiji's hesitation.

He nodded.

Ash sighed. A long, heavy sigh that he exaggerated just to make Eiji smile. He wanted Eiji to keep smiling. It was as important as keeping Skip smiling. He leant on the railing, feeling it wobble underneath him.

"This house is like the one back home," he said. Mostly to himself. Mostly because he was thinking of Griffin. Partly because he wanted to tell Eiji about himself, and that was the only thing he could say. "I used to wish for a cyclone to take me away to Oz."

When he was eight. When he was eight his class had watched The Wizard of Oz on a rainy day. Ash had still been sore. But when he had seen Oz, with it's too bright yellow roads and popppy fields and Emerlad Cities, he hadn't been thinking about it. He had been completely transported – the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, the Lion all rolled into one.

But then Dorothy had clicked her heels and said 'there's no place like home,' and Ash had crashed back down to the real world.

"I wish that could happen now," Eiji said, softly. He leant against the wood next to Ash, his face turned up to the sky. There was a mole under his jaw. Ash had never noticed it before. And he needed a shave – his jaw was covered in the thin, downy hair of a boy who hasn’t shaved enough to grow a proper beard. Ash let a hand run over his own skin. Barely anything. He felt that he would be cursed with a baby face forever.

"You don't get cyclones here."

"Or in (!!)?"

Ash smiled then – a genuine smile that he couldn't stop from spreading across his face. "Not there, either."

Eiji paused. "You're not supposed to get zombies here, either. There's always hope."

"You're weird."

Eiji shrugged. He was still smiling as he looked up at the sky.

Ash should have hated this. He should have hated being trapped on a farm with no bullets when his brother needed him. It might be too late already – every voice in his head was screaming at him to leave – to run to New York if he had to. Maybe he was scared.

He was scared to see Griffin again.

So maybe staying on an abandoned farm with no bullets wasn't too bad.

"Well then," he said. "Come on, Dorothy. If we're stuck here, we might as well explore."

He wasn't sure how Eiji's hand found its way into his, but he wasn't going to point it out. It was warm and real and there and he didn't want to let it go as they padded back into the shade of the house.

It was humid inside too – the kind of heat that you could taste. The curtains had been closed and the relentless sun outside burst through them, casting everything in a rosy light.

The living room was cliché. Sofas with patchwork cushions and handstitched embroidery in wooden frames on the walls. But then there was a large t.v and a stack of blu-rays that felt hideously out of place. Skip's room was similar – a wii U set against The Jungle Book and Alice in Wonderland. A poster of Spiderman next to a cross stitch of a forest scene.

Max and Ibe’s room still had a rotary phone in. Ash played with the dial in silence, smirking slightly when it dinged back into place.

“It’s all empty,” Eiji said. Ash turned to him – he had been opening the chest of drawers. “Everything is empty.”

“They must have cleared off.” Ash said.

“I hope it was long before all this happened.” Eiji said quietly. He drew lines in the dust on the top of the chest of drawers. It looked like Japanese – Ash assumed it was Japanese. “Do you think they went on their honeymoon?”

“What makes you say that?”

Eiji pointed to a framed photograph. A young couple were all smiles – both women holding their hands up so that the light sparkled off of matching engagement rings. A snapshot of unspeakable happiness that was now gathering dust.

“Maybe,” Ash said. “Maybe this place is only rented out to honeymoon couples. Maybe I should have carried you over the threshold.”

Eiji looked at him, tilting his head to one side. “Ash.”

“I’m serious – come here.” He was wrapping his arms around Eiji’s waists before he could protest, lifting him from the floor. Eiji didn’t yelp – he gasped, his hands going to Ash’s as if to disentangle himself. Ash stumbled – laughing, but surprised. “Shit, I didn’t realise you were so heavy.”

“That’s not very polite.” Eiji landed on the floor with a thump. He turned to Ash with a pout on his face and shit – shit, he was close. But he didn’t seem to notice that he was almost pressed flush against him – no, he was smiling up at Ash with a mischievous look on his face. “It’s very rude to comment on someone’s weight.”

“So?” Ash tried to stay calm – to look as unfazed and teasing as he always did.

Eiji’s arms were around him in the next moment – strong, stronger than Ash thought he could be – and then Ash was light as a feather. He was looking down at Eiji, his hands on the Japanese boy’s shoulders to steady himself. Eiji was grinning at him – triumphant.

He felt helpless, in the air. He couldn’t figure out if he liked that feeling, because it was Eiji and Eiji wouldn’t hurt him – Eiji would never hurt him. And yet he felt completely helpless and it made his stomach squirm and writhe. But, he still had to be Ash Lynx. So he huffed, blowing hair away from his face and looking away from Eiji as though he couldn’t care less.

“Very clever of you.”

“Sorry.” Eiji was helping him back to the ground. And they were still close. Still very close and it didn’t seem to matter to Eiji that Ash stunk of sweat and mud.

“You’re strong.”

“I did high jump back home.”

“Did?”

Eiji looked down then, a small smile on his face. Ash knew that smile – it was a deflecting smile. So he went to take Eiji’s hand again. He couldn’t quite do it this time – not when he was thinking about it – he brushed his knuckles against Eiji’s instead.

“Let’s keep looking.”

All of the rooms were the same mix of modern and rustic. They couldn’t see any signs of life from the stables or barn and decided not to investigate in too much detail. The longer they looked the more Ash was aware that he was carrying around an empty gun. He wasn’t sure what he would do if they came across a zombie now.

There was a shed around the back. Although the wood was new, it wasn’t hard to break the lock on the door. Eiji’s eyes had sparkled with such excitement at the possibility of breaking in that Ash had counted them down and they had ran at it with their shoulders.

At first, the wood juddered from the frame but did not come away. They tried again. It buckled.

The shed seemed even darker than the house had been. There was nothing especially exciting in there – forks, shovels, empty buckets. Dead bluebottles and cans upon cans of paint. But there was a rather large chainsaw. With several spare blades.

Eiji ran his finger along the edge of one.

That was when Ash heard it. A thud. His first thought was that it was Max being the general lummox that he was, so he stuck his head out of the shed.

“Lobo?” he called. “We’re round the back.”

