#(for certain sections on shadow's fur especially) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

malachi-walker · 4 years

Note

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

#answers #rhythm & blues #the catradora rockstar au #featuring adora's big gay realization #and also fantasy christmas

137 notes · View notes

chokefriends · 4 years

Text

Anatomy model Eustass Kid

By @godims0tired ♡ for my fic Life Drawing

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Characters & ships: Eustass Kid / Trafalgar Law

Word count: 2978

Summary: Law practices his anatomical drawing with Kidd as his subject. With his devil fruit abilities he can see right inside him.

Kidd finds this insanely romantic.

~~~

Read on Ao3 or below the cut. I know it's an older fic by now but I havent posted it here before so here!

~~~

Kidd jerked into full awareness as he lay sprawled in his bed. He checked around himself without moving and sensed a second heartbeat in the room, near enough that the dim echoes of its electrical impulses lapped at his skin like waves. Slow and calm. Just watching then; not yet poised to attack…

There were eyes on him.

It took him a moment to remember that the other heartbeat was supposed to be there. He wasn't used to having bedmates stay overnight.

Red eyes slid open and found keen grey ones fixed on him.

“The fuck you staring at.”

“You, idiot.”

The big redheaded sprawl snorted crassly at that and flopped over, returning the stare with sleepy menace.

Law smirked. He was wedged sideways in one of the heavy carved armchairs in Kidd's quarters, loosely wrapped in a sheet and busily scritch scritching in a large book. His gaze flicked from page to Kidd and back.

Kidd prodded him, “See something you want, Trafalgar? Come over here and take it.”

His limbs were still all loose and languid from when they'd fucked a couple hours before, but Kidd could stand to go another round. Especially with the sharp, evaluating looks Law was throwing him right now.

“Come on, c'mere.”

“Later. Go back to sleep, Eustass-ya.” The pen bobbed.

“Don’ wanna. What are you doing still up?”

“Just passing the time until my brain decides to let me fall asleep.” Law's insomniac woes again.

“A good fuck will do that for you. Lemme do the ligature thing and you'll be out like bam .” Kidd offered generously.

“Heheh. Thanks but oxygen deprivation is not the kind of sleep aid I need.”

“Your loss.”

Kidd burrowed into his cluster of satiny pillows with a sigh. For an infamously brutal pirate captain he sure liked his little extravagances. The whole room was draped with horribly clashing bits of luxurious fabrics and furs, and the odd shiny sharp thing. The manic magpie whims of past raids.

“Nah, that's no good,” Law recrossed long legs over the chair’s arm, well cushioned with some spotted pelt. “Go back to where you were a second ago.”

“Are you…? What, taking notes on me? Writing an ode to the sinful curve of my flawless ass?”

“Something like that. I'm adding my own anatomical diagrams to this medical text. It’s my favourite for reference material but the illustrations are scanty and kinda shit -- it's like they've never dissected anyone before.”

“Nice. Add a diagram of these.” Kidd kicked up a leg.

“Hah. I'm nowhere near the section on genital abnormalities, but I'll look you up when I get there. Turn on your side again, I was doing upper body musculature.”

“Ooo. I got lots of that, yeah.” Kidd complied.

The lamplight was flickering low behind Law. Kidd could see him and his book backlit dimly, the small hairs on his leanly muscled shoulders aglow like a nimbus. Tinged subtly blue.

Wait, blue?

“Do you have a Room up?”

“Yeah, so I can scan down and see the actual anatomical stuff.”

“Huh. That's handy. You don't even have to dissect anyone.”

“Yeah but it’s easier to see everything if you physically open someone up. You can isolate the individual structures that way.” Law peeked overtop of the book. “And it's more fun to do it the old-fashioned way, heh…”

Kidd gave a low laugh. Law wasn't even joking, he knew. He imagined waking up one night like this, to find some part of him delicately splayed open and the dark haired doctor sketching away with the same expression. If Law used his devil fruit power he could do it painlessly and bloodlessly, without even waking him. Kidd had seen him sever heads away from bodies completely within that blue sphere, both pieces still functioning as one. He’d never been the subject of that eerie power himself, though.

He didn’t think so, anyway.

Law untangled himself from chair and sheet, and finally came over to join him on the bed. Kidd was gifted briefly with a full view of the lithe figure. His recent handiwork was beginning to show in the mottling that ran up either thigh and the bites framing his chest tattoos.

The long limbs refolded next to him. “Stay there, I wanna do the neck muscles now.”

“Lemme see that first.”

“Don't be grabby,” Law complained, but gave up the book.

“Holy fuck.” Kidd flipped through studies of his back, shoulders, hands. “So that's how I look without skin, huh.”

He had been expecting more… yeah. Skin.

“I did say I was drawing the muscles.”

“And my bones and everything.”

“Yeah. Good skeletal structure too. Several odd calluses where breaks didn't quite set right, though.”

“You can see all of that?”

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I can scan down to any level. Though it helps if I know already the shape of what I'm looking for.”

Something about the drawings was just so Law. The lines so precise, so sharp, somehow impatient. A little obsessive and overworked on certain details, like the hollow between his collar bones and the knobbly crook of his index finger, broken at least twice. Many practice studies on loose sheets of paper showed that Law had been trying to get these parts just right.

It occurred to Kidd that these weren't just anatomical studies using him as a model -- these were him.

Jotted notes crowded around the practice studies, but Law grabbed the book back before Kidd could read them properly.

“Trafalgar. Does that seriously say I have 8.2 litres of blood in me.”

“Nevermind that. Just an interesting fact. You have a lot of blood.”

Kidd stole another peek as Law held him off. “And that I have a grip strength of 68 kilograms in my right hand?”

“At least. That’s not something I can see; that's from uh, experience.”

Kidd leaned back with his hands laced behind his head to look at Law. “One might misinterpret this as a target profile of some kind.” Because that's exactly what it was -- a detailed map of Kidd’s strongest, and weakest points.

“Whoa, your blood pressure’s spiking.” Law grinned with more teeth than usual and leaned in to hover over him.

“Now you're just showing off,” Kidd complained.

“Does this disturb you?”

That wasn't exactly the feeling that was spreading through him, no. Or not entirely, anyway. Kidd just cracked his neck, stretching it out for Law's benefit, and raised an eyebrow.

“So you wanted some neck action? It's all yours.”

Law seemed to like the sound of that. He angled Kidd’s head away and up with a gentle press of fingers, so the ear and neck were exposed to him.

Kidd watched his shadow flicker on the opposite wall and listened to the pen scratch across paper. The undulating magnetic field of Law’s heart was so close now, washing over him. His own blood thudded in his ears, senses all on high alert from holding himself in this vulnerable position.

He could be fuckin patient. Sometimes. Well… when he had all of Law’s attention focused on him like this, he’d stay still forever. He could feel the sharp eyes on him like a touch. His own eyes started to wander back over…

He jumped a little when Law did touch him, nudging him back into place. And then trailing fingers over the mound behind his ear.

“Sternocleidomastoid,” Law mouthed to himself. “Levator scapulae…” The hand travelled down to his collarbone and rested there lightly, his thumb tracing little circles.

It was so calm. And strange. Rare for the reserved doctor to be so casually intimate. Even while they were fucking, touch was more like a struggle, hands straining against and into each other. Kidd was rough without even trying, but it was Law who seemed to flinch from any contact not resembling combat. Or medical care. Such structured things. He’d objected -- vehemently -- to being “pawed at” and “pet like a lap dog” often enough. As though anything less than bruising force would hurt more.

He was so guarded. It made Kidd greedy.

“You're hard, you know,” Law breathed onto his neck.

“Yeah I'm aware.”

“Heh.”

Tattooed fingers ran along Kidd’s side, over the tight bands hugging the ribs (“Serratus anterior…”), and pinpricks rose in their wake. Kidd found himself arching up against the hand desperately.

“Ah, fuck, Trafalgar…”

“Mhm,” Law responded, distracted. Or pretending to be. He followed a particular cord of muscle down Kidd’s powerful thigh with his thumb. “Sartorius. Gracilis.”

“Dick.”

“No that's not a muscle, Eustass-ya.”

“Oh for the love of GOD.”

Law made a sound that was probably a muffled laugh. “Hold still. I'm doing anatomical studies.”

“Oh is that what we're doing.”

“Obviously.”

“Where's the book.”

“It's…” Law looked around for a minute. “On the floor.”

Kidd covered his face with his hands and just laughed. Law sighed dramatically.

“Well. Guess I gotta start from the top again.”

---

Law could be a pushy bastard when he topped. But he kept up the slow, focused treatment this time and it was driving Kidd fucking insane.

“I'm gonna flip this the fuck around and pound you inside out if it takes any longer.” Kidd growled from under his arm, slung across his face.

This was as close as he could get to actually asking for it. Here he was laid out, so open and ready, core clenching and unclenching. Needing to be fucked, to have hands on him, in him, whatever. All of it.

“Nah you're not.” Law countered smugly.

“F-uck,” was all Kidd could come up with when a third finger twisted into his slicked up hole. His body tensed and spasmed before yielding itself open.

By the time Law was actually fucking him, Kidd had nearly popped a fucking vein.

Law pushed in slowly, slowly. Until they were pressed together as tight as they could go, breath hot on each other's faces.

“Shit, Tr--ahh…”

“Eustass-ya…”

He was done with all the slow shit. Kidd was a shifting mass of need under him and honestly, he was even more worked up. He dragged almost all the way out only to grind back in hard, and the tight body jolted.

“Aw fuck, yeah…”

Law braced his weight on his arms, pressing Kidd’s hips into the bed. He watched the muscles bunch beneath him with each impact, Kidd straining to meet him. Watched through skin so pale it was translucent, glowing and rippling.

Kidd still wasn't entirely sure what to make of that gaze. All hunger and splitting seams, open lips and ragged breath.

He quirked up one corner of a mocking mouth.

“The fuck’re you-- ah --staring at?”

Law didn't answer for a moment. Under Kidd's skin it was like… layers of red ribbons, wrapping him up. The ribbons all pulling and straining against each other when Kidd moved (when Law moved in him), like something inside was trying to burst out. Under them, ribs curving -- jealous fingers. Wetly clinging membranes. Then under that…

“Your heart. It's…”

Their bodies collided, beaded with sweat. Harder. More. Law could see, hear Kidd's heart beating faster as he picked up his pace. God, he could feel it in his palms. In his dick. Beating so strong it echoed in his ears, drowning out his own.

“Fucking perfect. It's perfect.”

Kidd laughed breathlessly. His heart. What the hell. “...You wanna get your hands on that too?”

Law did.

He wanted to grip it, feel it flutter, make it burst …

… What if I could? he thought. He slowed, thinking, and spread a hand over Kidd’s breastbone. Not just to incapacitate through dismemberment, but to cut a piece from the whole, one vital piece…

Kidd watched the pensive eyes flicker and gave him a swift jab of encouragement with his heel.

“You'll just have to get hold of it the old fashioned way. Hahahaaa…”

“Hah.” Law shook himself from his distracted state. He picked up a pace that was slower than before, though not less jarring. “Like… I should court you or like I should cut you open?”

“Whichever ...ah ... But you should fuckin get me off first.” Kidd guided the tattooed hand down from his chest to his dripping cock, and Law obliged, finally.

They fucked with foreheads pressed together and grips slipping on sweat slick skin. Kidd thought of Law digging his hands right into his chest and came in jerking starts like it was being beaten out of him, legs clamped tight around him. Skin thrumming with the echoes of hands and heartbeat.

---

Kidd flipped through the last few drawings with some undefinable flutter in his gut.

“That's some shit you won't see in any other textbook.”

“Mhm.” Law allowed himself to press against Kidd just slightly as they lay sprawled out, sweat drying in the cool air. He was in a fuckin good mood, kinda dazed.

“I do look damn good without skin, I'll say that much.”

“Heh. And with. You can see the suprasternal notch really clearly even under the skin, it's nice. I fuckin love all of that. That area.”

Kidd choked a little but Law didn't seem to realize what he'd said. And that's not even what he meant anyway, Kidd told himself.

But the whole thing kinda was the same as a confession, at least as far as Law went. The drawings, as vaguely threatening as they were, betrayed an intimate preoccupation with Kidd's finer points. Maybe even admiration. Definitely possessiveness. Need.

“I wanna do you too.”

Law grinned, “Already?”

“Not that, idiot. Draw you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Well, draft. I can draft things -- just basic. For engineering stuff on the ship, mostly.”

“Oh, nice!” Law bounced up to get fresh paper from the floor by the chair. “How does one usually draft stuff? Don’t you need a triangle thing? Compasses, etcetera?”

“Maybe. I’ll just make an outline for now.”

Law seemed right into this whole idea. “Draw me like one of your machines, Eustass-ya.” He draped himself dramatically across the bed and Kidd shoved him with a grin.

“How do you want me, though.”

Kidd appreciated that question for a moment.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I don’t know how to draw from life -- like perspective or anything. So it’s gonna be pretty diagrammatic. I just need a few details and some numbers.”

“Like specifications? How to build a Trafalgar?”

“Yeah, so I can make another if this one breaks.”

That made him laugh.

“Okay lie out flat and lemme measure you.”

“With what measuring tools?”

“I'll just eyeball it,” Kidd insisted.

This turned out to mean that he was going to get his hands all over him, which Law supposed was fair. He tensed and shied but stayed mostly still, letting Kidd explore his dimensions and proportions. Pages filled up with ratios and vectors of movement. Things got off track again around when Kidd was testing the rotation arc of his arms and quickly became vicious rutting. Light, skimming hands could become crushing ones so quickly.

Anyway, turned out that Law could get off while his arms were being hyperextended behind his back. Pretty effectively, in fact.

After, when they were laid out next to each other once again, and Law’s breaths were finally lengthening into sleep, Kidd dared to try another light touch. Without their thin pretense of functionality this time -- just want. He smoothed a hand over all the tattoos he'd taken such careful note of earlier. A large heart on his chest with a grinning skull similar to his Jolly Roger. Hearts on his shoulders. Kidd’s fingerprints blooming dark purple on his upper arms.

Sixty-eight kilograms of pressure and Law hadn't made a sound, but a feather touch over the marks and a quiet ah pushed past his lips.

“Whose emblem is that tattoo?”

Law mumbled with his eyes closed, “Someone who died. Long time ago.”

“Someone…” Kidd repeated to himself, but didn't probe. “You going to get any more?”

“Nah.” His breath stuttered slightly when Kidd trailed knuckles down his jaw. “I just like… your marks…”

He fell asleep with Kidd's lips against the shell of his ear.

---

A roll of broadsheet tied with string arrived by carrier gull when Law was back on his sub some days later. He stole away to his cluttered quarters and spread the roll out on the bed.

Inside the broadsheet was a large-format technical drawing.

There were three flat outlines of Law: front, back, side. All heavily marked out in blunt pencil, all surrounded by arcs and lines, dotted and solid, indicating measurements and angles of motion. The insides of the outlines were empty except for perfectly to scale renderings of his tattoos.

#kidlaw #trafalgar law #eustass kid #fanart #thank you so much dude i really mean it!#its exactly how I imagined laws drawing style to be ♡

41 notes · View notes

doyoureallyrememberme · 4 years

Text

“Music In Lieu Of Words”

Words: 4,583

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Categories: M/M

Characters: Link, Octavo, Hylia

Relationships: Octavo/Link

“I sometimes worry that the hero of Hyrule is truly the one who should be doing this, that I’m simply ruining the fates of everyone by intervening.”

Sitting on the ground, Octavo looked up when he felt a warm huff against his cheek, turning to face the wolf that was standing at his eye level. In that moment, Octavo wished more than ever that his companion could speak and reassure him that what he was doing was right.

As it set its head on Octavo’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek, Octavo realized that words weren’t needed. The absence of them could be just as meaningful.

