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remakethestars · 3 years

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Being Batman’s Daughter Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Listen, Robin. At their core, people are cowardly and self-serving. Trust no one until you know them. And even then, never completely.❞

— Bruce Wayne, “The Lesson Plan”

TRIGGER WARNING: Plant murder. Mentions of drugs/tranqs (stopping dealers), violence/physical harm, broken bones (knee cap), limb dislocation (shoulder), (Jason’s) death, smoke, waterboarding/drowning?

Headcanon masterlist.

You know how every teenager has that paradigm shift because as much as they love the people around them, they’ll never know the inner workings of your psyche? And they realize they’ll never truly be known? And it makes them feel really lonely?

Yeah, you never come to feel like that because you know Bruce digs so far into everyone around him he probably knows you better than you do.

Honestly, he probably reads your diary. At least, he reads the fake one you hide under your mattress. And the second decoy in the A.C. vent above your dresser.

If you’re as paranoid as Bruce, you probably don’t have a diary, and the aforementioned “decoys” are just to mess with him.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was practically your Bible growing up.

You’re torn between giving yourself the tactical advantage of being underestimated & being non-reactive, which — besides giving you the lioness role in the lion–gazelle dynamic — gives you the advantage of having time to think carefully on the repercussions before speaking.

Because, as Sun Tzu said in chapter seven, verse twenty-one, “Ponder and deliberate before you make a move.”

Seeing as Bruce and Damian both have eidetic memories, I’m guessing you do too.

Which means you totally read the dictionary when you were young and whip our big words nobody’s heard of.

Bruce always assured you it’s okay to be scared. As a matter of fact, like he told Dick (seen in flashbacks in “The Lesson Plan”), he taught you to “Let terror embrace you. The better you know fear, the better you can use it against others.”

And we all know Bruce is the paragon of using fear against people.

Take that, Scarecrow!

(See, I chose that gif because earlier in that move, he displays a fear of bats, & in that scene, he summons them to use as a distraction and walks through them completely unperturbed. No? Okay, I’ll see myself out.)

You started into the vigilante business young, a little bulge under the back of Batman’s cape that made the rest of the Justice League in the meeting think Bruce was host to an alien parasite until your little mask-covered eyes poked up over his shoulder.

The League’s known you since you were young, so they kind of all see you as their niece. That just quadruples the amount of people who are overprotective of you.

Eventually, in your tweens, you think enough’s enough and start out on your own — being underestimated may be an advantage, but it’s getting ridiculous — and you tackle unsolved cases.

You set up various safe houses around the world for your own disposal (using the zeta tubes) and anyone who sees the inside of one in an emergency is always surprised. You don’t really understand why; what serious vigilante doesn’t have secure, state-of-the-art safe locations scattered across the planet?

Sometimes, it gets you into danger, but you always get yourself out of it. If there ever comes a time you can’t, well, you’ve got a direct link to Batman, and if communications fail, you can always yell for your Uncle Clark at the top of your lungs.

If the latter ever comes to fruition, you ask Bruce if he’s disappointed you had to call for back-up or that you called Superman instead of Batman, and he says, “It takes a strong person to admit when they’re weak, [Y/N]; if anything, I’m proud of you. Besides … you’re not the only one who yells for Uncle Clark when they get in over their head.”

Your training entailed hacking and mechanics, so you like to fix computers and sell them on the internet Hugh Jeffreys style. It started out with Macs from the dumpster behind Gotham Academy and turned into a surprising side hustle. Large portions of your profits go into either savings or funding your extracurricular activities.

You’re using a MacBook that’s running Linux and an iPhone 4 that’s running your own program.

At some point, your phone falls into the wrong hands, and someone asks why it has such high security. You deadpan and say, “I have three older brothers.” No further explanation required.

One such solo case led you to a ring of drug dealers working in a small town outside of Gotham. You made some tranquillizers and heavy-duty smoke bombs and busted out your shinobi-iri training.

After sliding on a mask covering the bottom half of your face that filtered out smoke, you set all of the bombs off at once in the ventilation system, filling the building and using the infrared in your domino mask to sedate everyone before the cops arrived so no one got hurt (because there would inevitably be a firefight if the cops got involved).

You never go into a situation expecting to go hand-to-hand with someone; you always have a plan to take our your targets quickly an efficiently.

One night, when you’re working on a cold case in Gotham, you stumble across some intel that Poison Ivy’s been stockpiling chemicals and is going to wipe out all human life on Earth.

Luckily for you, Bruce’s paranoia is hereditary; you just happen to carry some white kryptonite in your belt, so you won’t have to go all the way back to the cave to obtain some.

You type out a quick debrief on your wrist computer in case you end up needing to send out an S.O.S., pop on your bottom mask to filter out spores or pheromones she might send in your direction, and bust out your shinobi-iri training again.

Of course, you try the peaceful approach, explaining to Ivy that you agree with her on the tree-hugger front to build rapport (T.B.F., who doesn’t?), but it comes to physical confrontation. You kill every vine that comes your way with a quick punch from your kryptonite ring, toss an expanding polyurethane foam bomb (see Batgirl #38) at her feet, and manage to get an inhibitor collar on her.

Gordon takes her away, and by the next morning, it’s on the news.

“You took down Ivy by yourself?” Bruce asks when you come down for breakfast.

“… Yeah,” you say after a moment, expecting a tongue-lashing.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. She didn’t get a hit in. And before you ask, I had a contingency set up in case things went sideways.”

“… Good job.”

Your dad has the article framed in the batcave, which is the bat-equivalent of having your drawing on the fridge or getting a sticker back on a test.

You’re fighting a grin for the rest of the day.

It bugs you you can’t tell anyone why you’re so happy, so you visit Dick in Blüdhaven while he’s on patrol and give him a play-by-play. You even get a hair-ruffle!

Deathstroke targets you at some point. One of Batman and Nightwing’s worst villains, and he targets you because he knows they love you. You’re the smallest bat at the time, the weakest; he thinks you’ll be the easiest to take.

Boy, was he wrong.

He was trained by the League of Assassins, so you know dropping a smoke bomb’s not going to give you cover (and his mask probably has infrared). His brain processes faster than yours, so tricking him is improbable. He’s probably done enough research on you to know you favor foam bombs and has fast enough reflexes to dodge before they go off.

And he’s jammed your comms so you can’t call for backup. You’re worried he’s got kryptonite on him and will hurt Superman if you call for help.

It’s just you and him.

He has enhanced stamina, so he tries to wear you out. You maintain distance to avoid taking damage and wearing faster.

You always admired Tim for his ability to plan ahead (see, like, the entirety of the Red Robin comics). He doesn’t know how he does it; he just does. He can’t really teach you, so you just watch and learn.

You realize your fight with Slade is just a matter of managing the distance and immobilizing him, so you strike. You duck behind a pillar or grab onto a railing or something and shoot him through the thigh with your grappling gun, reeling him in. He, of course, draws his sword or a knife to cut the line, but you’re already throwing high-density expanding polyurethane bombs.

And, just like that, you’ve single-handedly taken Deathstroke.

It sends a clear message to the rest of the Gotham villains, Blüdhaven’s villains, the League of Assassins — don’t mess with the bat’s little girl. She can hold her own.

Now it’s time for you to come up with another plan to take him down; you doubt the same method will work twice, and you’ve just made a very powerful enemy.

As Wonder Woman’s said, “Do not mistake a desire to avoid violence for an inability to deal with it.” You might go into most situations with a plan to take down your opponent already in motion, but when it comes to an all-out brawl, you’re perfectly capable and don’t pull your punches.

You’re working on an unsolved case in Blüdhaven (Dick’s got enough on his plate) when you get an S.O.S. from the aforementioned along with the feed and recording from his mask. You listen to the mission briefing while you ride back to the cave and then the audio from the Young Justice mission. They got jumped by the League of Shadows in an abandoned factory, and Talia’s trying to coerce Damian into joining the League or whatever.

The usual dropping some smoke bombs and tranqing everyone isn’t going to work on thirty armed League assassins who were trained to fight blind, so you load up on polyurethane foam bombs and call Jason and Cassandra.

The three of you take out the guards outside before splitting up and taking either end of the building (Cass stays with you). You meet in the middle, in the room the team’s being held in.

You highjacked the speakers, so they’re blasting AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” upon Jason’s insistence. You wanted Zayde Wølf or Alice Cooper’s “Hey, Stoopid,” but big brothers will be big brothers.

Jason pops them with rubber bullets from above to slow them down for you while Cass demolishes them and you drop foam bombs, slinging your signature custom shuriken, bonk them over the head with Tim’s staff you picked up along the way, dislocate their arms, or shatter their kneecaps.

You and Jason get a couple slices from swords that got a little too close, but it’s nothing compared to what you’ve had before.

When the fighting’s done and the building’s quiet, the team’s, like, “Who the heck are you guys?”

And Dick’s, like, 😏 “They’re our siblings.”

Speaking of siblings, you’re older than Damian, and as such, you take upon yourself the honor of teaching him all things pop-culture.

“I have a lot of amazing older siblings. I want to be a good big sister.”

First things first, you give him one of your refurbished e-waste phones and take him to Target to pick out an OtterBox or a LifeProof case or something that’ll keep it safe in the pocket of a vigilante.

Vigilantes are always coming to you when their phone’s broken anyway; you’ve got a stack of spares you’ve repaired.

Then you help him set up a Spotify account (follow me at @remakethestars 😉) and try to help him find his rhythm.

Poor child’s never had Oreos before, so you drag a pack of Double Stuffs out of the cabinet and a glass of milk and show him the best milk-dunking method you know.

You think about handing him a cookie and telling him to waterboard it until the bubbles stop coming up, but cookie-dunking is something every kid does; it’s sacred, and you don’t want him to associate it with violence.

You show him how you and Alfred feed the bats in the batcave.

And you show him Vine compilations and your favorite shows and movies and as many classics as you can, and you put up with him pointing out the inaccuracies and calling them stupid.

Every time he doesn’t get a reference, you write it down so you know what to show him later.

If anything ever happens to you, Damian finds your list and makes it his personal mission to watch/read everything on it. It makes him feel close to you.

You build a relationship with him that’s similar to his and Dick’s, and he comes to you with things he might not be able to come to anyone else with.

Plus, since you live in the manor still and he doesn’t want Bruce to think less of him, it’s you he comes to after a nightmare.

If you know Alfred has pictures of him curled up in your side, you ask him to send them to you. Not for blackmail purposes; just to have.

You’d never use the need of comfort or the sharing of emotions against him because (A) it’s perpetuating toxic masculinity and (B) you don’t want him to think it’s wrong or confirm any of the stupid “strength” things the League of Shadows taught him.

You gave him a stuffed cat that looks like Alfred (the cat, not the butler) with some of your perfume spritzed on it. He verbalized his revulsion when you gave it to him, but on nights he has a bad dream and you’re not home, it brings him comfort.

Titus comes to get you when Damian’s upset.

Even when he’s not with Damian, he seems to know. Pets are like that.

You’ve learned to trust Titus’s instincts. Damian thinks it’s suspicious when he’s feeling down and you just happen to call.

You never realized it until a long time later, but Ace was acting weird the day Jason came back from the dead.

And he was acting weird the day Jason came back to Gotham too. He ran to the door and began barking. Alfred swept security, but nothing seemed to be off. The whole family was on edge that day.

You were the reason Jason knew he wasn’t completely forgotten; he spotted you through a café window, and you were wearing his jacket.

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

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markberries · 4 years

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a l l i w a n t ┊draco malfoy

anon requested: could you do a draco x reader imagine where it’s enemies to lovers but one day at a party draco gets drunk and confesses his feelings?

info: being tormented by draco was a normal thing for you, but one day everything changes when you find out his true thoughts.

warnings: blood, cursing

genre: slight angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, gryffindor!reader, fem reader

word count: 2700+

a/n: i decided to not make this a party scene because i feel like all my stories end up there, so it’s a little different. sorry if this ruined your request! also i stole hermione’s iconic scene lmao

you rarely hated anyone. most of the time, you enjoyed another person’s company. you enjoyed hearing them talk about things they were excited about, how they did on their recent exam, and you let them vent their sorrows to you. it was like getting a peak into another person’s life, you got to view how it felt like to be them.

so no, you did not really hate anyone, except for one bleach blonde snob with daddy’s credit card; draco malfoy. his cologne hurt your nose, it reminded you of axe body spray, back in the muggle world. he always used his “pureblood status” as a valid excuse to verbally assault those who did not carry the same reputation as him.

you convinced yourself that you did not care for him, or that you hated him, but something in the back of your mind had your eyes drifting to his smooth looking skin in the middle of a class, or the thought of how his hair looked extra soft. you were the type of person to dust those thoughts off and continue with your day, but that did not stop you from thinking about him any other day.

so you gripped your wand in your hand, pointed at draco, who had just insulted hermione for the sake of shits and giggles. he looked at you, as if he were waiting for you to strike, as if he knew that you weren’t going to do it.

“what do we have here? a halfblood? trying to harm me?” an irritating snicker emits from him and his two goons. a surge of anger powers through you, and you’re at a point where you want to spew hurtful words and cast menacing spells, but you knew where that would get you. it would get you a one way ticket out of hogwarts.

your face is beginning to heat up; not from embarrassment, but from annoyance. people passing by the courtyard paid no attention, they continued to talk loudly and ignore the commotion surrounding you five.

“what are you gonna do, huh?”

“y/n, i appreciate the help, but it’s better to ignore him,” hermione assures you, setting a hand gently on your shoulder. you should have listened to her. you wished you had listened to her.

in that spur of ignorance and rage, for you hated draco that much, you launched your fist into malfoy’s face, making him fall to the ground and hold his nose in pain.

you see a tad bit of blood coming out of his nose, and you swore you heard a crack when your fist met his face. now realizing your wrong doings, your eyes widen as professor mcgonagall comes marching towards the scene.

“what on earth happened?” she asks, concerned while picking up malfoy off the ground, who was still groaning, it was a bit dramatic in your opinion. you didn’t know how to start explaining yourself — you couldn’t just say “he was pissing me off”. no, definitely not.

“he was saying hurtful and offensive things, not only towards me, but towards hermione as well,” you say, hoping that your punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

“it should not have resulted in violence, ms. y/l/n,” mcgonagall lectures you, now dragging draco towards the school entrance. “we will decide on the proper punishment after mr. malfoy recovers in the infirmary, for now, i think it’s best you think of an apology to give him, yes?”

with that, professor mcgonagall walks away with malfoy, crabbe and goyle following behind her. you sigh, facepalming.

hermione stood in front of you, asking, “why did you do that?” it was obvious that she was trying to stifle her own laughter, but you are the one who ends up giggling in amusement.

“i had to! it was malfoy!” you reply, making her let out a small laugh as well. you two began walking towards your next class together, meeting up with harry and ron in the hallways.

“you what!?” ron asks in disbelief, looking at you as you all walked together. “bloody hell, you know that draco’s father isn’t going to be happy about this.”

“i know,” you reply, almost carelessly.

“are you not worried?” ron questions again, you simply shrug in response. ron makes a face, like he was thinking of how worried he would be if lucius malfoy would treat him after he punched draco.

“always thought draco fancied you,” harry mutters as you all enter the defence against the dark arts classroom, and you nearly choke on your own saliva.

“i’m sorry?” you manage to get out, making harry look at you.

“oh you know, i thought everyone was thinking the same thing,” he tells you, and you cannot believe what you’re hearing.

“you must be mistaken,” you laugh awkwardly, sitting down at your desk, beside hermione.

“you two are always at each other’s throats, you claim to hate each other, i wouldn’t be surprised if malfoy liked you, if i have to be honest.”

setting your books down on the carved wooden table, you tap your fingers on the desk. you fell deep into thought, resting your head among your hand, propping yourself up.

it would be unexpected — no, odd, yes, it would be quite odd if draco malfoy fancied you. although it was not believable nor confirmed, it still had you thinking. would it be strange to date draco? it couldn’t be that bad, right? you could see who he was. who he really was, not that tough, and might i add, annoying front that he put up, no — you would be able to discover the reality behind draco malfoy.

his fears, his dreams, his hopes — the possibilities were endless. there may be some obstacles, his father for example, but every relationship had obstacles.

you shake off your odd thoughts, reminding yourself that this was draco malfoy. the pureblood who insulted you everyday, the boy who thought he was better than everyone else, the boy you had just punched, for god’s sake.

finally, you are broken out of your own trance by professor lupin, tapping on your desk.

“yes, professor?” you ask, looking up at him. he offers you a warm smile, saying, “professor mcgonagall wishes your presence in the infirmary.”

oh shit.

—

“ah,” mcgonagall says when you walk through the door. “well then, i’ll leave you to it.”

you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, “i’m sorry? leave me to do what?”

“apologize. i’m sure you heard me tell you to make one, yes? although, we did have to cast a spell that makes mr. malfoy a bit disoriented so that we could repair his broken nose.” with that, the professor exits, leaving you with malfoy, who was laying in his bed, eyes boring into your own.

“i see you’re all fixed up, aren’t you?” you remark, glaring at him. he doesn’t respond, perhaps the spell’s side effects were the reason. after a pause, he begins to speak.

“mcgonagall said, you have to apologize.”

you didn’t want to apologize. who would want to? but you knew you had to, you didn’t want draco’s father to be on your ass for the rest of your hogwarts years. sitting down in the seat next to draco’s bed, you sigh to yourself.

“fine. i’m sorry, i guess.”

the room goes quiet; not an awkward silence, but a calm one. it washes over you unexpectedly, as you had never imagined what a calm silence would be like around draco malfoy.

at this point, he’s still staring at your face. you’re trying your best to avoid his gaze, not wanting to look into his eyes. he smiles at you, drowsiness taking over him.

“you know, you’re quite pretty when you’re not bitching,” he says, but it seemed like he wasn’t directly saying it to you — it was as if he was talking to himself.

“what?” you say quietly, and draco turns to the side, the opposite direction of you.

“you heard me. i think you’re pretty.”

a million thoughts race through your mind, negative and positive. the only sound that you swore you could hear in the empty room was your own heartbeat, pounding out of your chest as you replayed malfoy’s words repeatedly in your head. before you could question malfoy longer, he was already fast asleep.

—

the next few days had you stumped. you forgot how to act around draco, you no longer made your smartass remarks, and he would constantly catch you glancing at him. after his odd confession, it was like something changed in you.

“what are you looking at, halfblood?” draco spits at you, you’re quick to look down at your feet and spew out an apology. draco, who was fully expecting you to throw some nasty words at him, was baffled. he had never seen you pass an opportunity to argue with him. yes, sometimes you would go quiet when you two fought, often when he took his insults too far; but not like this.

“cat got your tongue?” draco tried his best to provoke you, to get you to merely look at him, but you seemed far more interested in looking down at the ground. it irritated him, so he strutted up to you and grabbed your face with his left hand aggressively, earning a yelp from you. he lifted your chin swiftly, seeing a scared look on your face.

“look at me when i talk to you, halfblood,” he laughed, letting go of you. you still refused to speak, draco’s former words in the infirmary occupying all your thoughts. draco needed you to say something, anything.

“what are you? mute?” he carried on, heads turning at the scene unfolding before everyone in the courtyard, where you were previously holding a wand up to malfoy’s face.

“leave me alone, draco,” you muttered, shoving him away. your voice wasn’t the same anymore. it was quiet, it almost sounded helpless, but not quite. as if you were unsure of what to do, or what to say.

when you pushed draco, he lost his own balance and landed straight on his arse, the ground making a light squish noise. giggles came from people passing by as draco stood back up, wet grass littering his robe.

he brushed himself off, before glaring back at you. “oh you’ll pay for that.”

“again, you two!?” a familiar voice shouted, once again, it had been professor mcgonagall. you were red with embarrassment, being caught fighting with draco once was a mistake, being caught twice was humiliating. both you and draco’s heads snapped to look at the upset professor.

“professor-” she cut you off, shaking her head in disappointment. “i’ve had enough of both of your shenanigans. both of you, detention.”

—

you had never gotten detention. then again, you also had never punched draco malfoy in the nose, nor have you ever considered dating him, so this week was full of unexpected events.

“this is your fault,” you hissed at draco, carefully reorganizing the books in the library. draco scoffed, flipping through pages of a random novel you had put aside to sort later. you had regained your sass from the shameful moment that you had been assigned to rearrange all the hardbacks and paperbacks hours ago.

“me? you’re the one who decided to send my ass to the ground,” he sneered, placing the book in the correct shelf, “or have you already forgotten about my broken nose?” draco added.

your cheeks began to heat up again, and you avoided malfoy’s gaze. you tried your best to shake off draco’s words, but his flattering remark had not left your head since he said it.

“why do you keep doing that?” draco asked, and you froze. had he noticed?

“what do you mean, malfoy?”

“you keep doing that. i assume that you weren’t interested in arguing with me today, because most of the time, you never shut that big mouth of yours.”

“i’m never interested in arguing with you, malfoy,” you sighed, your back still facing him. you could feel his eyes burning into your backside, but you didn’t turn around. you didn’t want to turn around.

“not what i mean, halfblood. i’m saying you always have something to say.”

“okay, and i don’t see a problem here. i just didn’t have anything to say to you today.”

draco throws a book on the table next to you, forcing you to turn around to face him, annoyance written all over your face.

“today? don’t you mean the past few days? do you think i’m that dense?”

both of your voices had slighted raised a volume, but quiet enough so that professors wouldn’t come running in to check out the commotion.

“what is your problem malfoy? i just didn’t feel like arguing with you today. why are you acting like you’re offended or concerned?”

“i’m not. i just enjoy seeing how angry you can get when i call your little friend granger a mudblood.”

“don’t call her that.”

“so tell me then, halfblood. what changed? why are you so afraid to fight back?”

“you. you changed.”

the room went silent again. both you and draco stared at each other, a confused expression on his face, but a stoic one on yours. this wasn’t your ideal situation, you didn’t want to tell malfoy about what happened, and you weren’t going to, until now.

you wished that draco hadn’t pushed, and you wished that draco stopped asking so many questions. you wished for a lot of things, but none came true. so many things were unplanned within your current state of affairs, like how you realized how attractive draco was, or how he always tried his best in classes, but he chose to play the “dumb rich boy”.

“you’re not making sense,” he said, taking a seat. you were fidgeting with your hands, looking at the ground. you were shifting your weight back and forth from your right foot to your left.