There was another thud and he heard a groan. He frowned stepping out of the shed and heading around the house. Were they hurt? It sounded as though someone had fallen. As he came around the side of the wooden building, he saw a figure on the porch step.

“Lobo?” he tried again. “Max?”

The figure twitched its head towards him, looking weary. Scared. It must have been someone like them. A survivor. The sun was blinding him and even when he shielded his eyes with his hand, he couldn’t make out any details.

“It’s okay. We’ve got supplies and we can help you.” He walked as he spoke and knocked a stone in the grass with his foot. The head followed the movement. That was when he first noticed how fluid the movement was, like the head was loose on the neck.

There was the groan again and as the figure pushed itself into an unsteady standing position Ash realised his mistake. He had let his guard down. His mind had been filled with emerald green grass and blue skies and expresso coloured skin. He had been away in Oz.

This was reality.

It wasn’t one of the women in the photo – but he had seen this man – this boy – in the photos in the house. He was tall, taller than Ash but even thinner. Broken glasses sat skewed on a face that was once pale and shy. Now there was a deep, ragged gash running from temple to chin, oozing dark blood that was crusting in a pool over him. Skin hung limply, as did his left forearm, from the elbow down. Ash could see bone poking through the flesh.

He wondered how the smell hadn’t hit him before. The smell of decay – an overpowering, vomit-inducing smell. Maybe he had gotten used to it.

No, as he stumbled back, he realised why. The barn was open. It had been punched at and the wood torn away until a hole was in the bottom of the door. That had let the smell out. A rat hung, dead, over the opening.

The boy had heard him, yellow eyes had focused on him like a sniper targeting it’s prey and he stumbled forward. Stumbled faster, picking up speed as Ash did, darkened lips curling over yellowing teeth in some resemblance of a smile.

Ash wasn’t looking where he was going. He was just walking backwards – running backwards – as quickly as he could. This was helpless. He didn’t have a gun that would work. He didn’t have any defence. He had been careless and he would pay the price.

Eiji would pay the price for his carelessness. He heard his voice, like he was underwater and it was coming from above the surface, “Ash!”

The boy’s head rolled to Eiji’s voice and Ash clapped. He didn’t know what he was doing – keeping it away from Eiji, he supposed. He was clapping and walking backwards and he didn’t have a plan. Ash Lynx didn’t have a plan. Ash was meant to have a plan. Ash always had a plan.

His back hit wood. It was such a shock that his legs gave way beneath him. Dead end. The boy was over him – close to him now – close enough that Ash could see maggots in the gash on his face, feeding hungrily at still moving flesh. Flies buzzed around yellow eyes – Ash could see every vein.

Not dead end.

Just another building.

Fucking move, Ash Lynx.

Don’t be helpless.

Never be helpless again.

His hands found the dirt, went to start dragging himself away from this monster as far as he could before his strength gave out completely.

A new sound appeared.

It sounded like a roar. A dinosaur roar.

Then his eyes adjusted. It was too mechanical to be a dinosaur roar. It was the whirr of a machine.

He stared up at the boy in confusion – just in time to see silver above his head. Then everything was red.

Red splattered out from the boy, the device still whirring away as it cast the world with crimson paint. The drops caught the sunlight as they flew. Red poppies. He covered an arm with his face to avoid the warm, wet feeling of the blood touching his skin.

When the whirring finally stopped, when he peeled his arm back to see the boy’s split body falling to one side – guts and organs spilling out like the insides of a cracker – he found a silhouette above him. He shielded his eyes with his hands and this time he saw clearly enough.

It was Eiji. Standing with a chainsaw hanging heavily from his arms, panting as he stared down at Ash. Eiji, covered in scarlet from head to toe. Eiji, who had just saved his life with a chainsaw of all things.

Ash stood – stumbled – using the wood behind him to support himself.

Eiji had just saved his life.

He was alive.

Eiji had –

He was stepping – bounding – over the body – moving without thinking.

Eiji had saved his life.

His hands were on Eiji’s cheeks, not taking a moment to look at him before he was slamming his mouth onto Eiji’s. He tasted of copper and sweat and nothing in the world had ever tasted better. He was alive. He was alive because of Eiji.

Fuck.

He was kissing Eiji.

He pulled away, stumbling back over legs that looked like they belonged to a broken puppet.

“Well,” he said. He didn’t want to acknowledge that. He wanted to keep moving. “That was-“ the word came to him – where he had seen a chainsaw before. “’Groovay.’”

Eiji shook his head – scattering poppy petals of blood onto the Emerald City of grass. “I had to help.”

“Thank you.” Ash said. He swallowed, got the courage to touch him again and put his hands on Eiji’s shoulders. “Thank you, Eiji.”

“You said that already.” Eiji said. At Ash’s confused frown, he pressed a hand to his own mouth. Smudged with blood still.

“Sorry – I’m – sorry, about that,” Ash said. “I didn’t believe I was alive.”

“You don’t have to apologize for everything, you know.” A ghost smile sat on Eiji’s lips.

There might have been a laugh, if there wasn’t a dead boy between them. Ash looked down at the body, flies still buzzing around it, readying themselves for a feast.

“We can’t stay here,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

“Max and Ibe-”

“We don’t know when they’ll be back. I don’t care about waiting for bullets – we can’t wait, Eiji.”

“They won’t be long, they said-”

“Eiji, no.” Ash’s voice was a snap. He forced himself to swallow, though his throat was too dry to manage it. All he could taste was blood. This was it, he told himself, he had to come out with some small truth. He had to let Eiji in on this one. “We have to go to New York. My brother’s been bitten.”

#banana fish #asheiji #banana fish fanfiction #banana fish au #ash lynx #eiji okumura #the one with the zombies #turnupswrites

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3laxx · 5 years

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Wind update 11

Yeah finally moving on from the DJWifi

I been getting complaints so I deleted a bit and ended the former chapter the way it's now. Well, last chapter I got on reserve, let's see. It might be possible that I'll miss the next few upload dates on my schedule. Not like anyone would care a lot but thought I'd say it just in case. Enjoy~

Ao3 / FF.net

“So, Carapace.”, Ladybug grinned. He could tell she had thought about him a lot before even doing so much as smiling, “What’s your superpower?”

Chat propped himself up on Ladybug’s shoulder, leaning around her and let his eyes wander up and down the other boy’s body, smirking.