Beginning note - Wolf Link in this is the same Link from Cadence of Hyrule but he looks like Wolf Link from Twilight Princess.

🎶 🎶 🎶

The sun was only a few hours away from setting, the forest still well lit. The full, thick branches of the trees kept constant shadows cast among the forest floor and swirling mist danced amongst the leaves and along the ground. These things combined with the innumerable creatures lurking about made the Lost Woods especially dangerous. As hazardous as it was though, that didn't stop a certain musician on a mission.

Looking more than a little out of place, a man dressed in a black suit and brilliant red button up shirt traversed the mysterious forest. He wasn't keen on roaming the woods but he was in desperate need of a second champion. The first one he had created had been defeated by a meddlesome boy in green.

The longer Octavo spent among the trees, the more lost he became; he had gotten completely lost and been returned to the entrance of the forest countless times. The most frustrating fact was that, everytime he was returned to the entrance, more monsters had appeared even though he had defeated all of the previous ones.

Entering a newfound section of the forest, Octavo was baffled. The pulsating rhythm he had cursed all of Hyrule (and accidentally himself) to follow was absent, the soft sound of music playing somewhere far off. All of the enemies he had expected to encounter were missing - well, all but one.

In the center of the clearing was a large black wolf. It was much larger than any of the other wolfos the musician had encountered and the lack of intense music told him that the animal was not a foe. If it wasn't an enemy though, what exactly was it? The majority of its fur was pitch black, a stark contrast to the white of its chest and belly. A unique black and white pattern was imprinted in the fur on its forehead but the utmost unparalleled item of its appearance was its eyes. Instead of the plain brown, red, or yellow that was found among the common wolfos, this animal's eyes were a brilliant blue.

Those stunning eyes were staring directly at him, Octavo realized. Neither one moved, too occupied sizing up the competition. When the composer took a step forward, the beast's trance seemed to wear off. It immediately crouched down, its hair standing on end and a heart stopping growl bubbling from its throat. None of the other wolves had bothered to growl, opting instead to simply attack their target. Octavo was unaccustomed to the startling noise but he knew exactly what it meant all the same.

Squatting down on his knees, Octavo held his hand out toward the animal, palm up. The wolf continued to growl before uttering a loud bark, obviously unwilling to trust the well-dressed stranger.

"If you won't trust me, at least allow me to pass you," Octavo said to the animal as if it would understand him. It didn't seem to listen anyway, continuing to growl viciously at him. The man sighed and stood up, edging closer to the trees as he tried to go around the aggressive animal. The wolf seemed to become even angrier, lunging a step closer and barking in admonition. Octavo froze, frowning as he crossed his arms. He looked much less terrified than he felt.

"Why are you animals so blatantly stupid?"

The wolf growled in disagreement to the question and Octavo favoured to ignore him as he began a one-sided conversation.

"It's wearying enough that I have to deal with all of the creatures that roam these woods, not to mention the bothersome child in green who destroyed my first champion."

At that, the animal's growls grew a little quieter, though they did not cease. Was it possible that the beast was sentient? It seemed to be, if it had understood what Octavo had said. Understanding he had gotten through to the animal - however minutely - Octavo decided to keep talking.

"The ignorant boy destroyed the first champion I had created. Even though I'm doing everything in my power to stop Ganon from rising, that boy seems to be doing everything in his power to stop me. Does he want Ganon to rule? Does he want death and destruction to consume Hyrule? Why can't he see that I'm trying to save his world?"

Though Octavo felt like he was arguing with a brick wall, the animal had stopped growling. Baby steps, he realized. If the wolf actually understood what he was saying, he might have a chance of reasoning his way around it.

"I knew that the hero and princess of this world would try to kibosh my plans so I had to put them into a deep sleep until all was over and done with. Unfortunately, the boy managed to awake prematurely," Octavo explained to the finally silenced beast. "I'm hoping to find another instrument at the heart of this forest. Though my first champion was defeated by the green-clad boy, I've heard tale of three other instruments throughout Hyrule. Once I've found them, I plan on using their powers to create three more champions. With the champions assembled, I will finally be able to face and defeat Ganon. As long as the boy stays out of my way, that is."

The wolf huffed a breath through its nose before slowly approaching the musician. Its beautiful sapphire eyes remained wary of the stranger but that was to be expected. Squatting back down, Octavo held his hand out as he had done before. This time, the animal sniffed his hand before letting out a high pitched whine and sitting back on its haunches.

“What is it?” Octavo asked but the animal remained silent, staring at him with a pleading expression. He looked like he had something genuinely important to say but simply couldn’t say it.

Something wet suddenly dripped on Octavo’s cheek and he quickly wiped it away, glancing up at the sky only to receive several raindrops in his eyes. Glancing down, he found the wolf shake its head when a particularly large drop landed on its nose. The man chuckled before surveying the surrounding area, finding only trees. An idea occurred to him and, while knowing it was definitely a long shot, if the wolf understood him, it would be worth it.

“You wouldn’t know of any nearby caves, would you?”

The animal stared at him blankly, offering a few vacant blinks before finally standing and beginning to weave around trees; Octavo took that as his cue to follow. Within a matter of minutes, the rain had increased drastically and was pouring down heavily on the man and beast. Thankfully, the woods began to thin out into a clearing, trees lining several sides as well as a sharply raised piece of land. Though the wolf’s fur was soaking wet and dripping onto the forest floor, the animal casually trotted up to the raised edge supporting the trees above and dug its nose into a section of the ivy curtaining the dirt. Pushing it aside, the wolf entered a previously hidden cave, Octavo following close behind.

Inside, the cave looked identical to the other ones the musician had been in throughout Hyrule. Fortunately, there were no enemies plaguing the dark space. The curtain of ivy hanging in front of the entrance limited the amount of light allowed into the cave, seeing as how there were no lights mounted inside. The overcast skies, however, prevented much light from shining anyway.

Taking a seat against the back wall, Octavo decided he would rest there for the night. Removing his shoes and coat, he folded them neatly before setting them to the side. The entire time, he could feel the intense stare of the wolf watching him. Once he was slightly undressed, Octavo finally lifted his gaze to the animal who sat across from him.

“Thank you,” he said. He still felt a little awkward speaking with an animal who could not respond but knowing that the animal understood him helped alleviate the awkwardness.

With their eyes locked, the wolf slowly approached the musician. The animal still seemed wary but his eyes held a beautiful sense of life and warmth in them. With the beast so close to him, Octavo finally realized just how big it was. Whereas the common wolfos were typically half his size, the larger ones being nearly as big as him, this one was much larger than himself. It was intimidating to have such a large and powerful animal so close to him, but Octavo felt a sense of safety with the animal.

With the wolf standing and Octavo sitting, their faces were level to each other. Creeping forward slowly, the wolf laid down beside him and rested its large head in his lap. Octavo was frozen for a moment before he finally began to stroke its beautiful and surprisingly soft fur; the creature let out a soft sigh and closed its eyes at the gentle contact. The act seemed so human and Octavo had to wonder if the animal was more human than beast.

Shielded by the thick curtain of ivy blocking the entrance to the cave, ths musician listened to the sound of the pouring rain. The gentle noise combined with the soothing heat that radiated from the wolf was enough to lull him to sleep.

A particularly loud crack of thunder had Octavo jolting awake, his sleepy mind immediately confused by the lack of light. Feeling around blindly in the dark, he realized he was laying on his side, his head resting on a soft pillow.

Soft pillow? Where would he have gotten one of those, especially in an empty cave?

Feeling his way farther up the “pillow”, his hand stopped short when he felt something cold and wet. A high pitched whine sounded and Octavo finally realized that his furry pillow was the wolf he had encountered earlier. After this discovery, he was frozen in place. Should he get up and risk disturbing the animal? Or should he lay still and wait for the creature to move first? It hadn’t bitten his head off yet so he had cause to believe that the wolf was at least tolerating their close proximity. With his head resting on its stomach, there was no way it hadn’t noticed him.

“Hey,” Octavo whispered, immediately feeling dumb for doing so. Nevertheless, the wolf shifted to curl up around him, nuzzling its wet nose into Octavo’s cheek.

“Are you awake?”

A warm puff of air against his face was the answer to his question.

“May I ask something stupid?”

That time, he received no response, but it felt like his furry companion was waiting for him to continue.

“Are you…?”

Octavo stopped. How was he supposed to phrase such an odd question?

“Do you possess the soul of a person?”

It was deathly silent for several long moments before Octavo realized that the lack of response might have been because the animal didn’t know how to answer.

“One nudge for no, two nudges for yes.”

The wolf’s cold nose pressed against the musician’s cheek and Octavo held his breath until he felt a second nudge. He let out a breathless chuckle before immediately becoming self-conscious.

“Is this alright then?” he asked, running his fingers lightly through the soft hair of the creature’s neck. A single lick to the cheek had Octavo relaxing against the animal’s warm belly.

“Alright. I suppose we can discuss this in the morning.”

Closing his eyes, the musician absentmindedly ran his fingers through the wolf’s fur as he fell back asleep.

🎶 🎶 🎶

“I don’t suppose you will want to travel with me?” Octavo asked as the two set out for the heart of the forest. The morning light was dimmed by the cover of clouds but the rain had slowed to a light mist. Surprisingly, the section of the forest they had entered was empty, but Octavo wasn’t about to complain.

Glancing down at the beast beside him, Octavo saw the animal nod. Trying to ignore how utterly strange that seemed, he continued.

“What should I call you?”

The wolf stopped in its tracks as it thought before glancing up at Octavo then using its nails to scratch something into the soft soil. With the wet grass in the way, it took the man a moment to realize the shape was an “L”.

“I shall call you L?”

The wolf nodded again.

“Alright.” As an afterthought, he added, “I know you cannot speak, but my name is Octavo.”

Nothing more was said as the duo continued on through the forest.

🎶 🎶 🎶

For months, the musician and wolf traveled together, destroying monsters and discovering two more of the remaining instruments. Octavo was glad that the hero in green had not shown up to defeat his champions, but he couldn’t help but wonder where the boy was. Before, he had been mere steps behind Octavo; now, he was nowhere to be found.

L, on the other hand, was always there. After their first encounter, the two had stuck together on their journey. He had been wary of Octavo for the first few weeks, but the more the musician talked to him and told him about himself and his plans for the future, the more L began to warm up to him. Similarly, the more time they spent together, the easier Octavo found it to talk to L. After months of sharing company, Octavo sometimes forgot that L was a wolf. He seemed so human at times and the musician knew that he truly was a person - at least, he had been at one time. Such a thought made him wish that he had known L before he had become a mute beast.

Sitting beside the campfire he had built for the night, Octavo stared up at the night sky which was crystal clear without clouds to block his view of the twinkling stars. Beside him, L was stretched out on the soft grass, his eyes half open as he debated whether or not to sleep.

“Do you truly think we can defeat Ganon?” Octavo suddenly asked. L’s head lifted to look at his companion who was still staring at the sky, worry etched on his face.

“I know I’ve created more champions and I’ve got the golden lute,” Octavo cast a warm glance at L, “and I’ve got you, of course. But do you think it’ll be enough?”

His worried gaze returned to the sky as he sighed. “I sometimes worry that the hero of Hyrule is truly the one who should be doing this, that I’m simply ruining the fates of everyone by intervening.”

Octavo looked up when he felt a warm huff against his cheek, turning to face the wolf that was standing at his eye level. In that moment, Octavo wished more than ever that L could speak and reassure him that what he was doing was right. As always though, L couldn’t speak.

As L set his head on Octavo’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek, Octavo realized that words weren’t needed. The absence of them could be just as meaningful.

🎶 🎶 🎶

Sitting on the stiff bed in his room at the Kakariko Inn, Octavo began to unlace his shoes, setting them beside the bed once they were removed. Unfortunately, the inn had a strict “no animals” policy, and Octavo assumed that would apply to wolves the size of a man even if they weren’t truly wolves. Smuggling L into the room hadn’t been difficult; with his room being on the first floor, he had only to open the window and let his companion in.

With the last bits of daylight fading from the sky, the musician opted to leave the window open a little longer so that he could watch the sun set. Laying on the bed behind him was L, his eyes trained on the fluffy clouds bathed in orange light that hung in the sky outside the window. As the orange and yellow hue of the sky faded to blue and purple, Octavo grabbed his lute and began to pick at the strings, playing a gentle tune that relaxed both of them. For a while, L laid beside him and listened as he played. However, once he had the tune down, he began to hum. The noise surprised Octavo - at first, he thought that L was growling - but he quickly understood what the sound was.

With Octavo playing his instrument and L humming along beside him, the atmosphere of the room was unusually relaxed. It was a nice change from the typical defensive guard they both harboured.

By the time Octavo set his lute to the side and began to get ready for bed, the sky was completely dark, the bright stars shining against a black backdrop. Sharing the bed with L wasn’t an issue, unlike the first time they had stayed at the inn; having never stayed at the Kakariko Inn, Octavo had simply paid for a regular room, finding out later that the bed was barely big enough for himself. This time, he had paid for a nicer room and therefore a larger bed.

Climbing onto the soft mattress, Octavo slid under the blanket, lifting it up so that L could lie beside him. Staring into the sapphire eyes of the wolf, the musician desperately wished that L hadn’t been turned into a wolf. What was he like as a person? How did he act? What did he look like? What kinds of things did he enjoy? It was immensely frustrating to have someone so close yet so far from him.

Watching as L’s eyes slid closed and his breathing began to level out, Octavo vowed to himself that he would find a way to turn L into a human again, no matter the cost.

🎶 🎶 🎶

The day had finally come. In only 24 hours, Octavo was to have his final battle with Ganon. The thought alone was nerve wracking and the musician was having a hard time mentally preparing himself even though he had been given months to do so.

Curled up against L in the cave they had chosen to spend the night in, Octavo’s mind was racing. Beside him, L was snoring peacefully, completely relaxed and unaware of Octavo’s psychological turmoil.

What if his power wasn’t enough? What if he couldn’t defeat Ganon? What if something happened to L?

Laying in the dark and on the brink of tears, Octavo noticed something glowing a soft golden colour.

“L, wake up,” Octavo nudged L; the wolf yawned but obeyed. In the darkness, the two watched the golden glow as it grew brighter and brighter, slowly taking the shape of something. It wasn’t until he moved that Octavo realized the object was on his hand. The glow grew brighter before pulsing gently with his rapid heartbeat, finally in the shape of a single triangle.

To say Octavo was confused was an understatement. He knew exactly what the triangle meant, and that only baffled him further. How did he suddenly possess a piece of the triforce? And why? He should be the last person to hold such a precious thing.

Another thought occurred to him. He knew that Ganon held the piece of power, the hero had the piece of courage, and the princess had the piece of wisdom. So what piece did he have? Which one of them had forfeited their piece so that it would fall to him? He immediately ruled out Ganon; there was no way he had lost his power, especially at such a convenient time. That would mean he had the triforce of wisdom or courage. Both seemed equally unlikely and Octavo had no clue which one he possessed.

L gently pressed his nose against the musician’s chin, drawing his attention away from his hand and to the wolf. In the dark, it was easy to see the glowing triangle on the back of the wolf’s left paw. Did that mean the wolf was the hero or even the princess? Or had L received the mark accidentally like Octavo? He was tempted to ask but decided against it. He wasn’t sure he was ready to know, even if he would be finding out soon anyway.

🎶 🎶 🎶

Wisdom and courage prevailed. Octavo’s three champions had weakened Ganon and together L and Octavo had finished him. The musician could hardly believe it but he wasn’t about to complain.

With the golden triforce of power suspended in front of them, Octavo hesitated. Only one with a pure heart, someone with equal measure of courage, power, and wisdom, could touch the triforce. While he did possess a piece of it, he knew he couldn’t be the one to touch it once it was assembled. Glancing down at his companion, Octavo saw L’s eyes sparkle.