“you said something, when you were in the infirmary,” you rambled, looking back up at draco. he still had that same confused look on, and you were having second thoughts about this conversation, but it was too late.

“you called me pretty.”

it takes a moment for draco to process this — it’s like you can see what he’s thinking, judging from the flash of emotions on his face. first it’s embarrassment, the sudden pink tint rising as his eyes grow wide. next is a smile being held back, almost like he was thinking about how you might have reacted. lastly was deep thought, thinking about what to say next.

“well?” you ask, eagerly awaiting his response. you wished that he would yell and deny it, but like i said, you wished a lot of things.

“you are quite pretty.”

if draco had denied it, you would’ve continued living your life. you would have continued to argue with him and you would have continued to insult him whenever you got the chance. you wanted him to have said “you? you’re absolutely delusional”, so that you could cut off the thoughts about how much you wanted to feel draco’s hand on your own, go on dates with him, and rearrange his bland wardrobe.

that’s what you would have done if he denied it.

“i’m sorry?”

“odd, isn’t it? i thought it was a dream, truly i did. i thought i had made the entire thing in my head, i mean, i never expected you to ever apologize to me. guess i was wrong.”

you were dumbstruck, after all those offensive comments, after all those arguments and years of torment, draco malfoy had just admitted that he thought you were pretty.

“you’re lying,” you say.

“i’m not. you know what they say, bad attention is better than none at all, and you bet i wanted your attention.”

something he said made your heart swell, and you were staring into his eyes in awe. you smile, your eyes turning into crescents.

“malfoy,” you say.

“what is it, halfblood?”

“i want you to kiss me.”

draco stands up, walking towards you. bringing his lips to yours, your stomach explodes with butterflies as your hands wrap around his neck to bring him closer. you felt weightless, like you were floating. you expected his lips to be chapped, but they were quite soft, like your lips were on a cloud. there were no thoughts running through your head, it was like someone else had taken control over you.

when you two break apart for air, you rest your forehead on his, looking into his grey eyes. he was smirking, of course he was. you were smiling back at him, his hands wrapped around your waist.

“guess we have to go on a proper date other than detention then, am i right y/n?”

that was the first time he had ever used your real name instead of halfblood. finally, you realized, maybe draco wasn’t all that bad.

#draco #draco malfoy #draco fluff #draco malfoy fluff #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter

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primergon · 3 years

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Hey there!! It’s the anon that you matched up with Velocity in one of your latest posts! I’m a little late in sending this in due to some issues with tumblr (the app decided that your blog didn’t exist at all for some reason) but I just wanted to send in a big, heartfelt thank you for entertaining the matchup request I sent in!! I was seriously blown away by the details and effort you put in and your timing was impeccable as it really cheered me up after a rough day at work :,) You put so much thought into everything and I can’t help but wish to see how you’d tackle a matchup with a male bot for me too, if you would at all be willing to indulge me?

I was really surprised that I got paired up with Velocity and all the scenarios were so cute and wholesome that I couldn’t help rereading them again and again- I loved the way you characterised her and I’ll definitely treasure your post forever. Not to mention, it was my first time requesting a matchup anywhere so I was kind of shocked when I got the notification for it 💀 Thank you so much for putting in the time despite being busy and for this blog in general. Your writing really does lift my spirits!

My rambling aside, I was wondering about your opinion on fan gifts and if you’d like a piece of transformers related art? It could be an OC, a favourite bot or even just your persona if you’ve got one, anything at all. I’ve seen some blogs that are uncomfortable with surprise gifts and such, so I thought I’d check with you first to make sure. I just wanted to thank you in some way for responding so earnestly, so please do let me know what you think! If you aren’t up to receiving them, though, it’s absolutely okay! I simply wish to convey how grateful I am, so think of this ask as fan mail that you aren’t obligated to reply to/engage with.

- A very thrilled anon (ง’̀-‘́)ง ✨

A/N : Hello Anon !! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to write this for me, it does mean a lot! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ I'm so glad you enjoyed my work and I do try my best to put in as much detail as I can to make every matchup feel special. I'm sorry you had to go through a terrible day at work, but it warms my heart to know I can help make your day a bit better (｡𓎆 𓎺 𓎆)

Of course! I'd love to indulge you therefore I'll match you up with IDW Rung!

01| Rung is inherently a creative nurturer with this drive to help others. That is why he's the best mech to go to whenever you have trouble expressing your feelings. Rung is patient and encouraging, giving you this safe space that allows you to vent and understand your emotions. He's more than happy to take the first step forward for you. Whenever you isolate yourself, Rung would come looking for you, offering you his help. His concern for you extends professional barriers as he regards you as someone special to him. This sense of comfort and trust was one of the many reasons why your friendship eventually turned romantic.

02| He admires your love for philosophy. Rung is also one for literature and art, so conversation was easy between the two of you. You'll often visit him in his office to spend time together and it warms his heart to know that you approach him for company ( a lot of people only tend to go to him when they want something, so it was a nice change of pace.) You'll be reading to him your latest poem while he assembles his miniature boats. You like how versatile Rung was: beautifully handling topics that most people can't usually stomach. Thanks to you, he has started to open up as well. While sharing stories of his past with you, Rung's eyes were bright and loving.

03 | Although you are subtle with your show of love, it doesn't make Rung cherish you any less. The reason you make such a good pair is that Rung is good at reading people. He knows you're sincere every time. Both of you are more on the bashful side of showing your affection so there's a lot of blushing and stuttering. But once the initial awkwardness wears off, physical touch comes naturally. When in Swerves, the two of you will be holding hands under the table. Rung giving you silent support whenever you start to feel too overwhelmed with the crowd. He also likes stroking your cheeks and holding you close, always delighted whenever you give him handmade gifts. He tries his best to return the gesture: Rung occasionally surprising you with a bundle of novels and books he got from shore leave.

04| Speaking of shore leave, Rung would always take you to the local market to explore the foreign planet's culture. He was more than happy to go on a culinary journey with you even if he can't eat anything, as long as you were enjoying yourself that was more than enough for him. He makes sure to always keep an eye on you because he knows you like to wander around. To avoid being separated, Rung would insist on linking your arms together. Or when he does not have his mass displaced, Rung would carry you away from the commotion. Smiling at you in his arms ( he likes how you make him feel strong, although he's too shy to say it aloud.)

05| Arguments between you and Rung were almost nonexistent. As natural peacemakers, both of you loathe conflict. Yet, when problems arise, Rung isn't the type to shy away from them. Your perfectionism paired with Rung's sensitivity towards criticism may lead to a few disagreements. But it's nothing you both can't handle, especially when no one is better than Rung in finding a win-win solution.

06| Spending time with you is something Rung looks forward to. He loves watching you do art and is supportive of your passions, knowing you'll do great things in the future. Although Rung prefers your taste in historical fiction and comedy, he would sit through horror movies for you every once in a while. Rung has a difficult time accepting the love he deserves. For eons, he's spent his life alone. Now, Rung is more than happy to share it with you.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this anon! Also thank you for the offer on a fan gift (≧∇≦). I am open to fan gifts but you are not obliged to give me anything in return as I am more than happy to give this matchup !! (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ) However, if you'd like, I will be more than happy and honoured to receive your present !! I'm very touched, thank you! We can talk about it further in the Tumblr chat or you can drop by my Instagram ( @/primergonn) for a dm. Or you can choose whichever is best for you and I'll follow. Thank you so much for the sweet offer Anon! I'm really thrilled <3 ＊*♡( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ ）

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vos-videmus · 3 years

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Tagged by @pinkydude to share details about the Fave™️ fucker pulled me out of my dishonored playthroughs smh

Starting off broad but just his facial structure 😩😩 Stupid bright blue eyes and how they're bloodshot (and the eye bags) so you Know netwatch got him working some rough nights

Then the cyberware lines on his face that are most definitely because it's a faceplate (if the screws don't already give it away.) And in his concept art, the ones on his cheek connect over his nose and I will never not talk about the concept art and how cdpr robbed me of so much more

Moving on to general cyberware, man's got a filter on he head, saying to change the filter every few weeks. The same sticker is found on some cars. The neural port/personal port/whatever it's called is also on the side of his head which checks out cause V jacks in there if you decide to bonk his ass

The writing in that little arrow that goes over his "ear" says something along the lines of "opening is prohibited," which, makes sense considering the man's got millions of dollars worth of netrunning tech superglued onto him. Repairs are most likely done via machines or robots idk. I refuse to believe that he has flesh organs ♥️

Just love all the little details that went into his cyberware. Coolant tubes aside, he's got vents on his head, and those metal bits that go around are what's holding those tubes in place. (The tubes also go down to his neck but that's mostly covered [concept art :^) ]) Then that port thing on the back of his head that's used by netrunners to jack into their chairs, though netwatch doesn't really need to use those

We got his ugly ass ID card that states his date of birth/hair/eye color and what I assume is his ID number (cyb for cyber I'm guessing) Fucker would be 6 years old now

Then his (default) arms have the same kind of latex covering around them as his neck, and I say covering because that's what I believe it to be, covering important wires and shit idk

There's a bit of text on some of those wires that says to stand clear because it gets hot and ?? Not even mentioning all the scuffs and scratches everywhere on his arms and head, and the creases in the latex from where his elbow bends is just a neat little detail. Shows that it's durable and flexible

Now we gettin into crackpot territory cause this is just what my brain tells me. The way he carries himself just screams Smug Charismatic Corpo. When you take his deal and he says "I knew we'd have a meeting of the minds," you can just hear it in his voice. Fucker just won the battle and he knows it. He got what he wanted and I hate him for ghosting me

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wireddless · 3 years

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Codeine Scene (Five H. x Reader) [3]

Codeine Scene Masterlist

Authors Note: First off, I am SO sorry. New Years is always a slow time for me, and I did not mean to take this long to publish. Second of all, this chapter is a transition chapter into a much more fucked up story. I’m warning you now that the rest of this fic will get really really dark. I don’t recommend reading after this chapter if you can’t handle depictions of r*pe, murder, heavy drug use (cocaine, etc,) and other disturbing topics . I’m basing this story off of personal experiences, and in no way do I want someone who isn’t ready to read something like this to read this. This is like the last safe chapter, please do not read after this if you can’t handle the topics mentioned above

Summary: Klaus moves Reader up to Ben’s old room early in the morning. Afterwards, they eat breakfast and decide to trip on acid together. Five learns more about her than he expected to today

Warnings: Drug use (LSD[acid],) mentions of suicide, mentions of sex

Word Count: 3777

Taglist: @alexander-hamilhoe @dumdumsun

The gentle shaking of (Y/n)’s shoulder pulled her from her sleep. Klaus stood over her, harshly whispering her name. Looking towards his window, she could see the sky was just barely starting to light up, it was still early.

“Klaus it’s like 7:30!” She quickly grabbed the sheet that was covering her from the waist down and yanked it over her head. A small groan left Klaus’s mouth and he yanked it back off of her. “It’s Sunday!” She tried convincing him to let her sleep in, but it was no use.

“I talked to Ben and he said you could stay in his room!” Klaus wrestled with (Y/n) over the blanket, knowing she was still tired. Ever the impatient man he was, Klaus spoke again, “We gotta get you settled in right now!”

“Fine! Fine. I’m up.” (Y/n) sat up and shoved her matted hair out of her face. “Why right now?” Klaus looked at her like the answer was obvious. It wasn’t, of course.

“Because trauma can be associated with places! Coming in here right after what happened yesterday could be an issue.” He grabbed a hair brush off of his dresser and pushed her to sit on the bed. Climbing behind her, he started to brush her hair. “Even if you aren’t reminded of it in here, it’s always good to be able to have some privacy.” He made valid points.

“I guess you're right.” Klaus was extraordinarily gentle with her hair, pulling out all of the mats and even putting in the effort to put it in a low ponytail to keep it out of her face. “Thank you.” (Y/n) turned and smiled at Klaus, pulling him into a quick, tight, hug.

Ben's room was up the green stairway, across from Five’s room. (Y/n)’s face scrunched a little when she realized Five would be right across the hallway, but she didn’t complain. Her arms were a little tired from carrying her suitcase and heavier back pack up the stairs so early in the morning, but it would fade rather quickly.

Klaus opened the door and stepped aside, letting (Y/n) rush to the bed with her heavy luggage. “Dad replaced everything in this room a week after Ben died.” Klaus sat on the bed next to her luggage, and she plopped next to him. “He said old reminders would only set us back, so he made this one of many guest rooms.” Klaus peered in the closet, knowing that Ben’s academy uniforms were no longer hanging pristinely on the rack.

“He didn’t die in here, did he?” (Y/n) turned to look at Klaus, feeling heavy sympathy.

“Oh no! A mission went wrong, and I suppose we all messed up, but the monster inside his chest started tearing him apart.” Klaus’s usual, very happy energy, was replaced by a solemn, cold one. “He died in the infirmary.” Klaus looked down at the bedsheets. They weren’t the one that Ben had used. “I still talk to him every day, but it still makes me a little sad.” Klaus sniffled and rubbed his eyes.

(Y/n) pulled Klaus into a bone crushing hug, knowing he needed the comfort. “That’s terrible.” She was a very empathetic person, relying more on feeling than thinking, so she was struggling to hold back her own tears. “Are you sure he’s ok with this?”

“Yeah! He said something about moving on, and finally attempting to find peace.” Klaus clapped his hands once as he stood. “He’s kind of started meditating too, which is kind of weird, because he’s a ghost and all.” He stood and glanced around the room, getting a good look at it before (Y/n) would make it her own. “Let’s go get some breakfast after we unpack, huh?”

“That sounds nice.” (Y/n) stood and hugged Klaus again, silently letting him know that she was there for him.

The walk all the way down to the basement kitchen was unexpectedly exhausting. Six flights of stairs later, two flights between every floor, they were sitting at the table, staring at Five scrape his eggs off the skillet and onto his toast.

“I’m not making eggs for you two.” His voice was monotone and annoyed. He wasn’t a morning person. “Take some responsibility and make them yourself.” Five grabbed his food and coffee, and looked at both of them before giving his usual tight-lipped smirk and blipping away, presumably to his room.

Klaus released a few small giggles he was holding in and hopped off the island. “He always seems to add a little spice to life.”

As he was making his way over to the fridge to grab some eggs, (Y/n) asked; “Is he like this every morning?” Not wasting a second after her question, Klaus replied.

“Yep!” He pulled out four eggs and set them in a clean bowl on the counter. “Without a doubt. It’s worse on weekdays too, because the classes he teaches are all early in the morning. Now do you want scrambled, fried, or boiled?”

“Scrambled, please.” As Klaus got to work on making breakfast for the two of them, she thought about what Five might teach. “Hey Klaus?”

“Yeah?” Klaus was stirring the already scrambled eggs in the skillet.

“What does Five teach? I mean it makes sense that he’s a teacher, but I just can’t think of what he’d be so willing to teach for a living.” Klaus looked back at (Y/n) before down at the eggs again. Her chin was resting in her hands, and she stared over at him, waiting for his answer.

“I think some sort of ethics class, like there’s different types of ethics, but that’s all I really know. He doesn’t really talk about work, and it’s a bit weird considering he was an assassin.” Klaus split the scrambled eggs in two separate bowls with forks in them and gave one to (Y/n).

“He killed people?” (Y/n) dug into the eggs, shoving them in her mouth, listening for Klaus.

“We’ve all dabbled with a little murder before, it’s not really that big of a deal for us, but he swore never to kill for someone else again, I’m pretty sure.” Klaus fillet out a little moan of joy as he started filling his own stomach with the eggs.

“That must be why he was so unphased about what happened yesterday, that makes me feel a lot better.” She concluded, trying not to remember the way she nearly beat the life out of the man in Five’s car as she shoved more of Klaus’s eggs in her mouth. “These are really good!”

“Danke!” Klaus thanked her in German, with a mouth full of eggs. He swallowed them and continued speaking. “That actually reminds me- you’ve done acid right?” (Y/n) thought on the question for a moment before answering.

“No actually, but I did do shrooms a lot with my friends before I dropped out.” Her fork scraped the bowl, trying to get the last of the eggs.

“Good! You have experience.” Klaus poured the last of his eggs in his mouth, straight from the bowl, before swallowing. “Would you like to do acid with me? You don’t have to, but I feel like this would definitely raise your spirits.” Klaus leaned toward her, waiting for her answer.

“I’d love to actually.” (Y/n) swallowed the last of her eggs, and stacked her bowl with Klaus’s, before taking them to the sink to wash them. Klaus stood and followed her, digging in the breast pocket of his half-unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and pulling out a small square of folded tin foil.

“Great! Now stick your tongue out.” Klaus unfolded the foil and pulled a tiny white square of paper, roughly the size of a phone keyboard key, out from the six-ish others in it. (Y/n) stuck her tongue out as she rinsed the now-clean bowls and Klaus placed the piece of paper on it, before sticking one on his own tongue.

(Y/n) stuck her tongue back in her mouth and sucked a bit on the paper. “So do I swallow it, or…?” The tab didn’t make it any harder to talk, thank god.

“If you want to, but you absorb it faster when it’s in your mouth.” Klaus picked up the bowls and started drying them. “It’s not bitter at all is it?” Klaus asked, checking to make sure she didn’t take a laced tab.

(Y/n) focused on the tab again, not really noticing any taste. “Not that I can notice.” Klaus smiled as he shut the cabinet where he placed the bowls.

“That means we’re all good! You can swallow it when the paper feels soggy enough, though, you’ve probably absorbed most of it by now.” Klaus led her back upstairs to his room, practically dragging her by her wrist. “Things are gonna get really funny for a little bit before you actually start tripping.” Klaus shut the door behind them and plopped on his bed.

“Doesn’t it take like an hour to kick in?” This wasn’t her first rodeo, so she knew her way around at least a bit.

“Yeah yeah, it’s kinda like shrooms? But the visuals and the trip are just a bit different, you’ll see what I mean.” Klaus grabbed a joint he had rolled earlier and lit up, taking a few puffs before passing it to (Y/n). “Just settle in for like half an hour and then get up to see how you feel.”

•••

Tripping on LSD was a profound experience. (Y/n) wasn’t able to go outside, as it was raining cold, so she stayed inside, wandering around the house. She and Klaus made some really cool art, and Klaus held it over the vents to dry while she was walking around the house.

Tripping felt like seeing the universe fully for the first time, and she could somewhat understand Klaus’s view of the world. Many times throughout the last three hours, she thought she saw Five blipping away out of the corner of her eye. She had dismissed it every time, of course.

Now the trip was peaking, and the visuals were insane. The air around (Y/n) felt like breathable, transparent, clay, and it was a little overwhelming with all the visuals, so she opened the door in front of her and quietly sat next to it, letting out a long, happy sigh. Closing her eyes, she paid attention to the gorgeous visuals she could see behind her eyelids.

(Y/n) didn’t even notice Five sitting on his bed, staring at her from over his book. She was too focused on the movement behind her eyelids, and the euphoric feeling surrounding her, so when Five spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I think you have the wrong room.” The sound of Five closing his book reached her ears.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I- I wasn’t paying attention I’ll leave.” (Y/n) stumbled over her words as she tried to stand, clearly embarrassed.

“No, no, it’s fine actually.” Five spoke, rather out of character. “A little company once in a while feels nice, and I see no harm when you’re being quiet.” His face was beyond distorted, but she could still recognize his permanent scowl.

“Really?” (Y/n) settled back down, more relaxed and at ease.

“Yeah, I don’t really care.” Five grabbed his book again, opening it back to where he was. “Just don’t be too annoying.”

“I won’t don’t worry.” Five grunted quietly at her response. A smile painted itself on her face, and she slid all the way down the wall, with her head now on the floor with the rest of her.

•••

And she was quiet. Five watched for like an hour and a half as her eyes slowly focused on something new in his room every few moments. She was quite taken by the math equations across his wall, and he found it rather cute. He started to find her less annoying, now understanding that she coped the way his brother did.

He was alone once again in his room now, no longer accompanied by (Y/n). In fact, she was accompanied by one of her “friends.” She barely even knew the guy.

Five could hear everything. Every moan. Every word spoken with the intent of being quiet, but wasn’t held under the gentle guise of a whisper. It infuriated him.

Of course, he understood that she didn’t grow up in a particularly healthy home, given that she was in a homeless shelter at almost 18, so she didn’t understand healthy coping habits. It genuinely hurt his heart, if just a little bit, that he could watch another hurt soul walk down the same path as his brother.

Klaus had gotten help for his addictions, and was off addictive drugs completely, but even Five understood that not everyone will be able to get the help they need. He wouldn’t say he had any feelings for her, but he still felt sympathy.

Knowing that it was how she coped made hearing all of it a little easier, but he still wasn’t able to handle it after hearing it for fifteen minutes, so he jumped down to the kitchen, brewed himself some herbal tea, added a little vodka, and read his book, criss cross, on the table in the center of the room, attempting to ignore what was happening right across from his room.

•••

Bailey had just left, and (Y/n) was exhausted. He was kind of an ass, and he treated her like shit in middle school, but he was a horny teen, and it was really easy to just invite him over.

The trip was fading out now. She was no longer peaking, and the visuals were far less intense. (Y/n), after standing at the stairs, staring at them for a couple minutes, deemed it safe to be able to walk down them. She knew it was normally safe to go down the steps while tripping, but something in her head told her to wait, so she did.

These particular steps were a little steep, as well, so she made her way down slowly, leading herself to the kitchen in the basement. Her bare feet padded quietly on the floor as she walked to the stove, turning the heating element under the tea kettle on. The bags under her eyes felt so beyond heavy, and she knew she’d be sleeping deeply tonight.

“You done up there?” Five’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. (Y/n) turned and leaned on the counter to face him.

“Yeah, yeah, he left like ten minutes ago. I’m just really tired and want some tea to relax I guess.” Her arms were crossed, comfortably holding each other up.

Five hummed in response. “Well I see we both thought of the same thing.” He lifted his mug of tea, peppermint maybe, and put it to his lips.

“I thought you only drank coffee.” (Y/n) chuckled a little feeling the heat of the stove begin to reach her back.

“Well it wouldn’t be very logical to drink caffeine so late in the day, especially when I have to teach an early class tomorrow.” Five flipped the page of his book, continuing to read while talking to her.

“Makes sense.” Her words were drowned out by the high whistling of the tea kettle, letting her know she could pour it into the cup. Grabbing the tin of loose leaf tea, she hummed as she scooped it into the reusable tea bag that was next to it.

