#BUT i don’t want to have to sift back through my notes to assemble an outline if i pick it up after months and months away
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hard pivot from my previous pepperoni post (ppp) but.
trying to push myself through this new plot outline is sooo. hhhhhh. when i still don’t know whether anyone is gonna pick up the first book/series
#if i shelve it i don’t want to have wasted more time#BUT i don’t want to have to sift back through my notes to assemble an outline if i pick it up after months and months away#and i also wanna go back to satire in the meantime because it’s the only thing that’s gonna get me through the next#*checks watch*#four years and two months#writing#soupposting
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I got up this morning and the world didn’t want to fistfight me! It’s gonna be an okay day. I got a bunch of paperwork done and went through the Europe file one last time to make sure I wasn’t missing anything, then printed it.
One of the reasons I wanted to print at the UPS store is that while I HAVE a printer, and it even prints in color, it doesn’t print very well in color, and it was being fussy about being low on ink. When I force-printed what I needed, however, it came out fine. I also cleaned for the catsitter including pruning my windowsill garden, pulled together enough cash to leave out as tips, and assembled all the trash that needs to be taken out.
My replacement phone will be an upgrade because Pixel no longer makes the 5a, so I also bought a new case for it and a new popsocket to stick on the back, since the popsocket on the old case cracked in half when I tried to pull it off (it was a promotional pop from a CRM I hate, so no great loss).
It is looking more and more like the damage to my phone is internal and I may not be able to pull any data off it. I don’t back up my photos to the cloud, but because of that I’m diligent about backups -- the only month I’ll lose is April. Which is a bummer, but a lot of the photos are either here on tumblr or were texted to people, and I can recover those. I’m going to have to rebuild my file of pictures of my niece, but like, what a chore, sifting through all my photos for all my pictures of her. How will I survive. I also had a “reference” folder of photos of documents and reaction images I use frequently but it probably needed cleaning out anyway. There are a handful of notes I kept on my phone that will be a pain in the ass to lose, but the important ones were backed up.
I’m working on figuring out if I ever backed up my podcast subscriptions, but if anything could use a cleaning-out it’s definitely my podcasts. Besides, there’s lists of what I follow floating around on this tumblr somewhere.
The greatest loss in the end may be if I can’t pull a backup of my Merge Dragons game off of Facebook. It was my anxiety game early in the pandemic and I’m very attached to it, but I can always start with a fresh game. Otherwise I think the calamity is survivable.
Good phone hygiene is one of the coping mechanisms I developed for having undiagnosed ADHD while owning a Distraction Machine that lived in my pocket at all times. Keeping important stuff on the cloud so it was accessible from multiple locations, while keeping stuff like photos and music frequently backed up, is about to really save my ass.
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FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #8: Adroit
(More Franks and Tataru shenanigans. I think I officially have to call them siblings after this one and my day 1 prompt!)
Adroit – clever or skillful in using the hands or mind.
“Greetings, miss! Welcome to the Carpenter’s guild! How can I help you?”
Tataru smiled at the man behind the desk. “Hello, ser! My name is Tataru Taru, I’m here to speak with Timbermaster Beatin about a commission!”
“Ah, yes. I was told to expect you! Go on in, the guildmaster is at the back of the room, just up the stairs in the corner!”
She thanked the man and entered the hails of the guild. The sounds of hammer and saw beating wood into shapes filled the room. The smells of lumber and sawdust pervaded the air.
She climbed the stairs and approached the gray-haired elezen she knew to be the Timbermaster. He was intently examining a set of documents, but turned at her approach.
“Ah, lady Tataru! Good to see you again. The Elder Seedseer did let me know to expect you. I gather this is not about you finally deciding to become one of our number?”
Tataru giggled. “Sorry, Timbermaster, not today. No, I’m here on behalf of the Scions. Several of our number were….away for an extended time and only recently returned. However, because of the nature of their mission, they had to leave everything behind, including their weapons.”
She reached into her traveling pack, withdrew a rolled parchment wrapped in green-colored string, and handed it to him.
“I mean to make a gift to them of a faithful recreation of said weapons, and need a truly masterful carpenter to recreate the shaft and head of this staff. The original was called Nightseeker.”