“You know what to do,” Octavo said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. Thankfully, L gave a reassuring nod then stepped forward, Octavo following. With a hand and a paw extended, the final two pieces met with the first and united with a brilliant glow that rivaled the sun. Octavo watched as L approached the holy triangles and lightly touched them with his nose. The golden light grew brighter until Octavo had to shield his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was standing in the castle courtyard; the guards that had previously been there were missing and Octavo was thankful for that. Sitting on the edge of the fountain was a woman with golden hair, her white gown flowing in the light breeze. Her eyes were trained on the clear water of the fountain and, without a word from Octavo, she began to address him.

“Octavo,” she said, turning her head to face him. “I want to thank you.”

The musician was struck dumb for a moment before he realized what her words meant.

“Why should you thank me?”

The beautiful woman chuckled. “Were you not the one who saved my land?”

“Not single-handedly.”

The woman laughed again. “I am aware of that. But you fought for this land when no one else would.”

“What about your hero?” Octavo asked. “Shouldn’t he have been the one to achieve such a task? He was the one gifted with the triforce of courage after all.”

“The triforce of courage, yes. The triforce of wisdom, no. Had he been wiser, he would have been able to see from the beginning that your efforts were for the greater good.”

“What stopped him then?”

“I had to intervene. Had he not been stopped, he would have ruined your plans. I could see from the beginning that you wanted only to stop Ganon. I was surprised to find that your motivations were not conceited and that you were not after the triforce as so many before you have been. So I put a stop to the hero’s unbeknownst attempts to regress your progress.”

“What did you do to stop him?” Octavo asked, fearing the answer.

“I did not hurt him,” the golden haired woman assured him. “In fact, he grew to see things your way.”

From the other side of the fountain appeared L. He looked the same as he had every time before that Octavo had seen him but now the musician could see him with a greater understanding.

“You turned him into a wolf.”

“That I did,” the goddess said with a smile. “I did not want him to sit idly by but I could not allow him to undo your progress. This way, he learned from experience while assisting you.”

Taking a few steps forward, L set his furry head in the woman’s lap. A gentle hand petted his head as the woman looked upon him with empathetic eyes.

“I suppose I should turn you back, hm?”

L’s tongue lolled out as he panted lightly in agreement; it was the first time since their initial meeting that Octavo had seen him look so much like a dog and he couldn’t repress the laugh that bubbled out of his throat.

As the goddess set her hand on L’s head, Octavo watched as the wolf was shrouded in bright light. Moments later, the light slowly dimmed until it disappeared entirely, revealing the blonde hero in green. Though Octavo knew it was coming, he was still surprised when it happened. He knew that the wolf was the hero, yet he had still expected to see someone else. For a moment, he even questioned whether the wolf and the hero were really the same person, but there was no mistaking those blue eyes.

Beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that shone in the darkness and reflected the light of the campfire. The fierce eyes of a wolf that was fearless, but also the soft eyes of a close friend.

Octavo wasn’t sure when he had begun to feel so strongly about the hero; perhaps the feeling had been there since their first meeting, or maybe it had appeared after spending so many nights so close together, using the soft wolf as his pillow. Regardless of when, the feeling was there.

Pushing the feeling down, Octavo offered the hero a charming smile.

“I feel quite foolish to have to ask, but I assume that ‘L’ stands for something more?”

The hero tilted his head to the side in a way that reminded Octavo of his wolf companion before his hands came up and moved in several different gestures.

With sapphire eyes staring expectantly at him, Octavo admitted, “I don’t know what that means.”

“His name is Link,” the goddess spoke up. “His ability to speak is impaired. He uses his hands to communicate.”

“Oh,” Octavo lamely said, staring into the bright eyes that held his.

The goddess Hylia beckoned for Octavo to come closer and once he had, she took one of his hands and one of Link’s in her own.

“Thank you, both of you. Together, you two have saved this land. Your efforts will not be forgotten.”

🎶 🎶 🎶

When Octavo opened his eyes again, the hand holding his was no longer the goddess’s. Instead, a smaller, more calloused hand had its fingers wrapped around his. Blue eyes met gold and Octavo was frozen in place. A bright smile that rivaled the mirth in his eyes greeted the musician as Link tugged his hand, pulling him along behind him.

Octavo wasn’t sure where they were going, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. When Link’s rarely heard but beautiful voice was humming the song Octavo had played for him, he was sure he would follow that voice to the ends of the earth.

#link #octavo #cadence of hyrule #legend of zelda #goddess hylia #fanfic #oneshot #CHAWrites #wolf link #music

7 notes · View notes

purpleswans1 · 5 years

Text

Izuku’s Feud with the Yakuza

Another addition to my Villain!Izuku AU. For Villain Month day 11. The prompt is redemption, but I think I used the prompt very liberally... BTW this is the second time I’ve posted this section, I wasn’t able to format the original correctly, and my computer complained every time I tried to edit it to add links.

Read also on FF and AO3

It all started with what was supposed to be an easy robbery.

Izuku had noticed a certain casino with an unusual security system. He’d suspected that it had some less-than-legal activities going on behind closed doors, but didn’t consider the implications of that until it was too late.

A couple of days before they planned to rob the casino, Toga had stealthily extracted blood from a random businessman. It was just a small syringe, small enough that the target wouldn’t notice what the girl who bumped into him was doing, but large enough to get the blood Toga would need for 2 hours of transformation.

Now, Toga was walking towards the seedy casino disguised as the businessman, pretending that she was stressed and wanted to gamble.

“Just got my paycheck, now all I need is to play the odds and I’ll get enough to retire!” She gruffly told the man in line behind her.

“I thought I told her to stay inconspicuous,” Izuku said even though there was no way for Toga to hear him. “We don't want them to notice anything is different, and we definitely don’t want them paying attention to her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Uraraka insisted. “Toga’s used to this kind of stuff.”

“I know, I know.” Izuku said. “Just remind me to get her some inconspicuous communication device for her to wear so I can give her instructions when she’s on missions like this.”

Dabi raised his eyebrows. “You mean like a cell phone? We’re already using that.”

He was right. The audio Izuku was currently hearing came from Toga’s phone, which she had called Izuku with before they started. Izuku’s phone was currently on mute.

“I mean like an earpiece,” Izuku explained. “I may make one hidden as an earring, but I’d prefer one that was either invisible or flesh-colored.”

Around that time, Toga wandered into the casino and started to scope out the place. Izuku had told her to find the security room, where all the security and bank information would be. There wasn’t a door directly in the back, but there was a side door that wasn’t as well decorated as the other doors, so she decided to start with that one.

The door opened to stairs leading down. Toga followed the stairs to the bottom, where she saw a crowd of people surrounding a large metal cage. She couldn’t see what was going on, but there were a lot of growling sounds. To the side, she saw several dogs packed into too-small cages, covered in matted fur, flees, and blood.

Poor puppies. They look so cute covered in blood, but they also look miserable, Toga thought. I’ll ask Izuku if I could release them as a distraction.

On the other side of the room, she saw another door. None of the patrons where passing through it, but she did see a security guard use a keycard to open it.

Bingo.

Near a side wall, Toga found a broom closet. She grabbed one of the brooms and went to linger in the shadows on one side. After a few minutes, another security guard came her way.

As soon as he’d passed her, Toga hit him on the head with the broom handle. Swiftly, she caught the unconscious guard and dragged him into the broom closet, shutting the door behind her.

It was a cramped, dark space, but at least it was private.

She pulled out her phone to give Izuku and update. “I’ve knocked out one of the security guards. I’ll take some of his blood and his security card, which should let me in the back room.”

On his end, Izuku turned off mute. “Good job. Find some way to clear out the room, then put us on speaker.”

“I will,” She confirmed.

Toga emptied the contents of her fake-clothes pockets, including a trusty pocket knife. She used the knife to make a small cut in the guard’s arm. Several drops of blood decorated the cut, and she was quick to lap them up.

A few moments later, Toga left the broom closet, now looking like a security guard in this place. She easily slipped the security card in the slot and opened the door to a room filled with computers.

Two other security guards were watching monitors in the room. Well, no big deal.

Toga pretended to be relieved. “I’m so glad I found you guys! The boss is upstairs, he wants to speak to you.”

The two others looked up with wide eyes. “Overhall is here?” one asked.

Toga had no idea who that was, but nodded anyway.

The other security guard stood up. “Come on Kaname, I’ll show you to the private rooms. I only hope that he’s in a forgiving mood.”

Once the two had left the room, Toga sat down at one of the monitors and pulled out her phone.

“Okay Izuku, you’re on speaker,” she said after putting it on speaker.

“Good. Put the flashdrive I gave you in any of the desktops. If there are multiple computers there, you may have to try several, but I’ll be able to check each of them individually.”

Toga took the flashdrive out and did as she was asked. Shortly afterwards, the mouse on her monitor started moving on its own, bypassing passwords and opening programs all over the place.

Izuku’s tech skills are really great, Toga thought.

Eventually, Izuku spoke through the phone once again. “Okay, I’ve found the accounts. Let me just transfer the money, shouldn’t take more than a minute. By the way, do you know anything about these “kennels” that have cameras?”

“Oh, that must be for the doggies being kept here. That reminds me, can I try to free them as a distraction before I get away?”

“Did you say that there are dogs being kept there?” Uraraka asked. “Why would they…”

“They were all covered in blood, but looked really miserable. Can I, Izuku?” Toga asked again.

“Dogfighting,” Izuku said. He sounded like he was seething, something she’d only seen him do around Shigaraki before. “That’s what they’re doing behind closed doors. Don’t worry Toga, we’ll help the dogs escape. I think I can unlock their cages from here.”

“Yay!” Toga said. She spun around in her chair, which led to her eyes catching something on the floor in the corner of the room. “Hey guys? I think I found a safe.”

“What kind of safe is it?” Izuku asked.

Toga walked over to the safe and kneeled down. “Just a standard turning dial. Should I try to open it?”

“Leave it. We don’t know the combination, and I don’t want you to make noise trying to break it.”

Toga looked at a little slip of yellow she saw on the side of the safe. “There’s a sticky note here with the number 5, 15, 25 on it.”

“...In that case, go ahead and try it.”

Toga tried it. The safe opened.

“Well, there’s a few stacks of cash in here, as well as a gun with amo. Want me to take it all?”

“Wow, yeah, please do.”

Toga grabbed an empty briefcase from the floor and started shoving the money in it. “You got it, Izuku.”

“Good. Okay, the money has finished transferring. I’m going to open the kennels in a moment. Get the flashdrive, get out quickly, and take the long way to our hideout. Got it?”

Toga closed the briefcase, stood up, and grabbed her phone. “Got it.”

Outside the door, she could hear the clang of metal, followed by loud barks and screams. She pulled out the flashdrive and calmly power-walked out of the casino. When she passed the broom closet, she stealthily dropped the access card so her victim could find it later.

She got away scot-free, or so they thought.

--------

The next day, Izuku pulled out the new gun and ammo Toga had brought back. He wanted to sit on their new funds for a couple of days, but Toga had demanded a present for completing the job, so he gave her some cash to go shopping. Spinner had decided to join her and get some fresh air. Dabi had gone out to find another place they could make their hideout, since Izuku didn’t want to stay in someplace that All For One technically owned any longer than necessary. The only people still in the hideout were Uraraka and Izuku.

Izuku studied the gun. It was very similar to what he was used to: semi-automatic pistol with 12 in the clip and 1 in the chamber. The bullet size wasn’t the 9mm he used with his usual gun, so he’d have to keep a couple on hand to compare when he restocked. Still, there were enough in the box that once he’d loaded the clip half the box was still left.

He pushed the clip in and made sure the safety was on before walking away with the gun. “Uraraka, I’m going to shoot in the basement,” he shouted to the only other person in the house.

Uraraka looked up from the computer she’d been watching videos on. “Oh, okay. Want me to come with you?”

Izuku shook his head. “It’ll be loud, and all I’m doing is shooting at tin cans. Not the most interesting training, to be honest.”

Uraraka shrugged. “If you say so.”

Izuku descended the steps to the basement. He wasn’t sure why this particular warehouse had a basement, especially one this big, but he was grateful for it. The basement stretched out far beyond the boundaries of the building and probably even several blocks, giving Izuku a long concrete tunnel that suited him just fine as a shooting gallery.

He’d already set up makeshift targets from old tin cans about 10 feet from the entrance, so all he had to do was aim and shoot.

Bang!

The first bullet missed, significantly to the right of the target. Izuku was about to shoot another round, but he noticed some discoloration on the ground where the bullet hit.

He walked up to the target. The trajectory of the bullet was marked by a deep read, similar to blood. The bullet had traveled quite a distance, but it wasn’t hard for Izuku to find it on the ground several feet from the target. The bullet had split along the sides and squished on impact, opening up like a metallic flower.

Along the splits, Izuku found a thick, red liquid.

It it is blood, Toga will be able to tell.

Izuku decided to store the bullet in a plastic bag so Toga could look at it later. He was walking up the stairs to store it when he heard a loud noise from upstairs.

Izuku ran up to see what was going on.

Two men were standing in the entranceway, having thrown the front door off its hinges. They were both wearing plague masks. One was a large wall of muscles with long white hair. The other had black hair, but didn’t look particularly imposing. Izuku knew enough about the world of villains to know the smaller man was probably the greater threat, especially with his air of superiority.

Uraraka was standing in front of the unexpected guests. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “Who do you think you are?”

The smaller man spoke first. “I am Overhaul, the leader of the Eight Precepts of Death.”

Izuku had heard that name before and laughed. “The Yakuza? Come on, you don’t seriously think anyone is scared of you gangsters anymore!”

Overhaul’s eyes jumped to Izuku and narrowed. “You’re going to regret that. We originally came for retribution and to return the items you stole from our casino, but now you’ve insulted our honor.”

Izuku only rolled his eyes and laughed harder. “You really need to increase your security there, by the way. A sticky note with the lock combination right next to the safe? Really?”

Overhaul turned to his companion. “Kendo, teach him a lesson.”

Kendo, the larger man, nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”

Kendo took off running towards Izuku, but he only took a couple of steps before Uraraka flew towards him and knocked him back. Her air-powered jet shoes shot both her and Kendo into the opposite wall.

Izuku was glad he’d gotten her into the habit of wearing her support equipment all the time, even when resting.

A single hand hold followed by throwing the large man into the air ensured that Uraraka had the upper hand in the fight. It was hard for people with physical quirks to attack with zero gravity.

“Tck,” Overhaul turned to Izuku again. “I’ll just do it myself then.” He then took off running towards Izuku.

Shit, Izuku realized. I have no idea what their quirks are.

He turned and led his attacker to the other side of the room. Overhaul followed, gradually gaining distance. Considering how much Izuku had trained this was rather impressive, but not impressive enough to be his quirk.

When Overhaul was a few seconds from touching Izuku, he snagged Toga’s favorite pillow from a nearby bed and blocked Overhaul’s touch with it.

The pillow scattered into a million fragments, feathers and threads flying everywhere and hindering both fighter’s views. Izuku took the opportunity to jump on top of a table and climb up a shelf just out of Overhaul’s reach.

It’s a good thing he did, since a few seconds later the pillow miracuously came together again.

“Ah, so that’s how your quirk works,” Izuku said. “You’re able to deconstruct and reconstruct things you touch, correct?”

Overhaul glared at Izuku. “Yes, but you should know that’s not my only trick.”

Quick as a flash, Overhaul pulled a gun out of his jacket and fired at Uraraka. Right after impact, she fell.

“URARAKA!”

“Don’t worry, she should recover with time.” Overhaul said.

Izuku didn’t care. He’d forgotten until now, but he was still holding the new gun. Without thinking, he fired it at Overhaul.