(Y/n) dropped the tea bag in the cup, following up with the boiling water. She turned, bringing her and her cup to the table, now sitting next to Five. Five was a grumpy, annoying, old, man who has to grow up all over again, but his company was enjoyable, it contrasted hers in such a way that it comforted her. It made her feel like her ADHD was less severe, like her inability to focus was matched by someone who could do nothing but focus.

Only a day had gone by since they met, and she was already comforted by him.

Five shut his book and looked over at her. The more he got to know her, the more subtly enjoyable he found her. Her sitting not two feet from him didn’t bother him as much as it usually would. He was kind of ok with that.

“You drink peppermint?” (Y/n)’s voice was scratchy and hoarse. She really did need the tea.

“Yeah, it’s the least fruity from what I’ve tried.” He took another sip. “Simple classic.” He set it down and looked over at her, engaging in an unexpected conversation.

“I tend to prefer fruitier teas, I’ve noticed.” She looked down at the cup that she’d been drinking out of for a couple minutes now. “They go down easier and really comfort me. Reminds me of my mom, she only ever made fruity teas.” She took another sip, letting the warmth fill her up.

“What happened to your mom?” Five looked back down at his drink, then back up at the girl next to him. “I noticed that you didn’t exactly live with her when we picked up your stuff.”

“Yeah..” (Y/n) hesitated a little. He was awfully blunt. “I was like seven when it happened, but I’m told it was a double suicide, between her and dad.” Her legs were swinging a little nervously. “Mom sent me up to my room one night and told me not to come out until she opened the door, no matter what. The next day a detective came into my room and carried me out screaming. They were both dead on the floor. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that.”

“Oh shit.” Five didn’t expect her answer to be this upsetting.

“Yeah. My uncle told me it was a double suicide, my aunt said the same thing, she manipulated me and made me think they did it because of me.” (Y/n) sighed into her drink, her distorted reflection staring back at her. “I don’t even remember what the scene looked like, just a lot of blood. I don’t look at anything about it either, don’t really want to relive it.”

“That’s really tough, wow.” Five chuckled uncomfortably and finished his drink. “I didn’t know my mother, but my mom was a robot. She was pretty much indestructible, but she was fully shut off when our house was being attacked a long time ago.”

“Oh my.” (Y/n)’s voice was soft, hoarse, and tired. Her hand gently moved to rest atop his, not really knowing how else to reassure him, if he even needed it, of course. “I’m sorry about that.”

Five didn’t even seem to notice his hand being covered. “No it’s fine, I got over it long long ago.” His words were just slightly slurred, and his eyes had reddened slightly.

“Well I’m here if you ever need like, a hug or something.” (Y/n) laughed. “I don’t really know how else to comfort anyone.”

“It shouldn’t be your job to comfort anyone, that’s not your responsibility.” Five chuckled and smiled slightly. (Y/n) hadn’t expected him to smile, and it wasn’t as weird as she thought it would be.

Before she could even mention it though, Klaus’s happy, booming voice echoed in the kitchen as he practically skipped to the fridge. As she yanked her hand away from Five, she noticed the way he pulled his arm away as well. Maybe he did notice?

Klaus and Five started talking about something as he got off the table and placed his cup in the sink, but she wasn’t paying attention. Before her attention was quickly pulled to the floor, she thought on the way Five had wrenched his arm away.

As anxiety inducing as it was, the LSD that was still in her system made it easy to quickly move onto the next thought. Before she knew it, a flash of blue wrenched her out of her head and she looked up at Klaus, now alone with her in the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetie.” Klaus kissed her cheek and led her gently off the table and to the stairs. “Your trip going good?” He popped a black olive in his mouth.

“Yeah it’s going fine, I really like it. It’s kinda different from shrooms, but not like a bad different.” She was just two steps behind him, trying to keep the same pace as him.

“That’s great.” Klaus hummed as he popped another olive in his mouth. “These are absolutely amazing. I figured you would like it, it’s really calming and stuff for me. Makes the sad feeling kinda disappear for weeks after.”

“Oh same, I’ve just felt creative and warm all day.” They stopped in front of Klaus’s room, Klaus still eating his olives. “I’m actually exhausted too, the trip felt really nice.”

“Well I’m glad I could have helped.” Klaus pulled her into a tight hug, humming loudly. Hugs felt great on psychedelics, she had noticed.

“You helped so much.” (Y/n)’s voice was slightly muffled by Klaus’s chest. She pulled out of Klaus’s chest, speaking again. “I’m gonna go to bed now, if that’s ok, I’m so so tired.” She laughed a little.

“That’s fine, I’m gonna crash the moment I hit my bed, so..” Klaus smiled down at her, thankful for this mini-him.

“Night night, Klaus.” (Y/n) and Klaus both separated to head to their rooms, both about to sleep deeply enough to miss a train going through the house.

The stairs up to her new room were an almost pastel green color, covered by what looked to be years of grime and nicotine stains. It added character, she thought. The checkerboard floor at the top of the stairs seemed to lead her straight to her new room, which she was really thankful for, she was exhausted.

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, twisting the old carved crystal just enough to open it. She closed it the same way, with just enough effort for it to work, she could have sworn she saw something blue flash near her, but she doubted herself immediately. Once she plopped on the bed, her fingers dragged her phone across the sheets towards her.

It took (Y/n) two full minutes to open her phone, not remembering her password and then not being able to type the right letters slowed her down significantly. It wouldn’t matter though, because once she turned on some quiet music, she was fast asleep.

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bagadew · 3 years

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The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 1)

Last Time: With a little help from Susato, the lady in pink, we discovered that Miss Brett poisoned Dr Wilson with Curare, a fast acting poison that’s only effective when introduced into the blood stream. In a last ditch attempt to avoid justice, Miss Brett destroyed the evidence right in front of the court, but fortunately my man Hosonaga was on hand with new evidence he’d taken from the crime scene, meaning that all we had to do was catch the thief of a rare golden coin, and tie Miss Brett up with her own words! At last I (Ryunosuke) was acquitted!

...only to find out in the lobby that Miss Brett has managed to privilege her way out of any consequences and was gone like smoke in the wind. (Also Kazuma used his sword in a way I found very hot, and I think I’ve accidentally doomed him to death or moral corruption.)

I’m 90% sure The Speckled Band is a Sherlock Holmes case, and I’m 49% sure it’s one of the ones I’ve read. I’m guessing this is where we’ll meet The Great Himbo Detective Herlock Sholmes then!

Well I guess that answers that then.

(And yes, I have read this one)

HERLOCK!

And he’s voiced by Professor Layton maybe???

Ooh, this seems like a Study in Scarlet, are we doing a Study in Scarlet guys?

Herlock has a magic gun!?!

Also I’m not digging this Japanese scripture and talk of it being penned by ‘the victim himself’. Kazuma what did I tell you about leaving my sight?

Wait... I could have sworn I just saw Hosonaga dressed as a sailor...

Oh balls, am I about to be accused of murder again?

Honestly I can’t take you anywhere Ryunosuke

Well Ryunosuke, you remember how you went to a lovely restaurant and got arrested for a murder you didn’t commit?

Well, it’s just like that but substitute restaurant for ship.

Also I’m not liking how little I’ve seen of Kazuma...

Ryunosuke we really need to have a talk about you just saying what people want to hear.

ITS FUCKING KAZUMA ISN’T IT?!

Nononononononono

I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming, Ace Attorney law dictated it was coming as soon as it set Kazuma up as both my mentor and best friend.

But even so, I thought they were just empty threats! I didn’t think they’d actually follow through! Or that we might at least enjoy Herlock Sholmes ad his magic gun together first.

I realise I’m stalling here, but maybe if I just don’t click I’ll not have to see his body.

Sailor Man, I understand that you’re very upset, we all are, but I need you to understand that I’m grieving here.

The man I love took one look at the morally compromised shits I’m normally into and decided he’d rather die than join them! And yes I know I’m still stalling and not taking this as seriously as I should because I still don’t believe it!

See, me and Ryunosuke are on the same page!

I didn’t Susato, but the problem is that you and I have only just met and I’m not very convincing!

Kazuma you legend! I refuse to believe you are dead until I see your corpse.

Now Ryunosuke’s all: I can’t believe they tossed your case around that much. I thought I was going to die.

And Kazuma’s telling me he’s just amazed I fitted inside his trunk in the first place.

Kazuma you can’t be gone! Who else will condescendingly tell me to go to France and ask rather than translate a French label for me?

Now Kazuma’s telling me (Ryunosuke) that I’m going to have to live in his cabin for the next 50 days.

Also we’ve got to keep this from Susato because we’re breaking the law and Kazuma doesn’t want us to take her down with us.

Lol, every day I get shoved into the wardrobe by an uncaring Kazuma!

Oh, that’s what the message said!

God knows what the steward thought Kazuma was keeping in his wardrobe though

See Ryunosuke, this is why we think before we speak.

I don’t envy the real killer when Susato gets hold of them.

From what I can find out it’s a locked room mystery, and the cause of death is still undetermined, so I’m guessing something like poison then rather than an obvious thing, like being stabbed with his big sword.

On one hand, I really hope it wasn’t something like Curare, because I don’t want Kazuma to have gone out like that, but on the other hand poison would explain why the killer didn’t need to be in the room when he died and why Kazuma didn’t strike them down with said big sword.

Ok, so Kazuma, legend that he was, got up every day at the crack of dawn to do sword training. And Susato, who I’m begging to suspect is incredibly hardcore, go up before him so she could go and wait for him outside.

Now that’s interesting.

The two of them seem like they were pretty close, so there’s a good chance it’s just that she’s so familiar with Kazuma’s habits that she can tell the second something’s off, or it could be that there’s some other reason we need to work out.

If that’s correct that means Kazuma was killed in the small hours of the morning.

You know up ‘til now I’ve been assuming Ryunosuke was knocked out or something, and that’s why he was unconscious in the wardrobe, but now I’m starting to think he might have just been sleeping in there.

:((

Wait why’d Kazuma write in Russian?

Like I’d buy that he might know it, but I don’t buy that’s it’s what he’d write in in his finger moments.

Well that proves my innocence then, all we need to do is get some witnesses to verify the ‘go to France and ask’ moment from the last case

Oh ok, I didn’t manage to screenshot it, but it seems that I (Ryunosuke) didn’t put myself in the wardrobe. That’s very odd.

I can see a vent up there, so maybe someone gassed us and then got in while we were asleep and set up the crime scene.

Kazuma said I should come, next question

Ryunosuke, with some of the words that come out of your mouth I don’t think you should be throwing stones.

Love?

Apparently not.

This is going to be something ominous isn’t it...

I’m starting to feel like Kazuma knew he’d never see England.

Kazuma how many toes did you tread on?

Oh fucking hell!

You can’t die and be heading down a dark moral path, that’s not fair!

Yeah, I want to know that too.

So my poison/drugging theory seems to be holding up. Apparently Kazuma bought me something to eat, I climbed into the hiding wardrobe, and then it’s lights out from there.

Given that I didn’t wake up when Kazuma was killed I’m going to say that also back that theory up. Even if it was silent I feel like Ryunosuke would have woken up if someone was going round the cabin knocking ink bottles over and killing Kazuma.

No, don’t blame yourself Ryunosuke!

It’s my fault really, if I was going to find Kazuma hot I should have made sure I could manifest inside my switch and protect him!

Ah, of course! Isn’t her dad a professor of pathology? And she seems like the sort of person who picks things up pretty quickly!

In other words, if this is a poisoning, she could be the perfect person to be partnered up with.

:(((

Susato is fully prepared to kick our ass if we try and leave, and as the woman who got up before Kazuma, I think we should listen to her.

:(((((

I say we team up as an investigative duo and catch this bastard!

Yeah!

SHE FUCKED US UP!!!

Susato didn’t come here to play! Especially when we might have killed Kazuma!

(Editors note: this isn’t a bad screenshot, Susato genuinely made Ryunosuke’s vision go blurry)

I know we need to investigate, but my god this woman’s got a fist to match her convictions.

You know when I first met Susato I was a bit afraid she was going to be the inverse of Maya to the point of being meek and shy.

Now I see what a fool I was.

Susato might be prepared to politely follow the rules, but woe betide you if you break them.

She’s even named it!

Again I know this is bad for us but GO SUSATO!

(God damn it you can’t all be my favourite characters)

Her own special martial arts form Ryunosuke!

And just like that she regathers her composure and carries on as if nothing had happened!

I like how she’s still just standing over me.

Ok Ryunosuke let’s go!

(Seriously though we don’t want her as an enemy)

Ah of course, Kazuma stuck the seal on the wardrobe, and the fact Herlock Sholmes (the himbo detective) had to pull it off means I didn’t leave!

No one respects poor Ryunosuke...

So it seems that Susato doesn’t believe we’re innocent just yet, but as we’ve presented the possibility of doubt before her she will let us investigate this room.

Given the buck wild nature of the last trial she was involved in, I honestly can’t blame her for not ruling this possibility out. After all if this was something a witness in a trial had said I’d be thinking the same thing.

Susato’s going to be watching us to make sure we don’t disturb the crime scene, which again is fair.

I’ve got to say, I’m really digging Susato’s cautiously suspicious and sensible nature. It feels like a good counterbalance to Ryunosuke’s beautiful but naïve outlook on life.

I bet if Susato had stowed away onboard a ship you wouldn’t catch her immediately confessing as soon as a sailor started to press her.

Who am I kidding, Susato would never have got into this situation in the first place.

*sob*

Ok so far we’ve got:

A) Half a pink kimono fastener on the floor next to a brick red mark

B) One disturbed table, with the remains of our roast chicken dinner on the floor

C) The terrible knowledge that Kazuma spent his last night on earth hungry because he didn’t like chicken

D) Kazuma’s precious katana, that he loved dearly and that he’d apparently managed to persuade the government to let him bring to the UK.

Oh yeah, drive the knife in why don’t you game!

Why do I feel like Ryunosuke’s about to get roasted?

There we go.

(It’s what Kazuma would have wanted)

DON’T JUST GO WITH IT RYUNOSUKE!

Back to investigating, we’ve got a ransacked shelf, and Kazuma’s London diary.

Just, you know, to rip my heart out...

It looks like the final entry’s incomplete, which means Kazuma was probably writing it when the incident happened. Unfortunately Susato is violently insistent that we respect the Kazuma’s private thoughts after his death, so we can’t read it.

We’ve got the inky Russian(?) on the floor which none of us can either recognize, nor read (including me)

(Sorry to any Russians reading this by the way, I can only assume you’re screaming that this isn’t Russian, but I’m just going by what the Great Himbo Detective said in the cut scene.)

Ok, so the sailor who’s been guarding us got very flustered when we asked if everything was normal last night, meaning that either he’s been skiving off, or everything was in fact not normal last night.

Oh sweet, it seems that Ryunosuke and Susato both read detective novels, and while we’ve shot down the possibility of using the needle and thread trick to unbolt the door from the outside (side note: I must remember to try that later), I feel like both they, and the player who immediately started trying to rattle off facts about Curare, have had a bonding moment.

Ok, I think that’s this half of the room done, let’s go and check out that vent I saw earlier.

So the vent connects to the room next door. That means if the grate could be moved we have a way in and out of our crime scene!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

I mean, he’s quite hard to miss Ryunosuke

(I think Ryunosuke might have an Apollo complex short)

Understatement of the century

Her and me both Ryunosuke, it’s The Great Himbo Detective!!!

WE’RE TALKING TO HIM!

AND HE’S BLANKING US!!!

Herlock Sholmes I understand that you’re in a critical point of your investigation, but you need to understand that Ryunosuke, Susato and I are sad and need to see your magic gun.

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS!!!

IT’S LIKE HE HEARD ME!!!

OH GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE CHEER ME WITH YOUR WITH YOUR ECCENTRIC ACTS THAT ARE RELATABLE TO MY AUTISTIC ASS!!!

OMFG HE’S SO INCREDIBLY WRONG!!!

I hope this is the way all of his deductions go from now on.

Also I’m sorry Russia and the Russian language, I should not have believed what the man, who on reflection was sold to me as the great himbo detective, said.

Susato’s buying it!

Susato look into my eyes and tell me Ryunosuke could ever make it as a soldier.

No, please do!

And the bullet flies a mile wide!

I’m still upset about Kazuma, but I’m somehow also having the time of my life

SUSATO YOU KNOW I’M FROM JAPAN!!!

SHE TOOK ME OUT!!!

AND MY GOD AM I HERE FOR IT!!!

Ryunosuke’s finally snapped!

What I find amazing is that the Sherlock Holmes Herlock Sholmes stories clearly exist, basically unchanged in this world. So either Dr Watson Wilson was either lying through his teeth to spare his friend’s feelings, or he is the stopped clock is right twice a day person who Herlock actually hit the nail on the head for, and therefore he believed everything that was said.

‘On rout to foreign climates’ that’s how ships work Herlock!

Exactly!

I’ll say one thing for Herlock though, you can’t beat him down!

How am I both Ryunosuke and Susato in this scene?

Yeah Naruhodo-san! I thought you read detective stories!

Quick Susato! Get him to sign a copy!

Um... has no one told him yet...

I’m also curious about the fact that he still believes Dr Wilson’s in London. Either there are two Dr Wilson’s, or something weird is going on here.

Look at his hat Ryunosuke, it contains all the information you need

He got his own name wrong!

Hosonaga, I don’t know if you can hear from wherever you are on this ship dressed as a sailor, but there is a fight and you are rapidly losing!

(Also to be fair to Herlock, as someone who’s been playing a lot of Hitman recently, looking inside the wardrobe already means he’s doing a lot better than literally every character in that game.)

Ok so it was Russian then and I no longer have to apologies!

Do you think Herlock has ever been to Russia?

Ok Mr ‘is this cow a cat?’

:(((((((

HERLOCK THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!!!

Ok everyone, we’re also on the lookout for a missing Russian Ballerina along with Kazuma’s killer. I don’t know how, but I wouldn’t have been told about her if she wasn’t relevant

I can’t believe we’ve finally found the vindictive part of Ryunosuke’s beautiful personality!

We’re finally reading Kazuma’s diary!

Oh fuck, Kazuma was bitten by an adder

Wait, if that was the case why didn’t he dispatch it with his big sword? We’ve seen him do precision work before, so that can’t be it.

Either way, I think we really need to talk to the person in the room next to mine.

Also: Herlock Sholmes gets seasick!

Did she just break my cuffs?

My mistake she’s just showing some tough love to get me to buck up!

Let’s go team!

HOSONAGA!!!

“What are you doing here?” “I think that should be my line” This feels like that meme of the two Spidermen pointing at each other

I wouldn’t be so sure Susato. Hosonaga seems a lot like me, a bunch of disabilities held together by sheer force of will.

He still has a job!

(Or his superiors are just trying to send him as far away from Japan as they can)

HELL YEAH HOSONAGA, LETS PUNCH THE RULES UNTIL THEY SQUEAK!

(Also your superiors are definitely trying to ship you out)

Oh...

That would explain Kazuma’s whole vibe.

Although something about this feels wrong. No disrespect to Hosonaga, but as determined as he is he doesn’t exactly have the physical prowess you’d associate with stopping an assassination. I know I haven’t exactly seen him at work yet, but something about this feels like he was set up to fail.

Now the thing is, that while he can cut it as a waiter, Hosonaga isn’t exactly built to fit in among sailors. It’s not going to take a genius therefore, to work out who Kazuma’s guard is, especially if he’s been around Kazuma from dawn till dusk. That’s probably why his killer had to kill him in his cabin, and it’s also why they probably drugged his food (which means they didn’t know him enough to know he didn’t like chicken)

:(((((((((((((

On the plus side though, it looks as though Hosonaga believes in my innocence.

Come on Hosonaga, remember when you bought Miss Brett to us!

Hell yeah Hosonaga!

Hosonaga heard my call! He heard that he was losing his place as my second favourite character and came back swinging!!!

Determination Ryunosuke!

Also probably hacking up a lot of blood, that does wonders to unnerve people in my experience

Now, I should present Kazuma’s diary here... but...

Yes, everything is as it should be...

He’s digging it!

Oh no he took it as an insult!

Sorry Ryunosuke, that’s the crime scene thief’s now

Ok let’s do this properly then

Yeah boy!

LETS DO THIS TEAM!!!

Ryunosuke, do you remember nothing about this man?

Hosonaga didn’t come here to play!

Ok, we’re moving on out (except not right now because I’ve still got a couple of things to look at before we go)

I think Ryunosuke might be a bad influence on Susato...

Also I feel like I’ve pegged Susato wrong regarding the rules. Susato’s just very good at keeping up the appearance of following them.

Come to think of it, the fact she’s a judicial assistant, despite women apparently not being allowed in the Japanese court other than to testify should have clued me in.

Susato Mikotoba: Breaking the rules in front of you, but in a way you don’t notice

(Also the bell pull’s not working, but I think we all expected that)

Susato I’ve been living in a cupboard!

Don’t pity me!

Ok, so I’m not quite sure when Ryunosuke and I started thinking as one, but we’ve all agreed it’s happening now

Ryunosuke do not get caught in the mousetrap!

Susato can see right through me (Ryunosuke)

Umm...

This is the Phoenix Maya dynamic inverted, and I am living for it.

Susato: Now this is an emergency button, it’s very important you do NOT press it!

Ryunosuke: *lunges for the trigger*

It feels amazing being the wayward partner!

Our rout into cabin 2’s blocked by approximately 1 ton of sailor, so for now Susato and I will have to dick around avenge Kazuma out here in the corridor.

It seems that last night’s log is mostly blank, so I’m guessing I was right about the sailor on duty skiving off.

Hmm, so the person in the next cabin’s probably quite important then. Given what just happened with Miss Brett that’s not a good sign.

And it seems like I’m not allowed to visit whoever it is without an invitation... which might prove tricky given as how there in there and I’m out here

Ah good, a Western Gentleman, that’s just what we need!

Hmmmmm

These guys left their post for a while didn’t they?

Either that or there’s something (or someone) they’re keeping off the records.

This might be a bit of a wide shot, but that mousetrap makes me wonder if the crew has some sort of secret pet squirrelled away somewhere. It doesn’t entirely add up what with them putting traps down, but with everyone in Ace Attorney having something to hide it’s all I can think of now.

Bif Strogenov’s left to report to the captain, nows our window to violate some privacy!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

Shot down!