Beatin unrolled the parchment and set it on his table, looking over the plans with interest. “Hrrmm…..yes, quite intricate. This wood, I’ve not seen its like anywhere in Eorzea. Half of the challenge shall be in sourcing something suitable! I presume you’ll be asking Serendipity to assemble the pieces and provide this gemstone, here?”
Tataru nodded. “Indeed. So what do you think, sir? Can you do it?”
He stood, glancing over the array of other documents on his desk, then shook his head. “Unfortunately, Lady Tataru, not in any degree of soonness. Mistake me not, under other circumstances I would relish this challenge, but unfortunately, the guild is swamped with commissions and too few skilled carpenters to pull them off. Most of my days are spent instructing and sifting through aspirants. I would not be able to give this project the time it deserves.”
Tataru looked downcast. “Ah, I see, I should have expected as much.”
“Do not despair, my lady, for though I am unable to undertake this challenge, there is another option! I would entrust a commission of this level only to one other, my greatest student, and perhaps my only equal in the ways of woodwork. I can get in touch with him, I’ve no doubt he will be able to complete it to your satisfaction”
Tataru brightened. “Excellent? What might his name be? And do you know where I can find him?”
“I do not know where he might be, but I can reach him via linkpearl! Name the place and time, I shall ensure he is present. As to his name, well, he goes by ‘Old Man’ if you can believe it, though his surname is ‘Franks’
Tataru had pulled out the small ledger she used to keep her appointments and was checking through it when she stopped. She looked up to the Timbermaster. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘Old Man Franks’?”
“Indeed, milady. It’s a strange moniker, yes, but you get used to it.”
“Hyur man, about 6 and a half fulms tall, white beard and well-coiffed hair?”
“Yes, indeed, milady! Are you perhaps already acquainted with him?
“I…yes, but I had no idea he was so skilled in Carpentry that you considered him your equal! I honestly had no idea he had any skill in carpentry at all. I know him as-” She stopped suddenly, then looked back to her book. “It…it doesn’t matter. Um, can you ask him to come to our headquarters in the Rising Stones say…this afternoon?”
Beatin looked perplexed for a moment, then began searching for a stylus. “Certainly, milady! That is in Mor Dhona, correct?” He jotted down a few lines, on the table itself she noted, and then picked up the plans she’d given him. He rerolled them and tied the string before handing them back to her.
“Yes, it is. Um, thank you again, Timbermaster. I….I look forward to speaking with your student.”
“Take care, milady!” he replied, returning to the pile of requests on his desk.
Tataru walked away in a bit of shock, before clearing it away with a shake of her head and left the Carpenter’s Guild, making her way to Gridania’s airship landing.
A few bells later, the airship taxi landed in Limsa Lominsa. She took a small bit of time to enjoy the smell of the sea air (and of course the myriad delicious scents coming from the direction of the Bismarck) before making her way to the area of the city reserved for the Blacksmiths and Armorer’s guilds. She entered in the rear door, where she knew guildmaster Brithael had his personal work area, raised above the guild’s halls so that he might inspect any of their work quickly.
The master blacksmith was in fact at his own desk, dealing with some paperwork. When he aw her enter, he immediately stood and regarded her with a warm smile. “Ah, now, ‘ere’s a sight fer sore eyes! Tataru Taru, o’ the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, ‘ere in me halls! Tha Admiral did drop a note sayin’ to expect ye and to makes sure I take yer commission. So what can an old smitty do ya fer?”
Tataru smiled. “Good day, master Brithael! Thank you for your no doubt greatly demanded time. I’m hoping you can create a weapon for me, one that one of our order’s number recently took up, but had to leave behind on a recent…expedition. What he did…it was extremely important to our mission of safeguarding this star, and I want to make a gift of a faithful recreation.” She pulled out a rolled up parchment, this one tied in a red string, and handed it to Brithael.