It missed the heart by a wide margin, but still hit the Yakuza boss’s side.

Overhaul winced in pain, but surged forward to touch the shelf Izuku was standing on.

Nothing happened.

Overhaul raised his eyebrows. “Oh? So you’re already using those bullets?”

Izuku had no idea what he was talking about, but pretended he did and said, “Yes. They’re very useful.”

Overhaul gave Izuku a calculating gaze.

“Oi! What happened here? Get away from my friends!”

A flash of blue flames shot across the room and forced Overhaul to back away.

Dabi was standing in the destroyed entranceway, looking as effortlessly casual as usual.

Overhaul’s eyes shifted between Izuku, Uraraka (who had started to stand up again), Dabi, and Kendo. He must have realized he’d lost the advantage.

“Kendo, we’re leaving.”

“But Boss, I wanted to rough them up more!” Kendo said.

“You’ll get another chance,” Overhaul said, “But for now, we have more important things to do.”

Izuku couldn’t resist the urge to snort.

Overhaul gave him one last look. “You’re getting away with it now, but don’t you dare consider stealing from the Eight Precepts of Death again. You will regret it.”

He then turned and led Kendo out the door, brushing shoulders with Dabi on the way out.

Once they were out of sight, Izuku climbed down from the shelf.

“I’m gone for a few hours and you guys manage to get in a fight,” Dabi said. “Seriously, who were those thugs?”

“The Eight Precepts of Death, the Yakuza organization that owned the casino from yesterday,” Izuku explained.

Dabi sighed. “Only you could accidentally piss off he Yakuza. I thought those organizations had lost power with the age of quirks?”

“You and me both,” Izuku walked over where Uraraka was clutching her calf. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad, at least, I think.” Uraraka said, biting her lip “It’s just a graze, but something still feels off…” She leaned down and touched her shoes. “My quirk… It’s not getting lighter. I think my quirk stopped working!”

Izuku frowned. That was worrying, but might explain why Overhaul wasn’t able to finish the job after Izuku shot him. If the bullets these Yakuza used were the same as the ones Toga picked up yesterday, then Overhaul must have lost his quirk when Izuku shot him. The fact that Overhaul didn’t seem too worried about this meant that Uraraka was probably going to be okay eventually.

“Come on, let’s get that bandaged up.” Izuku lead her over to the couch. “Dabi, did you find a new place?”

“Yeah, there’s an old house for sale about 10 minutes from here. It’s not in the best shape, but should only cost us about half of what we got from the casino job,” Dabi explained. “I guess you want to move sooner rather than later?”

“Yes. I’ll move the money through a couple of dummy accounts to make sure they can’t trace it, but we should be able to buy the new place by this evening.” Izuku said, pulling out some bandages to wrap up Uraraka’s leg.

“Well, you should make sure they can’t track us there with whatever they used to find us here,” Dabi said. He noticed the box of bullets on the table. “Hey, are those from yesterday?”

Izuku looked at what Dabi was talking about. “Yes. I was trying out the gun this morning, but I’m starting to think there’s something special about those bullets.”

Dabi emptied the box onto the table. Bullets rolled around the table and fell on the floor, but Dabi was only interested in the empty box.

He shoved the empty bullet box under Izuku’s nose. “Doesn’t that look like an electronic tracker?”

A small red light was blinking at the bottom of the box. There wasn’t much encasing it, but it should be enough for a little circuitry.

Izuku scowled. “You’re right. Do me a favor and destroy it?”

A puff of blue flames later and it was done.

------

Izuku had planned a while ago on meeting with a local support gear supplier to refill Uraraka’s air canisters, order more syringes for Toga, and get more bullets for himself. However, the morning after they moved hideouts he didn’t start the meeting with any of those requests.

Instead, he slapped a wad of cash on the table. “I’ll give you all this right now if you can tell me the location of the Eight Precepts of Death’s headquarters.

The supplier raised an eyebrow, but was more than happy to provide that information.

----------

“You know, all this sneaking around is more of Toga’s thing,” Dagi said. “Why didn’t we bring her?”

“She wanted to look after Uraraka,” Izuku reminded him. “Besides, we shouldn’t need her quirk for this.”

About a week after the confrontation with Overhaul in the old warehouse, Uraraka had gotten her quirk back but still wasn’t in fighting shape. Izuku would never say how relieved he was when she made her blanket float by accident, but getting shot in the leg would put her out of condition for a while longer. Toga had felt so guilty for not checking for trackers when she brought stuff home, so she’d gone above and beyond to make Uraraka’s recovery as comfortable as possible.

Izuku, though, had thrown himself into getting revenge on the Eight Precepts of Death and Overhaul. A few innocent questions to the local small-time villains and Izuku had gathered plenty of information on both the major members and their business practices. Apparently they were trying to dominate the underground again using drugs that enhanced and removed quirks, and held a monopoly on both quirk enhancers and the quirk-erasing bullets.

To be honest, it kind of reminded Izuku of how All For One had maintained a stranglehold on villain society for so many years by taking and giving quirks as he saw fit. Izuku knew how much power that could potentially bring, and wanted to make sure the Yakuza couldn't keep it.

Or, better yet, he wanted to take it for himself.

That was why Dabi, Spinner, and Izuku were here now, sneaking into the Eight Precepts of Death’s compound. Toga had given all three of them training on hiding their presence, so they should be able to slip in undetected and destroy the supply of drugs and special bullets. Hopefully they'd get some critical manufacturing equipment as well. Even better, Izuku was hoping to take pictures of their bullet-making process so he could reverse-engineer it.

Spinner, who had been crawling on the ceiling until now, dropped down in front of Izuku and Dabi. “There’s a door to the left,” he whispered.

Izuku nodded. “Let’s check it out.”

Just around the corner where spinner had said, Izuku found a closed door. It wasn’t locked. He opened it, but what he saw made him stop in his tracks.

It was a little girl’s room. Izuku had expected to find a stockpile of weapons, drugs, or the labs they’d use to make those things. Instead, he saw a rainbow painting, dolls strewn all over the floor, and a pink bed.

On the bed, a little girl with a horn looked at Izuku with fear in her eyes.

“A-are you… Is he…” The girl was trembling, but tried to voice her question. “Does he need to unmake and remake me again?”

Unmake and remake? Izuku wondered. That sounds like Overhaul’s quirk...

Suddenly, what she was saying clicked in Izuku’s mind.

“Dabi, Spinner, go on ahead. Take pictures of anything you think I’d be interested in, and destroy any stockpiles you can find.” He said.

Izuku heard the two of them leave, but didn’t take his eyes off the girl. He walked slowly towards her, holding out his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m not with Overhaul,” he said. “My name’s Izuku, what’s yours?”

The girl looked at his hand wearily and didn’t move. Eventually, her quiet voice said, “I’m Eri.”

Izuku gave her a comforting smile. “Hello Eri. Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

Eri did not respond, so Izuku went ahead and sat on the bed.

“Does Overhaul unmake and remake you a lot?” he asked.

Eri looked down at her hands, but eventually nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure it must be painful.” Izuku reached a comforting hand out and gave her a one-armed hug.

Surprisingly, Eri didn’t flinch. She actually started to lean into his arm some more.

“Do you want to leave here?”

Eri looked up at Izuku in surprise. “I.. Can I leave?”

Izuku gave her a comforting smile. “If you want, I can take you away from here. There’s already five people in one house so it might not be as comfortable as you’re used to, but at least Overhaul won’t hurt you anymore.”

Eri clutched his hand, holding onto it with more strength than he thought her small body could muster. Her eyes were wide with hope. “Please, please, please! I don’t want to be unmade anymore!” She was on the edge of sobbing.

Izuku held her close, shushing her. Looking at Eri, he couldn’t help but remember when he was young and All For One had just taken him in. Did he tremble in fear as much as Eri?

No, he probably hadn’t. All For One hadn’t been actively torturing him.

Izuku tightened her arms around Eri and lifted her off the bed. She was so light, Izuku suspected she’d been malnourished.

“Try to be quiet,” he whispered. “I don’t want anyone to notice what I’m doing.”

Eri nodded and put a finger to her lips, the universal symbol for “quiet.”

And so, Izuku walked out of the Eight Precepts of Death’s facility with a little girl in tow, leaving Dabi and Spinner to destroy the drugs and bullets.

For some reason, they weren’t able to find the process to make quirk-destroying bullets.

---------

“Aw, aren’t you the cutest thing!” Uraraka squealed at the sight of Eri.

Dabi, on the other hand, gave Izuku a hard look. “Izuku, why did you have to take her home?”

Izuku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Aw, Dabi, you’re just jealous that she’s so cute!” Toga said.

“Umm…” Eri fidgeted with her nightgown. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a burden…”

“No, no, no you’re not a burden!” Uraraka said. “Dabi’s just being a stick in the mud. By the way, it doesn't look like Izuku brought any of your clothes with you. Would you like to get some new clothes?”

Eri fiddled with her nightgown some more. “If you want.”

“Hm… you can’t go to the store in that nightgown…” Toga considered. “Oh, I’ve got it! Eri, come with me real quick.”

Toga led the tiny girl up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Once the girl was out of earshot, Izuku turned to Dabi. “Overhaul has been using his quirk on her. Regularly destroying her body and putting it back together. I couldn’t leave here there.”

“I see,” Dabi suddenly turned away from Izuku. “Well, there’s also the fact that she’s a kid growing up in the ‘care’ of a villain organization…”

“Dabi!” Uraraka hissed.

Izuku couldn’t figure out what they were implying, but before he could ask Toga returned with Eri.

“Ta-da!” Toga said, showing off Eri dressed in a black t-shirt that was so much bigger than her it worked like a dress.

Izuku recognized the design. “Isn’t that my shirt?”

“Well, you’re not using it right now,” Uraraka said. “Besides, it looks so much better than that ratty nightgown.”

Eri shuffled over to Uraraka, apparently to show off her clothes. Something made her trip and hit Urarak’s hurt leg.

“Ugh!” Uraraka grunted in pain from the impact.

Eri immediately jumped back. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Oh, no, it’s fine sweety,” Uraraka assured her, sitting up from the couch. “It was an accident, after all…”

Uraraka froze. Something was different. She unwrapped the bandages around her leg. The wound was completely gone.

Somehow, Eri’s bump had healed her.

“Wow Eri! You have a healing quirk?” Toga asked.

“N-no, that’s not it.” Eri was trembling again. “It’s dangerous. I ‘rewind’ people, and it can make people completely disappear by accident…”

“Well, that just means you need to learn to control it,” Uraraka said.

Eri was close to tears now. “But I can’t control it. The only person who can control it is Overhaul, when he uses me to cleanse the world of quirks…”

Izuku’s breath caught. Is she saying…?

Swiftly, Izuku kneeled down so he was eye level with her. “Eri, your quirk is your power, nobody else’s. Overhaul won’t touch you again, and I know you’ll figure out how to control it with time.”

“But… But what if I hurt someone?” Eri asked.

“We’ll be careful, and I’ll help you get a handle on it. Okay?” Izuku said, patting her on the head.

Eri still looked concerned, but didn’t protest.

“Hey Uraraka, since you’re doing better, how about you take Eri and Toga shopping? She needs clothes, after all.” Izuku said.

“Right! That’s a wonderful idea,” Uraraka said, bolting up off the couch. “Come on you two!”

“Yay! It's a girls-only outing!” Toga cheered, taking Eri’s hand and following Uraraka out the door.

With the girls gone, Dabi and Spinner went to their rooms to catch up on sleep. Izuku though, grabbed a particular gun and the corresponding bullets and walked down to the old hideout where his shooting gallery was still set up.

One by one, Izuku emptied clip after clip of the quirk-erasing bullets. They destroyed the cans and stained the whole place red, but Izuku just kept shooting until the last bullet made from a little girl’s suffering had been spent.

This was his redemption.

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

The next day, the Mustafu police force received an anonymous tip about the source of illegal quirk enhancing and erasing drugs. They forwarded this information to the Nighteye agency, where All Might’s successor was still interning. This prompted a raid on the Eight Precepts of Death’s facility, where the hero LeMillion defeated the villain Overhaul.

The public at large didn’t think too much of this, but Mirio and Sir Nighteye both thought it was too convenient, especially since none of the Yakuza and tried to use their quirk-erasing bullets. They asked to interrogate Overhaul about this, and the police granted their request.

“Someone took the child. My guess is that green-haired kid with a smart mouth, but I can’t say for sure,” Overhaul said in response to questioning.

"The child?" Mirio asked.

"What green-haired kid?" Nighteye asked instead.

Overhaul scratched the side of his face. "The girl is none of your concern, but if you must know she's the Boss's granddaughter. Now for the green-haired kid, he's apparently the leader of a new small-time group of villains. I don't know his name, and I wouldn't have even concerned myself with him if he hadn't stolen some quirk-erasing bullets from me. He didn't even seem to realize what he'd done, but still made himself a nuisance."

"You still haven't explained what this has to do with your lack of resources," Nighteye pressed.

Mirio want to ask about the girl again, but let his mentor take the lead.

"A few days ago someone broke into our facility and destroyed our entire stash of bullets and drugs. They burned them and scattered the ashes so even I couldn’t reonstruct them. They also took the only source I had for the quirk-erasing bullets. I investigated, and found out that some green-haired boy had been asking about our operations. His description matched someone I’d recently caught stealing from our legitimate businesses, so I planned to track him and his gang down, but you showed up first.”

“You say this boys took your source for the quirk-erasing bullets. Is it possible he’ll try to create his own?” Nighteye asked.

“I doubt it. But if he does, well, that’s your problem isn’t it?” Overhaul responded.

“Would you be willing to tell us what you know about the green-haired boy and his gang?” Mirio asked, “If nothing else, so we can save the girl.”

Overhaul gave Mirio a calculating stare for a few moments. “I’ve only seen three of them. I don’t know what the green-haired boy’s quirk is, but he is skilled with a pistol and has a deep understanding of the underworld and how it works. He’s got this brunette girl in his group, and her quirk somehow lets her and the people she’s fighting float. The last one I only saw a glimpse of, but his body was covered in burn scars that may have been because by his blue-flame quirk. Is that good enough for you?”

“It’s a decent start,” Nighteye said. “Mirio, let’s go.”

As they walked through the walls of Tartarus, Mirio turned to Nighteye. “Did you get enough information?”

“Not even close. Overhaul is definitely hiding something,” Nighteye pulled out his phone and started texting his sidekicks. “There’s a good chance we’ll learn more if we can find that green-haired kid and figure out if he really did destroy the stash and steal the source of those bullets.”

“And the girl?” Mirio asked.

“Again, we need to find the green-haired kid before we can judge.” Nighteye suddenly stopped, a look of shock on his face. “Mirio, did you notice how Overhaul started talking about the girl but quickly changed to talking about the source of the bullets?”

Mirio's heart sunk. “You think that’s because they’re the same thing?”

Nighteye started walking faster. “I don’t know for sure, but we have to find that green-haired boy.”

Unfortunately, the Nighteye Agency’s investigation on this matter proved fruitless for about a month. The most they got were a few rumors about a kid collecting support gear, but they never led anywhere.

That is, until a green-haired boy introduced himself and his friends to the world by attacking Endeavour.

#villain month 2019 #mha villain au #bnha #overhaul #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #abuse tw #guns tw #violence tw #myfanfic

6 notes · View notes

theawkwardterrier · 5 years

Text

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 10

AO3 link here

Drea is the only one of his kids who Steve successfully gets into baseball. Rosie at age six tells him seriously that she has other, more important things to do than watch grownup men get excited about a ball, Em sits patiently through a couple of games that she clearly has no interest in, and Nate, when offered a chance to visit the ballpark for the first time at five years old says, "If you would be happy about it," in such a sweet, guileless way that Steve chokes up and tells him right away to forget about it. (Peggy is only too happy to have him look for someone else to bring - while she knows the rules by now and has watched a few games herself, he thinks that she'd have happily abdicated her seat to any passerby who wanted it. It's fine: she once tried to explain the rules of cricket, and he thinks he might still be comatose.)