Herlock that thing’s tiny, I don’t think anyone’s in there!

It moved!

Guess I’m eating my words!

Herlock???

Ok, we’re not allowed to look inside the case, or indeed anything, but fortunately we have HERLOCK SHOLMES THE GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE!!!

Deduce away Herlock!

Herlock... are you about to tell this man that he’s also the Russian Assasin? Are you going to do this round the whole ship until you get it right?

Wait this is working!?!

Herlock Sholmes is Susato’s one blind spot and Ryunosuke’s one point of clarity

CHOOCHOO!!!

THIS IS AMAZING!

He’s not entirely right though...

(Editors note: I completely managed to miss capturing 90% of the ? icons)

I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

HERLOCK LOOK AT THIS MAN’S NOSE, LOOK AT MY FACE! NOW LOOK AT THE MAN IN THE PORTRAIT!

However, the newspaper in his pocket and the little ! icon seems to suggest there’s some connection there.

(Editors note: I also managed to miss every ! icon)

And there is a crime being committed, but it’s not to do with the case.

Yeah, it probably just contains one of those pets we’re not supposed to have.

So... a baby?

So do a lot of people Susato

Ok, so The Great Himbo Detective is actually really good at making observations, it’s just how he applies them that’s shit.

I wonder if this is what Dr Wilson did for their partnership, but he just cut out the bits where he said things like: Herlock these people have completely different faces, maybe there’s a different reason they’ve got the paper?

Ryunosuke normally: The fact Hosonaga’s working in this restaurant clearly means he’s struggling financially!

Ryunosuke around Herlock: You can’t just say the first guess that pops into your head!

HERLOCK BUSTED US OUT!!!

(Ok he’s also the reason we were in handcuffs, but still)

Olay!

What! Noooooo!

‘Course Correction: Hold it Mr Sholmes!’ What a title!

Important news just in: Ryunosuke can’t grow a beard

A part of me says that he was about to use the sheers to cut up that paper, but there are obviously other copies around the ship, so unless he’s planning a sheers rampage that can’t be right.

Hello!

Wait a second... with that reaction to the paper... is there a Russian Ballerina in there?

WE DID THE HERLOCK SHOLMES COOL SPIN AND CLICK!!!

Also look at Ryunosuke’s little cocky smirk!

He’s really getting into this!

And I couldn’t be more proud!

We’re tag teaming it!

Herlock I swear to god if you tell me she’s that assassin

WHAT DID I JUST SAY!

(Editors note: Got that one!)

I sure am Susato!

Keep telling yourself that Ryunosuke, we can all see the truth

Ah, so the nose was fake too

That makes a lot more sense now!

Well she did disappear with a priceless tiara

He said, rubbing his hand in glee

This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship!

Damn straight I do!

Bingo

For some reason I pictured it as being pink though, I don’t know why

Anyway so, while Nikolina does need money it seems that she didn’t steal the tiara. Apparently it was given to her as a present.

Also Nikolina is only 15, and has run away by herself for reasons currently unknown. I’m starting to get the feeling that the crew (or at least the two we’ve met) might have been looking out for her.

Oh yeah, the moving travel case!

Given the rules regarding pets, I wonder if that’s what’s in there? It would explain the attitude of the sailors we met.

Is it the Russian Revolutionary Herlock? You have to tell us if it is...

He’s learning!

Yep, she’s looking at the pet rule sign, now show me the pet!

Whoooooooo!

Yeah, I’m pretty sure the guys on the door were covering for her (and probably her pet too)

Hmm, so Nikolina’s running from someone, so she decided to disguise herself to be safe and has been a jumble of nerve ever since.

Can I see...

Bless you Nikolina, but you’re not the best at keeping secrets. I’m pretty sure the crew have collectively decided to just look the other way and let the traumatised 15 year old have her pet.

HE CUFFED ME AGIAN!!!

I wonder if Nikolina’s beloved pet’s a snake?

Can I just...

Fine...

No, everyone must see my badge!

HA!

Ok now let’s go back to actually playing the game!

So, because she’s a jumble of nerves, Nikolina hasn’t been noticing much about what’s been happening around her. However I think she’d have probably noticed signs of danger, like loud noises, so I’m a little curious as to why she didn’t pick up on the sound of the tableware being sent to the floor.

From what I can gather about her ‘never dancing again’ whatever happened probably has something to do with the ballet.

Either that or she’s worried about being linked with her old life if she goes back on the scene under another name.

That’s a good point actually, while people are funny and I can get her wanting a memento of her life, that’s an incredibly distinctive memento to have.

It must have some sort of emotional significance, I think she said it was given to her by an Earl, so maybe her father?

Hmm, that’s a pretty distinctive thing to try and pawn Nikolina.

Yikes! So the Novavich Ballet’s got really unethical working conditions. (Which probably shouldn’t be too much of a shock given the time period.) Now I understand why Nikolina’s so keen to never put herself in that situation again.

Yeah, I thought that was the case.

Huh?

Oh yeah... that is odd

Ah, so that’s why everyone was so on edge!

Right...

(I feel like this would carry more weight if we hadn’t just been flashing our badge at anyone who looks our way)

Now onto the most important question:

HERLOCK NO!

Susato is me (but personally I’m hoping for a kitten)

Ok Genius, what sort of animal is it?

I’ll eat your funky hat if that’s true Herlock

Important information 2: Never trust Herlock with a pet

Please let it be that we were Kazuma’s pet

Wait no, I’m an idiot. I’m obviously supposed to ask about the speckled band

Wow she changed quick!

She’s leaving to talk to the captain, is this our chance to meet her friend!?!

Booooo, we’ve been chucked out!!!

#tgaa spoilers #tgaa #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the unbreakable speckled band #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asougi #susato mikotoba #satoru hosonaga #nikolina pavlova #i will avenge your death kazuma #also i will see that animal #this is a long one by the way lads #i might break the investigation parts into daily sections of progress #because these screenshots took forever to transfer from my phone

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writewithurheart · 3 years

Text

Hearts of Kyber: Part II

a/n: Hello lovely readers!! We’re back for Part 2 of 3! I’m so happy to be able to share this with all of you. And once again check out the work the rest of Crow Squadron has done because it is absolutely FABULOUS.

Corporalki: @kazandthecrows

Materialki: @anubem (art link) @generalstarkov (art link) @pijoshi (art link) @mitdemadlerimherzen (art link | art link 2) @erandraws (art link) @nannadoodles (art link)

Summary: When an Imperial pilot defects, the Rebellion sends its best spies to find out what he knows. They discover the existence of a planet-destroying weapon known as the Death Star and a scientist who holds the secrets to its only weaknesses. Guided by the pilot, Wylan, and a former storm trooper, Matthias, Kaz Brekker leads a team to uncover the secret that can save the Rebellion before it’s crushed for good.

A Grishaverse Rogue One AU for the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

Part II

Inej wraps her scarf around her head as the shuttle enters the atmosphere to a downpour of rain. She checks her gear. There’s a couple scorch marks from the earlier fight, but everything else is in good repair. It should keep her relatively dry.

Satisfied with her equipment, she turns back to Nina and Matthias. Nina’s fallen asleep on Matthias’s shoulder, exhibiting that her ability to sleep anywhere remains intact.

He looks uncomfortable with everything that’s happening around him. Despite all he’s already shared with them, Matthias still looks unsettled. His hand grips Nina’s, thumb moving in circles against the back of her hand. Inej isn’t even sure he knows he’s doing it. It’s clear that he and Nina have gotten close over the last two years. Inej is happy for her friend.

Matthias clearly didn’t sign up for this. He leaned on Nina for support through their entire conversation. She’s seen that confusion in contacts they’re trying to turn before. Normally Jesper was the one to help put them at ease. Kaz and Inej had their own modes of gathering information.

It can be hard to be thrown into a new situation, and Kaz doesn’t exactly ask your opinion before he turns around and questions your entire belief system. Matthias doesn’t seem to regret what he’s shared. He had only floundered when Kaz had asked about the anti-military defenses. He’d moved past it quickly and all the information fits with what they already know about Imperial procedures.

She moves through the shuttle back to Kaz’s side, leaving Nina and Matthias in their bubble. He’s on the radio to Rebel Command, sequestered in a little corner. She lets him speak as her eyes drift over Jesper in the pilot seat. The Imperial Pilot - Wylan - is pointing out something as the shuttle weaves around rocky pillars.

It has something to do with radars and detection. Jesper’s the natural choice to fly, better with the quick maneuvers than anyone else on their crew. Inej leans against the wall and watches the rain through the windshield.

Kaz finishes his report and turns back to her. He looks tired, his face tight and drawn. They’ve worked together long enough that she can recognize his expressions. He’s shutting down his emotions right now. Whatever they’ve said isn’t something he’s pleased with.

She tilts her head. “What did they say?”

His hand curls into a fist. “They want to send a strike team.”

Inej’s gut clenches at the thought. In the last three years, they’ve, collectively, done terrible things for the Rebellion. They’re the team that gets their hands dirty and keeps the Rebellion well-informed. This weapon - the Death Star - is greater than any other threat they’ve ever faced. She honestly doesn’t know how they’ll face it without more information, which can only be found on Eadu according to Wylan.

“What’s the play?” she asks.

He taps his fingers on the head of this cane. He doesn’t look at her as he works through his problem. “They think it’s too risky to leave the scientists alive. We only have a couple hours before they arrive. If there is information, we have to get it before they get here.”

Inej runs her hand over one of her blades as she considers the change to the plans. “That’s cutting it rather close.”

He finally looks at her. He doesn’t say anything but he can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows it’s going to be difficult, but that she can do it.

Inej pulls out her knife and starts to spin it as she thinks about how this changes their plans. “We can’t fight our way in. It would take too much time.”

Kaz nods.

“Me, Jes and Matthais,” Inej says firmly, nodding at her own thoughts. Kaz’s brain has to be on the outside if something goes wrong. Wylan is a liability: someone might recognize him. Nina would be an asset but they need Matthias’s understanding of base layout and protocol more.

“Get the information and get out.” Kaz rubs a gloved hand across his jaw. “If the scientist slows you down…”

Inej stops the spin of her knife and looks at Kaz. His meaning hits her. He wants her to kill the scientist if necessary. It needles her. He’s never asked her to kill before. It’s always been a matter of survival: fighting because there was no other way out of the situation. He and Jesper are always the ones who carry out of assassination assignments.

She swallows thickly.

“I can tell Jesper,” he offers. If he was a soft man, the words might even be tender, but Kaz Brekker has never been soft.

“He might be the only one with the information,” Inej counters. Her hand lifts to the necklace around her neck. “Force knows we need to find a way to destroy that weapon.”

He gives her a look. She knows he doesn’t believe in the Force even a little. He prefers to put his faith in his own mind. He also puts an extraordinary amount of faith in her, to the point of being dangerous, bewildering and exasperating. He believes in her and that’s heady, but it’s also exhausting because it’s not like he would ever admit it.

He watches her for a moment, eyes boring into her soul.

“We’ve got this, Kaz.” She assures him. She takes a deep breath to breathe in the will of the Force, like her mother once taught her. She doesn’t want to hear his reservations or doubts, because she knows he won’t say them and she doesn’t want this to drag on.

“Keep your comms open,” he instructs. “We’ll be your eyes on the outside. We won’t be able to call off the airstrike.”

She takes a deep breath and grips her necklace. She can do this. She’s choosing to do this.

“It’s now or never,” Jesper announces, jumping out of the pilot seat. He checks his weapons and glances at Kaz and Inej. With his raised eyebrow, Inej realizes just how close they’ve gotten in the little alcove and takes a small step back. “You get in touch with Herr Peskal?”

Kaz nods.

“And?”

“We have ninety minutes.”

Jesper nods. His brows furrowed. “Any leeway in that?”

“Should be more than enough time,” Kaz says instead, walking away towards the back.

Jesper looks back at her, consternation written into his features.

Inej releases her necklace. “We have to get the information and get out. There’s a strike team on it’s way.” She tightens the band on her braid and tucks it into her hood.

He pulls on his own poncho. “Kill protocols?” Jesper checks his pistols as he asks the question. When it takes too long for her to answer, he looks up at her.

“We get the information. If the scientist slows us down…,” she can’t finish the statement. Jesper’s eyes are soft as he nods, understanding what she can’t say. It’s silly that she still has these hang-ups.

“Got it,” Jesper says. He slides his pistols back into their holsters and covers them with his poncho.

Inej nods and moves to the hatch. Kaz stands beside the door and looks out. She stands beside him as they look out into the dark rain. He leans toward her, as close as he can be without touching. She meets his eyes. His eyes are heavy with determination about what needs to happen. In the years since she’s known Kaz, she’s seen him trade his soul for the Rebellion over and over again. He shut down his feelings under a layer of armor too thick for anything to penetrate. It’s a rare moment when she can read the depth of his emotions in his eyes. It’s only when he’s concerned about her or Jesper, not that he’d ever admit that.

At times like this, she wishes she was the kind of person who was more comfortable with touch. She reaches out slowly and clasps his fingers. His eyes drop to her fingers and squeeze hers briefly. His eyes meet hers with the silent order to take care of herself. Inej nods in understanding and then steps back to flip her hood over her head.

“We’re out.”

She hears Matthias and Jesper follow her out into the rain. Their longer legs overtake her quickly and she falls into step with them easily enough.

It turns out the infiltration itself is easy enough. According to Matthais, this base isn’t a military target and is isolated enough that they’re about to sneak in through an air vent. Or Inej is able to. The boys are reluctant to fit themselves into the vents.

She crawls along to a control panel and allows Matthias to talk her through rerouting the cameras so they loop the current footage. It’s a crude set up but that’s all they have time and prep for. She uses the same panel to open the door for Jesper and Matthias. She sticks to the vents and drops into an empty lab based on directions she pulled from the system.

“Kaz, who is it we’re looking for?” She asks the comm.

“Bo Yul-Bayur.” His voice scratches over the open comm. “At least that’s what it sounds like. The pilot’s brain is still scrambled from Bor Gullet.”

She pulls up the scientist directory on a nearby screen and scrolls through the information. “He’s not in the main labs. They look empty. Jes, Matthias, got anything?”

“It looks like there’s some sort of meeting on the main landing pad,” Matthias answers.

“Got all the big brass and everything,” Jesper mutters. “They’re still gathering. This is the time to grab the scientist.”

Inej starts opening cabinets in the room to see if she can find a spare uniform or a lab coat, anything that will help her blend in as she searches the halls for this Yul-Bayur she needs to locate. She’s about to despair when she notices a cubby on the far side of the room with something hanging on it.

The white coat is a pretty good fit, if a little large on her slight frame. She only takes a moment to note that difference before her eyes land on a small picture that was hidden behind the hanging coat. It’s a holodisc, cleverly hidden that wouldn’t be visible in another light, but that’s not what stops the breath in Inej’s chest. She recognizes the photo and her own eyes staring up at her from the center, wrapped in her mother’s arms with her brother perched on her back.

She hasn’t seen her family since she was stolen away. This means…

The name tag on the jacket confirms her suspicion: Ghafa.

A memory returns of a cold steel building where she used to play with a ship and where her father met with important men. She’s too young to care what’s going on, but she remembers the frigidity of it all. Nothing like the caravan and the acrobats which had always felt like home. She remembers that well. But not the before, not the time when her dad…

Whoosh

The door opens and Inej throws herself toward the nearest workspace in the hopes that she can look busy, knowing the jacket should be enough camouflage that she doesn’t need to hide in the limited shadows.

“Hey! You there! What are you doing at my desk?”

The voice is a chill that runs up her spine. She’d been so sure that he was dead. That her father was lost that day when the troopers came to the caravan. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he was alive, that he had been taken.

Inej slowly turns around. There’s a suspicious burning in the back of her eyes as she finally lays on her father. He stiffens with a soft gasp when he finally gets a look at her face. They stand there in silence for a drawn out minute, staring at each other with open wonder.

“I-I-Inej?”

Her words are lost as tears start to fall so all she can manage is a jerky nod before she flings herself into his open arms and gives herself over to the joy of her father coming back to life.

<hr>

Kaz doesn’t do well when he can’t plan for all the variables on a mission. He scowls and glares out the windshield of the ship at the rain that thuds down on the clear screen. There’s nothing but darkness and rain outside. The comms have gone quiet as Jesper, Matthias, and Inej infiltrate the base. He’s not happy with hastily thrown together plans, even when it’s their only chance to snatch up invaluable information. He’d prefer this to have more finesse.

Wylan Van Eck beside him still twitches nervously in his seat. His eyes are wide in perpetual shock, as if he can’t believe what his life is or how he got there. He’s going to have to get over that quickly. Kaz doesn’t have time to hold his hand. Whether he knows it or not, the pilot likely has valuable information given his relation to a relatively well-known commander of the Empire. Although whatever the Shu did to him seems to be taking its toll.

It’s unfortunate.

Nina finally moves from the back of the ship. In the screen, Kaz watches her stretch to wake up from her nap, as if this was just a normal turn of events. They’re going to have to talk about the last two years and her stay on Jedha, but again, that’s not the priority, not right now. Obviously, she did her thing and convinced a Druskelle to change ranks. It still makes her motivations now unknown.

Kaz looks over the radar even though he knows the strike team is still a while out. He doesn’t like having nothing to do while his team does the difficult work. His mind is on Plan Q of this improvised operation. He dislikes the amount of variables and his role as back up. It would be irresponsible to leave anyone else with the ship. No one else would be able to make the call to leave if it came to that.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Brekker?” Nina asks from behind him. She’s managed to find some supply of sweets on this ship that he didn’t even realize was there.

Her question prompts Wylan to observe him, snapping him from whatever reverie he found himself in.

“There wasn’t much time to plan. It’s too sloppy.” It’s too risky. Kaz isn’t convinced that it’s worth the amount being risked. He doesn’t trust hearsay and rumors and fickle scientists. This could easily be a trap.

“It’s more than that. The Force moves differently around those who are preparing to kill.”

The pilot jerks in alarm. “What?”

Kaz looks at Nina, projecting his own blank face. He’d forgotten how annoying her perceptiveness could be. Blasted Force-users.

“Jesper was prepared to kill. Even Inej-”

“We’ve got a problem.”

Kaz sits up and leans into the console at Jesper’s voice. “Talk to me.”

“The scientist we were sent to get. He’s gone.”

Kaz frowns. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“As in, dragged away screaming in front of a cadre of his own scientists and his son,” Jesper reports. There’s a voice too far away for the comm to pick up, which tells him the son is right there. “Kuwei says he knows how to destroy the device. But he won’t tell us until we’re off planet.”

Kaz glances at the clock. They have time. “Wraith, report.” Each moment of silence screams that something is terribly wrong. “Wraith.”

“She was in the labs,” Jesper reports.

“They should be mostly clear by now,” Matthias adds. “We can pick her up on the way out. They don’t have much in the way of holding cells if she was captured.”

“Because they’re more likely to shoot first than stop and ask questions,” Kaz surmises, an observation that isn’t immediately countered which does nothing to assuage his worry. Not that there’s any reason to be concerned about the Wraith. Inej is too good to be captured.

“There would have been an alarm raised.” Matthias’s voice is hard. “They’re already on high alert. Jesper should take Kuwei back to the ship. I can blend in better on my own.”

Kaz grits his teeth. It’s not ideal. Ideally his people need to be out of there but they need to know how to destroy the Death Star. “Do it.”

Nina reaches past him to slam her hand against the control. “Alright, Brekker. Out with it.”

She leans against the console and stares him down. Kaz looks blankly back at her. He didn’t miss dealing with Nina on a regular basis. She always struggled with the grey areas of their jobs, the ones where you had to make the tough calls. She liked to rely on the Force, on a higher power. Kaz prefers to rely on his own intelligence.

“Who are you planning to kill, Kaz,” she enunciates, getting into his face.

“No one.” Technically true now. The plan to kill the scientist is moot if they need him. The Rebel strike team is the more pressing concern at this time.

“Don’t bullshit me. If anything happens to Matthias...”

“You know that any infiltration has some amount of risk.” At this point, the risk is with Inej. If she can, she’ll get out of there.

“There’s something more at play here.”

Kaz glances at the time. “We need to know how to destroy the Death Star. That takes priority.”

“Priority over what, Brekker?”

He looks at her. “We also need to know they can never create another one.”

Nina pales.

“There’s a strike called in for the base.”

“Well, then call it off. They can blow it up from the inside or something.”

He bats her hand away as she reaches for the comms. “We don’t have the explosives for that. Nor the time.”

“The alarm’s been raised. We’re coming out hot.”

Kaz’s blood freezes in his veins. That’s Jesper, not Matthias or Inej. That means they’ll have to take off quickly without hope of waiting it out for any stragglers. Nina meets his gaze in a challenge. He flips a button and the engines start up. He turns to Wylan in the copilot seat. “Can you fly us out of here?”

He nods jerkily and reaches forward to start checks. Kaz bodily inserts himself between Nina and the cockpit. He has to lean heavily on his cane as he pushes back to the loading bay and opens the door.

“Matthias-” Nina forces her way past him to jam on the button. Kaz smacks it off with his cane.

“Inej will get them out if she can. We need to prepare.”

“You bastard! I will never forgive you for this, Brekker.”

His jaw clenches. Inej would never forgive him if he faltered on his path.

“I’m going after them.” Nina rushes out the open door. Jesper arrives with an unknown entity in view.

He can’t afford to wait for her. “Prepare for take off,” he shouts to Wylan as Jesper drags the scientist onto the space ship.

The scientist collapses onto the bench, breathing heavily. Jesper looks back, pointing over his shoulder where Nina disappeared into the rain. “Where’s she going?”

Kaz scowls. “She refused to leave her partner behind.”

“Inej?”

“Plan J,” Kaz responds. It’s his standard response when things go wrong. It’s their shorthand for ‘she’s going to find her own way out’.

“We’ve got incoming,” Wylan shouts from the front. Jesper slams the door and dashes to the cockpit. The ship is his baby.

“It’s the alliance,” Jesper calls.

Kaz breathes out. He turns away from the door. “Get us out of here.”

<hr>

The alarm blares through the compound. Matthias listens to the sirens. Unless they’ve changed the signals, it’s the intruder alarm. Either Inej or Jesper has been found. He sighs and adjusts his suit, tugging at his borrowed uniform so it sits straight. It’s been two years and the outfit that once felt like a second skin now feels stiff and constraining.