“I’d say it’s got something to do with a shield. Maybe protecting. Or time? I mean, Turtles are super slow, maybe you can slow down time.”

Carapace laughed, shaking his head as he turned away from the sunset, leaning back a little more.

“Turtles can actually be pretty fast and no, my power has nothing to do with time, sorry to disappoint you. But it’s a shield, yeah.”, he pulled the shield from his back and got to his feet, positioning himself next to the other two, turning away so he could show them safely. Behind him, he heard Ladybug getting to her feet and peering around him to see what he was doing. He smiled and slid his arm into the given holders, grabbing the steady handle that was installed on the inside.

“So, according to Master Fu, my superpower works a little like Chat’s cataclysm or Lucky Charm.”

Chat stood as well, accompanying Ladybug behind the new superhero.

“But I thought you could do a shield?”, he questioned and Carapace chuckled.

“Yep. It just morphs into what I need at that moment. For example, the shield could expand to a ball around me to keep me safe or it could create kinda like force shields, shielding someone or something that I want to protect. I can make it as big as I want, I think, and it’s gonna last as long as I want or until I detransform.”

Chat already laughed.

“Sooooo, it could just turn into a ball and you’d have to stay in there until you detransform?”, he cackled as Carapace half turned to him, shooting him a deadpanning look.

“Sure, because that’s how protection works. No, I can still kind of decide what to do with it. Like, you can choose to destroy something by turning it into ash but you can also choose to just stop making it function, like a short circuit for an electronic device.”

Ladybug gave Chat a light smack on the back of his head, then she turned to Carapace again. “Could you show us?”

He nodded, smirking at Chat who rubbed his head with a pout, then he widened his stance.

“Shellter!”, he exclaimed and the pattern of his shield began to glow. A wall of light emerged from the shield and expanded, faster and faster, until it touched down all around the three heroes on the roof, creating a dome in which a soft humming noise could be heard. Carapace allowed himself to relax and looked up at the swirling lightly cyan shield, grinning.

“Cool…”, he breathed, then lowered his gaze again to knock against the surface. His hand went right through.

Ladybug stepped next to him, tilting her head at his hand that was outside now.

“And now?”

He laughed, bending his hand to knock against the shield from the outside. It sounded like glass this time, echoing through the dome.

“I think the shield is letting those from the inside through. Or maybe us as the superheroes? I dunno yet, but it’s worth trying out.”

“Could also be that the Miraculous is letting people with a Miraculous through. Or maybe it’s the same with Chat’s cataclysm, you can choose who gets to pass and who doesn’t.”

Carapace shrugged, pulling his hand back in without a hindrance.

“I dunno, maybe.”

Ladybug smirked as she looked over to Chat who stared at the shield with wide eyes, already giggling to herself.

“Well, we could find out. Cara, try to concentrate on not letting anybody in or out!”

He smirked as well and concentrated on hardening the shield in his mind, then Ladybug pounced on Chat and pushed him out. Their partner stumbled right out of the shield, looking at them indignantly.

“What? Oh come on guys! You could’ve hurt me with that, bugaboo!”, he whined and his voice sounded muffled due to the shield and Ladybug giggled louder.

“Poor kitty. Now come in again – if you can.”

Carapace stepped next to her, snorting as Chat stepped into the dome again.

“So, I can apparently not influence a shield that’s already been created. Maybe if I create a new one and concentrate on it.”

“Or my theory with the Miraculous was right, that the shield lets through Miraculous wielders but not civilians.”, she theorized, soothing Chat by going up on her tiptoes and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. His face immediately softened and he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. Carapace bit his lip and looked away as he whispered something in her ear, feeling jealousy bubbling up in his chest.

He knew he wasn’t allowed to tell Alya, even if he wanted to. Master Fu had said that he needed to gain their trust first. And it was never good to have civilians know their identity, that had been proven time and time again while he had still been one but had known Marinette’s and Adrien’s secret.

It made them way too close to the action, way too easy to target. Even if they could be helpful. But Hawkmoth knew who Ladybug was and they had been there fighting with him when they had restored the Ladybug Miraculous.

Over the summer the Akumas had always found a way of involving Nino and Alya and it was honestly getting dangerous. Nino was just glad to have a Miraculous himself now.

Like this he could keep himself and, more importantly, Alya safe.

A small smile snuck on his lips as he watched the swirling cyan in front of him. He’d be able to keep her safe. But really this time, by not letting her take the cat Miraculous again, by not letting her run right into the action anymore and by being able to take a hit for her. He lifted his hand and watched his fingers going through the shield, the lightly cyan wall of light caressing his features but not letting him feel anything. He hummed to himself, pulling his hand back again as a beeping sounded from his wrist. He watched one part of the shell becoming dark green like the bracelet underneath the symbol, one part of five.

“Looks like you need to recharge, hm?”, Chat’s voice broke through to him and Carapace lifted his head, smiling at the other hero.

“Yeah, looks like it. Well, I still got a few minutes.”, he replied, then he cast his gaze down again and the small smile reappeared on his lips.

“Ooh, I know that look.”, Ladybug teased, coming closer, “You got someone special, Cara?”

The boy met her gaze and grinned, nodding proudly.

“The prettiest girl in the whole world. I just-… I guess I gotta readjust with her and-… And this…”, he gestured up and down his suit, shrugging. Ladybug placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him with a wink.

“It’s gonna be okay, trust me.”

Carapace snorted, gesturing between Chat and her.

“Well, you guys got it lucky, you’re both superheroes. Even if that has its downsides, too, I guess… But still. I don’t know how to juggle real life and this here yet and I haven’t even fought against an Akuma.”, he hung his head and added in his mind that he had at least not fought an Akuma in the suit yet. It would’ve probably been a dead giveaway to tell his friends, though.

“Yeah… I get you… Well, we’ve kept our identities a secret for years, too, and we got through it. Of course, it’s not easy at first but believe me, Carapace. You’re gonna be able to get through it, just as we were.”

Ladybug leant her head back and watched as the shield disintegrated to air as he pushed a button on the inside of the shield, then he smiled and nodded, placing the shield on his back again to have both his hands free.

“I guess so, yes… So, guys, I have four minutes left. I’ll go home now. Uhm-… See you tomorrow for patrol?”