But Drea loves it enough for all the rest of them, collecting cards, scanning the sports section each morning as the season approaches, and talking statistics like they're her second language. Nothing much has changed for her since they moved to Maryland: she has a group of boys to trade cards with, her best friends even as she enters junior high, and she's still a solid early choice in a schoolyard or street pickup game.

Steve's too cheap to shell out for Orioles season tickets - they live closer to DC, so getting to Baltimore is less convenient especially for weeknight games, but he's pretty sure that Washington loses their team sometime soon and he doesn't want his daughter getting attached and going through the same heartbreak he did - but he makes sure to take her to a few games a season, just the two of them.

It's a beautiful May Sunday, and the Orioles have just absolutely trounced Kansas City. Steve tosses their hot dog wrappers in the trash on the way out - four of his, one of Drea's - and wraps his arm around her, kissing the top of her baseball cap-covered head as they join the chattering crowd on the way back to their car.

"That was a great game," he says. "I think the O's have a good chance of making the series this year, huh?"

"I'm not very much like other girls, am I?"

It's more momentum than anything that keeps Steve walking. "What do you mean?" he asks carefully, looking down at her. The brim of her cap blocks him from seeing her face, but her shoulders hunch a little under his hand.

"I'm not like Mom," she says. "Or like Emma."

"Well that’s good, because I don't know if I could handle two Emmas. We'd never be able to finish all the desserts." Steve jokes. "And it would be a pretty big coincidence if you were like Mom." Everyone in town is used to the Carters by now, but when they had moved down from New Jersey five years ago, the variation in looks between the children and their lack of similarity to either parent had brought reactions ranging from pity to outright disdain.

"That's not what I mean." Drea starts to walk a little faster, even knowing that her dad can keep up. Her words come out in small, breathless bursts, and Steve aches a little at the bravery it is taking her just to keep speaking them. "It’s just...they know about girl stuff. Mom knows when to wear fancy gloves and pearls and it never looks weird, and Emmy just knows how to talk with other girls. They understand everything without even trying. They like this stuff. The only stuff I like is boy stuff."

"Hey," he says, pulling her to the side of the crowd so he can stop and bend to face her. He peers into the shadow beneath her ball cap, finding her jewel-dark blue eyes. "You're a girl. Anything you like is girl stuff."

She turns away from him. "Yeah, okay."

"I know that Em is a certain kind of girl—" Emma has already requested her own set of mixing bowls for Christmas. Practically the only time she wears pants is in the garden. She used to spend entire afternoons pouring “tea” for a dozen dolls and stuffed animals, signing politely to them as she sipped with an extended pinky. "But your mom put up with a lot during the war, and even now there are plenty of people who say that she isn't doing the things a woman should do. And what about Rosie? She doesn’t exactly fit into a box."

"It's different for me than it is for Rosie." That she says it simply, without a sigh or a teenage eyeroll, makes him sad. Even sadder than that: she's right. As much as he doesn't want it to be, it is different for her than it is for Rose, or Emma, or even Peggy.

"Okay," he says. "You're different than some girls. But that doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong. And I would hate for you to change the way you are or the things you love just because you felt that you had to fit in.” He tries to smile. “Besides, Bucky and the family are coming to visit over the summer and I promised them a good time, which means a trip to the ballpark with the two of us."

This time she does sigh, a tiny hiccup of not being entirely understood or at least of realizing that her father can't fix everything for her. "Yeah," she says again. "Okay."

Steve stands to his full height once again and hugs her against his side for a moment. He and Peggy have changed a lot, but there are some things even more stubborn than they are.

Tonight was supposed to be a date night with Steve, but there’s been a new FBI head for three, nearly four years now, and Peggy is only just getting around to inviting him and his wife for a collegial dinner engagement. Steve very sweetly said that he doesn't mind any of the time that he gets to spend with her, but she knows that this isn't exactly his idea of an enjoyable evening out. She'll have to remember to make it up to him.

"Which one?" she asks Drea, holding three dress options in front of herself. There's a deep, vivid scarlet number, a classic flared black, and a black and aubergine paneled silk with the tags still on.

Drea considers. "The red. Daddy likes it when you wear red."

"So he does." She strips off her robe and leaves it on the back of the chair as she slides the dress over her head, moving to the mirror to do up the last of the zip and smooth it over her hips. Peggy keeps herself fairly trim, but it's been a while since she wore this particular dress, and one never knows how things might have changed.

In the glass, she glimpses Drea, her black hair tangled and wild around her shoulders as always, her knees tented as she tucks nearly her whole narrow body into the white T-shirt she's wearing: one of Steve's undershirts, no doubt. Drea practically lives in them as it gets warmer. If it were prior to Lula-Cat's escape of the previous summer, the beast would surely be purring on the bed beside her favorite Carter, allowing herself to be petted as she got fur all over Peggy's clean pillowcases.

She is almost fourteen, Peggy realizes with a pang, and not only because her children are growing up even more quickly than she had expected. They will have another year of people plausibly believing her to be a late bloomer, perhaps not even that. She, Steve, Drea and her doctor have an appointment soon for a discussion, and Peggy makes a note to sit down Howard with as well. The little tools he's made for Emma - the vibrating clip for her swimsuit for when they go to the beach, the egg timer with its flashing lights - have been helpful, but the things he could make for Drea might be lifesaving.

As she moves to the vanity and fixes her face, traces on her vividly red lipstick with a practiced hand, thinks for a moment and adds pearl earrings and a simple crystal necklace which Steve gave her for their fifteenth anniversary, she fights to keep both the fear and calculation from her face. Drea already looks melancholy enough.

Peggy sits at the edge of the bed to put on her hose and her pumps. She is just about to get up and take in the final product when Drea says from beside her, "Mom, can you teach me how to put on makeup?"

Peggy pauses for just a moment, then asks, "What brought this on?" She allows only a tiny amount of surprise into her voice. It would be unbelievable otherwise, but the true amount of shock she feels at the question would be insulting, would drive her daughter away.

"Some girls at school are starting to use it. And I—" Her voice falters a bit, then comes back stronger, perhaps too strong, as if she's given herself a stern lecture. "I think I should also know how."

"I think you're a bit young for it, and I'm not sure that 'because everyone else is doing it' is a particularly good reason," says Peggy, continuing over the beginning of Drea's protestations. "But if that's what you truly want, I can certainly give you a lesson or two." She sighs, perhaps a bit theatrically. "Goodness knows I'd have liked for Rosie to ask before she made her first attempts."

It works. Drea laughs a little, remembering Rose's early experiments with cheap drugstore eye makeup and vending machine lip color in a particularly revolting shade of tangerine that gave her a rash.

Peggy stands, smoothing her dress one final time and going over to the closet. She takes out a handbag, and riffles through Steve's tie hanger, selecting a red one which will match her dress and coordinate well with the gray suit she had watched him put on earlier.

"Are you ready?" Drea asks, her voice a bit less dispirited than it had been a few moments earlier, and Peggy nods and moves toward her. Drea spritzes the perfume precisely, two sprays that float in the air for Peggy to walk through. She had always touched on her own scent, a bit at each wrist and at her throat, and just a drop or two on a sachet in her brassiere, but then the children had come along, and now this was a particular tradition whenever one of them helped her get ready.

"Be good for Rose," Peggy says as she leaves the room, and Drea calls back, "If she's good to me."

Rose herself is sitting sprawled out in the doorway of her bedroom, scribbling into a notebook. She is in the midst of a hard-fought campaign for presidency of the upcoming senior class, and lately seems to have decided to plop herself down whenever an idea might catch her. Her legs aren’t long, even at the end of her growth spurt, but she’s positioned herself so they stretch out into the hallway and Peggy steps over them as she passes.

"Don't forget about bedtime," she reminds her eldest, and Rose makes a vague affirmative sound before she places a firm full stop at the end of whatever sentence she is writing and, stretching, looks up at her mother.

"What did you say?"

"Bedtime," Peggy repeats firmly. "Your siblings must adhere to it. As should you. I know that school is coming to an end, but it isn’t here yet."

"Fine," Rosie says with a wave of her hand, and Peggy knows that she'll see the bedroom light snap off just as they turn up the driveway. She starts on her way again (if Rose wants to develop poor sleeping habits, that is her responsibility) but then turns back.

"And be kind to your sister," she tells Rose, dropping her voice a bit. "I think she's having a hard time."

"I can make her a Surprise," Rose suggests, and Peggy shudders, and not just because of Rosie's notoriously poor cooking skills. Drea is the only one of the children with clear memories of her birth parents - she was five when they were killed in a fire while out for their anniversary dinner. One of the things she remembers most clearly is the multitude of casseroles her birth mother made: Hamburger Surprise, Tuna Surprise, Potato Surprise... Peggy has no doubt that they were as ordinary, or perhaps as lackluster, as any example of such a dish, but Drea had built them up in her mind, built them up for Nate, who had no memories of their parents, such that she had spent her childhood requesting various types of Surprises for birthday meals or following an especially good report card.

Steve has turned into a good cook and with Emma at his side they can turn out almost anything, but a Surprise has never been Peggy’s idea of fine cuisine.

"Supper is already being taken care of," Peggy says, adding the thankfully for you only mentally. She can smell Sam's Cornbread in the oven now, can hear the airy silence downstairs, punctuated with little sounds that signify Steve refereeing a fight between Emma and Nate, likely about how much spice to add to the chili. "Just be nice to Drea."

"If she's nice to me," Rosie says, and Peggy refrains from lifting her eyes upward and asking why she had been given two daughters who were so similar and yet refused to realize it.

"Everyone's finished their schoolwork, but make sure that Nate’s book report ends up in his bag. And Emma is trying a new recipe for creamed Brussels sprouts - please tell everyone that they must at least taste it. Don’t simply take the whole pot and bury it in the garbage pail, and certainly don’t try to throw it in the woods the way you did the spinach," Peggy tells her shrewdly, but a new idea seemed to have struck and Rosie is back to her notebook again.

Peggy moves on. Rose has minded her siblings before, and Peggy doesn't want to be late to the dinner and cause an inter-agency incident; Howard would never let her hear the end of it. Besides, she and Steve will have an opportunity to discuss Drea in the car over - there comes a point where even a night away from the children is never truly away from the children.

Rosie lets Nate and Emma stay up for an extra half hour to cement herself as a Cool Older Sister. Once they're asleep, she knocks on Drea's door, barely waiting to be invited before she enters.

Drea is lying on her back on her bed, tossing a ball up and catching it.

"Be careful it doesn't hit your face," Rose says, hoping that it doesn't come out mean or bossy the way her words sometimes do when she's talking to Drea.

"It’s never happened to me before.” Drea doesn’t take her eyes off the ball. “Just because you’re still scarred from the Wiffle Ball Incident—”

“You said you wouldn’t ever mention that!” Rose comes in and closes the door all the way. “Ugh, just move over.” Drea groans as she sits up against the headboard, but she tucks her legs up to make room and Rosie takes a seat. “Look, I heard you asking Mom about makeup and stuff. Are people giving you trouble at school? Because I’ll give them a talking to if they are.”

“You’re not queen of the high school yet. No one has to just listen to you when you go blab in their face,” says Drea, jutting out her chin, although they both know that when Rosie gives someone a talking to, it not infrequently involves violence. (There had been a question about whether or not she was even allowed to run for the student council based on the number of detentions and suspensions on her record.)

“You’re my sister,” says Rose, setting her own chin. “And if someone’s making problems for you, I’ll take care of it.”

Despite herself, Drea laughs. “You sound like Jimmy Hoffa.”

“Maybe, but Mom would make sure that I covered my tracks better than he did.” Rose lies back across the bed, legs just long enough for her feet to still touch the floor. She turns her face, her hair fanned around her as she looks at Drea, curled up at the head of the bed. “You know I’m serious, right?”

“I know. But it’s not really someone in particular, it’s just...life.”

Rosie sighs. “Yeah.” She puts out her hand, and Drea scooches down to grasp it. “Life’s hard.”

Sarcasm is on the tip of Drea’s tongue - “Tell me more, oh wise one!” - but instead she stays quiet and holds her sister’s hand until their parents return.

Drea and Steve go with Bucky, Layla, and their kids to watch a blowout Orioles win during their vacation at the end of July - Drea cheers louder than anyone. In August, after they've returned from their own vacation, Peggy sits Drea down at the vanity and walks her a half dozen different beauty products, while Rose comments loudly from the bed. Just before school starts in September, Drea uses her allowance to get a flat iron and gives herself three burns learning how to use it.

The Orioles lose the Series to the Mets, and Drea starts wearing dresses for the first time since she was a child.

It won’t be any help, Steve realizes as she sits down across from him at the breakfast table, settling her skirt self-consciously, sitting up straight and crossing her ankles with awkward politeness, to remind her once more that she doesn’t need to do this. She has a good head on her shoulders, and she’s using it to process everything in the world that tells her otherwise. He remembers what Peggy has said about it, that she’ll come back to herself, she’ll come back to them, when she’s ready. So instead he says, “Hey, kid,” and when she looks up at him, he smiles and tells her, “there’s always next year, you know? Always another shot if we need it.”

And to his relief, she smiles back, the expression familiar, wild-edged and lovely, the same as it’s always been. Hello in there, he thinks.

“Yeah, Dad,” she says. “There’s always next year.”

More chapters here

#Steggy fic #Steggy #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #things left behind fic #probably nothing new next week while I do other fic prep

13 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 6 years

Text

Lush

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

- BTS Aesthetic - Jungkook -

~ Just some fluff to make your butterflies flutter ~

Vegetation.

Red tomatoes dangle from their stems in countless rows before you, encircled by thick, plush trees. The vegetation surrounding the scene abundant that the sun barely shines above it instead remains covered leaving shadows of swaying leaves along the ground. Yellow butterflies flutter amongst the grass, landing on colorful flowers spread across the land. Faintly, you hear cautious hooves rummaging through the forest, the movements lightly crunch along the piles of leaves though you hardly register what it may be. Taking a step forward, your fingertips brush one of the shiny, plump fruits, the red glistening beneath what little sun is protruding through.

The dirt beneath your feet indents leaving a trail of your journey behind you. Gazing at the tomatoes, you're in awe of how a simple seed can grow into something so beautiful along with many other plants that enrapture your soul. When the field of tomatoes seems to come to an end, a bright light piques your attention, your feet shifting onto freshly mowed grass. Something about the light really draws you in, especially with it nearly blinding you. Inwardly, you urge yourself to continue forward, your hand resting above your forehead to dim some of the brightness.

A large tree appears in your vision once your eyes adjust, mossy patches gather along the end of the trunk, a gray stone rests above where the tree roots are buried deep into the earth. Your eyes pan over the sight until they land upon a figure dawned in white clothing, back leaned against the stone, fingers fiddling with what looks to be a flower. You tilt your head, consumed with the way his eyes remain focused on the floret, his thin lips murmuring to himself with each petal he removes, them swaying to the ground or onto his raised knees, and noting his soft pink hair waving on his forehead and long enough to cover the tips of his ears.