A platoon of troopers races past Matthias, down the hallway in the opposite direction. He overhears their leader shout about an unknown man with Lab Assistant Al Bul. Not that he has any idea where Inej might be.

He heads towards the labs, nodding to officers as he marches along. He sticks his head into the various rooms. He lifts his hand to the silent comm.

“Inej? Report?”

He sees two scientists pulled from a lab in front of them. Only one is dressed in standard Imperial research regalia, the other just has a white overcoat. He vaguely recognizes the slight figure of Inej as she lurks slightly behind the scientist.

“You’re supposed to be in the main hangar, Ghafa.”

Matthias freezes. He knows that voice. It’s the same voice who trained him, the one that took him under his wing and trained him to take his place. Jarl Brum was the man who was a father figure since he was an adolescent. He’s the one he spent the last two years considering trying to contact.

“Of course, Commander Brum. My assistant and I just had to finish one last computation. The captain didn’t communicate the urgency of the situation when he came by earlier.” The man sounds as polite and rational as any might be.

“You know better than that, Ghafa. My second says he saw you on your way to the hangar when the announcement went up. You stopped. And who is your assistant? I don’t recall seeing this one around before.”

Matthias curses. Inej isn’t sneaking under the radar. She’s not getting out of here clean, not when they’re already on high alert about a trespasser. The display in the hangar would imply that they know they have a leak, and Jarl Brum is the type to shoot first and then brutally interrogate. Leaving her is not an option.

He drops his hand to the gun at his side and sighs. Two years ago, this wouldn’t be a consideration. He would turn himself over to Brum and gladly share everything he knew, use that knowledge to ingratiate himself to his pseudo-father. But that was before Jedha, before he witnessed what survival on the street looked like, before he learned what citizens of the Empire would consent to live under rather than suffer Imperial rule.

He glances down the hallway and sees only one man at Brum’s side. The rest of the hallway is clear, but there’s no guarantee it will stay that way for long. Matthias looks down and sets his blaster to stun. He carefully doesn’t allow himself to think for too long. The first shot goes wide as Matthias readjusts to the Imperial blaster. He readjusts instinctually and the second shot hits the soldier in the middle of his forehead.

Brum, with typical arrogance, doesn’t even reach for his blaster as he turns to look down the hallway. He blinks in shock as he recognizes Matthias. It couldn’t be too difficult now that he’s finally back in the Imperial uniform.

“Matthias Helvar? My son, you’ve returned.” He turns away from the scientist.

Inej has pushed the scientist behind her. She looks nervous as she glances between Matthais and Brum.

“I’m not your son.” He might be a little defensive on that point seeing as he barely has the trust of this heist team. “We’re going.”

Inej moves, keeping herself between the scientist and Brum as she pushes him further down the wall. Matthias doesn’t remove his eyes from Brum.

Brum turns to face Matthias fully. “It’s good to see you. We thought you were lost when you landed on Jedha. You look well.” He takes a deep breath as Matthias starts to back away down the hallway. “You know you won’t get away. The entire base is looking for you.”

He doesn’t dignify the statement with a response. He could shoot Brum right now, slide the gun from stun to kill. It would cement his change of allegiance. His finger hovers over the trigger for a moment. The hesitation costs him. Troopers round the corner. They waste no time in firing once they see Matthias pointing his weapon at Brum. He ducks and rounds the corner, firing back as he glances over at Inej.

“We need to go. Where’s Jesper?” Inej says from where she crouches beside him.

“He went ahead with the scientist,” Matthias replies. “They’re the ones who set off the alarm.”

She scowls and glances around. “Where’s the hangar?”

He pauses in firing. “The opposite direction from where the transport is. We need to go back the other way.”

“No,” Inej counters. “Jesper and the scientist are back at the shuttle. That means they’re gone. We need alternate transport. Dad?”

“What do you mean?” Matthias frowns. “They wouldn’t leave…” He’s cut off as the man gestures down the hall. Inej starts to move. Matthias hits his head against the wall. Of course they’re going to do something not in the plan. It’s what he should expect from an undisciplined bunch.

“They had no choice,” Inej whispers. She pulls a blaster on approaching troopers, causing them to drop back to avoid blasters.

Matthias fires off a couple more shots as they race through the hallways. He curses in Fjerdan as they run. Stupid demon spies with unorthodox plans and no communication skills. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a strike team coming. They’re going to blow this base with us in it if we don’t get off planet now.” Inej’s voice is calm.

When they get out of here, Matthias is going to have some strong words with Kaz Brekker about his asinine plans and the danger he puts his people in. “We’re going to the private hangar. The main one will be too crowded. It’s where they gathered the scientists earlier. Brum’s transport should be on his level.”

He smashes open the door to an elevator. He lets Inej and the scientist in before him and then slams on the button to the correct floor as he remembers it. Finally he glances at the scientist and then to Inej. “I thought we wanted Yul-Bayur?”

Inej shifts. It would almost be nervous except she looks completely unapologetic.

“Why do you want him?”

Matthias doesn’t speak. He has no idea who this scientist is and isn’t about to divulge secret information.

“The Death Star,” Inej says, turning to face the man.

He pales. “They finished it?”

“How do you know about it?” Matthias crosses his arms, but his eyes follow the indicator on the elevator as they close in on their target. The door opens directly to the flight platform which is blessedly empty of guards. He stands with one foot out so the door won’t close and face the scientist.

“I worked on it.”

“We got word from a pilot that there was a way to destroy it.”

Inej is too trusting. Matthias is ready to leave.

“Yes, but how do you know this?” The man asks. “I was unable to pass that information along.”

“You?” Inej laughs, throwing her head back and then throws her arms around the man. “Of course you did, Papa.”

That finally connects the dots for Matthias. He can’t let himself get distracted. If this is the scientist which has the information they need, then they need to get out of here even more now. He turns toward Brum’s personal shuttle. There are two other ships in close proximity - his guard ships. But they only need one.

“Come on,” Matthias interrupts as he starts toward the main shuttle.

Inej turns around and stabs one of her knives into the control panel, effectively destroying it in a single motion. It��s clever. He should have thought of it, should have realized. But the more important goal is to get out of here.

Halfway across the tarmac, Matthias hears the shot.

Inej’s scream pierces the air and the world stops as he spins around to see her father collapse to the ground.

<hr>

Nina regrets her choice as soon as she steps out into the cold, lashing rain. The wind rips at her braided hair. It slaps against her face and lands askew. Her boots are filled with water through the little leaks she never bothered to patch while living on Jedha. It was unnecessary on a desert planet, after all.

Her robes whip around her and the darkness blinds her to her surroundings. Nina shuts her eyes and lets the Maker guide her steps on the uneven terrain. She knows Inej and Matthias are likely fine on their own. Something calls her forward. It demands she walk into the abyss. It’s a call she’s used to answering.

She’s helpless to fight it.

Nina learned it’s best to trust these moments of intuition, even as it annoys Zoya, Kaz, Matthias, and everyone she’s ever served with. It’s part of her unique times.

The door to the base is ajar, likely propped open for breaks for onsite personnel, the kind that balks protocol and that is largely unknown save by those who frequent it. The site is abandoned in favor of responding to the intruder alarm. The door opens inward to soldier barracks and Nina quickly sheds her robes to change into the standard armor of a foot soldier, unnoticeable in the best of times. It’s the perfect disguise.

The helmet is almost suffocating as she drops it over her head. The visor allows her startlingly little light to see by, probably as troopers are to be feared rather than effective. Nina lifts her bladder and proceeds into the hallway, falling into step with troopers moving rapidly in one direction.

“Intruders at the West Entrance. Assistance has been requested.”

“Belay that order. Platoon B divert to General Brum.”

Nina follows the example of the troopers around her and salutes to the man who orders their change in objective. She’s part of the Rebellion. She knows the name Brum. Apprehension sends a shiver down her spine at the name of the man famous for rooting out and murdering Rebel spies. That Matthias served directly under him only adds to her anxiety.

Brum himself meets her new platoon at the elevator with a scowl. It’s the first time Nina has ever seen the man in person but the frosty expression is reminiscent of her first days in Jedha with Matthias in his Druskelle idiocy. He stands stiff and tall, frosty in a way that Nina thinks he never learned to smile.

“Intruders are headed to my private shuttle. Detaining them alive is preferable. Dead is acceptable. One former Druskelle, one girl, and Scientist Ghafa. THey must not be allowed to escape.”

Again they salute with terrifying synchronicity.

“Two of you, with me,” he orders as he steps into the lift. “The rest of you, take the stairs.”

Thank the Force, Nina finds herself nearest the elevator doors and she steps in alongside another faceless trooper. One the ride, she focuses on her breath instead of her proximity to the man known to have murdered her comrades. Idly she wonders if her breath could fog up the inside of her helmet, if her breath was labored enough.

She exits the lift alongside the other trooper, finger carefully on the trigger. She calls on the Force to protect Matthias and Inej. Briefly, she considers turning on Brum but the Force screams at her to follow this course of action. She doesn’t understand but she trusts it to guide her in her actions.

There are already troopers on the platform, firing on Matthias, Inej and the scientist. She swore Jesper was the one with the scientist, not Inej. She watches as the scientist falls to a well-placed shot. Her resolve to listen to the Force almost breaks when she realizes that Inej and Matthias aren’t going to reach the shuttle without further casualties. A moment later, the Rebel spy ship emerges from the darkness of Eadu and rains down shots to cover their retreat.

The troopers move for cover as Matthais and Inej carry the scientist over their shoulders and race for the ship. It looks almost comical - a man strung between the tall Matthias and the tiny Inej. Nina herself isn’t pleased at the arrival of the ship she swears she just saw fly off with the intent to leave them behind.

It would appear Kaz and Inej are still doing the same circular dance of flirtation without addressing their own issues and feelings.

“Bring that ship down!” Brum screams, as if the troopers’ meagre blasters could somehow penetrate the ship’s shield.

“If I may, sir,” NIna says tentatively enough while still playing the obedient trooper. One with a brain. “Perhaps pursuit would be more successful.”

Brum stares a moment before he once again starts barking orders. It looks like she’s getting off this rock anyway. The Force still has some use for her after all.

<hr>

They were out. They were minutes from freedom.

The words are on repeat in her head as Inej drops to the ground beside her father. Rain soaks through her clothes as she pulls her father into her lap. His hand wraps around hers with surprising strength. In the background, she can hear Matthias shouting, the pew pew pew of blaster fire, and then something that sounds like Kaz’s rasp which makes no sense. They should have taken off by now, maybe even be out of the atmosphere.

“Stardust,” her father whispers. His hand reaches up to brush dripping wet hair from where it hangs in her face. “Scarif...you must go to Scarif…”

“You’re coming with us,” she whispers. Tears blur her eyes as she tries a watery smile. A hand grips her shoulder and abruptly the rest of the world comes back into sharp relief. She feels each drop of rain from the sky, the sizzle of hot laser blasts hitting water, and Jesper’s plea for her to move. “I’m not leaving him!”

Matthias grumbles in a different language as he fires off another couple of shots. Jesper circles Inej to throw her father’s arm over his shoulders. Inej rushes to help her. Her father grunts as they shift him. He’s too injured to help them as they half carry, half drag him towards the shuttle.

Kaz would have her head if he knew they were risking everything to bring her father with them. Her orders were to get the scientist out of there. If Jesper already got one, then they could have left her father behind. It’s her sentimentality. That’s what he would blame it on.

Inej’s free hand wraps around the necklace tied around her throat. For so long it was the only memento she had of her family. She prays to the Force, to the long forgotten religion of her people as she staggers under her father’s weight. They can do this.

Her feet land on a metal incline and Inej pushes herself to get to the flat of the ship. Matthias slams on the button to close the doors and Jesper slips out from his position holding Inej’s father up to race to the cockpit.

Only Inej’s superior sense of balance and upper body strength allow her to keep her father from dropping to the floor. Kaz slides over to take Jesper’s place as the shuttle leaves the tarmac. It rocks dangerously as they get her father to a bench. He groans as he lands hard on the unforgiving surface.

“Matthias, I need you on the guns!”

Inej blocks it all out as she focuses on her father, drinking in the lines on his face. “I’m here, Dad. We’re gonna help you.” Her eyes land on a med kit Kaz drops beside her. She throws it open to gaze at the contents they haven’t replenished in far too long. She rips his jacket open to find where the blaster shot landed. Her father’s hands fumble to help her only to still her hands. She frowns and looks up at him.

“Papa-”

“Listen, Stardust. The Death Star. There’s a way to stop it. A weakness…exhaust port...plans are on Scarif...your mother…”

“You need to save your strength,” Inej whispers. His hands fall from hers, suddenly weightless. With one hand Inej claws through the med kit, her hands landing on bacta patches. She pulls his shirt back and desperately presses the medication to the wound.

“You can’t leave me like this, Papa. I just got you back. I can’t lose you again. Not like this. I need you. You’ve got to meet Jesper...and Kaz. Jesper will make you laugh like you’ve never laughed before. Kaz is a bit harder but I think you’ll like how much he cares. He’s been looking for you, you know. You’re going to be okay.”

She scrambles for the serum that will put him in stasis until they make it back to base. If there’s a chance to save him, it will happen there. Tears are hot on her cheeks. Inej presses her lips to his hands. They don’t grip hers back as he succumbs to the serum. His whole body goes slack under her hands, his eyes shut. The fight slips away from him. Inej loses her own battle and sobs in earnest. One hand finds her father’s pulse. Tension weeps from her body as she feels the faint flutter under her fingers. He’s still alive for now.

The motion of the shuttle smoothes out as the shuttle goes into lightspeed.

“Inej-”

Kaz’s voice is cut off as she looks back up at him. She stares at him, finally processing what his presence here means. “You came back.”

Inej forces a deep breath and pulls back from her father. She swipes at the tears on her face. Air won’t come easily. She wrestles with it as Kaz kneels beside her. Matthias returns from where he was manning the weapons. With surprising gentleness, he arranges Inej’s father on the bench, and checks his pulse again. He checks the bacta pack and nods. Inej rises to her feet and takes deep breaths. She tries to reboot her mind, to get it to focus on what the next step is. There’s something she need to be doing but all she can think about is what she just found that was then almost ripped unceremoniously from her grasp.

They must have done it: gotten away from Eadu in one piece. Her eyes drift from her friends, her heart swelling with warmth only for her gaze to land on the newcomer. She feels ugly emotion rise in her chest as her eyes take in this scientist who was allowed to just walk away while her father is…

Inej can’t finish the thought. She shakes her head, and turns back to Kaz. There’s so much she wants to say, to ask about. The ship should have been gone and they came back. Kaz’s gloved hand slips into hers and he squeezes it. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything else, but it feels like the world has shifted with that one singular motion.

Her father is dead, but that will not be where this story ends.

<hr>

Wylan’s hands are steady on the controls as he steers the ship into the landing field of the Rebel base. His breath is uneven in his chest and his heart feels like a jackhammer as he fears what this group will do to his already fractured psyche. He’s gotten better in the last few days - miles better than whatever it is Bor Gullet did to his brain on Jedha. It’s like his brain and body had to relearn how to communicate.

He hasn’t told anyone that the symbols on the controls and all his displays are illegible to his mind. Struggling with reading isn’t new to him. It was one of those things his father despaired of before he shipped Wylan off to the flight academy, enraged that his son would never be an Imperial officer. Now the screens hurt his eyes.

It doesn’t matter. He’s trained himself to fly without the assistance. It just gets in the way of good pilots most of the time. Jesper leans forward and looks over the screens, then glances at Wylan. He raises an eyebrow and falls backwards into his chair with an impressed whistle.

“You’re not even reading the specs, are you? Are you some kind of super pilot?”

Wylan glances sideways as he lowers the landing gear. He shrugs vaguely. The way Jesper is looking at him sends a shiver down his spine. It’s a loaded glance. He doesn’t want to look too deeply at what it means, doesn’t want to jump to conclusions about what he’s thinking. Any flirting is in his own head.

“That’s hot.”

Or not. Wylan frowns at him as he powers down the plane. “Are you serious, right now?”

Jesper winks, and throws him a devilish smirk. “What can I say? Competence is a turn on.”

“Stop flirting.” Kaz’s voice breaks through the fog in Wylan’s brain as he briefly forgets how to think. “We need to report.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Jesper throws back as he jumps to his feet.

“You’re ridiculous,” Wylan informs him.

“Welcome to the Rebellion, Sunshine. Let’s go!” With more enthusiasm than he thinks is warranted, Jesper propels Wylan in front of him and out onto the dry base. He receives some interested looks, but not so many as the floating stretcher escorted by Inej and Matthias as it races into the base.

“Will Pavel Ghafa be okay?” He asks, staring at the stretcher as it disappears.

Jesper and Kaz both turn to look at him. Wylan wants to shrink away from their gaze.

“How do you know Inej’s father?” Kaz demands.

Wylan tilts his head. So that’s what he missed while flying the plane. “He was nice to me. None of the other scientists would speak to me. They…” They thought he was stupid. His first day on base, his father had made a point of shoving his face in everything he couldn’t understand by bringing him to the science labs. The joke was on him because Wylan could understand parts of it, even if he couldn’t read anything. Scientist Ghafa was the only one who noticed. Afterwards, he was the only one who continued to talk to him. “He taught me how to blow things up.”

Jesper grins. “Damn. I like him already.”

“Is he going to make it?” Wylan asks.

“Did he ever tell you about his work? Anything about the Death Star?”

Wylan pauses and tries to think about their past interactions. The memories stall. He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He always told me to be careful, to keep my head down. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

Kaz nods and turns away. He makes a bee-line for a man and a woman, both waiting by the entrance to the base. The two of them are standing still while the rest of the base moves around them. It takes a special sort of power.

Wylan looks over at Jesper and then past him to Al Bul. Kuwei had never been particularly kind to him, or mean, really. He doesn’t know much about him at all. He wasn’t happy with the way he was coerced into helping them get rescued, largely because he ended up being interrogated by Bor Gullet. Turns out the Shu weren’t too happy with the potential ability to get back two of their own citizens. Wylan would have appreciated that knowledge before he landed in Jedha to a hostile situation.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get this solved.” Jesper nods at something Kaz conveys with a quick hand signal. His hand moves from Wylan’s shoulder with a quick squeeze. It lands heavily on Kuwei’s shoulder and pushes him forward. “Come on, Kiwi. We got you out, so now it’s your turn to cough up what you know.”

<hr>

The universe is a perpetual joke.

Jesper plays with the settings on his blasters as he sits in the dark corner of HQ while voices rise and fall in impassioned debate. Kuwei, for all his supposed knowledge, can only tell them that there’s a critical weakness in the Death Star’s defenses. It’s in the plans, which he thinks he can create from memory. The leaders of the Resistance are far less trusting of this information. Spymaster Per Haskell is angry that he’s devoted so many resources on a dead end. Inej is pushing for an expedition to Scarif, where she can recover the plans. According to her, her father knows the plans are there. Genya seems interested in the plan, but the majority of the people present are convinced of the futility of the prospect.

They’d rather continue along their familiar routes of information gathering. Even from across the room, Jesper can tell Kaz is going to follow Inej on this. That boy will move worlds to get her what she wants.

Jesper gets to his feet and walks away from the noise of the room. He’d better get their ride ready. Wylan Van Sunshine is the only one to recognize his exit and he falls into step with Jesper.

“What are you planning?”

Jesper shrugs. “What makes you think I’m planning anything?”

“The demjin would not give in so easily.”

His head whips around to his other side where Matthias is now standing, face set in a scowl. “I’m going to put a bell on you.” They both continue to stare at him. “Stop that. There’s no plan.”

“There’s a plan,” Wylan says, looking at Matthias.

“Of course, there’s a plan.” Matthias agrees. “Nina’s on Scarif.”

Jesper laughs. “That’s quite a leap.”

“She’s on Scarif,” Matthias repeats.

Jesper shakes his head. There’s no possible way he can know that. There’s a whole galaxy out there where she could be, and that’s if she got off the planet. The poor guy is delusional. “Look, I know it sucks that we left her behind. The odds of her surviving the strike are not great.”

“Brum’s shuttle left after us. It survived the strike. She was on that ship.” Matthias says tightly.

“I want Nina to be alive just as much as you do, but there’s no way you can know that.” Jesper squints at Matthias, trying to determine what Matthias actually knows and what is just him trying to will into being.

Matthias gets a pained look on his normally stoic face. He looks up at the sky, as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “I would feel it if she were dead.”

Jesper looks at Wylan, glad to see that he’s just as lost as Jesper is. Jesper runs a hand over the back of his neck with a sigh. As much as he would love to continue his unbelieving attitude, Jesper knows the truth resonates in Matthias’s words. Nina’s alive and somehow is going to be exactly where she needs to be, but Matthias isn’t in contact with her. He’s just got faith. “I hope you’re right, soldier boy.”

“Please tell me there is actually a plan,” Matthias answers. His face is all scowly.

“Plans are a turn on for you, aren’t they?” Jesper speculates as he looks the soldier over. “How does that work out with you and Nina?” She’s the least rule-following person he knows. She likes to improvise too much when the Force speaks to her.

Matthias doesn’t answer. He just narrows his eyes at Jesper’s tone. Jesper bites back a smirk. He’d bet good money that the reason it works is because they’re both soldiers, who are loyal and stubborn as hell. Helvar doesn’t seem like a complete dick, and exactly Nina’s type. He really does hope he’s right about Nina.

Jesper pushes past them both and walks towards the mess hall, where he knows the intelligence agents who are on base spend their down time. Unlike many operatives who find ways to work the Rebel insignia into their uniforms, the intelligence agents are a paranoid bunch who value their identity too much to risk their allegiance being revealed, even a Rebel base.

Generally, the intelligence agents are known as spies or The Dregs. Kaz calls them the Crows because they go out in the galaxy and collect shiny bits of information which they hoard and return in the hopes that it might turn out to be valuable. They don’t often work in large groups but they can recognize each other. Wylan and Matthias trail behind him as he walks across the way to Rotty, who’s sitting alone and staring into his mug.

He looks up as Jesper drops into the seat across from him. His eyes take in the three of them, assessing even as he looks half asleep. That’s part of his charm. People underestimate him. He takes them in, looks around the room and then leans forward. “This about the meeting happening right now?”

Rotty’s good at connecting dots.

Jesper shrugs as if to say “what can you do”.

Rotty throws the rest of his drink back and drops his mug on the table. “Is the intelligence worth it?”