Suddenly, Chat smirked very smugly and leant on Ladybug’s shoulder again, wiggling with his eyebrows.

“Oh no, Cara. We’ve – or better, I – got something else to do for you. We actually talked to Master Fu and he said you have to train to be the guardian of the Miraculous. We know you’re already taking lessons with Master Fu-”

“And we also know when so we won’t come barging in while you’re not in suit.”, Ladybug briefly interrupted, earning a short nod from Chat before he resumed.

“But we thought we’d give it a shot as well and train you to be more in sync with us as well. After all we’re a team now! So, Carapace, you interested in a few hours training with me tomorrow? Bug here can’t come, she’s busy with a project of hers.”

Ladybug elbowed him in the side and even if it was meant loving, Chat faltered a little, wheezing slightly. Carapace chuckled at his best friend.

“Yeah, sure. I’d love to train with you guys, it can only help. So, uh, tomorrow afternoon? Around five, maybe?”

Chat nodded and gave him a thumb up, his tail swishing behind him excitedly.

“Absolutely! Don’t you worry, Cara, I will properly prepare you to die in honor.”

Carapace stilled and stared at Chat who still grinned at him, then he slowly squinted his eyes.

“Aaaaaaalright. I think you watch too much Anime, bro. Anyway, I’m out, I need to be home soon anyway. See you tomorrow, then, Chat! Bye, Ladybug!”

He just merely saw Ladybug turning to her boyfriend as he already took off, ripping the shield underneath his feet to glide over to the next building and start running from there. It wasn’t far to his home but he still wanted to be careful so he took the longer way, just to be sure that nobody saw him.

But just as he was about to turn back, though, to get to his own house, he realized where he was. Across the street he saw a very familiar illuminated room, behind a big glass front and a balcony in the highest level of the house, under the roof. He hesitated, crouching down as his girlfriend stepped into her room, not looking out of the window but just strolling over to her laptop, sitting down on her desk and clicking a few times before beginning to type. She probably just came from tucking the twins in bed. The second beeping sound lightly startled him and he flinched, the movement in the semi shade from the street lights below attracting Alya’s attention. Her head turned and he froze, their eyes locking together. For a moment, nothing happened.

He didn’t even see her reaching for her phone, either to film him because he could be an Akuma or because she wanted to meet the new team member. They just looked at each other and he could’ve lost himself in her eyes but the third beep ripped him out of the trance.

Alya tilted her head as he stood up, now her fingers searching for her phone that she had thoughtlessly tossed next to her keyboard. He grinned and gave her a little greeting with two fingers to his forehead, then he winked and scrambled off.

Her surprised expression when the boy vanished into the dark, only faintly showing his silhouette over the dimly lit sky from the city lights was priceless and Nino chuckled to himself before sighing.

He wouldn’t be able to tell her. He couldn’t.

Well, he could, but-… Fu had been right to say that Nino wanted his team to trust him before revealing his identity. Plus-… It was probably better to keep his family out of this for as long as possible.

He had seen how alert Marinette had always been during an Akuma attack, exactly knowing that Hawkmoth could attack them at any time. And just like Alya and Nino, the Akumas had sometimes decided to take hostages to get where they wanted.

Marinette blamed herself for this. Even at her friend’s and parents’ begging to listen, to understand that she wasn’t at fault, Nino saw how it crushed her. How it weighed down on her.

And everytime one of her parents or friends had been captured, he saw it in her eyes how scared she was. How dangerous it was for her to fall back into the past, to break under what she had to go through once more when she saw in how much danger she had brought her loved ones.

They were just lucky Hawkmoth hadn’t done anything in his civilian form yet.

As bad as it was that he was so intelligent, this was to their advantage. He wasn’t stupid enough to try and harm Marinette or her family and friends as a civilian.

At least.

After a short run he finally reached his own home, his heart still racing from meeting his girlfriend in the suit. Well, he hadn’t met her, really. But she had finally seen him fully. He asked himself if she would be quick enough to figure him out, too, as she had figured out Adrien and Marinette as well.

And even if his heart longed for her to know, he hoped it would take her a long time. Maybe even not at all, until he revealed his identity to his friends.

He crouched down on the roof of his house, carefully glancing over the edge to see that the street was empty. He praised his parents under his breath for choosing such a quiet street to have their home, then he carefully dropped down from the roof, using his shield beneath him as a puffer. Safely and quietly he set foot on his windowsill and checked his room. The air was clear so he opened his unlocked window and slid inside, clipping his shield to his back again.

“Wayzz, shields down.”, he whispered as the fourth beep sounded, leaving him with one more part of the shell right before he detransformed.

The little Kwami flew out of his bracelet and Nino scrambled to catch him, securely cupping both his hands around the green god.

“Hey there, buddy.”, Nino grinned as Wayzz blinked at him, then he let his little friend down on the pillow on his desk and pulled the bowl of sunflower seeds closer, handing the little Kwami one.

“Thank you, Master Nino.”, Wayzz smiled at him, leaning back against the pillow as Nino snorted.

“Dude, you know you don’t have to call me master.”

His Kwami merely shrugged it off, lazily waving a paw at him.

“Sure, sure.”, he replied and Nino rolled his eyes, pushing his desk chair closer to start up his computer. On the screen a picture of the Squad lit up, a picture that they had taken over the summer.

Marinette looked way better already. She had gained a bit of weight after this torture and she had already found back to trusting them a little more. Her eyes still weren’t really there in the picture, she was just a little too thoughtful and drawn back, but she had tried so hard to get back to her former self after they had restored her Miraculous. Tikki and Adrien had massively helped by getting her back on track and Alya and Nino had been there for her the whole way. By now, it almost seemed like the old Marinette was back, even if she sometimes had backlashes.

But whenever something like this happened she knew she could trust her parents and her friends to be there for her. She knew she wasn’t alone anymore and that was probably why Nino loved this picture so much.

He smiled and typed in his code, then got to the desktop.

A picture of Alya and himself showed, one Marinette had taken without them noticing. They had sat on Alya’s bed, both with crossed legs and their knees touching. It had been a sleepover, as Nino recalled, because they had both been in their pajamas.

Their foreheads had leant against each other and they had listened to a new track Nino had mixed, Alya looking down at his phone with a relaxed expression, Nino looking at her, cupping her hands that held his phone on which the earphones were plucked in, scrolling through the pictures in his gallery.