The entire moment is angelic to you. Heavenly in a sense. His countenance without the knowledge of your presence moves you to the point you want to call his name. If only, you realize, you knew it. When he reaches the final petal, you instinctively step forward, your lips parted in preparation to speak when the jolt of a doe breaks your concentration, the boy lifting his head with widened eyes, turning to see who has entered-

Running a few errands, you forgot to bring a water bottle along with you which primes you to run by a dollar store with the plan of purchasing water as well as a few other things before returning home. For some reason, you are extremely thirsty today, the summer sun hasn't given a break enough to be able to breathe properly. Either way, you're thankful for your day off, though you can't wait to return to work tomorrow. The greenhouse you work in on the weekends has been a dream, holding numerous flowers, other buildings holding different vegetables or fruits, a backyard filled with a cornfield and a strawberry field- the plantation so immense that it gained popularity from the folks living in your small town. Every employee is assigned certain positions. Yours happens to be with the flowers, though your coworkers love surprising you with baskets of vegetables or fruit whenever there's a lot left over after the harvests.

Monday through Thursday though, you work in an antique shop as a manager. You're the biggest workaholic you know, but art, plants, and the realms of nature have been your passions your whole life. Walking along the isles, you finish retrieving what little items you need, and you head to the register. You're uncertain of why your head feels so foggy, but once you pay for your items, you waltz out the door, zipping your wallet and placing it in your pocket.

"Ma'am!" Someone calls, "Ma'am wait!"

It takes you a moment to realize that the deep voice is calling for you. Turning around, you see someone approaching you, waving an arm in the air until they capture your attention, the sound of a plastic bag clashing with each step.

"Sorry, ma'am. You left this," Your eyes land on the bag holding the items you just bought. Embarrassment immediately flooding your features.

"Oh, my word," you breathe, reaching for the bag, "Thank you so much, I can't believe I left without-"

Your heart halts when the familiarity of the man's pink hair floods your vision. Bright, brown eyes meet yours, your shoulders tensing at the recognition of his face. Someone that appeared in your dreams the night before.

"It's no problem at all," He smiles, his eyes timidly keep your gaze, his hand falling to the side once the bag is hanging from your stiff digits.

With a terse nod, you grin, "I hope you have a nice day." Your heart pounds as you brisk to your car, the strangeness of the whole situation nearly floors you. Have you seen him before? Is that why he somehow crept into your dreams? Either way, you buckle your seatbelt, igniting the engine and driving toward your home, brushing off the whole thing as nothing more than just a mere coincidence.

Maize stalks aim for the sky, the leavings tickling your figure with the light breeze whisking between the greenery. The golden cobs peek from where they're held, the sky a light blue as cirrostratus clouds hover in sight. Your fingertips brush the smooth, yet numerous rows of kernels amazed by the beauty of such a grain- how they grow in rows to feed the world along with many other plants. You spring forward, skipping through the cornfield to find an entrance to the shining light ahead. When you find yourself exiting your previous adventure, the scene before you is breathtaking- the sun brightening the earth as you notice the vacant tree with the stone sitting next to it appearing in your peripherals.

What captures your vision brings a small smile on your parted lips. A lone doe grazes along the grass, her light brown fur evident amongst the colors of the plantation. As if aware, she raises her head, flicking her ears as the wind picks up- her black nose twitches, abruptly turning her head to meet your entranced stare. The doe stiffens at the discovery of your company, but remains in place, firmly planted in the one dwelling she feels safe.

"It's okay," you try to speak, but no words are heard- raising your hand just enough to show her you will not do anything to hurt her. The doe's eyes stay locked on your being, even when pink flower petals softly brush your skin. With furrowed eyebrows, you lift your head to see a shower of them falling from the sky in slow motion, covering the terrain like a blanket of snow. When you turn to find the doe, she's gone. Your assumption is she skittishly ran away which brings an ache to your heart, but you understand her instinct for flight. The sunlight trails to the tree and stone- beyond them your eyes see him. The silhouette dressed in white- his back facing you, yellow butterflies sparsely cling to his clothing, their wings fluttering just enough to enchant the air with their magic. When his figure shifts, you see his hands are raised in front of his chest, his fingers poised as you see two butterflies resting on them. His vision never leaves their beating wings, smiling down at them with the mindset of friendship. You want nothing more than to join him, basking in the glory of the sunshine and the gentle nature of the butterflies, the frolicking of deer in the fields yonder, and catching flower petals replacing rain.

You watch him carefully, not realizing the forward motion you're making. Nearing him, a butterfly flutters from his shoulder to fly in your direction, the man turns to follow the Lepidoptera- eyes enlarging in surprise when he sees who it's traveling to-

Watering the daisy section brings the conversant scent of water and dirt, a fragrance you never want to lose. Reds, pinks, yellows, blues, and purples brighten the greenhouse, a few fans above bring a cooling breeze to the plants, along with relief from the humidity lingering outside. You love the smell of plants which is why you're thankful you only work here on weekends, that way everything remains fresh with every shift. You saunter to the rose section, taking a whiff of one of the deep red emblems with a smile spreading across your face. You're so mesmerized by the attar, you hardly notice the door closing signifying a customer is in the midst. You reach to sniff a pink rose this time, a low hum sounding in your throat.

"Hello, I came to see if-"

Your hand flies to your chest as your eyes widen- the thrumming of your heart evident.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," The deep voice says, which then you apologize for jumping like you did. When you raise your head to meet the customer, you freeze. It's the same person who not only appears in your dreams but is also the same person who rescued you from leaving purchased items behind.

"It's okay," you reply, gaining your composure, "How can I help you?" You smile, trying to ignore the faint attraction withering within you. You notice he squints his eyes at you in wonderment, trying to figure out where he may have seen you.

"You're the one from yesterday," he then says, snapping his fingers then shyly chuckling, not meaning to avoid your question, "I remember now. I didn't know you work here."

"Just on weekends," you nod, your demeanor timid when he tilts his head with interest.

"Are you in college?"

"Oh no, this is actually my second job. I'm a manager of an antique shop," you mention, then pondering what brings this handsome stranger to the greenhouse of all places. "What about you?"

"I work at a wildlife rehab center." He grins, your eyebrows raising in surprise, "I work with animals that have been injured or animals that were found abandoned as neonates, so we raise or rehabilitate them until they can be released,"

"That's- that's amazing," you stutter, the memory of your latest vision clouding your mind. The face of the doe flashes, and you can't help the astonishment on how much your dreams of this stranger align with his reality.

"Recently, we released a doe we rehabilitated from a wounded leg," he murmurs, sadness in his brown eyes as he slips his hands in his pockets. "I just hope she doesn't go through anything like that again." You're uncertain of what to say other than apologizing once again, though you're very happy to hear of her healing, also hoping she remains in good shape and health for the rest of her life. "By the way, I'm Jungkook." He offers his hand, formally introducing himself.

"I'm [Y/N]," you say, firmly gripping his warm hand in yours with a swift shake.

"Sorry, for the distraction. As far as why I'm here, I'm wanting to send a floral arrangement to my mom's work. It's her birthday today," he grins, revealing what flowers he would like and rattling off the address as you swiftly type up everything, packaging the flowers neatly, and Jungkook signing the store copy of his receipt.

Before he turns to leave, he glances at you one more time, his diffident expression imaging yours,

"It's very nice to meet you."

You're flattered especially when he slightly bows in respect to you.

"It's very nice to meet you, too," you bow in return, Jungkook nodding sweetly, soon disappearing out the door, your thumping heart still echoing in the atmosphere.

Strawberries. Vertical lines of strawberries decorate the ground, the triangularly shaped fruits appetizing as you prick one loose from its stem, the sweet taste of it satisfying as you close your eyes. You're not sure how many you've eaten, but you can't seem to get enough as you follow through the field until you reach the opening where the meadow no longer bears fruit. Your lips are stained pink from the binge, though you can't see it, you can feel it, especially when the crave for more remains on your mind.

Glancing ahead, you pause, your smile widening at two deer frolicking a distance away from you. The two playing at each other as they bounce in different directions- completely in their own little world unbeknownst of your presence. When a tapping on your shoulder causes you to gasp, you whirl around to see the wide-eyed gaze of the pink haired gentleman. Apologetically, he stares at you, his lips parted for he didn't mean to frighten you. Bringing a finger to your lips, he follows your gaze to the deer dancing behind you, his heart melting along with yours at the view.

When you turn to face him once again, it's like the world around the two of you disappears, just two individuals lost in a large world, yet held together by the nature that brings happiness to each of your lives. He raises his hand, swallowing in fear, gently settling his palm along with your cheek, the softness of his skin soothing to you as your fingertips brush his wrist. He inches closer, pausing just enough to where his breath sweeps along your lips, the desire building nearly knocking you off your feet.

When you close your eyes waiting for his kiss, he speaks,

"Love me or love me not-"

You've always been incredibly shy. Which is something you've accepted about yourself a long time ago, you decide as you carve at the wood you've been working on the past week. It's starting to resemble a deer, the ones appearing in your dreams almost every night since your first dream about Jungkook. Your coworker is tidying up the floor, taking care of customers, checking in on you from time to time to make sure your current projects are turning out the way you've hoped. As you whittle at the timber, you smile fondly at it, proud at the detail you're able to create.

It's just- as you twirl the current piece in your hand, you elect to not sell it. Instead, you originally created this project with a different intention. Courage revealing itself, you finally conclude that you're no longer going to cower. Taking a quick break, you lean back in your chair, excitement for the following weekend to arrive.

Shrub surrounds you though in the distance clusters of blueberries bring a peaceful feel to the ether, the dark blue reflecting beautifully with the green stems. You sprint toward the fruit, the sun following you as you twirl with the heat of the breeze. Monarch butterflies flap their orange wings, swarms of them tackling the bushes to enhance the scenery with their aura. If rain exists in this utopia, you'd never know, not with the sun bringing such a euphoric feel to this world you love to escape to.

Laughing joyously, you skip through the blueberry field until you appear in the meadow, the grass tickling your ankles, your heart searching for the constant who gives you a sense of sanity. Without missing a step, you turn to see him, shining so vividly in his white attire, you're nearly breathless when you reach him, tapping his shoulder, him facing you with wide eyes- he relaxes when he sees it's you. He gulps, shifting his gaze momentarily before returning to meet yours.

There's nothing you want more than him. This longing for him doesn't make any sense with him being a stranger, but when do visions from deep slumber ever do? You reach for his hand, resting his palm upon your cheek, him closing the gap between you two just enough to where the tip of his nose brushes your cheek. You know what's coming when his lips part, but it's not a kiss he's about to give,

"Love me or love me not?" he mouths, but you don't answer with words.

Instead, you smile, reaching your free hand to cup his cheek, leaving a soft peck on his lips. In that one second, something powerful astounds you, and you pull away breathless. Without hesitation, he kisses you again, the trampling of a multitude of hooves sound in the distance, the rush prevailing like the bravery exuberating from your entity. Kissing him once more, the both of your hearts beating to the rhythm of the trampling hooves, the gentle touches of falling flower petals encompass in a kaleidoscope of colors, vegetation blooming luxuriously across the land. As he wraps his arms tight around your back, your arms rest around his shoulders, letting the sounds of earth envelop the two of you in a blissful imagination.

Weeks pass before you ever see him again. Twirling along the different sections, you've already watered the plants for the day, helping a few stragglers here and there until you find a moment of peace. The dream you dreamed has you in a daze you can't explain, but something about this human enchants you in such a way that you can't seem to think of anything else, but him. As the hours' tick by, you lean across the register in hopes that a crowd will bustle through the doors, but nothing of the sort happens. When closing time nears, you begin to check on everything until the sound of the door alerts you that someone has entered the facility.

Turning on a heel, you nearly faint when you see the light pink hair of Jungkook, looking around the store, before his eyes land on you.

"Hello," you greet with a small wave, "How are you?"

His lips pull into a side grin revealing small dimples you never knew he had. You approach him slowly, folding your arms across your chest as you timidly pause next to the register.

"I'm doing well," he says, "How are you?"

"I'm doing well, too," you say, the two of you trying to gather words to speak, but neither of you seems to be able to let it out.

"How's work-"

"How's the flow-"

Both of you begin simultaneously, chuckling at the awkward situation.

"You first," he smiles widely, your heart fluttering in reaction.

"How's work?" You repeat, Jungkook nodding as he replies,

"Good. I got to see the deer we rehabilitated the other day," his eyes light up, "Decided to visit the meadow not far from here, and there she was."

What he said sparks the reminder of what you've been waiting to give him for weeks now.

"One sec," you lift a finger, turning to ruffle through your purse until the wooden figurine is within your hand. Facing Jungkook, a timid smile adorns your lips, his eyes widening in sweet surprise as you lift the wooden figurine of the doe in his line of vision. "I know we hardly know each other. But what you do for animals, and your story really inspired me. So, I want you to have this," you hand the carved doe to him, his fingertips brushing yours as he accepts it, his mouth ajar.

"Th-thank you," he breathes, "It's perfect. You made this yourself?" You nod, him continuing to express his amazement on your talent. After a few moments, he then lifts his head, his pink hair covering his forehead, silver earrings exposed from the tufts of hair fluffing over the tips of his ears, "I don't know what time you get off work, but if you're up for it, I'd love to show you the meadow," Jungkook's eyes are hopeful as he holds yours, your heart melting in return. "Maybe we will get to see some deer, too."

"Honestly," you begin, your gaze never faltering from his kind, brown eyes, "I wouldn't dream of missing it."

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #kook #kookie #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts kook #bts kookie #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #bts imagine #bts aesthetic #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #aesthetic

44 notes · View notes

margridarnauds · 4 years

Note

fanfic director's cut: ⭐

Since I JUST got done with it (thank God, thank God)....

The opening scene to let me lay my head down (on the shadow by your side)

[tws for suicide references]

So, fun fact about this scene in general: It was not supposed to exist. It was supposed to start with Margrid in the present day, with the rumors about Orléans’ death. But it didn’t FIT for me as far as why someone as cynical as Margrid would genuinely believe a rumor like that, especially when she creates the news herself. I knew why, but it was important to sell the credibility of Margrid panicking without making her appear stupid or gullible, so, I decided to go back in time to establish her frame of mind.

“Where is Mama?” The girl asked, clinging onto her blanket she’d dragged from the room, a little scrap of fabric that had the letters “MA” embroidered on it in red thread.

I did intend to put in the detail that she kept the blanket after her expulsion; it’s the one thing from her old life she clung onto. If she ever has children, it will go to them.

“You should not be up, Margrid,” one of the Sisters stiffened, glaring at the girl.

Margrid Arnaud, age 7, straightened up, fixing her with a glare. “I wish to see my mother.”

So much glaring, so little time. It was important for me to try to establish that, while Margrid’s trauma definitely made her MORE the woman we see here, she was always a bit of a shit. I really wanted to set that dynamic as far as “This is MARGRID; she’s an adorable seven year old, yeah, but also she was DEFINITELY not suited to a convent school life.”

It was several hours after the lights were out, long after the other girls had quieted, and Margrid had not had an hour’s sleep before a nightmare tossed her back up. And the convent was dark at night, and cold. The trees outside her window rattled against the window pane, like the rapping of a ghost (she didn’t believe in ghosts, not like the others, but it was annoying anyway) and she wanted her mama, who had been in her dreams, a sad smile on her face, before-. Ghosts are an ongoing theme in Margrid’s life, at least in terms of this series. We don’t SEE them in this story, at least...not in the literal sense, but that’s definitely an ongoing thing for her, and hopefully, down the line, I can talk a little bit more about how Margrid dealt with superstitions regarding ghosts in the convent.

This section was also a deliberate foil to Madame Roland’s recollection of her time in the convent. In her account, Madame Roland discusses not being able to sleep well during her first night in the convent, and seeing a dim light, and how calming the trees were. And I thought “Excellent, but what if I made a version of that for a scared 7 year old?”

Something was wrong . She could feel it. She always had a feeling when something was going to happen. Sister Agnés, with a fond smile, had sometimes said that she was like a little cat, pricking her fur up before a storm.