Jesper runs a hand along this jaw and the stubble that’s starting to grow as he looks around, glancing at Wylan and Matthias. “We have confirmation the information’s on Scarif. Nina’s on the inside.”

Rotty blinks in surprise. “Nina? Zenik? I thought…” He looks at Matthias. “So the rumors about Jedha?”

“All true. We need to move before things get worse.” Jesper glances around the room. “It looks like the vote will go the other way.”

The Dregs have the best blank stares. Jesper watches his eyes and the calculations going on behind them. “Kaz?”

Jesper knows he’s got him. Rotty will help them. “Sent me to spread the word. No orders. This isn’t mandated. It has to be your choice.”

“Who do you have so far?”

“Kanej and these two.”

Rotty snorts. “You’re still hoping that catches on.”

“It’s so much easier to say than Kaz and Inej every time. When we have time, remind me to tell you about the repressed pining from this last stunt. It’s a good one.” Jesper taps the table and stands. “Spread the word. We’re leaving as soon as the meeting lets out.”

Rotty nods.

Jesper is two tables away when Rotty calls after him. “How do you know Zenik is on Scarif?”

Matthias tenses. It’s comical how easy he is to read.

“She sent an encrypted message.” Jesper reveals with a grin. Then, because he doesn’t trust the druskelle yet, he throws in a little lie. “In the ship’s lights as Brum’s shuttle left Eadu. Kuwei confirmed Brum would fall back to Mustafar and then likely Scarif to check the Death Star plans. We’re watching the old channels for updates.”

Rotty nods.

Matthias shakes his head as they walk out of the cafeteria. “You could have just told me that.”

Jesper laughs. “And missed the look on your face? Never! Now, come on, Helvar, Sunshine. We’ve got a ship to prepare. Stealthily.”

<hr>

“We can’t take no for an answer. You know this is wrong! We have to go. There’s no guarantee Kuwei has any idea what he’s talking about. It’s all guesswork. My father nearly died getting us this information.”

Kaz leans heavily on his cane as they leave HQ as Inej rants in his ear. It’s been awhile since he’s been the recipient of one of her rants. They’ve long accepted their own philosophical differences. He knows her well enough to understand that this is different. This is the first tangible connection she has to her family. Defeating the Death Star is now a part of his legacy and she’ll do anything to protect that. “I know, Inej.”

“So why didn’t you say anything?! You stood silently by. You didn’t even argue for a plan that could work.”

He rubs at his leg like that will alleviate the pain. It’s not great that it’s worse today but Kaz has worked through the pain before. It shouldn’t cause any hiccups assuming that they can get out of here before someone tries to stop them. Based on Genya’s nod as they left, he’s willing to bet that she’ll run interference.

“They were never going to agree. Scarif is a stronghold. We haven’t been able to infiltrate before. Whoever goes in, even if they succeed in getting the plans, they would likely die.” The words are harsh. They have to be. He can’t have anyone doubting the risks involved.

“It would be worth it.” Inej’s eyes are fire, pure passion. It does funny things to his heart beat. She’s a woman meant to live life to the fullest. She’s never more beautiful than when her whole heart is devoted to something she cares about.

Kaz holds her gaze for a minute and then nods. “I agree. That’s why Jesper’s collecting the Crows.”

He struggles with a smile at the shock and warmth in Inej’s gaze, the way her lips part in surprise. The him of several years ago wouldn’t have made this choice. He turns away from her and continues to walk. His smile would come out if he continued to look at her. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have let this melt the ice around his heart, but he’s started to let people in again. It’s a strength as much as a weakness.

“We’re going?” She speeds up to walk in front of him, turning so she can face him as she walks backwards. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“If you didn’t fight for your father, Haskell would have been suspicious. He would have grounded us.”

Her eyes sparkle and another little bit of ice melts. Her hand reaches out like she’s going to reach for her hand. Kaz’s chest is tight - both with desire for her closeness and in fear of contact. Slowly telegraphing her movements, Inej’s hand lands on his forearm. He stops in the middle of the hallway. The bile he expects doesn’t overwhelm him. Instead, it feels almost nice. He relaxes into it as he drinks in her gaze. She smiles at him.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs. He only did what had to be done. Kaz slowly turns his hand over and pulls it back so that their hands meet, fingers intertwining. He stares at the contact and wonders briefly what it would feel like without the gloves between their skin. He wants to be brave enough to push himself to that point but he’s not ready for that yet.

He loosens his grip and lets their hands slip apart before he starts walking, glancing around the hallway. Per Haskell has his eyes on them despite being engaged in conversation with Genya in the entrance to the conference room.

“We need to get out of here before we get locked down.”

Inej nods. “Right.” She pulls away and they start to walk down the hall again.

Kaz’s tensions relax when they reach the hangar and see the Crows all milling around the shuttle, looking inconspicuous for the moment in the bustle of people, but he knows it’s not long before they start attracting attention. His eyes flit to each familiar face. They acknowledge the silent signal and all head toward the shuttle.

It’s a tight squeeze, done nearly silently. It isn’t until he’s moving toward the cockpit when he hears the agitated back and forth of two dissenting voices.

“You’re doing it wrong. We’re never going to get out of here with that clearance code.”

There’s an annoyed huff. “Well then, you’re in charge of the code. I can handle the flying.”

“It’s my ship. I’m the pilot, Sunshine.”

Kaz reaches the entrance to see both Wylan and Jesper at the controls.

“You don’t fly like an Imperial pilot. They’re going to notice.” Wylan glares at Jesper and bats his hand away from the control he’s reaching for. “Just focus on the codes.”

Jesper leans forward. “You know, it’s kind of hot how you take charge.”

Kaz clears his throat. He ignores the way Wylan’s skin flushes and Jesper’s predatory grin. “Time to fly.”

Engines hum to life, shortly followed by a radio static call. “Imperial Ship, you have not been cleared for take off. Please state your call sign.”

Wylan and Jesper look at each other in alarm. It’s almost comical. Jesper, only slightly less useless in this situation grabs the radio. “Oh, right. Tower, this is Rogue...One.”

Kaz closes his eyes at the stupidity. Even Wylan looks pained. Jesper however forges ahead.

“Rogue One, taking off.”

He closes the radio connection as Wylan maneuvers the shuttle into the air and they head off into uncertain danger. Kaz glances back at Inej. She meets his gaze with the same stoic determination. At least they’re in this together.

...

Keep an eye out for Part III coming out next week!

#gvbb21 #gvbbfic21 #six of crows #rogue one au #grishaverse

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lunarmessenger · 2 years

Text

vulgar. - chapter two.

"What a pompous asshole! I'm sorry Jaehee, please try your best to ignore him and his antics."

"It's hard when he's my boss," She grumbled, parking her car in the lot of the airport.

"I just don't know what to do anymore Zen. I haven't seen Y/N since we were kids, and now when I have the chance he won't even let me take a week off." She noticed how her tone had a rough snap to it and she tried to calm herself down, taking deep breaths as she turned off the car.

"I know, Jae. I've told you to quit and start somewhere new, but you just...don't want to give up on him." He sounded exhausted for her, and she could tell that he was sincerely worried about her peace of mind. It was true that Jumin could be a jerk, but in his own way he'd managed to take care of her when nobody else would. There was more to Jumin that not everybody got to see, and it was rare for herself to even catch a glimpse of it. She knew everything he did in the background for the RFA members, and it was admirable. That's why she wouldn't "give up on him", as Zen put it.

"Thank you for listening to me vent Zen, but I have to go. Y/N will be picking up her luggage shortly and I want to be there when she does." With that she hung up her phone, brushing her hair away from her eyes as she entered the buzzing airport. She leaned against the wall by the luggage carousel, large groups of people flooding from the airport gates. A large grin came to her face as she spotted Y/N, wearing sweats and a t-shirt with her backpack.

She didn't say anything, waiting patiently as Y/N picked up her large duffle bag as it fell from onto the carousel. Jaehee furrowed her brows; she noticed that she looked a little off. She was checking her phone constantly, and seemed to be looking over her shoulder a lot more than normal. She was going to surprise her but she felt that it might be the wrong move, and she was right to trust her instincts. Just as she placed a hand on her shoulder Y/N jumped, a little yelp escaping her lips as she immediately turned around, pepper spray in hand.

"Woah, it's me!" She was relieved, a small chuckle escaping her mouth as she instantly bent over in apology.

"Sorry, sorry! I guess I'm just a little paranoid after such a long flight! Give me a hug!" Her cheerful attitude was back as she stood upright and quickly hugged her friend, Jaehee gasping from the sudden movement and chuckling as she patted her back.

"Welcome back to South Korea, Y/N. I hope your flight was well?" Jaehee leaned down and picked up the heavy duffle with ease, holding it over her shoulder as Y/N followed her.

"Yes! A little cramped but nonetheless nice. It feels weird to be back! I'm sure so much has changed since my family left." She stretched, placing her arms behind her head as she walked along side Jaehee. The two of them chatted together as they arrived to her car, unloading Y/N's things and climbing inside. She was happy to have her friend back, but was still bothered by the fact that she seemed so nervous. Almost as if she was running away from something. Jaehee wanted to ask what was wrong, but with the way Y/N was smiling, animatedly asking about Jaehee's apartment and when she'd received such a nice car, she couldn't bring herself to ask.

After a short drive they'd arrived, Jaehee driving into the large building and parking in her designated spot. While Jaehee had only recently grown used to the large and elegant building, Y/N had been surrounded by it for almost her entire life. The two of them had met at a private school, Jaehee's smarts and Y/N's talents in the arts carrying them through their courses. Though her parents were well off, Y/N never had an ounce of entitlement to her like the other children. That's what attracted Jaehee to her, and the two had been inseparable since. She was devastated when she had to leave to go back to the states, especially after the death of her mother. Yet she never held a grudge, realizing that it wasn't Y/N's fault that she had to move away. None of that mattered because she was here now; a small smile gracing her face as Y/N's jaw dropped while entering the apartment.

The long entryway lead into the living room, a large comfortable couch pressed against the wall. A large flat screen faced it, surrounded by two large shelves of little figurines and DVD's. The coffee table held books and Jaehee's laptop from work, a few files strewn about as they walked towards the kitchen. It was almost as big as the living area, an entire espresso machine resting on the counter across from the island. Y/N was in awe to Jaehee's amusement, her hands running across the smooth granite of the counters as she kept going. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom across the hall, Jaehee going into the guest room and plopping Y/N's bag on the bed.

"Here we are! Home sweet home; Y/N?" Jaehee turned around to see that she was in the room alone, her brows furrowed as she searched for her. She gasped when she realized that she had left her bedroom door open, a giant poster of Zen from one of his shows resting on one of the walls beside her reading chair. Y/N was staring intently, eyes wide as she slowly turned to Jaehee.

"Ah, don't pay attention to that I just—"

"Is that your friend Zen? The musical actor that you talked to me about once?" Jaehee nodded, face red from embarrassment as she rubbed at the back of her neck.

"Uh, yeah."

"...he's hot." The two women stared at each other for a minute then laughed, Y/N walking back to Jaehee in the guest room, shutting Jaehee's door behind her.

"Sorry, I just wanted to take a closer look! How about I take a shower then order some food in? We can catch up, and maybe if it isn't too late, watch one of his movies?" Jaehee beamed, nodding while leading Y/N to the restroom.

"I'd like that. It's been a long time since I've had a friend hang out with me. But remember; I do have to work, so I promise that when I'm not at Mr. Han's beck and call we can do something together." Y/N groaned, sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet as she plopped her chin in her hands.

"I forgot about Jerkmin. Why do you even work for such a tyrant like him? If you ask me, he's better off not mooching from his daddy's company." She sneered, Jaehee giving an uncomfortable laugh while grabbing a towel for her.

"He's not as horrible as the media makes him out to be. I know I complain a lot, but trust me when I say that Jumin works hard." She was met with a scoff as Y/N grabbed her toiletries from her duffle bag and came back to lay out her items in the restroom.

"Right, I'll believe that when I see it." She expected her to react that way; after all, Y/N was who she went to when she needed to vent about a rough day from work. There was nothing she hated more than a person who benefited from their parent's hard work without putting any work on their own. That's what Jumin was to her; a man who didn't have to lift a finger or do anything to inherit his father's company.

"I'm sorry Jaehee but a man like him doesn't know what it's like to struggle." That made Jaehee laugh, Y/N staring at her in irritated confusion as she left the towel on the sink for her to use.

"But you know, right Y/N? I'll see you when you come out of the shower. You'll only be here for a week, I promise you that the two of you will not cross paths if I can help it." With that she closed the door, Y/N huffing and turning the dial to start the water. She'd put on a smile for Jaehee but she felt her heart weigh heavy at the idea of why she'd really come to visit Jaehee. She appreciated her more than anybody could ever know, a sigh escaping her lips as she began to undress. She pondered over when she was going to tell her.

Tell her that she planned to stay in South Korea, and never go back home.

#vulgar #lunarmessenger vulgar fic #vulgar ch 2

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shortyisweird9 · 4 years

Text

'Lonely ghost serie'

Chek and heartache- part III

Tw⚠️:swearing, referring of dark themes such as suicide attempt and mental illness.

The morning rays hit your eyes gently, tangible by their warmth,as you forced yourself from another dream of nothing but blank.

You groaned as your cat,Didi, comes running towards you: purring, meowing and chirping in pure happiness. You knew the reason she does this; your previous cat, Martha or Dildo- your roommate Sergiu called her that because of her dickish attitude with him- used to do this everytime so the little one, Didi, just followed her mother's lead.

Everytime she does that is like a small needle stabs at your heart especially when just 2 weeks passed since Martha died of old age- the black cat was adopted when she was senior, abused and malnourished, your heart knew you couldn't leave her to be laid to rest like a nothing. You adopted her, she bit you and you petted her, she hissed you hugged her, you did everything you could think of to show love even brush her fur with a wet toothbrush end to mimic sweet kisses coming from her mom. The cat soon realized that and started living again. Cautious of your other 3 roommates, cuddly with you.

Anyway, you got sidetracked with reminiscing. You heard your friends in the kitchen, Sabrina throwing away the take out boxes and Sergiu preparing some tea, probably to calm his stomach after all the spicy curry he ate last night.

You fixed the oversized white t-shirt and pull the marine blue shorts out of your bottoms, Didi already waiting you by the door.

You all, Sabrina,Sergiu,Ace and you, live in a quaint apartment, turned from campus housing, right next to one of the malls of the city. It had two small bathrooms, a living room , three petite bedrooms ,a tiny kitchen, a rounded balcony and a hallway. It was much smaller than your family home but it was in a central zone where your family home was outside the city's boundaries. You chose it not only because you wanted to spare your family from driving you to university but also because you needed your freedom, your space. Your parents were very understanding of that.

-Y/n e trează? ( "Is Y/n awake?") Ace asked as he sipped on his black cofee.

Without, he would pretty much be a grumpy hedgehog with spiky tealish mohawk. And who wouldn't love that?

-Nu încă, ah! Uite-o! ("Not yet,ah! There she is") Sabrina exclaimed, getting up to hug you and leaving the smoking tea cup by the window.

"Hello." You said ,voice grungy and eyes shut from the light.

You felt the warm hands of your Arabic friend on your face filled with moles and couple of marks from recently popped pimples, you let yourself be engrossed into it ,the touch starvation you carry like a cross chosing for you.

You hear her laugh, she always had a pretty laugh and a prettier smile . She was the beauty of the group, with big puffy sand yellow curls, brown skin with red undertones and black eyes who glow in pure happiness. She was stunning and a sweetheart with an obsession on the colour red and butterflies.

"Someone is needy." Ace teased.

"Shut up or I will staple those hair triangles on your scalp. "

You wanted to say something better but Sabrina then started massaging your lower face in a circular manner with her thumb. You knew you couldn't do anything anymore except melt.

-Anyway ,unde e Sergiu? ("Anyway, where is Sergiu?")

-Ți-o făcut ceai, cane e pervaz. S-o dus până sus să o ajute pe Florentina.("He made you tea, the cup is on the windowsill. He went upstairs to help Florentina.") He said, taking another sip of his cup.

-Ooooh, Florentina. You two began as Ace shook his head in amusement.

You and Sabrina were known to be ruthless in your teasing of the guitarist with long brown locks and beard.

Florentina was a crush of his, a freshman in the University of Arts who played the violin beautifully. Small,with olive skin, long red hair keept in a 1960s hairstyle and green petite with a triangular shaped face. She was a sweetie with a love for fantasy book ,autumn and ferrets.

-Oh, yeah?

-Dup, iubitul ei se mută cu ea. ("Yup, her boyfriend moves in with her")

-Oh.

Ace sucked in his lip ,his face filled with disappointment just like theirs now.

-That sucks.

-Numai spune,Sabrina.("You don't say,Sabrina")

Just then, the door clicked shut. Sergiu is back, this will be awkward.

-Ce vă uitați așa la mine?("Why are you looking at me like that?")

Neither of them could properly looked into the warm brown eyes of the man whose glow seemed to fade a bit, Sergiu was a stubborn man who shut his feelings deep inside, only through his song you could tell he was suffering. Just like you, I suppose.

-Am auzit...("We heard...")

You bit your lips as your long fingers played with each other, twisting and tugging while your nerves grew. Last thing you wanted was another fight where you all force the man to open up. He had suicidal tendencies, sometimes he came too close to actually do it but you were there and you needed to be there now too, even if he doesn't like being taking care of.

Sergiu rolled his eyes at you, his heart hurt from how rigid your posture was, eyes were worried about him but also scared, teeth grinding themselves not out of anger but out of care and fear.

He knew you hated arguments and shouts with dying passion. You always cried when someone raised their voice in less than friendly manner, you hated this reaction of complete terror, you hated looking weak but now you hated letting your friend burn himself because of an unfortunate love triangle. So you swallowed your nerves and braved on, it's about him ,not you.

Sergiu wanted to protect you all from this negativity, especially you and Ace. You had a big event to organise , Ace's sex reassignment surgery is coming up soon. You both have your own problems to dwell ,you didn't need to have him as one too.

However somewhere in his head, a voice telling him that he was wrong ,that voice that took the shape of you in the night of July.

You were crying, your grey hoodie wet from the rain as you cling desperately to him, not daring to move.

He was the reason why you crying, why you yelled profanities our of worry for what he was about to do. He...He tried to throw himself off a bridge ,the same bridge you two first shared your kiss.

That dark episode still irked your minds in the darker moments, late in the night nothing but your mind to keep you company and that's torture in itself.

You thought you could help him, change whatever hurts him and make it go away. That was your biggest mistake, you can't change a person that's not your duty , your duty was to support them through tough times and help them see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. A duty you solemnly swore to uphold even if he didn't liked you to. There's no fucking way you let him do that again,not if you can be there for him. Like he was always there for you, your big guardian with a guitar that spews flames in shape of songs.

-Y/n..

-Te rog, Sergiu. Nu ascunde. ("Please, Sergiu. Don't hide.")

Your eyes were desperate for him to talk it out in any shape or form. They implore for him to vent, to not hid between fake lies like " I am okay" or "I'm fine."

-Bine,bine. Tu ești șefa. ("Fine,fine. You're the boss.")

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They talked and talked and cried and laughed and cried again. A never ending circle of venting ,small earthquakes which instead of fracturing the friendship , it onlyakes it stronger as it should.

-Te simți mai bine?("You feeling better?") Your voice ran timidly on the top of your apartment building, watching over the brutalist styled architecture.

-Un pic, doare știi dar asta îmi arată cât de îndrăgostit sunt de ea. Iubirea adevărată pentru mine nu se referă doar la a iubi doar dacă te iubește reciproc, nu , să iubești fără să forțezi persoană să te iubească înapoi. Să îi porți de grijă, să o protejezi, să o ajuți fără să fi un egoist, fără să te aștepți să fi iubit înapoi. ("A little, it hurts you know but this shows how much I love her. True love for me doesn't mean to love just so they will love you back, no, to love someone without forcing them to love you back. To care for them, to protect them, to help them without being an egotistic, to love without expecting to be loved back.")

-Poetic.

He laughed at that , starring at the setting sun ,his lit cigar forgotten fumed between his painted fingers. His hair blown gently by the wind , he looked like a masterpiece.

-Scuze..pentru tot.("Sorry...for everything. ")

-N-ai de ce. Mi-ai făcut chec până la urmă așa că balanța eternă este restabilită.("You don't have a reason to be. You made me chek in the end and thus the eternal balance is restored.") You joked, munching quietly on the piece of cake, his jacket keeping you warm.

-Haha. Cine ar fi crezut că checul are fi o gustare bună când îți dai vent.("Haha. Who would have thought that chek will be a good snack when you vent.")

Indeed, who would have thought of that but one who cried in the sore days filled with heart ache.

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Hey,guys!💖

Hope you like the third part of the serie, I wanted to focus on "your life" and your friends backgrounds this time. The translations are not 100% word to word but enought to give you context.

Anyway, I hope you like it. Stay safe!

Tagged 💗💗:@moolujk @gaysludge @simonsbluee @yoyoanaria @cherry-piee @magenta-skyline @yikesyikesyikes95

#corpse husband x reader #fanfic #hopefully not cringy #lonely ghost serie

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tragedybunny · 3 years

Text

Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In - Chapter 1: Welcome to the Jungle

What I had expected was an interview, a proper face-to-face with the chance to prove my suitability to my potential superiors. What I had was maybe twenty minutes on the phone with the notorious CEO before he cut me off abruptly. “That will be enough for today, Ms. Du Couteau. I’m perfectly convinced your Father is correct and you will be more than sufficient for the role here.” From the moment he spoke I’d noticed that while rich and cultured, his voice carried a certain quality to it, a sense of superiority, as though he held himself above those around him. It seemed to me that it was genuine confidence though, unlike Father’s smugness, which always seemed to be from a place of compensating for whatever. As rich and powerful as he, I could only think he had short man syndrome with his insecurities. There was something dark as well in the tone of this Mr. Swain, he was not a man to be trifled with. “Provided you do not prove to be inept in some way I can’t predict.”

It was probably unwise that I gave in as I felt my temper flare at the unnecessary condescension. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Swain. I can’t wait to prove myself sufficiently competent for my future with Noxus Holdings.” The sarcasm rolled off my tongue before I could catch myself, my eyes going wide and a hand moving to cover my mouth as though that could undo what I’d said.