He remembered that she had found something embarrassing just moments after this photo had been snapped, some drunk selfie he had taken at some point after turning sixteen, between all the photos of his family, vacations and his DJing stuff.

She had giggled so adorably as he had scrambled to get the phone from her, falling back and coaxing him to fall with her. He had blushed when he had found himself on top of her and she had laughed, kissing him softly before Adrien had groaned, telling them to get a room.

Nino smirked at the memory, his lips still tingling as he thought back to it.

“What are you smiling about, young master?”, Wayzz asked softly, shifting on his pillow to be able to look at his wielder. The boy chuckled and leant back, still looking at his screen.

“Oh, just-… Realizing how lucky I am to have a girl like Alya.”

“Widen your stance, Carapace.”, Chat instructed while walking around him, nodding slightly as Carapace followed his advice, “With a good stance you can’t be brought out of balance so easily. Like this you’ll be able to have a better defense.”

He did his best not to look at his teammate, knowing exactly that Adrien normally should’ve been at home practicing the piano instead of standing in the stadium with him, training him in martial arts. Oh, what his father would say to that if he knew.

Chat came to the front again, grinning brightly as he mimicked Carapace’s stance, bringing his hands up in a position to fight.

“And now, I will attack you and you try to stay standing, alright?”

The boy gulped and nodded, softly clenching and unclenching his fists nervously. He knew what Chat was able to do. He had seen him fighting before.

“A-Alright.”, he stuttered, his eyes trained on his best friend’s every move as the black clad superhero surged forward, hooking his leg around Carapace’s and trying to push against his chest to get him to fall. Carapace pulled his leg away and turned, still facing Chat but quickly bringing both feet firmly to the ground not to leave a weak spot.

His sparring partner grinned, nodding as he went back in the starting position.

“Very good. But what if I tried something else?”, Chat smirked and before Carapace could react, Chat had already grabbed his arm and thrown him over his shoulder. His partner laughed at the surprised expression that the boy couldn’t hide as he found himself lying on the floor, having trouble breathing.

“Don’t worry, Cara. You’ll get used to reacting faster.”

He stretched out his hand and Chat took it, pulling him up to his feet again.

“And again, let’s go!”, Chat enthusiastically exclaimed while Carapace merely groaned.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfic #wind #Breeze #nino lahiffe #carapace #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #ladybug #ladynoir #freckles writes

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professional-anti · 6 years

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Chapter Ten: City of Bones

Things that have happened since the last update: I moved into my new school in a whole different country, became problematic, and read one (1) book. So I’m pretty cultured atm. Let’s do this.

Part Two: Easy is the Descent We have an unstranslated quote from the Aeneid, I guess so CC can show off how smart she is.

Chapter Ten: City of Bones Everybody freaks tf out about the fact that Jocie was Voldemort’s wife. We have an actual, real-life, total gem from Clary:

"That's impossible! My mother would never-she was only ever married to my father! She didn't have an ex-husband!”

Clary….blease…….I’m begging u……..she makes it so easy………

Hodge lists off the other death eaters. I’m not even going to pretend they’re not death eaters. There’s no reason to. Anyway, they all got in trouble after the Uprising™, except the Lightwoods got “clemency” bc they had a baby. Which is ridiculous and makes no sense. Ppl don’t just get lighter sentences bc they have babies. Hodge’s punishment is that he has to stay in this mansion in New York. I thought the Clave would be more into capital punishment, just going off how much they suck, but I guess that would just hinder the story.

Hodge reveals that Voldemort wants the cup bc it can give him an army of Shadowhunters. Isabelle comes in to say that she ordered Chinese, which raises interesting questions. Wouldn’t the ppl delivering just see a decrepit, condemned house? Did she have to order to next door and wait outside?

In the kitchen (where Simon is still staring awkwardly at Isabelle), Isabelle says that she thinks the fact that Voldie is looking for Jocie is “kind of romantic”. You know, that this vile supremacist is hunting down the woman who left him. Super romantic. Then she says the “evil thing” is “sort of hot.” No, really:

"Isabelle," said Hodge patiently, "this is the man who rained down destruction on Idris the like of which it had never seen, who set Shadowhunter against Downworlder and made the streets of the Glass City run with blood." "That's sort of hot," Isabelle argued, "that evil thing.”

At least in Harry Potter, no one thought that Voldemort was hot. In fact, everyone rightly despised him for killing innocents and preaching hatred. Bellatrix Lestrange was physically attractive, and nobody tried to argue that her actions were hot. Because they saw the terror she brought. No one would call her carving “Mudblood” into Hermione’s arm “hot”.

Oh, and even worse, after Isabelle reveals she likes murderous racists, “Simon trie[s] to look menacing”. The whole situation is just so awkward. Hodge tells them that Valentine would use the cup on children (it would kill adults) and discard the children who couldn’t handle it. Isabelle finally gets that Voldemort is bad and that water is wet. Jace is super mad that Voldemort wants to harm muggle children bc Shadowhunters are all about protecting the muggles. Never mind that Jace has shown nothing but disrespect for them the entire book.

Hodge pushed his plate away. "Valentine was insane," he said. "Brilliant, but insane. He cared about nothing but killing demons and Downworlders. Nothing but making the world pure. He would have sacrificed his own son for the cause and could not understand how anyone else would not." "He had a son?" said Alec. "I was speaking figuratively," said Hodge, reaching for his handkerchief. He used it to mop his forehead before returning it to his pocket. His hand, Clary saw, was trembling slightly.

Could Hodge be any more obvious. No, really, I’m asking. Please be more obvious Hodge. All the readers are dumb as goldfish and wouldn’t understand subtly. We need bricks in the face. This is compounded by Hodge telling them that they shouldn’t do anything to stop Voldmort, that the Ministry of Magic will handle it. Hodge is sooo not on Voldemort’s side, you guys. Never!

They decide to go to the Silent Brothers to retrieve Clary’s memories, which they think will help them save Jocie from Valentine. The Silent Brothers are Shadowhunters who destroyed their bodies with runes and now have crazy mental powers. Honestly sounds a little creepy. I’d read a book about their order, tbh. Are they all guys, though? Then I wouldn’t read it. Also, they sound like Dementors.