The blacksmith unrolled it. “Well well, a gunblade? Your man a Garlean or somethin? No, wait…” He pulled it closer, his eyes squinting as he pored over a certain section of the plans. “Aaaah, I see what we got ‘ere. Heard bout these. Bozjan make. Th’ Garlean versions are knock-offs of this design. Mass produced in their factories. This, tho, this looks like it took some real heart to hammer.”
He rolled up the parchment. “Sadly, lass. I can’t help ya.”
“What? Whyever not?”
“Hang on, lass, lemme finish. I ain’t had no experience makin’ no gunblades. I could hammer out the pieces, sure, but I ain’t no engineer. Got no real idea how to assemble summat like this properly. We do the occasional flintlocke in here, but even I can see that there’s way more t’ it than anything like that.”
“However, I do know a man that can probably help ye out”
“You know of an engineer that can assemble this If you presented him the pieces?” Tataru asked.
Brithael smiled. “More ‘n that, he can certainly hammer ’em out as well as me! Man’s the best smitty I ever trained, hell I ain’t afraid to say it, he’s probably better ‘n me if’n I’m honest! Moreover, I know he’s more’n acquainted with them Machinists over in Ishgard. They tend to produce their own guns, but he’s shared the plans with us in case they need more’n they can produce. Hells, I think he mighta helped found the bloody organization? Anyroad, his name’s ‘Old Man’ Franks. Course, that ain’t his real name, he just-“
“-goes by it, yes. I’ve met the man, actually” Tataru interrupted, a little quietly. Her eyes were wide.
“Oh, ‘at’s right, you spent some time in Ishgard, didn’t ye? Issat where ya met ’em?”
“S…something like that, yes” Tataru replies, her face a bit dazed with this realization.
“Well, I can get a message to ‘im. Don’t think he’s in Limsa at the moment. Want me to have him meet ya somewhere?”
“Er….yes. Um, the Rising Stones, this afternoon, please. He knows the way there. Thank you, guildmaster.”
“Not a problem at all, milady!”
Tataru turned and slowly walked out, still trying to process what she had just heard. A master Carpenter AND Blacksmith? She knew Franks liked to build things, and she’d seen him helping in the Ishgard restoration before, but how in the hells had he gotten to be a carpenter and a blacksmith good enough that the actual guildmasters considered him their equal? Or when?
She supposed she’d get the chance to ask him that this afternoon. She had a final stop to make
A few hours later, and another airship charter reached Ul’dah. Tataru loved the way Ul’dah smelled, the air full of spices and scents from all over. She wasn’t a tremendous fan of the heat however, so she made her way to the goldsmith’s guild as quick as her legs would take her. Once she arrived, she started to move towards the receptionist’s desk, but a voice called from the workshop “TATARU”
“Hi Sera!” she calls back. Both race to meet each other, colliding into a hug at the top of the stairs that led to the workshop floor.
Serendipity finally pulled back and beamed at her. “Oh it’s been so long, Tataru! When the Sultana of all people showed up and mentioned you would be dropping in, needing a big favor, I was so excited to get to see you again!”
“Me too, Sera! We are absolutely getting something to drink to catch up, but first, you wanna see what the favor is?”
Serendipity clapped her hands, excitement all over her face. “Yes! Do you need some jewelry? Ooooh, a big date perhaps? Did Wedge finally-“
“SHHHHH shshhshsh! No, I actually have a couple of magical arms i need created!” Tataru replied, blushing furiously. “One of them is an Astrologer’s Star Globe, the other is a staff. I’ve got a carpenter to shape the actual wood, I just need the gemstone made for it and set inside.”
She quickly dug into her pack, handing her two rolled parchments. One was tied in green string, the other in blue.
Serendipity’s expression changed, professional interest replacing teasing grin. She took the parchments, unrolling the green-wrapped one first “Oooh, this is pretty! Very intricate work on the staff, I hope your Carpenter is good, that’s going to be some precise work. Good size gem on it, too. Looks like an azurite maybe? Or perhaps a star spinel? We’ll have to chat a bit more about what this staff’s used for to determine what’ll be best to use here. What about this other thing…”
She then unrolled the second parchment. “Oh, a Star Globe, very nice. We’ve been getting a lot of commissions for these out of Ishgard, seems like their guild is growing very nicely. This one’s really ornate though, I like it. Okay, I think we can make these happen for sure, lemme just check my….oh. Oh, dear. This can’t be right? Oh, it is. Oh, that’s not good.”