I was actually really happy to get to bring Agnés in now, because she’s such an important figure in Margrid’s life and we get to see a trace of that connection here. Also, establishing that Margrid has some sense of the supernatural, which comes in handy down the line and gets the idea across of why Adult!Margrid KNOWS the second something’s off. It’s because she’s seen it all happen again. It’s not too unlike Soléne and the Ankou, where the second she gets that Ankou Vibe, you know SOMETHING is going to happen.

But now, there was no smile on Agnés' face, only pity. (She didn’t want pity.)

Another part where Older!Margrid shows.

“Margrid-” she said, shaking her head before kneeling on the stone floor, taking Margrid’s hands in her big ones. Margrid pulled away. She didn’t want Agnés to soothe her, she wanted to know what was going on. Agnés sighed, shaking her head, “Margrid. Listen to me. There has been a terrible accident. Your mama is in Heaven now.” And here, we see an ongoing problem in Margrid’s relationship with Agnés, namely that she wants to soothe and protect Margrid, but Margrid wants the answers here and now. She doesn’t do coddling, even if she might crave it, at least...not at the expense of being kept out of the loop. “You will not help the girl by lying,” Sister Agathe said, “Your mother is in Hell, by her own decision.”

Genuinely speaking, I didn’t want to entirely rely on Evil Nun stereotypes, because, again, Madame Roland, who provided my main source for information, thought the world of her education. But, at the same time, I did want to show the world that Margrid existed in, as the daughter of a victim of suicide, and how that would really make her into the woman we meet. An alternative name for Agathe had been Sophie, because that word derives from “Knowledge/Wisdom” and her role really is to give that knowledge to Margrid, even if it’s in the most brutal way. I ultimately went with Agathe, though, because it provided a foil to Agnes’ name, not unlike Marie/Margrid in terms of names.

Margrid forced herself on the tips of her toes, fists curled up into balls by her side. “You’re wrong!”

“She ended her own life, child.” The other woman said, glaring down at her while Margrid seethed. “She could not live in the shadow of her sin any more and decided to leave this life, without hope of deliverance.”

“She wouldn’t leave me, she wouldn’t-” Margrid clutched at the blanket, the embroidered letters brushing against the ground.

There was definitely some symbolism intended with the “MA,” which Jeanette Arnaud had stitched by hand, brushing against the ground when she gets the news.

“She is damned to Hell, and you will be too if you continue as you have been.” Agathe raised her nose, “Perhaps she realized what a disrespectful brat she raised and chose to end herself then and there.”

“Sister Agathe,” Mother Superior snapped, “You are too harsh on the child. I would ask you to leave and spend the rest of the evening in reflection.”

This was a small bone to the non-Evil Nun Crowd. I wanted to show that....It wasn’t a matter of evil, abusive people in Margrid’s life that turned her into what she was, it was more that she slipped between the cracks. People like Agnés, people like Mother Superior...they were level headed, they cared about Margrid, in their own way, but they still failed her in the end.

Margrid was silent at that, running the blanket back and forth in her hands. Mama didn’t leave because of her. She wouldn’t. Mama always said that she loved her, didn’t she? If she loved her, she wouldn’t have left her, would she? Unless she didn’t love her, but she said she had, she always did in her letters, she said-

Margrid dealing, for the first time, with the idea that someone SAYING they loved her doesn’t mean they do, or that they’ll stay with her, even if Jeanette really did love her daughter very much. This is the poltergeist that haunts her relationship with Orléans, that idea of “You SAY you want to be by my side, but you’re going to leave me, because everyone else has. The nuns, my mother, everyone I’ve loved in my life. So I’m NOT going to love you because I don’t want to deal with what will happen if I do.”

Something that I really...realized when writing this was that, to a certain extent, even without the political developments that made them at odds, they were doomed almost from the getgo. Because Orléans, despite being manipulative, cunning, and ruthless, does give himself over to Margrid, and he wants more of a RELATIONSHIP, because it is what he’s had in the past. Orléans has been in love before, and yeah, he’s gotten hurt on occasion from it, but all of his affairs closed amiably and they remained friends. Margrid hasn’t had that. She associates love with pain, and so she can’t really give him that openness, even if it’s something he more or less deals with, in the sense of “I know that this is Margrid-ese for ‘I love you.’” It’s one of those situations where you have a relationship that is unbalanced on the surface, but actually has a reversed power dynamic at the core, ala Peyronan. Except, unlike Peyronan, it’s the lower class partner in the relationship who’s closed off emotionally.

Something that I’d actually intended to put in was a little feeling of guilt, feeling like she’d caused her death. Ah well, angst for another day.

“Margrid,” Agnés stroked her hair, and the girl swallowed, and it was like trying to force a boulder down her throat, scratching on the way down, but she continued anyway. They wouldn’t see her cry.

I feel like this is the moment where she really becomes the Margrid we know, starting to mask her real emotions.

“It isn’t true, is it? She’s just saying it to scare me, isn’t she?” Her mama wasn’t dead.

It was just Sister Agathe trying to force her to bend. She never liked that Margrid’s response to her pressing down on her was to press back. The other girls, they looked down when she passed, paid the respects they were told to pay, but Margrid would only glare. It wasn’t that she was disrespectful, not really, though that was the word she heard them say when they thought she was out of earshot. She could be very respectful, once they’d earned it. She respected Mother Superior, and Agnés and Mama, and the Saints and Martyrs and Apostles, even though some of the sisters thought her constant questioning was a sign of disrespect. (How could it be disrespectful, she wondered, if she just wanted to know more?) Sister Agathe just hadn’t.

Something that was interesting for me to work with re: Child!Margrid was that she isn’t nearly as bitter or anti-authoritarian as we see her later on. Like, don’t get me wrong, she COULD be, and she was always going to be that shit, but she genuinely did have some respect, she could have been much more settled, much more bourgeois in how she approached that. She only really became that STRONGLY anti-authority in general when she was expelled. If they had let her grow, if they hadn’t tried to press down on her, if they had answered her questions and treated her like a person with thoughts and feelings...

“Margrid, child…” And she always hated it when they called her “child,” like she was a baby. I might have channeled myself at seven, where I definitely had Thoughts about being treated like a child. I distinctly remember trying to sing “Rock a bye Baby” to a....3/4 year old, and her screaming “I AM NOT A BABY.” She was seven years old, she could understand things. “Your mother has departed this life. We should be strong in this time. Perhaps,” she swallowed, “Perhaps we should offer up prayers for her soul. Would you like that?”

Agnés is trying so, so hard to help Margrid, but this isn’t a situation that she’s really prepared for, and she goes back to her old standby, aka religion. But Margrid, who is increasingly alienated and distrustful of authority...doesn’t WANT that. She doesn’t want to be told to “be strong.”

She reached out her hand, and Margrid took a step away, shaking her head at all of them gathered together, at the pity on their faces. Prayers hadn’t helped her mother in life, how would they in death?

Again, going back to pity. Thank you to Sister Agathe as well for dropping the idea in Margrid’s mind that her mother’s death was retribution for her “sin” of having Margrid, basically nuking Margrid’s already somewhat shaky faith.

“Margrid-” Agnés began, and Margrid didn’t want to hear it. Before they could grab her and choke her with more sympathy, she took off, back to their rooms. She didn’t want to hear it, she didn’t want to hear it, she didn’t-

“Margrid!”

If you remember the German cast, this is a call forward to that, with Agnés once again wanting to get Margrid’s attention and Margrid once again running away.

She ran away from Agnés’ echoing voice, down the long halls, the stone an old friend to her bare feet, not stopping until she reached her room.

I was inordinately proud of myself for “the stone an old friend to her bare feet;” I had this idea that a LOT of Margrid’s recreational time, as a kid, was spent running around, causing mayhem, and so, on some level, she might have known the convent better than most of the nuns.

She got no sleep that night.

#my writing #thank you!#fallenidol-453 #long post

0 notes

themarginalthinker · 7 years

Text

J09 and M10

More backstory. With the the faintest hints of character and plot. huehuehue

Not all experiments go to plan. Hence the term.

The alarms were loud - so loud, it was impossible to hear anything aside from them as their wailing echoed around the concrete halls. Amplified by it's multitude and distorted by it's lack of sync with the other systems in other sections so one could barely tell where one call started and another began. It was all just and endless howling that something had gone horribly, disastrously wrong.

You'd done your duty. Well, as much of it as was possible, given.

You remember hearing the shouting, first.

Sure, it might have been more dramatic to say it was the...the screaming, but you are a scientist. Accuracy first, last, and always. Especially in these walls. No, there was no singular howling of human death and suffering, the sounds of someone being eaten alive or a woman screeching as she idiotically ran from certain death to the delight of the viewer. It was just...shouting. People down the way of the moderately calm and quiet computer labs murmuring as muted calls could be heard above the hum of machinery and air-vents - you wonder again why they had decided that day of all days to switch off comm. devices for de-bugging and maintenance - and then the people just down the hall were yelling too.

Yelling about the gunshots ringing out. (You still wonder how one of them managed to get a gun off of one of the security guards in the first place, let alone know how to operate it...effectively.)

About the experiments - no - the monsters that had gotten free. (The foundation didn’t create monsters. The foundation wouldn’t.)

As you sit there, huddled under the table in the dark with only the red security lights and strobing of alarm beacons illuminating the room every three seconds, your oh-so accurate, objectively-trained mind is in overdrive, wondering if, perhaps...this would be the day this was meant to happen on. When comm devices were off for de-bugging and maintenance, and the only way for news to spread was by actual word of mouth.

It was certainly too coincidental otherwise. You'd know. You and most others here never did, and never would believe in coincidences.

(He was such a smart, clever little creature, picking up what was put down in front of him with more voracity then any human child his age.)

Well...coincidence or no, you were still under a table, curled up as tightly as you could and making sure your lab coat, so bright and stark in the low light, had been tossed away, far away. No matter what, it wouldn't end well for...for them to realize there was someone still in it if they found it. It had been so loud - it was /still/ so loud, the alarms hadn't been shut off yet meaning nothing about the situation had changed.

Except...it was still quiet. Under the electric screaming, you could hear nothing else. Not the sound of another's terrified breaths, no-one whispering that they just want to go home at the end of today to see their family. It's just the minute sounds of your own shoe treads on the tiles of the floor, how even with the shrilling from outside, it's still too quiet compared to /you/ and every beat of your heart.

The foundation prided itself on it's ethical and moral standpoints from the top-down in it's approach to it's particular brand of experimentation and boundary-pushing. The foundation didn't do things recklessly and without careful planning down to the last dustmite in the air.

The foundation didn't create monsters.

Not...not monsters that started as such little things, grinning and pulling at hair, demanding more food and more interesting, ever-more complicated toys to keep an expanding mind at bay.

Not monsters that shot their own mothers.

You remember hiding under a table in an evacuated computer lab because...because you ad to make sure everyone before you left. For once in your accurate, objective, level-headed goal-oriented mind...you were stupid. You didn't wait for the security teams to come and sweep the area. You stayed..to make sure on-one else did.

The foundation doesn't, didn't, and never ever will create monsters.

The thought brings you little comfort here, under the table in a dark room watching red shadows bounce on the walls while trying to discern if the sounds outside the door are alarms or the sounds of something right going horribly, disastrously wrong. - Even months after, staring down with red, slimy gloved hands at the squirming mess of matted fur and flailing, weak limbs they rest in them, so small...you'll remember how, just like it started, it ended so abruptly.

Maybe you thought it was the sound of your own heart exploding in your chest, finally, when the second set of gunshots reverberated off the confined walls in the computer lab around you. There was suddenly certainly more noise then you had any idea of what to do with - how to categorize other then cacophony. Guns, men, something big and angry something hissing and and a voice you knew, frantic and demanding, then pleading and helpless. You had to help it

but that time you stayed.

You bring the tiny mass of body away from the artificial warmth and comfort it's only ever known and to the small basin nearby. Someone, your faithful team, begins prodding and swiping and clipping at the creature, sterilized damp clothes at the ready. Umbilical clamps already in use. It's making noises now as pairs of gentle but business-like hands wipe at it's snub of a nose, dip into the pink, gummy mouth to clear it of all blockages, and you allow those same hands to remove it from yours. You step away.

You watch your teammates wrap the new creation in a white, sterilized towel and place it delicately into the basket of the infant scale. You can see it opening it's mouth to mewl, discomforted by the florescent lights and many hands, but like the arms and legs twitching about, the tail lashing, it produces no force. Not the barest hint of crying, not yet.

Other personnel come in while your team is finishing up the chimera's little 'welcome party' with syringes of vaccination, soft swaddling cloth, nappies and ounces of lukewarm formula. The others are quick to unload the now obsolete artificial womb lining into large green biohazard bins, making quick work of clearing and cleaning out all else that needs going at the moment. It's all so sudden, you might think, if this wasn't simply pure procedure. It began, and then it ended. The time in the middle of it all hardly seemed to matter, or existed at all.

Two experiments - gone.

No-body knows how many to follow.

And from today onwards, they all start with this little beginning. Happy birthday, J17.

May your legacy be the one that doesn't end.

#my writing #chimera au #Chimera Foundation #youtubers #/markiplier #/jacksepticeye #sci-fi #fantasy #morally ambiguous science is....well morally ambiguous #let's play a game of Guess Those Unnamed Characters!!

6 notes · View notes

professor-oak616 · 6 years

Photo

Digital Storytelling: Colourisation Piece

Coloursation has come a long way since it began. Nowadays software such as Photoshop make colourisation a relatively simple process, however, when famous director George Méliès was first experimenting with the technique in his black and white films colourisation had to be done by hand, with brushes, on physical film stock.

Méliès best-known film, A Trip to the Moon, was coloured in this way for certain releases, as was another of his films, The Kingdom of the Fairies. Both films were coloured by Elisabeth Thuillier’s colouring lab - consisting of 200 people all using paintbrushes and all assigned specific colours to paint. It is incredible to see the amount of detailed colour in the films since the act of colouring both films would have been extremely laborious and difficult.

I attempted to create a photorealistic colourisation piece after being inspired by the works mentioned above, although in comparison to modern day colourisation Méliès’ films are arguably coloured abstractly. I chose to work on a picture I found of a cat hiding under a cupboard. I chose this since I knew that anyone who looked at the picture would have a good idea of what a cat was supposed to look like, and I wanted to challenge myself to colourise this photo so effectively that it was not immediately obvious to a viewer that the photo was originally black and white. I decided to make the cats fur a ginger tone and its eyes bright green since I decided this would be the most striking combination but was also a simple colour scheme to incorporate into the image.

The first thing I did to the photo before adding colour was manipulate its shadows and highlights in order to make details in the darkest tones and the lightest more obvious, therefore making the light and dark aspects easier to distinguish between, which helps add detail to the photo, making it easier for both me and the viewer to figure out what colours belong in which areas. In order to colourise my piece I used the quick selection tool to select certain objects or details in the image, then applied a solid colour adjustment layer, before changing the blend mode to colour and reducing the opacity of the colour layer to my preferences.

I am very happy with the outcome of using the quick selection tool to colourise. I think it looks very realistic, especially thanks to the colour blend mode available in Photoshop. This blend mode is especially made for adding colour to photos, and allows darker and lighter details to show through the colour by changing the hues and tones to match the colour I choose to overlay. For example, when colouring the cats fur in my image I only needed to choose one ‘base’ orange colour, before choosing the colour blend mode the cat looked like a solid block of orange but after all details were visible, just orange toned. Repeating this process is how I coloured the entire cat and other objects. I found this to be a very efficient way of colourising as well as being entirely customisable in its colour, blend and opacity decisions.

If I was to undertake the task again I would make sure to spend extra time ensuring absolutely everything in the photo was coloured. On the cupboard around the cat there are some visible patches of uncoloured photo, a result of not being able to quick-select those sections without making the cats whiskers brown too. Next time I would like to investigate different tools and use them interchangeably with the quick select tool as I believe there may be better ways to colourise small details, such as a cat's whiskers.