That night, Clary has a dream that she’s dancing with Simon in the Glass City, and then Simon turns into Jace. The Symbolism is so real. Then Jace wakes her up, holding her wrists. Apparently she tried to hit him in her sleep, but he shouldn’t have grabbed her wrists. I can think of few things more terrifying than waking up to a boy restraining my arms. Apparently, she fell asleep in a hallway the night before and Jace and Hodge let her to a bedroom. Honestly confused how she fell asleep in a hallway, but we have bigger problems to deal with.

Oh. My. God. A silent brother (I’m done with the dumb capitalization. We don’t say a Congresswoman or a Principal or a Citizen) has arrived. And his name is. His name is. BROTHER JEREMIAH.

Clary gets dressed and wishes she could look more like Isabelle. Bc girls have to judge themselves on their appearance even during everday tasks, like getting dressed. They meet BJ in the library, and he’s described like a death eater with a white color scheme, basically:

For a moment she thought he was alone in the room: that Jace had been playing a joke on her. Then she saw a figure move out of the dimness, and she realized that what she had thought was a patch of darker shadow was a man. A tall man in a heavy robe that fell from neck to foot, covering him completely. The hood of the robe was raised, hiding his face. The robe itself was the color of parchment, and the intricate runic designs along the hem and sleeves looked as if they had been inked there in drying blood. The hair rose along Clary's arms and on the back of her neck, prickling almost painfully. "This," said Hodge, "is Brother Jeremiah of the Silent City." The man came toward them, his heavy cloak swirling as he moved, and Clary realized what it was about him that was strange: He made no sound at all as he walked, not the slightest footstep. Even his cloak, which should have rustled, was silent. She would almost have wondered if he were a ghost-but no, she thought as he halted in front of them, there was a strange, sweet smell about him, like incense and blood, the smell of something living.

BJ says that he can’t get Clary’s memories bc there’s some sort of magical “block” in her head, and that she has to come to the Brotherhood HQ in order to have it removed. BJ leaves on his own, and Clary and Jace go and stand on the corner. Jace is incredibly cruel about Simon. Then a black carriage disguised as a limo pulls up, driven by BJ himself. It’s honestly cool how the carriage moves thru NY traffic and no one nottices. It’s the exact touch of “magic hidden in New York” that I like. Clary and Jace also have a conversation about poetry and music, which reveals the distance between their worlds, that I like, so maybe this carriage is magical.

Oh, here we are. Back on our bullshit. Clary looks at Jace’s ring and thinks that “there would have been something feminine about a boy wearing a ring, but there wasn’t.” Let’s deconstruct, shall we? First of all, men wear rings all the time. Secondly, we get it, Jace is super super masculine, feminity in men is Bad, Jace would never at all be feminine in any way at all bc that’s gross right? Like, I love how Clare has to specify that this ring in no way, shape, or form makes Jace at all feminine. No one would have thought it, and, also, there’s nothing wrong with femininity in anyone.

Jace says that he didn’t tell Hodge the identities of the guys Luke was talking to bc then Hodge would know that Jace wouldn’t take no for an answer re killing Valentine. He gives a pretty realistically traumatized description of his father’s death:

"I was ten," Jace said. She turned to look at him. He was without expression. It always seemed like some color drained out of him when he talked about his father. "We lived in a manor house, out in the country. My father always said it was safer away from people. I heard them coming up the drive and went to tell him. He told me to hide, so I hid. Under the stairs. I saw those men come in. They had others with them. Not men. Forsaken. They overpowered my father and cut his throat. The blood ran across the floor. It soaked my shoes. I didn't move.”

Bare bones, emotionless, disconnected. I approve. Honestly, I like the next part too. Clary shows emotion while attempting to comfort Jace, and Jace tells her that he’s not unhappy bc he has a purpose. It shows a bit about their respective upbringings.

Jace says that demons are worse than everything else (e.g. vampires and warlocks) bc the latter are part human while the former are “interdimensional parasites”. Doesn’t explain why Jace is such a dick to the other Downworlders, though. If I remember correctly, he’s going to be a total asshole to vampires at some party later on. I wouldn’t mind Jace’s disgust as much if it weren’t so confusing. The book contradicts itself so much. It’s demons he doesn’t like, no it’s all Downworlders, he’s all about protecting mundies, but actually, he hates them. It flip-flops back and forth, leaving me with little understanding of Jace’s psyche.

They end up at the Marble Cemetary and take a secret passageway under a statue into BJ and co’s lair.

You know why I think this seems so good to me? I read a little bit more of ACOMAFail last night, and this writing is so much better in comparison.

Anyway, the lair called the Silent City (so many cities), and it’s giant and underground has archways with shadowhunter ashes mixed in. Pretty cool. Clary also has a moment where she tells the brothers they have to wait for her to be ready for them to go inside her head. Showing agency, girl!

The brothers do their thing, and a bunch of memories come into Clary’s mind. Among others, there’s a box with the initials J.C. on it (Jesus Christ?) and a doorway with the name “MAGNUS BANE” over the door. When she comes to, she’s lying on the marble floor and has blood all over her arm. Not sure what she managed to cut herself on. The floor should have bruised her, not cut her. Anything for the Drama, I guess. Jace heals her with a stele. Anyway, the block can’t be removed, and they have to go find Magnus Bane. Clary and Jace leave. The end.

#anti cassandra clare #anti the mortal instruments #book snark #CoB: Chapter 10 #CoB snark

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ruffsficstuffplace · 6 years

Text

The Viridian Vanguard (Part 24)

Crack!

The spider golem’s last weak point shattered, it frantically, uselessly flailed about before it fell over on its back, legs curling up into itself as it deactivated. Weiss smiled as she ripped her runeblade out from it, held it up into the air as all six of Winter’s summons joined her and posed beside their “kill.”

Winter cheered from her place on the balcony above, Tygan just nodded his head, and switched to the other feeds in front of him.

Thoom!

Sayuri sent the wooden slab rocketing back with a compressed air explosion, before she thrust out the hand her “spitter” was mounted on. The weapon whirred and screamed like a miniature jet engine, a cyclone exploding out and blasting the slab. Her arm wavered slightly, Sayuri braced it against her other wrist, and the slab didn’t move an inch for the rest of the minute.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Goro stood at the pole again with his cannon this time, raining fiery balls of death down on the golems swarming around him, the hapless constructs exploding into smouldering pieces and ash before they could even get close to the barrier.