There was a long pause on his end and I held my breath, sure that I’d just burned this whole thing to the ground. “Very well, we’ll expect you in two weeks. I’ll have all the details forwarded to you.” I could’ve sworn he sounded almost amused and I died a little bit inside.

Hanging up, I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and was thankful I was alone so no one could see their crimson hue. Had I really just snapped at the most important person at my new employer, the CEO of the company that my whole future hinged on? And he hadn’t said anything. Either this was one of those “I like her moxie” types of situations or there would be hell to pay later. The latter was usually the case for me anyway.

It was with that peculiar encounter in mind that I found myself waiting in the lobby of Noxus Holdings wearing a subdued gray suit, hoping to look less like the hot-head I’d proven to be over the phone. I swallowed a nervous exhale and glanced around, a carefully constructed fantasy of an industrial office space from a century ago surrounded me, all glass, and iron, and deco style windows. An escort from my department should arrive at any moment, and I wanted to be damn sure I looked as cool and confident as possible. It wasn’t as if the job itself would be a challenge, contracts and fending off lawsuits from angry ex-employees and investors, nothing I hadn’t done before.

“Red!” A richly accented, yet horrifyingly familiar and obnoxious voice broke the quiet ambiance of the lobby. The pair of receptionists on duty shot furtive glances toward the source in unison before returning to what they were doing. Standing just in front of the elevator, a black suit with a yellow blouse perfectly accenting her bronze skin, was a woman I’d hoped I’d left behind on graduation day, Samira.

How had I missed that this was where she’d ended up? I’d stayed in touch with some of our old sorority sisters, and they kept me in the loop on a lot of the gossip about everyone. It made a lot of sense though, she had a truly vicious nature, there was no way she wasn’t thriving here. I inhaled, feeling a slight twitch in my eye at even this small interaction, and walked toward her. “Hello Samira, it’s been a while.” My voice remained level and surprisingly pleasant, I just needed to treat her like every troublesome, idiotic client I’d ever been assigned, even if I felt irritation clawing at every one of my nerves. It had always been like that, something about her just grated on me.

“A while!? We haven’t talked since the Phi Sigma Tau farewell party.” The wind was suddenly knocked out of me as I found myself in a very unwelcome embrace. “Not that anybody saw much of you that night, well except Garen. Not that I blame you, a moonlit beach, a few good drinks, perfect romantic atmosphere.” I was freed only to be nudged harshly with an elbow as Samira leered at me in a teasing manner. “And I heard he saw quite a bit of you out there on the sand.” The laugh that followed was at least quiet enough that we didn’t instantly become the center of attention.

An involuntary snort escaped me and I felt irritation starting to give way to outright anger, my mind buzzing and my vision starting to tunnel. “I’m surprised anyone noticed with the other incident that happened that night.” My pleasant mask remained in place but reminding her I wasn’t the only one with a story from that night filled me with a sense of petty satisfaction, especially since hers ended with the wail of police sirens.

“What can I say, it was a wild night all around.” Her arm looped through mine and she began to drag me toward the elevator. “See, it’s just like old times.” For a moment I wondered if she could truly be this oblivious to my intended insult. That was answered a moment later she leaned in and violently whispered in my ear. “Don’t think you can fuck with me Red. Your Daddy’s name isn’t going to get everything just handed to you here.” I’d just made horrifying mistake number two. There was no way she hadn’t been baiting me to see what reaction I’d have. With reckless force, she jabbed the elevator button and spoke in a more audible and warm tone. “I’m sure we’ll find ourselves to be best friends all over again.”

I nodded silently, not wanting to give her a response that would encourage her further. These last few moments had brought my new reality into stark clarity. I hadn’t expected to waltz in and find myself in a top position with no work on my part, but I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be met with outright hostility. If it was just Samira that would be one thing, but were there others lurking in the shadows that I’d have to wary of? Maybe deep down I had still had some delusion about the family name being a shield of sorts, those were just entirely shattered. It would get me no further than it already had.

A vintage styled, cage-like elevator came to a stop before us. An insistent tugging on my arm pulled me into it after her, her pleasant smile frozen into place. The doors closed, a cheery ding sounded, and we dropped all semblance of civility to glare at one another. “My dear,” my eyes rolled reflexively at the honeyed tone, “we are going to be working very closely. Try not to lash out every time I make a harmless joke. I know you are used to things being smoothed along in the family business.” Nails dug into my palm, there was no way she could know the truth, but still, I fought an urge the physically quiet her.

I know a powerplay when I see one, this whole scene had been staged to give Samira a sense of dominance in our new arrangement. And there was no way I could retaliate with her seniority over me. At least not yet. I could feel bile creeping its way up my throat as I realized that if I was going to succeed and build my life of independence, there was nothing I could do about it right now but live with it. There was the small consolation that I gleaned something else from this encounter, if Samira was taking direct action it was because she was threatened. I’d always been the better lawyer, all throughout school and our intern days. It was likely I wouldn’t end up having to live with her antics for long. To that end, I released a breath and relaxed my shoulders. “You’re right. Let’s start this whole thing over. It’s good to see you again Samira.”

A small noise of approval escaped her and she turned away to face the elevator doors, clearly satisfied with my conciliatory act. Well, even if she had won the battle for today, there was still a war to be fought. Another high-pitched ding and the cage stopped at one of the upper floors. The same aesthetic carried through here, exposed venting ran along the ceiling, gray carpet accented the dark wood and iron-finished metal of the walls, artfully uncovered “antique” light bulbs illuminated anywhere the natural light from those same intricate windows from the lobby didn’t reach. “We should really track down Darius and I’ll introduce you.” There was an implication she was doing me a favor. Another small irritation, the whole department reported to him, it was expected we’d meet. “He’s the VP and also head’s up the acquisition team along with lega-Ah!”

Samira had turned to speak over her shoulder at me and midspeech was physically halted by a collision with a figure appearing from around a corner. I stifled the laugh that bubbled up, she’d desperately deserved that little impact. “Sorry Sam, don’t kill me. Well hello there new and gorgeous.” His tone shifted from apologetic to a practiced arrogance somehow in perfect harmony with the goatee he sported, one that I can only imagine he believed was attractive. The obvious leering that accompanied his words left me with the urge to bury my knee in his groin.

“Draven, this is Katarina, she’s just starting with us in legal. Should I let your brother know what a warm welcome you’re giving his new employee?” The newcomer’s face visibly became several shades paler. Interesting, it would seem that Noxus was also a place of family ties. “Kat, this is Draven, head of marketing.” For once, I couldn’t blame her for the annoyance coloring her words.

A hesitant hand reached out toward me and I made sure to lock my grip on it firmly. Years of martial arts as a hobby had left me with deceptive strength in my small frame. Pale blue eyes widened at the sudden pressure as I smiled sweetly. “Very pleased to meet you Draven.”

Shockingly, he returned my smile when I released his hand. “You’ve got a bit of a spark, I’ll bet you fit in just fine. Lookin’ forward to working with ya.” Wordlessly, Samira led on as Draven waved pleasantly behind us. “Be nice to this one Sam!”

An irritated sigh escaped her, but she waited until we were out of earshot to speak again. “Nicely done,” a compliment, he must really rub her the wrong way, “he’s harmless, but it’s good to keep him on a short leash.”

The hallways we passed through lacked the small cubicle farms you would find on the lower floors, instead, there were plenty of offices, conference rooms, and occasionally open-plan shared workspaces for teams who worked closely together. It was in one of those workspaces, bordered by offices, that Samira finally stopped. The buzz of those gathered in the area halted, and all eyes turned toward us. Silence reigned even as the curious examination of the newcomer was evident. “Everyone, this is Katarina, our new team member I told you about.” Murmurs welcoming me to the group responded, they were subdued though, as if they were afraid to be too excitable in front of Samira.

Despite the outwardly friendly moment, I kept my face neutral, and voice aloof as I returned their greetings. Any group within a company this high profile would be extremely competitive, and I’d be damned if I was going to start by giving off an air of weakness. They were probably already appraising me, deciding if I was any real threat to their positions.

“I see I’m right on time.” A deep voice cut through the subdued chatter and a massive figure approached us. Clad in a simple, but clearly expensive suit, his presence seemed to fill the entire space as he exuded a calm confidence. There was also something familiar about him, I was sure he had been at the family firm before.

“You couldn’t give me an hour before checking in, could you?” Indignation caused her voice to go up an octave in pitch, an effect that was quite satisfying for me.

The newcomer’s eyes narrowed dangerously, my first taste of the office hierarchy in action. Impatiently he gestured for us to follow, and not wanting to seem daunted by the sparks, I cut in front of Sam, following to an office that was nearby. Once the door was slammed behind us, I realized it was her office, the degree proudly displayed on the wall bearing her name. Tension enveloped the three of us. “Don’t start Sam. I’m not trying to babysit you.”

She clicked her tongue and muttered in defeat. “Fine, just make it quick.”

The full attention of the room fell on me. “Darius Basilich, pleased to finally meet my newest team member.” He held out a hand for a much more dignified handshake than the one I gave his brother. “Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk before now, Jericho doesn’t always give us a head’s up when he’s decided something.” The gruff words had a frankness and sense of honesty about them that was refreshing. I took note of the use of Mr. Swain’s first name, it was good to know who he was that comfortable with.

Releasing his hand, I could recognize that he’d be my first ally here and one that I needed on all fronts. “I believe we’ve met previously, while I was interning for my father.”

In answer, he offered a small, but genuine smile. “Thought you looked a bit familiar. Must have been when I was wrangling Draven out of that mess.”

Sam, who had sat behind her desk and started furiously typing, snorted. “Your brother is always into something.”

My expression must have faltered because he let out a weary sigh. “I see you’ve met. Anyway, great to have you on board. It was a shock that Marcus was willing to let one of the kids go.”

My stomach crawled as I recalled the last two weeks of verbal abuse I’d gone through, not just from Father, but Cassie as well. All because I dared to leave them. I was never more grateful for my apartment, that space that was mine alone, and no one could spoil it. Leaving the family manor was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Of course, I couldn’t get into any of that, so I just shrugged nonchalantly. “Who would’ve guessed.”

“I’ll let you get settled in, we’ll talk again soon. Sam, play nice.” They glared at each other one last time before he exited.

“You two have a problem?” I ventured. Knowledge was power, so I needed to get the lay of the land quickly.

Laughter met my words. “Nah, Darius and I just have an endless pissing contest. He’s alright, but I am going to replace him as the boss’s favorite eventually.” No surprise it was some obnoxious game of hers. “Anyway, let’s get you settled in the office, I’m sure it’s not the posh corner you had a Daddy’s, but you weren’t expecting that anyway.” If the thought of returning to him defeated didn’t make my stomach heave, I would’ve knocked her out cold. Instead, I shot her a cold look and followed to my new office; small, windowless, and suspiciously right across from hers. A few seconds later we were joined by a short, pale woman with tight pinned brown hair and ice-blue eyes, about our age. “This is Alyssa, she’ll get you set up.”

Several hours, and an aching back later, my mind was completely overloaded with passwords, computer systems, and file paths. Stretching, I felt the siren call of the cozy little cafe I’d spied in the lobby. Turning to Alyssa, I could read in her expression she was in the same mind frame I was. She’d proven to be easy enough to get on with, that was one victory for the day. Our backgrounds intersected in a way, she’d come from a family business as well. However, she’d sold her share of the ownership of Ironspike Industries to Noxus on her way through the door. It had been a nice payday and guaranteed her a stable career no matter what. Most would consider it a cold-blooded move, but I could get the perspective that family wasn’t always sacred. Besides, she laughed easily enough and had a comeback for every bit of banter. “Hey…”

The door flew open with a sudden violence, Samira standing behind it. “You’ve been summoned Red.” A hefty binder dropped from her arms onto my desk with a resounding thud. “It’s been requested that you escort this up to the top floor for Mr. Swain. He wants to read through it before it’s presented to the board and he has a hard-on for physical copies.”

My heart lurched as I rose from my seat. I hadn’t expected it to come this soon, meeting the CEO I’d had the gall to snap at. “Well, wish me luck Alyssa.” My voice was deadpan flat and Samira gave me an odd look. Maybe the incident hadn’t become common knowledge as I’d feared.

The elevator ride was not nearly long enough as the gilded cage ascended the final few floors to the very top of the building. I stepped out, binder held in front of me like a shield, only to realize that Samira hadn’t given directions beyond the floor. An empty receptionist’s desk stood sentinel, the occupant clearly out to lunch. Beyond it was a foyer with branching hallways. Hesitantly, I stepped forward to glance down them. “End of the center hall.”

The deep voice from nowhere caused me to jump a little. Darius, of course his office was up here too. “Thanks,” I ordered my voice to remain cool and collected.

“Let me guess, Sam neglected that bit?” He chuckled slightly. “She really wants to assert herself with you.”

“It seems a certain level of ruthlessness is the Noxian way.” Some of the tension faded. Despite the fact that he was very nearly a literal giant, Darius was much less intimidating than you would think. In fact, there was almost a warmth to him.

He shrugged. “We buy and sell other companies. We have the whole of another person’s world in our hands. It helps to keep an edge about you. Although I imagine it’s not a problem with your background.”

It would seem that everywhere I went, the Du Couteau name would haunt me. If I wasn’t outright reviled for it, I was at the very least, notorious. Father had a reputation for ruthlessness, a reputation that had been handed down the generations with the firm starting with my great-grandfather. “You’re not wrong.” Even if I was shadowed by the name, the lessons I’d been taught in the cause of that reputation ensured I could be cut-throat when necessary. His words reassured me that even if the name itself couldn’t, the legacy of it could definitely serve me here. “Catch you around Darius.” I gave him a confident smile and a wave as he headed toward the elevator.

The walk down the hall was short with no other offices present and ended in an impressively large door made of dark stained wood. Before I could give it any more thought, I quickly knocked. “Enter.” The voice from the other side sent a shiver down my spine with the combination of confidence and callousness that I recognized from the interview. Again, I couldn’t hesitate, so I obeyed the order as quickly as possible. Afternoon sun streamed in from a wall of windows across from the door, throwing the massive desk to the right into shadow. Contrary to the sleek, artistic industrial look of the rest of the building, this office had the look of a cozy personal study. High-backed chairs surrounded a table to the left, bookshelves lined the walls. The L-shaped desk was made of warm cherry wood with brass embellishments and looked like a genuine antique. “Ah, Ms. Du Couteau, we meet at last.” Looking up from his computer screen as I approached, he fixed me with a piercing gaze that I would swear could read my thoughts.

My breath rushed from my lungs. That cultured and captivating voice I knew, but the physical reality of him I hadn’t been prepared for. Elegant cheekbones and a proud nose gave him a regal bearing, but his high arched eyebrows and deep-set, midnight eyes put it under a pall of severity. The long mane of silken looking, white hair that flowed down his back could’ve offset it, if not for the scowl he was currently giving me. Overall though, his attractiveness took me by surprise, the elegant silver-fox not the visage I’d been imagining since our call. That fact critically distracted me, leaving me frozen where I was at the edge of his desk far too long. “Well, I don’t have all day.” Inwardly I cringed, what the hell was wrong with me.He motioned to the binder that I still clutched with a hand that gleamed bronze in an errant ray of sunlight that had fallen over us.

“Right.” I passed the burden into that outstretched, lustrous hand.

He all but snatched it from me. “Yes, it’s prosthetic. You could ask instead of staring.”

My eyes went wide with horror, I hadn’t realized that I had been. “My apologies, Mr. Swain.” My father’s triumphant laugh as I begged to return rang in my ears.

Turning his chair from his monitor, he dropped the binder with violence on the desk and began to thumb through it. The pace was such that it gave the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. “Did you have the opportunity to read through this?” He asked without glancing back up at me.

“No, I hadn’t.” Mercifully, my voice remained steady.

Turning it toward me, he tapped a fingernail on a paragraph. “Tell me what is wrong with this?”

Leaning down, I skimmed through it quickly, my mind translating the legal jargon without effort. At first glance, it was a contract for our purchase of yet another company. What had he seen in it? What was I looking for? Ah, it wasn’t a sentence, it was the whole paragraph. “There’s no commitment for the transition from the current leadership. They can dump and run, leaving us without support.”

“Very astute.” Well, he didn’t lose the scowl but there was a subtle note of approval in his voice. It felt like I could inhale again finally, I might still be able to salvage this. “Take it back down to Samira and tell her it will not make it to the Board this week. I want Darius to answer how that was overlooked.”

Warily, I gathered back up the binder as he sat back in his chair, on guard as though he were somehow dangerous. “Will that be all?”

“For now.” His eyes were drawn back to his monitor, and I began to turn away, sensing dismissal. “Fine enough job for the first day, Ms. Du Couteau.” The small compliment halted me mid-pivot, a small touch of warmth blooming in my stomach and a smile tugging my lips with the unexpected approval. I opened my mouth to answer, but was cut off. “Hmm, you know, this should be further reviewed. Samira already has a lot on her plate. Let her know that you’ll be taking the lead on this for the department. Darius will bring you up to speed.”

The world around me spun. Take that Father, I’m already getting the recognition I had to scrape and fight for every day with you, even when I’d accomplished something. “Will do, Mr. Swain.”

I strode from his office, feeling at the summit of the world, but a curious sensation of butterflies filled my stomach. As the door shut behind me, I let myself smile wide. I’d done it, sufficiently impressed him, the CEO with the ruthless reputation, the known hardass, the man with...with those captivating dark eyes. “Reign it in Kat.” Furiously I whispered to myself. “You’re engaged and you’ve seen attractive men before.” My mind betrayed me though, flooding me with the sensation of having those eyes focused on me as I walked.

Silently lecturing myself, I headed back to the elevator. The sudden vibration of my phone from my jacket pocket shook me from the cycle of my thoughts. Pulling it out, the notification seemed there just to judge me, Garen’s smiling face poised next to it. “Hey dear, how’s that first day going?”

#swain #jericho swain #swain x katarina #katarina du couteau #league of legends #league of legends fanfiction #modern au #wise men say only fools rush in

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ghost1643 · 3 years

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Star Wars rebels AU blurb- Zeb’s kid

Imagine an AU where the timeline of event takes place, it just ends up that the main change is that Zeb has a young daughter (based off the fic Lost &Found by Hixystix and Sempaiko, who in mu opion wrote an amazing fic that I love. If you haven’t read it I would totally recommend the fic. The fic is short and I love it a lot, but incase u don’t like reading the ship it’s a Kalluzeb fic.)

(Before we begin, I would just like to say feel free to head canon however you think Zeb got a daughter in this AU b/c the choices are wide open for this.)

First episode:

->So when we begin we have the same first episode up until Ezra gets on the ghost. The second he does he sees kids stuff all over as he tries to escape. When chopper is to keep an eye on Erza he climbs through the vents, before falling down in a girls room.

->It’s clearly sabines because it’s covered wall to wall in painted pictures. Yet, there’s a tiny bed above hers with tiny toys laid about..including a tiny blue doll that a little Lasat girl, who’s about 4 or 5, sitting on said tiny bed playing with. They look up and make eye contact before Ezra awkwardly says hi. In his defence he’s never done this before, you know sneaking through a ship doesn’t have a little child involved in it.

->Right after he says hi, he founds the little Lasat child climbing down from her bed within seconds and saying hi and just going off. Like she’s super hyped to make a new friend, and she trusts them right away because why else would someone be on the ship she’s practically grown up in for years. She knows her daddy wouldn’t let anyone who could hurt her even near her. So she just automatically assumes he’s safe and starts getting excited.

->By the time the ghost crew realizes he’s gone and find him, she’s already befriended him. Like she’s full on braiding his hair when her dad comes rushing in to see if she’s okay. When he starts freaking out she is just like, “daddy did you meet my new friend Ezra. Look doesn’t he have pretty hair! It’s almost as pretty as uncle Kanan’s!”

->needless to say the two kids hit it off, so Ezra is out in charge of watching the little girl while her father goes on this mission with her grandpa and aunt. Like for the record he doesn’t want to, he just knows if he goes back now the empire will be searching for him, so better to wait a day or two until they start searching for someone else.

->from here, the plot of the first episode goes as planned.

Headcanons about this AU:

->In this AU, Chopper is shown messing with the girl, yet in a way that is mush softer than how he messes with the rest of the crew. Like for the entire series, he doesn’t run over her foot or shock her, instead he just lightly runs into her or just lightly tugs on one of her braids, that Zeb spent hours braiding which he will mention of Chopper’s tugs unbraids it.

->Anyways another head cannon for this AU is that Sabine and the little girl are the artists of the crew. Sabine gives her art lesson and in turn, Zeb’s kid may or may not use her power to distract Zeb so Sabine can paint everything in his room. Needless to say they get along.

->Kanan teases her. Relentlessly. About everything. Yet, he also has a soft spot for her. So while he teases her in public, in private he spoils her rotten. Like he’s all, “what’s that my god child, you want a brand new doll to give your dollies friends, no problem just don’t tell your dad”, and he would totally sneak her a few extra candies when no one is looking.

-> Hera is a strict mother like figure. She makes sure to put the rules down for the little girl, mainly because she knows sabine and Kanan let her get away with a lot. Like she puts up her bedtime, she helps her take baths, she even gives her chores, but she’s willing to do anything for her. Like the second the poor child has a sniffle, Hera carries her around the ship humming to help her sleep all day. The second everyone is to busy for her with missions, Hera has a movie night with her or paints her nails for a night.

->Zeb meanwhile is a loving, spoiling father. He does anything she asks within reason. Like the man isn’t gonna let her eat all the sugar until she gets sick. And he does have points he’s strict on, such as letting her go anywhere off the ship alone, as well as her throwing temper tantrums over wanting to know who fulcrum was. Yet, he’s willing to listen to her as well as working with her ideas because he remember how hard being a child was to him.

->ezra meanwhile is like the odd older brother. He has no idea how to act. He has no idea how to react to having a baby sibling after all he was the baby in his old family. So he struggles with trying to bond with a child, especially since all the other kids he found on the streets didn’t want anything to do with them. Instead, they just want to steal with him. So while they do get along, he doesn’t really try to bond with her much until season two, when he realizes that the crew isn’t just trying to use him.