0 notes

artofhumanfailure · 7 years

Text

Echo the Cat Character Review

It’s been a while now, but I’ve been busy with college. Let’s get back in the game.

I learned about this while in the comments section of a Youtube video talking about OC ripoffs. I hope this is a goldmine because it feels like I stumbled upon a beauty.

Name: Echo

I hope this name actually reflects the character’s personal traits, design, or abilities because this name is not typical and is usually given to a character based on the qualities I mentioned above.

For example, Echo the Dolphin is named such because they have the ability to communicate and defeat enemies with their sonar echoes.

Nicknames: Coco, Kitty-cat, Kitten, Cool-cat

.....I don’t think you want to be called “Cool Cat”

Age: 15

Ah....Sonic’s age. So there’s a shipping coming up, I presume?

Race: Cat

Gender: Female

Height: 3'5

Weight: (unknown)

How the hell is her weight unknown?!

Is she embarrassed to say it or has she never step foot on a scale before?

I mean for crying out loud, if you don’t want to decide on putting the information there, just don’t include it.

Eye Color: Sky blue

Hair: Blonde

Fur color: Neon Pink with black stripes

So I’m going to go into detail more about why this design choice is kind of distracting and bad, but I will say on a positive note that the error of design lies specifically with the color pallette choice and not necessarily because of the neon look.

Family:Aura(mom), Sage(dad) both currently missing

Of course they are.....Also, why mention parents? It’s not like these other characters have parents we are aware of, so your’s being missing doesn’t make you special or more sympathetic as a character.

Profession(s)/Job: Treasure hunter

....Rouge?

Wealth Status: Rich

No surprise there, buddy. She’s a treasure hunter. Although, I’m unsure how this is relevant since money is usually never brought up in Sonic universe.

These characters are anthropomorphic animals that have dangerous adventures to go on. Who cares about socio-economic status?

Dwelling Place/Current Home: Airship

Any reason why? If it’s so important she’s rich, why isn’t she living in a mansion or something?

Birthplace: Sky sanctuary

I’m not a Sonic fan, so I had to wiki this but here is the problem with this.

The Sky Sanctuary is a collection of ancient ruins located in the sky above Angel Island. It is a holy territory and a sacred precinct which is forbidden for anyone to enter besides Knuckles the Echidna.

Meaning...your kitty can’t be from there. If she were an Echidna, possibly yes. But she’s a cat, so make her origins somewhere else.

Also think about characters like Big the Cat or Blaze the Cat.

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Duh. There are rarely non-heterosexual characters in material like this. Especially for female sonic fangirls. I’m not going to tell you to take this out since it might interest or surprise people, but being heterosexual is usually a given to Sonic OC’s and female OC’s in general.

If you wanted to surprise or interest me, you’d make her gay and in secretly in love with Amy or something.

Weapons: Chain claws

So....she murders people with her sharp claws? Nice.

Trinkets/Favored Items: Purple Opal necklace,-

I’m guessing this has some sentimental value or is simply a fashion choice.

Goggles (though she doesn't wear them)

Fake Steampunk, I guess? And again, if she doesn’t possess a certain quality, don’t bother putting the information here.

-,Codex watch

You mean the watch from Resident Evil 7 or the European luxury watches?

Favorite food: Steak, Pasta and Shrimp

Mm...Good.

Crush: Secret ^^

For the last time, if you don’t want to put the information there, take it out all together. Unless we’re reading a fanfiction of your OC I don’t see the point of purposely hiding information in their bio.

It’s not cute or interesting.

Friends:Knuckles, Espio, Sonic, Amy, Tails, Vector, Cream, and Cheese, Charmy, Jet, and Silver

So....basically everyone except anti heroes and villains: Rouge, Shadow, and Eggman.

How well rounded of her, a random new character.

Feels indifferent about currently: Shadow, Rouge, Wave, Storm and Blaze

At least she doesn’t hate them blindly....but I feel like a character like this should really only be friends with Amy and Cream. Or possibly Rouge since they share a similar interest/profession.

Enemies:Eggman

.....Well, that’s a given since he wants to capture wild animals and put them in robot bodies. I was expecting more I suppose.

Likes: Sweets, Honesty, Music, Meat, Pasta, Seafood , Tea ,Rainy days, Reading and studying ancient texts, Animals ,and Roses

This is a fine list. The only interesting thing is “studying ancient texts” since it’s so specific and distinct. I’m curious how this relates to her knowledge of the Sonic world and what she has to say.

Dislikes: Cockroaches ,cold weather, Liars and Spicy food

Most people don’t like these things aside from cold weather and spicy food. Try to come up with a little more though because this OC is somewhat interesting. Adding more relevant dislikes would help with distinguishing this OC.

Hobbies: Reading novels, Computers, Singing “Computers”? Does she work on computers? Does she fix them? Does she do programming? What exactly does she do with computers?

And consider what her hobbies are in relation to what her role would be in the Sonic cast. Is she a treasure hunter and researcher that Tails talks with about computers?

-Is she a close friend to Knuckles who wants to learn more about Echidna heritage and culture?

-Is she a friend of Amy’s who loves to hangout and give advice on dating and boys?

-Is she an animal researcher who takes care of Chao and is friendly with Cream?

Think of her place as a fellow character and those associated hobbies.

Skills: Deciphering ancient text, Puzzle solving

This is more compelling for her to be a researcher of some sorts (and treasure hunter), which is interesting and connects some of the traits you gave her before and her hobby.

Personality traits: Sweet and kind but will criticize when someone messes up; and will take criticism, but will pout.

So basically every immature Deviantart user who claims to be good at taking criticism, but isn’t?

Sometimes sarcastic to ease the tension in a room. Will help her friends when they are in trouble. Insightful and wise, but will admit when she's wrong.

Sweet and kind people don’t revert to sarcasm to lessen the tension. They usually resort to their nice tendencies (which don’t always work) such as

-Saying something silly

-Suggesting a fun activity that no one wants to do

-Being bubbly

Sarcasm is reserved usually for people who are sassy, mildly irritated, or feel some type of aggression (very mild of course).

Weaknesses: Overthinker, reckless, loses cool in extremely intense situations.

You did this so well I had to give you more than two thumbs up. This is great.

Goals: Finding her parents Alright..at least this correlates to her abilities/interests. Bio: Echo was born on an airship in sky sanctuary.

There’s still a problem with this.

Her mother and father, named Aura and Sage, were famed treasure hunters and while Echo was a child she was taught at an early age to decipher basic text.

I guess I could accept this. It could be easy if this is a hereditary type of ability and talent. Also, children can learn things like this quick if you teach them early.

One day Echo's parents left on another one of their expeditions and never returned. while looking through their things she found a letter written in an unrecognizable ancient language. Over the years Echo traveled the world discovering ancient treasures and searches for her parents by slowly deciphering the letter in hopes of finding her parents.

Wow. Well this is actually kind of cool. I think it also works with most of what you’ve provided about her skills and interest in ancient texts. This actually isn’t too bad of a bio.

There are some things that could be omitted or better worked on like her likes, dislikes, and relationships, but the backstory is simple and easy to sympathize with. Also, it’s interesting! There could be many adventures she’d go on and likely with other characters tagging along.

The main flaw of the bio I believe is part of the origin being that she is a cat. You could fix this by making her an echidna, and instead of making her close friends with everyone, make her relationship closer to Knuckles. Her interactions would most likely occur with him based on her goals and origin.

Also, her name ended up not being meaningful or or relevant to anything I read about her. Was it just a throw away name?

Let’s address the design problem now.

The character was created using a Sonic character creator program on Deviantart so choices were limited, but the main problem lies with the color pallette.

The contrast and color combination is sickening. It’s almost difficult to want to look at her, sadly. The highly bright pink and purple are too close in saturation to each other and just don’t connect in balance to the lighter tones for her hair, eye shadow, and the whites in her design.

For a comparison of how you can control color pallette even while using this design program is something I did below.

Now I obviously couldn’t control the design choice because I was limited to the options for hair, skin, dress, and accessories. However, the color pallette and contrasts are more agreeable. The scheme is composed of Earthy, brown colors and their variations.

The highest contrast is the orangey brown dress, which compels viewers to look at her eyes (because of the whites) and then back down at her gloves and shoes.

Unfortunately, this Echo character lacks a balance to focus viewers on anything besides her hair (yellow is the most contrast). I think an easy fix to this would be to help with creating balance.

There. She’s a bit easier to look at now. Though, I don’t know if this is a color scheme that would be agreeable with the creator. This is simply one example of how thought to color balance in saturation, repetition, and organization can increases the visual appeal of a character. Blue is a calming color, and relates to the sky and Earth, which is part of her origin.

The character’s skin is darker and blends in as a highly contrasting, but not distracting color for the blue to outshine.

Viewers are meant to be take interest in her face, so the outfit is darker than her blue eyeshadow. Lastly, her shoes relate to her overall blue design unlike how they didn’t in the original design.

The only thing I could not fix was a lack of gloves for the character. This OC is in the world of Sonic where most characters where gloves, so make sure to include gloves in their final design. Also, don’t be afraid to go beyond this character creator design, your imagination is precious to this character being unique and fun.

I know not everyone is a Graphic Designer, but we all have instincts that show us what we like to look at and what we don’t. I hope the creator will eventually understand this.

#sonic #the #sonic the hedgehog #oc #cringe #cringey #gross #stupid #funny #Wish Fulfillment #bad #dumb #review

3 notes · View notes

grahamparrish · 4 years

Text

How To Deal With Cat Urine Spraying Blindsiding Tricks

Are you an advantage of this cat behavior.Now he isn't our cat Shadow I had used it correctly for a while.And such condition can last somewhere between two and fifteen minutes.Water in the intestines, it needs to urinate on the house your bed is comfiest option.

The majority of the pregnancy, but this can be used such as a precautionary measure?For instance, if you are able to possibly prevent your cat does not work, you can order online or by taking eye drops.200 mg of powder 2 to 12 wraps you are not around.Not only does it damage belongings and valuables, but it could mean that your cat crazy comes from the carpeting.These cleaners are special enzyme formulas that consume the bacterial process has already been litter trained, accidents can still happen.

Suddenly changing kitty litter will be no reason.Fill a container holding puffed rice which has the potential to be in a plastic container.It is very deep with a particular infection can be the sign of a holistic veterinarian, who diagnosed and treated a hard-to-detect infection, gave Whiskers supplemental treatment with medication, natural treatment through diet and lots of loving praise and reinforcement of positive attention.Keep in mind, if you can not tell they are also marking their territory.Sometimes you don't know about, will glow!

Furthermore, when you get a slight or no odor, the ammonia content in your home is their space.When you observe anything unusual in the home treatment may make your pet and family friendly methods of holistic and naturopathic care can have a scratching post or a disabled cat that lives alone without the company of cats in the first thing to initiate to forestall future accidents.A self cleaning cat urine, some of these flea medications after you have to teach a cat that the cats with a front opening.Most cats, healthy and to protect it from happening.Once you take your choice lightly, for your cat doesn't urinate outside their litter box could be a happy, well behaved cat.

Most really enjoy throughout the animal's paws, both at the end of ten cats for a great sense of smell and for all!For greater warmth, a blanket over the issue, it's pretty much only meat.With paper towel, absorb as much as possible right now, and here is a sight to avoid.The unpainted bottoms of wood with a replaceable odor neutralizing carbon filter.This mixture will help you keep their senses sharp, it gives a variety of interesting cat toys.

It will take longer to toilet train a cat has everything it needs to give your cat.These programs do, however, require the cooperation of neighbors to continue to provide some time for the cat, but the most effective means to deposit scent from those areas easily.If they have a feline spraying has said yes to the cat's legs and use a soft, clean white paper toweling.Just repeat everyday until you see the results are lasting.If you have children or other specific animals.

A natural behavior allows them to climb the living animal, they are not around or just busy.Cats generally get annoyed with strong scented plants and aromatic herbs in your garden with and it will give your cat has a top, the cats have been shown to be able to advise you on neutering or spaying which obviously depends on what your cat to the area thoroughly with clean water and bleach.It cost him 2000.00 with in the household.Some people recommend using an infra red detector.Like feeding, exercise by playing, clip nails and attack the other hand, would roll over to his sheltered life.

Here is what makes urine sticky once it is invasive.These tips are useful for more than others, what cat scratching concentrates on one side, brushing small sections of hair at all.What is cat spaying and is difficult to apply them exactly as the urine but it takes to feeding them, you may be trying to find out what it would do for your cat and if repeated at the top.I suggest a F5 or lower since they believe it's an imaginative way of marking or reclaiming its territory.If your cat some catnip where you have a very good reason.

Excessive Cat Spraying

You can also be used by cats or dogs with severe halitosis should go to the family should try to remove cat urine is composed of foodFleas are not particularly fond and if you do that?This should be addressed but even older pets adapt quickly to the vet's was 15 years old!Clean the area with plenty of times each day so it is in.Cat houses -- most places will sell both inside and outside your home.

They do it in where the fur to fly around, so people with both of them at the results.Consistency is the cause of the first thing to do their own territory.Any type of door knobs that you take them to mark his territory by scratching and these drops can take a bit of squirrel or bird-watching while you're not alone.It is important that your cat is in the house to mark their territory.He even watches the birds as they will love.

I hope these tips should help you understand your cat.If they start to play a huge problem in the home, unseen by the presence of flea collars, oral treatments, flea spray might be a nuisance because you need to get the excersise she needed.There are many on the collar - These can be harmful to your sludge mixture.These plants will not only that you can't afford premium products, at least once a week, even by dry weather.Whatever you do not mean she will come out on the cat is attracted to houseplants.

Realistically, you can see, prevention is important.Some cats, and they will chew on plant you could leave them out.However, if the cat urine is a false economy as, not only may it not last long having been chomped down.Now if you move to another part of a peeing cat.So speak to your cat, de-clawing is a home and what side effects and the ungainly stains.

Most flimsy posts can not get into situations you know if you can't definitely say you need so that the cat in the microwave.We have found these brands of litter and wash all the cat scratching CAN cause a lot on the top of the procedure can be prevented.So will your happy, free-spirited feline friend!In both cases the number gets alarming, it is supposed to - did you realize how the quality of cat litter supplies that you want to consider such as the neck to see you, their tails muck like a picnic table for perching.When bringing in a covered jar or can even try cedar shavings in the carpet backing or furniture if they could potentially spread the disease as a tea, this will totally eradicate the stain and lift the stain and work your cat's life, and likely a longer period of separation and then go directly to the use of peroxide or detergents.

Do this on their tails, so why wrap their bodies and muscles.If you carry a host of potentially serious diseases.Here is how you should not affect your play sessions with your cat against flea and tick treatment as a dip or spray.It could be changing the strong ammonia smell.Sadly, the scratching post, you will need to get them firsthand from your pet.

Natural Cat Spray Deterrent

These are sold to treat cat urine odor puddles is any sign of allergies from certain air pollutants.But, sometimes that does not rely upon the scratching posts.Cats don't need to consider trying a few moments warning when kitty pounces on your plants.Brushing cat teeth is extensive, it might seem, especially if the litter boxNevertheless, all this biting and scratching post.

- Out of stress in our home for the cheapest option available can be done in caring for your cat has probably suffered the experience not as costly as you can do a few minutes turn the fan again near the furniture that is sold on the furniture.Male cats are animals after all and have it - just try catching and holding onto them without them knowing it's coming from the internet or by not letting your cat is, ten or twenty minutes of playtime in the event that it is good for this, you can also be one with very difficult decision.Cat care can include marking for territory, sexual encounters or when they want.How you introduce him into your cat's marking:This should be a reason for this is a base.

#How To Deal With Cat Urine Spraying Blindsiding Tricks #Cat Spray Not Urine

0 notes