<Come on! Come on!> he yelled, taking a hand off his cannon to beat his breastplate. <Let ‘em at me, set ‘em all loose, this shit is too fuckin’ easy!>

<We’re not sending any more golems at you until you dial it back!> cried one of the technicians via comm-crystal. <You’re breaking them too badly, we won’t be able to recycle even half of the ones you’ve already busted!>

<Fuck you!> Goro snapped back. <What’s the point of training if you don’t always put your 110% into it?!>

<That’s enough, Aneyama,> Tygan interrupted calmly. <You can get off the pole now, you’ve already got full marks for this test.>

<Tch,> Goro said, shaking his head as he holstered his cannon over his back. <Next time you want me to break out my big guns, bring out the bigger golems, too!>

<I’ll keep it mind,> Tygan said. <For now, get started on your cooldown.>

Goro jumped off the pole and back to the ground, the clean-up crew gave him dirty looks as he passed them by; he just smiled, admiring the smoking ground, smouldering wreckage, and numerous craters left in his wake.

By 9:30PM, all of Tygan’s students were back underneath their tent, in much higher spirits, and with far less injuries or wounds to be treated by Penny, or the others—and even then, they were usually from accidents, overexertion, or bruises and cuts from earlier acting up. Lively conversation abounded, folks bragging about how well they had done on a certain test, complimenting others, and discussing plans for future lessons.

Meanwhile, Tygan was in the corner, sitting on a large root with Penny, reviewing the statistics and the footage, talking with her in hushed tones. Eventually he got up and strolled back into the front of the class, clapping his hands for attention, waiting for the hubbub to die down before he spoke.

Folks cheered this time, beaming and soaking in the praise, giving out high fives and other friendly gestures..

<And on that same note, I now know exactly why you’re all still going to be Initiates for a long time yet!> Tygan said cheerfully, before his eyes opened, his mouth curled into a scowl, and his voice became deathly serious. <Because without your foci, almost all of you suck, and suck hard.>

All the smiles were suddenly wiped off faces, the students looked at Tygan in a mix of confusion or indignation.

<Adept and Master Weavers uses their foci as an extension of their body and power, not as a crutch nor compensation for their failings and lack. Your weapons and tools are supposed to amplify your natural capabilities to greater heights and allow you to take on incredible challenges, not ensure that you can reliably pass the most basic batteries of evaluative tests!

<I get it: you are Watchers, you are Pit fighters, you are Makers. You live and die by the quality of your tools, by the skill with which you wield them, and by the echoes they have gained under you, and whoever else may have used them before. But you are all also Weavers, and there is no putting away, no unloading, no blunting the most dangerous weapons you have:

<Yourselves.>

Tygan closed his eyes again, his frown turning into a neutral line, his voice flat as he said, <In time, you all have the potential to become truly great, ready to fight, defend, and change this realm, for fame or infamy… but before all that, you must learn to control that power, with or without the help of your foci.

<Remember this: the Primals are not in their positions because they can unleash power like the most devastating storms and phenomenon in nature; they are there because they know when to stay their wrath, when and how much of a percentage of their power to use, and when to unleash fury like Avalon herself.

Tygan bowed, the class stood up and did the same, before he turned around and left, gracefully launching himself up into the tree tops, before hopping from branch to branch, leaving a stunned, silent, and scowling class in his wake.

<Well, shit got heavy real fast—who’s up for drinks?!> someone cried. <Last one not under the table gets a free pass on the bill!>

<You’re on!> Goro said, grinning as he stepped up to them.

They blanched immediately. <Hell no, Goro! Not you! You stay away from this, I like my regular!>

<Well maybe you should have thought of that before you sent an open invite to everyone, ah?!> Goro snapped, hunching his shoulders.

Winter shook her head, wrapping a shoulder around Weiss and coaxing her away from the rapidly heating up argument.

Penny floated up to them and asked, “Would either of you like to join your classmates for dinner, or their other recreational activities? It would be an excellent opportunity to strengthen bonds and make potentially helpful connections in the future.”

Weiss yawned, and shook her head. “Maybe some other day…” she mumbled. “I am so ready to be completely, absolutely done with today...”

“Winter?” Penny asked.

“I think Weiss needs me more than I need to start making a new professional network,” Winter replied, patting Weiss on her arm. “On a related note: you think you can make it all the way back home like this, little sister?”

“So long as we can take the teleporter back...” Weiss mumbled, before she yawned again. “I want to walk as little as possible from here on out...”

“I’m afraid the teleportation functionality is severely limited for the moment, due to the repairs in the Water Quadrant diverting majority of the resources and mana of the Terrace,” Penny said.

Weiss groaned. “Great...”

“Guess we’re just going to have to do this the old fashioned way,” Winter said, shrugging before she knelt down to the ground.

Weiss stared at her in disbelief. “Are you seriously going to give me a piggyback ride back home?”

“Are you going to refuse?” Winter replied calmly.

“No.” Weiss said, fixing up the contents of her belt, before wrapping her arms around Winter’s shoulders.

“Huh, this is strange...” Winter said as she grabbed Weiss’ legs and stood up.

“What is…?” Weiss mumbled as she nestled her head on her shoulder.

“It’s been a decade and a half since I last did this, and it’s still just as easy as it was then!” Winter hummed. “It’s like you’ve barely grown at all, little sister.”

Weiss scowled. “Oh, screw you...” she mumbled, before she quickly fell asleep, smiling.

A little over an hour later, Weiss was standing alone on the balcony of her and Winter’s home, dressed in her nightgown with one of her jackets thrown over it, leaning on the railing with a cup of black moss tea in hand.

She wasn’t doing much but sip and maybe gaze around for interesting sights in the Grove, until her comm-crystal beeped, with a message from Ruby: “On nightwatch. Super bored. Want to talk for a while?”

Weiss smiled, and replied, “Text or talk?”

“Talk. I need to keep my hands free for my farsighter.”

Weiss took a sip from her tea, and established a connection; soon enough, the holo in front of her showed Ruby standing on the edge of a rail, her hood up and her cloak tied tight around her. “Hey Weiss!” she said, waving and smiling at her, before she put a telescope-like device to her eye.