#reblogs welcome #star wars rebels #au #zeb #garazeb orrelios #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #based off a fanfic #hera syndulla #sabine wren #oc insert #swr #fanfic

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remmushound · 3 years

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Lita’s legacy, chapter 4!! @errorfreak88 @digitl-art-monstr

When the time came to leave the vents, Mondo Gecko was even more terrified than Lita was. Though they would be leaving in the pitch of night, Mondo still made a point of dressing Lita head-to-toe so not a single inch of her sensitive white skin was showing, and even forced her to wear sunglasses despite the lack of a sun. Getting out of the vents was just as perilous as getting into them had been, but Mondo carried Lita the entire way up and safely out onto the roof while also carrying what little supplies they had by his tail.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Lita asked, whispering into Mondo’s ear.

“Uh. No.” Mondo admitted, looking back at her over his shoulder. “But like, I’ll be extra careful!”

“I mean the place you’re taking me, genius!” Lita scoffed, “Are you sure its mutant safe?”

“Oh yeah, fo sho.” As he answered her, Mondo started to slowly make his way across the cardboard bridges he had laid across the alleyways so he could easily get from building to building. “It’s like, totally mutant accepting! The guy who runs the joint is a real cool guy, and the best part? Kids don’t even have to pay!”

“Sounds like heaven.” Lita sighed.

“Sure does! I even had a talk with him to make sure! He’s toooootally chill with us staying there!”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t change his mind…”

“Why would he?”

Lita didn't have an answer.

The trek to the place Mondo mentioned took them across the entire length of the city until they reached a massive, wire fence stretching high above them. And on the fence, displayed bold and confident, was a sign that read: MUTANT TOWN. Lita wanted to try and peek inside, but the inner layer of fence was covered in sheets of metal and wood that left nothing to the imagination, but she could swear there were voices inside.

“I don’t know about this, Mondo…” She said softly, keeping her head low and behind his back.

Mondo gulped and gave an anxious chirp before reaching forward and ringing the service bell several times. Both turtle and gecko stared anxiously for a moment before what they had initially taken as nothing more than another section of wall slowly opened like a gate, and standing in the gateway was a tall, purple mutant with massive hooks in the place of hands and two sickle-like finger-claws on the ends of each hook. He blew a huff of air out of his nose and motioned the two younger mutants inside.

“Bout time you showed up.” Said Repo Mantis, “I was beginning to think ya chickened out.”

Mondo put Lita down but kept a hold of her hand as he guided her after Repo Mantis. “Sorry! Took longer to get here with the little dudette.”

“And why’s… that…” Repo’s question answered itself as Lita finally took off her heavy sweater and showed off her malformity. “Oh… my god.”

Lita was used to the staring, but she still moved to hide behind Mondo and the gecko raised a hand as if to protect her.

“She’s fine, bro. She was born with it.”

“Oh. I see.” Repo said slowly, tapping his claws to his chin a thoughtful moment before motioning for Mondo to come over. Mondo reluctantly left his ward’s side and joined Repo, who wrapped his claw around the gecko and pulled him in close. “You didn’t mention that little eh... issue of hers when you spoke to me the other day.”

“Is that a problem...?” Mondo asked slowly.

“I...” Repo shook his head slowly in disbelief, “I’m sorry. She can’t stay here.”

“What?”

Repo didn't give the gecko a chance to be angry before speaking again,

“Listen, kid. You need a place, I get it— I really do— but this ain’t it. This place is dangerous enough for normal mutants, but with her… condition, she’s a walking accident and it would only be a matter of time before she got hurt in a place like this.”

Repo motioned around the various homesteads in the junkyard, most of them made from emptied storage containers or loose planks of wood just barely held together by sharp, jutting nails.

“She needs a place that is safe and stable and, most importantly, sterile. I host some pretty unsavory muties here that would quickly make her a target. Hell— I myself am little more than a pin cushion! Just one mistake and… that poor kid is gone. Now, I can give you anything else you need— food, clothes, water— but I can’t let you stay here.”

Mondo stared at Repo, shaking his head slowly as his eyes brimmed with tears and anger. Repo’s eyes were nothing but regret and soft sincerity, however, as he nodded his apology to the young gecko mutant.

“But here.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and offered it to Mondo, “Give this number a call. I know a guy whose pretty tech-wizzy, so see if he can’t set her up with something to keep that uh… thing of hers under wraps. If he can, then I’ll gladly let y'all stay here. Free of charge of course.”

“But we can’t stay here now?”

“I’m sorry, but no.” Repo shook his head, “I can’t do that in good conscience.”

Mondo pulled away from Repo, staring daggers at the mutant as he returned to Lita and wrapped an arm around her to guide her away. Lita didn't even bother asking what went wrong. She already knew. Repo stared after them as left.

“It’s for her wellbeing.” Repo called, which made Mondo pause for only a second before he continued to guide Lita out of the compound.

#poor Repo is doing his best #mutant town!!

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struwwelzeter · 3 years

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RZK: "90% of the time great music is created on drugs" - I do not like the sound of that. I think he would create good music without drugs just as fine. Its not greatness of the music, but his perception about what he thinks sounds ready. And when you are high a lot is more tolerable, even the previously soberly shitty music :) Please, i need your take on this.

Ah god. Difficult topic.

This ... might get longer?

There is a difference, I think, between writing on drugs, and then listening back to it on drugs. I think assuming that someone would preceive the outcome differently/as better on drugs than off them is tiny bit presumptuous. Not because it’s not possible, but because different drugs work differently, depending on who takes them and in what headspace. Acid for exemple is an entirely different beast than cocaine is, and both will work differently depending on how you feel when you take them to begin with.

Now going off that quote that I like so much; the drugs only helped me to get going, I have a feeling for him personally it’s not so much about the creative process itself but about energy levels. There is something about having more ideas than energy that is horribly restrictive and frustrating and that at least in my experience can even really block you because then you don’t know where to start. Add to that a fear of failure, that just gets perpetuated by not knowing where to start and you’re stuck, and it’s paralyzing. Coke or heroine in that circumstance are honestly only a logical temptation, because they boost self esteem and mental energy, and they don’t feel like you’re a different person. Why do you think so many students take Ritalin to get through studying for exams. For someone without ADHD Ritalin can almost be cocaine light, and it doesn’t feel like it does that much to your personality other than getting your brain to a place where it does what you ask of it. I don’t know if this is me reading into too little data, but I feel like all the people I know of that got into coke or heroine too much were the kind of hyper creative, high output people that Richard is like too. I think of Nikki Sixx especially, and the way he is described almost the same way, especially during his low points: overbearingly creative, controlling in the studio, hyper obsessive about his visions.

Then you have this huge amount of 70s psychedelic rock music written on acid, which is a completely different beast. I have zero personal experience with hallucinogens because they scare the shit out of me, but there is enough literature and science out there that basically proves that they change your perception of the world in general, make you feel more connected, and actually do help people understanding themselves and are a catalyst for discovery. I mean, alot of psychedelic and prog rock is pretty out there. There is something to be said about “would they have really dared to do all that without the drugs?” Think about all the self inflicted judgement and restrictions and rules we all carry around since childhood for psychology reasons - and then think of something that helps you switch off those controls and just “be”. You could argue alot of musical development would have never happened without the drugs. And if it did, it would have been made by artists with great self esteem, maybe.

Now, I don’t want to say that you can’t make great music without drugs, but I think it carries the question why artists do drugs to begin with. There are things that make creativity easier and things that make it harder. And yes, someone psychologically on top of it might pull it off greatly without them. But if you have low self esteem for exemple, which is a very common thing especially for perfectionists, and it cripples you, and cocaine makes that go away, it’s just an easier out than going through years of therapy first. Not to mention that you really need to be ready for therapy.

And then there is the next question which is “would someone really make the same art if they were that healthy psychologically that they aren’t tempted by the drugs as an easy out.” And I think the answer to that is “it depends.” I know we all want to get rid of romanticizing the suffering artist trope, but honestly... it’s just a fact that for many creatives (not all!!!) that is exactly how it works - no pain, no art. Can you really create something with the same level of empathy and shared anguish if you haven’t been there yourself? When we talk about the kind of art that touches us because it doesn’t leave us alone in our grief and in our pain, our insecurities and imperfections and failures? I personally honestly do not think so. It’s also just the fact that some people use creativity as therapy, as a vent. I think of Beth Hart who is diagnosed with BPD and has said that when she is doing well, she’s more interested in taking part in life with her loved ones and doesn’t even think of writing, but when she’s doing bad, she can’t even exist without that outlet. And then it can start that circle - I need to create something, so I need to make myself feel something, and it’s like self harm. I think I just made the point that being healthy mentally helps with creativity, so yes, you can make great art being happy, the problem is that for some of us the need disappears as soon as the happiness is present. I am not saying it’s like that for everyone. But honestly, as someone who has been through this too, I am getting a bit tired of the whole “people can do art just as well if they are happy.” Yes. Some can. Some can’t. Stop dismissing our experience, thank you.

So in conclusion I think the whole “can people do great art off drugs” is pretty closely connected to “do you have to suffer to make good art.” They’re connected, I think, because arguably, drugs are self medication and as such an indication for suffering. Not always. Or better said: sometimes someone really is happy and just wants to dance an entire 48 hrs, and the only way to do that is to pop some amphetamine. Drugs are a means to an end, to get yourself to a point where you can do something that without them you can’t do without a lot more effort. Until they’re not, because they also do fuck you up, they’re mostly a promise that is never kept. (Hallucinogens are a bit different but that’s another story.) Don’t take drugs, kids. I’m just saying, that initial motovation to take them after just curiosity, isn’t so much about the drug itself, it’s about what it helps you do. And yes, maybe it often does make you go “oohh this is actually pretty nice” even if you would look at it differently sober. The question is: would it then see the light of day? Or would it be left in a drawer for not being good enough.

This now reads entirely like a pro drugs rant. It’s not. I repeat: they fuck you up. Cocaine can make your heart short circuit and kill you in one go. Addcition means it won’t make you feel better oretty fast, it just starts making it feel normal again. All that, you have heard this before. But I do understand why people are tempted by them, why so many artists have taken them, and I would never judge someone for taking them either.

A lot of people have reported that getting back into song writing after quitting the drugs has been hard. We all know the skills they posess are the same with or without them. Maybe they’re even better without them. But what does that help if you’re experiencing your sense of failure wide awake? I think that’s what people mean when they say good art is made on drugs. It’s not about the skill, it’s about censorship of the self.

#you do understand this is just my two cents yes #please don’t take drug kids #just fake it til you make it #pretending you don’t have to be scared does work to I promise

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twobit-anime-trash · 3 years

Text

Painting Outside the Lines | D.N Angel Ficlet

Pairing: Satodai (Satoshi/Daisuke)

Summary: Post-curse, after the dust settles, the boys try their hands at making 'bad art' by badly imitating Jackson Pollock. Fluff and angst and tenderness and hilarity ensues. Or: I don't make the rules of 90's rom coms, I just work here

Warnings: Mention of scars, very minor contextless spoiler for the end of the manga, minor angst, mostly fluff

Here on Ao3

“Jackson Pollock was an American expressionist painter, active from the mid 1930’s to 1955.”

In the depths of the Niwa family’s infamous basement, a room had been cleared out. Covering most of the grey stone floor was an enormous fifteen by eight foot canvas, pinned down haphazardly by open cans of house paint and scattered brushes and sticks.

Daisuke fiddled with a thick dowel rod, eyes following Satoshi as he paced the edges of the canvas, confidently educating his only pupil on the artist whose work they’d be bastardising today. Oh the lectures he’d get about the “damn Hikari walking around like he owned the place” if his mother saw this. Daisuke shook his head and tuned back in to the speech.

“-of course most famous for his iconic ‘drip paintings’, a style that came to define the-“

It had taken them a long time to get to this point, for Satoshi to be ready to paint again. The desire was still there, had always been there, but it had been tamped down for so long, held down with so much fear, it was very hard to let it loose. The handful of times he’d allowed himself to paint outside of his training, the work was always constrained. Limited to imitation, re-creation, or locked down in the traditional Hikari style: realistic, overly ornate, cold.

“-rejected traditional material’s and instead use alkyd enamels, better known as commercial household paints, and tools such as hardened brushes, sticks, and basting syringes to-“

This was something Satoshi had been toying with for a long time, ever since the day Daisuke carried him to the Niwa home, and he caught sight of the messy vent painting Daisuke had made while he worked through his frustration. Art had never actually been available to Satoshi as a tool for self-expression before. After the dust had settled, he’d confided in Daisuke that it was something he’d like to try. To not feel the pressure of his family legacy pushing down on him every time he picked up a brush, to let go and not care about what the end result looked like.

“-instead of limiting himself to merely using his hand and wrist, Pollock used his entire body dynamically to create his pieces-“

Daisuke was trying to pay attention, really he was! But watching Satoshi stride about so self-assuredly, gesturing with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, not at all insecure about his scars, well, it made that difficult! His heart was racing with pride; Satoshi had fought so hard and come so far. Half of Daisuke wanted to cut the lecture short and tackle him to the floor right then.

“-actually Pollock himself described his paintings as not relying on accident at all, but rather as a balance of controllable and uncontrollable-”

It also didn’t help that confidence looked really, really good on Satoshi. Daisuke felt his face heat up. Oh what would Dark say to him now? A little bubble of sadness welled up in his chest at that thought, but he pushed it aside for the moment. This wasn’t about their families, or legacies, or the curse; this was about them. They were going to have fun today, doing something that would have their ancestors all rolling in their graves: making art together.

“Are you listening, Daisuke?”

Busted. “Ah well……”

Satoshi shook his head with a put upon sigh, and put a hand on his hip. “Well, I suppose it’s not too important. After all, the rules don’t matter here today,” His lips quirked into the slightest suggestion of a smile.

“Color theory?” Daisuke asked playfully, dipping his dowel rod into a can of lime green paint, “Never heard of it!”

“Indeed,” Satoshi nodded, choosing a burnt orange color for his start. He dipped a stiffened brush into the paint, but paused before he could draw it out. Daisuke held his breath for a moment as he watched Satoshi take a deep breath, and square his shoulders.

“Well,” he said, finally raising the brush, “shall we get started?”

Daisuke beamed at him, “Only if you do the honors!”

Satoshi slowly raised the brush, letting globs of burnt orange hit the canvas in thick drops, then gently flicked his wrist, sending a streak of paint splattering against the canvas.

“Yeah!” Daisuke cheered, flinging his paint stick out and sending another stripe of paint down to join the lone splatter.

Satoshi graced him with an amused grin and flushed cheeks, “Go on, and have at it.” Daisuke was only too happy to oblige.

It took a bit of warming up to get over the awkwardness of the movement, but soon they got into a rhythm. Working his way back and forth, and round and round, Daisuke sampled the many garish colors on offer, dripping, flinging, and splashing them around the canvas quickly and slowly, changing his tempo whenever the mood struck him. Soon he became absorbed in the strange dance of it, smiling and laughing as he lobbed strings of paint harder and harder to hit the center of the canvas. So absorbed even, that he forgot to keep an eye out for his painting companion until-

“Niwa”

“Yeah?” Daisuke said, looking up, “What’s up Hiw- OH!” His sentence cut off in a squeak. From across the room, Satoshi was giving him his patented deadpan, the effectiveness of which was somewhat undercut by the large hot pink splatter of paint that streaked up his arm. Some had even managed to hit his face and glasses.

“Oh my god! I’m so, so, so, sorry Satoshi!” Daisuke sputtered, dropping the paint stick and waving his hands frantically. “I got caught up in it, I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t mean to get paint on you! M-maybe if we go upstairs and wash it right now-”

“It’s fine Daisuke,” Satoshi cut him off with a wave of his hand, “When you’re doing this kind of work, you don’t wear clothes that you would mind getting a bit messy,” he flicked his arm, sending a few droplets of paint flying down to the canvas where they were supposed to be. “Just be careful.”

Daisuke’s face burned. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Of course Satoshi, I’ll be more careful! I promise!”

Embarrassed, he drifted towards the edge of the painting, further away from his partner. Of course he’d managed to make a fool of himself in front of Satoshi, as usual. Stupid! He angled his body away from the other boy, and decided to stick to carefully dripping paint instead of flinging it for a while.

His resolve lasted for a few minutes, until something cold and wet suddenly splashed across his back, and Daisuke jumped, his head whipping around instinctively looking for the source of the attack.

Across the canvas from him, Satoshi’s expression hadn’t changed, even though he had a very incriminating dripping-wet brush clutched in his hand.

“Oops. Sorry, Niwa-kun,” he said flatly.

Daisuke’s brain stuttered for a moment. Had Satoshi just….he cocked his head, looking closer. Sure enough, there was the slightest ghost of a smile in the corner of Satoshi’s mouth, and he would swear he saw laughter in his eyes. Oh. So that’s how it was, huh?

Daisuke waved the ‘apology’ off cheerfully, but behind his smile he was scheming. Game on, Satoshi!

Years of training kicked in as he stalked around the canvas, keeping his body language casual as he waited for an opening. When he had to turn his eyes away, his sharp ears listened for his target’s footsteps amongst the sound of paint hitting the canvas. Finally he found the opening he’d been searching for, and struck.

Satoshi started, but this time didn’t call attention to the ‘accident’. Instead he just kept dripping paint with his back to the other boy. Daisuke looped around the painting again, carefully casual, turning and twisting with his paint trail. His back had only been turned for a few seconds when he realized the sound of footsteps had disappeared. Splat! Another direct hit to his back. Daisuke whipped around, but Satoshi still had his back to him, dripping paint in a wide arc at the other end of the canvas.

So he definitely hadn’t lost his touch either! Daisuke smirked. Their little game of cat and mouse continued for a few minutes, the opponents exchanging carefully calculated blows one after the other. And then a wicked idea suddenly sprung to Daisuke’s mind. He quickly picked up a stray brush, dipped it in the nearest paint can, and tucked in into his back pocket. His pants would be destroyed, but if his tactic worked…he bided his time, waiting for Satoshi to strike again.

This time, when a volley of paint hit his side, he turned to the other boy and laughed, dropping the paint stick in his hand and throwing his arms up in surrender. ‘Ok, ok,” he chuckled, making his way around the painting to Satoshi’s side, “you got me!” He moved his arm as if to wrap it around the boy’s shoulder, but with nimble fingers at the last moment, snatched the paintbrush from his pocket and smooshed it right into Satoshi’s hair.

Who froze for a moment, eyes wide with surprise. And then his lips curled into a smirk as he let out a huff of a laugh.

“Oh, it is on now Niwa!”

It devolved from there into all out warfare. The basement witnessed a battle like no other as paint flew everywhere, splattering against the walls, floors, even the ceiling! Screams and laughter echoed down the halls as two boys chased each other around and around like the children they were, leaping, and slipping, and crashing into each other in a cacophony of sound and color.

Eventually even the former Phantom Thief host ran out of stamina, and the paint stopped flying, as the two soaking wet combatants stopped on either side of their painting to catch their breath.

“Well I’d say that experiment was a success!” Daisuke exclaimed, as soon as he had the wind for it. Indeed, their canvas had managed to catch some of the paint, even though the process had involved some acrobatic moves that he was pretty sure that Pollock had never used.

“I’m pretty sure most of the paint ended up on us,” Satoshi said dryly, wiping some paint from his brow and gesturing to the canvas, “But I digress. There you have it, the first collaborative artwork in existence created by both a Hikari and a Niwa. What do you think?”

Daisuke backed up a few paces to examine their handiwork. It was a mess, well and truly, streaks of garish, oversaturated colors clashing wildly against each other and mixing muddily in splotches. Smeared handprints and two different sets of shoe treads littered the edges of the canvas. There was a large smudged blotch in the bottom left corner where two bodies had hit the wet paint and tussled.

“It’s awful, I love it!��

Satoshi looked down at it with a critical eye, leaning over and spotting a clean patch of canvas that had somehow miraculously avoided getting splattered.

“It’s missing something,” he said cryptically, and beckoned to Daisuke with a crook of his finger. Daisuke trotted over, curious, as Satoshi brushed a thin layer of light colored paint on his palm and pressed it to the empty space for a few seconds. He fanned one hand over the wet paint, and wordlessly handed Daisuke a paintbrush dripping with a darker paint with the other. Daisuke followed his lead, coating his own palm with paint as well.

“Here, put your hand down right there” Satoshi directed, “That’s it.”

Daisuke pulled his hand back, and looked down. Before his eyes were two handprints, layered as if two hands were pressed against the canvas together. His breath caught.

“There. Though it’s a bit corny, I suppose….” Satoshi said, his tone carefully bland, and glanced away.

Daisuke didn’t think. He reached out with his hand still tacky with drying paint, turned Satoshi’s head back, and kissed him softly. The lips against his stayed still for a moment, before gently returning the kiss.

After a moment, Daisuke pulled back and stroked the other boy’s cheek with his thumb, smearing the dark paint even worse.

“I changed my mind, it’s a good painting.”

Satoshi looked at him, blinking as if to clear the stars from his eyes, after all this time still awestruck by the affection. And then he smiled so softly that Daisuke couldn’t help but kiss him again. And again.

Later, when they came up from the basement to clean up for dinner, if Kosuke noticed the suspicious amount of paint handprints all over the two boys’ skin and clothes, well, he kept it to himself.

A/N: So remeber in the manga when Satoshi passed out at school and Daisuke took him home and Satoshi sees Daisuke's vent painting where its a total mess of feeling on the canvas and Satoshi says he likes it and that he could never paint something like that. NOW YOU CAN BABY, NOW YOU CAN! Now you don't have to hold yourself back and keep yourself in a cold little canvas frame, you can pour your feelings into it and it doesn't have to be perfect or even good it just has to FEEL-

SUGASAKI LET ME SEE THAT CANON FOR A MINUTE, WAIT A MINUTE JUST LET ME SE-

Anyway...been chatting a lot with Luanna about the boy's post-canon lives, and basically them reclaiming their lives and childhoods. One thing I really want for Satoshi is for him to be able to make quote unquote """bad art""", meaning that I want Satoshi to be able to explore his own style without fear of failure, to experiment and try things that might not work, to make kitschy or weird or ugly art. Like, the boy has been cut off from expressing himself in any way for so long, let him explore self-expression through art! And its Satodai this time because Satodai was like, the og ship for me and I need it.

Also, two fics in a month??? I haven't posted two fics in a year since 2016 wtf. As always, comments and critiques appreciated!

#d.n.angel #dn angel #satodai #satoshi hiwatari #daisuke niwa #satoshi hikari #fanfiction #twobit scribbles #some cute fluff stuff with a smidgen of angst #let these boys have some FUN #also cross-posting this one like a week later whoop whoop

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