“Good evening, Ruby,” Weiss said, nodding. “Sure you’re not going to get in trouble for this?”

“Nope!” Ruby said, still looking through her farsighter. “I’m really only supposed to be a fail-safe, Iaros is the one we expect to catch anything suspicious out here.”

“Who’s Iaros?”

Ruby spared a hand to move her holo around, Weiss saw a rather large, hawk-like creature, jet black eyes, a sharp-hooked beak, prominent talons, and bright, fiery feathers. She shuddered, and said, “Yeesh, security crystals not intimidating enough for you Fae, huh?”

“Nope!” Ruby said, turning the holo back to herself. “It really helps with keeping wild animals from trying to sneak onto our convoys and into the supplies, having an apex predator keep guard. Though, he’s mostly just been eating domesticated meat and treats, since we still have plenty of animal repellents, there’s still a lot of us traveling together, and we’re not in the really wild zones yet.

“Anyway, enough about me: what’s up on your end? Penny hasn’t updated me on today yet, and I won’t really have the time to catch up for a while, anyway.”

Weiss sighed. “Just the usual, with life and the universe screwing with me… I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Is it because it hurts to talk about it, or because you don’t want to bog me down with your baggage?” Ruby asked. “Because if it’s the second, I’m 100% open to hearing you out and lightening your load.”

“Are you sure about that?” Weiss asked. “It’s going to be about an hour, hour and a half worth of griping.”

Ruby chuckled. “I’m sure—that is what girlfriends do, right?”

Weiss blushed and looked away. “Well, if you’re so willing...” she muttered, before she gave her an abbreviated account of the day’s events, up until Winter’s giving her a piggyback ride back home.

“Wow,” Ruby said. “Pretty much just all action, combat, and the Pits since you woke up this morning, huh? You sure you should still be up and talking to me, instead of getting some sleep?”

“I should be, but I can’t right now,” Weiss replied. “We were starving by the time we got back, and myself and Winter proceeded to quite literally stuff our faces with as much food as we could fit in our mouths. By the time my stomach finally sent the signal that it was time to stop, it was already way too late, so here I am now, standing out at our balcony, sipping coffee while I wait till it’s safe for me to lie down again.”

She sighed. “I’m really worried that this might be my new normal, when it comes to food.”

“Why?” Ruby asked. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you and dad are growing enough to feed all even without allowance from the Council, and Qrow, Blake, and Ren are able to hunt enough for everyone on the reg.”

“It’s not how we’re going to get food that worries me, Ruby, it’s where all of it’s inevitably going to go,” Weiss grumbled, looking down at herself. “Penny assures me that most of it is going to end up metabolized and turned into mana, and that I can burn off the rest of the calories pretty quickly with spellcasting, but I’m concerned at just how much of both is going to happen while I still have this collar on,” she said, touching it.

“I might have to buy a new wardrobe for the meanwhile, and I’ve got this sinking feeling that Blake might have to permanently modify all my old clothes by the time this comes off!”

“I won’t mind if you gain some extra weight, Weiss,” Ruby said.

Weiss scowled. “Well I do, and I know your intentions are good, but I’d rather not hear that from you, especially because your genetics lets you eat cookies on a daily basis, and still keep your rock-hard, six-pack abs.”

She sighed heavily. “Anyway… how are things on your end?”

“Eh, pretty boring and tedious, actually,” Ruby said. “Lack of action aside, I miss you, and everyone else, too. This is actually the first time I’ve ever had an expedition where it’s just me that went, no close friends nor family.

“I mean—I’ve always accepted that there’s going to come a time where they might not be around, especially with how dangerous our jobs are, but when it actually happens… it’s never as easy as how you imagined it to be, you know…?”

“Do you want to talk about it, too...?” Weiss asked.

“Yeah but, I don’t really know where to start!” Ruby replied. “Kinda always relied on Penny for these things, seeing as it’s her job and all.”

“Maybe you could try one of your more memorable expeditions with them?” Weiss asked. “Or maybe your first trips together? Knowing you, there have to be some interesting stories there.”

Ruby paused, then nodded. “Huh… now that you mention it, Blake did start working with us because one of our old Keeper Team watchers quit on us, right on the eve of an important extended trip! How well she did then was how she became a permanent of the team now, actually.”

“Then would you mind telling me all about it?” Weiss said, smiling.

“Sure thing!” Ruby said, smiling and nodding. “It all started about a year ago...”

Note: Since some of you have been politely asking me to show Ruby doing her Keeper duties, y'all are getting a flashback series of chapters.

A farsighter is not just a simple telescope, it also automatically “tags” points of interest and living beings, and with relatively modern developments, have been used to sync up the data to comm-crystals and improve information in the wilderness and the battlefield.

Weavers have VASTLY increased caloric needs than other Fae. Aside from mana water, many watcher-weavers are equipped with energy drinks made with it as a base in case of emergency, extra watcher chocolate bars and similar treats, and receive the lion’s share of food and hunts.

Few mind, as they can perform tasks by themselves that would take scores more of non-weavers to do, and not nearly as efficiently.

In case of emergency or times of scarcity, large amounts of sugar, be it lactose, sucrose, or fructose, can be used to refuel weavers instead of mana water. It’s not nearly as effective nor efficient, but if the situation requires you to desperately shovel table sugar down into your mouth before washing it all down with a fruit milkshake, most weavers don’t really care.

Not all weavers have sweet teeth, and a good chunk of them abhor the taste of mana water, which is generally sweet with additional flavours and undertones that are difficult to describe in Nivian, or translated Actaeon. There are actually some famous Primals, Masters, and notable Adepts who have gone to great lengths to avoid using it, try to make them more palatable to their taste, or both, to the point of inventing entirely new classes and types of beverages and alchemical products over the course of their research.

This is actually how the famous “Fireki’s Fizzy Fun” series of drinks was invented, when the creator Weaver Fireki Venquen tried and failed miserably to make viable variations of pure mana water, and proceeded to sell the prototypes to fund future research. She became ABSURDLY rich from it, but unfortunately never did manage to find those mythical formulas she was looking for, before she died.

#rwby #the viridian vanguard #fanfic #white rose

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