Tataru looked worried. “What? What’s wrong, Sera??”
Serendipity turned back to her with an apologetic grimace on her face. “I’m so, so sorry Tataru. I forgot how backed up I am on commissions. I really want to help, I do, but I’ve already missed some deadlines as it is!”
Tataru looked downcast. “Oh…I don’t suppose there’s anyone you can foist those on to help me get these made, can you?”
Serendipity shook her head. “No, I can’t do that, everyone else here is either just as busy or isn’t yet skilled enough that I trust them with commissions usually reserved for me. Although…there MIGHT be someone who could make your items in my stead? He’s actually really good, remember those music boxes I told you about that played different arrangements of the same song but harmonized beautifully together? It’s the man who made those! He’s really fantastic, I just don’t want to commit on his behalf! I can get him a message, though, want me to have him meet you later?”
“Um, well, yes, that would be nice. This afternoon at the Rising Stones would work well, if he’s available. Aaaand I’m almost afraid to ask, but…his name wouldn’t be Franks, would it?
A look of surprise came across Serendipity’s visage. “Why, yes, actually it is. ‘Old Man’ Franks. Do you know him? Do you know why he wants to be called that? He’s not even really all that old!”
Tataru just blinked, staring off into space. Then she rubbed her temples, as if trying to massage a headache. “Of course it’s him….it was him the first two times, why wouldn’t it be now? Heh heh heh”
“Uh, Tataru? You okay?”
She looked back up to Serendipity with an apologetic smile. “Oh, sorry, Sera! I’m fine, just a long morning. Lot of airship travel and all. Yes, please, send ‘Master Franks’ a message to meet me. Do you still have time for a drink this evening, with your backlog?”
“I’m hoping to be able to get caught up today, yes! Looking forward to it!”
“Great! I’m gonna head back to the Stones and finalize everything, but I’ll meet you tonight at the Quicksand?”
“See you then!”
Tataru practically ran for the door.
It was early into the afternoon when Tataru opened the door to the Rising Stones. Most of the Scions were out in the field, save one person who sat at one of the tables, idly reading. She walked right up to him and glared.
Without looking up from his book, Franks spoke. “Oh, hey Tataru. How did your meetings with the guildmasters go?”
Seven hells, was he SMIRKING?
She stamped her foot. “Oh, don’t even! You know EXACTLY how they went! Why didn’t you TELL ME you were some kind of avatar of Byregot that knows how to craft practically everything??”
Franks threw back his head, laughing. “Well, to be honest, I kinda have a bit of a cheat going, thanks to the Echo, you know?” He stopped laughing and turned to Tataru. “And I remembered how much you struggled with wanting to find a way to be more useful to the Scions. I also remember that you were justifiably very proud of yourself for all the crafting skills you’ve learned, and I didn’t want to make it seem like I just usurped everything you accomplished nor step on your toes or anything like that.”
“Are you crazy? I wouldn’t have thought that! You should know me better! I know this isn’t some competition! We’re all in this together, and you’ve been hiding skills I could have allocated for us to use!” She pointed a judgemental finger at him “So now I’m gonna! Your first punishment is you get to make everyone’s weapons while I sew their outfits!”
“Your wish is my command, ma’am! Let me know if you want some extra hands with the fabric, I can weave too!”
Tataru just glared at him.
#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge#Final Fantasy XIV#oldmanfranks#tataru taru#she is so done#I don't think I wrote Beatin or Brithael very well but I didn't have time to research it better
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𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘞𝘏𝘌𝘕 𝘐 𝘍𝘈𝘓𝘓 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]
⧏ the fourth volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐
synopsis: and when i fall, will you be there to catch me by the waist?
✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au
✧ genres : angst, fluff ✧ word count : 7.4k ✧ disclaimers : disclaimers — violence in the form of attempted assassination/murder, bloody/gory scenes, mentions and allusions to character death, malintent
✧ author’s note — this is the one where i romanticize everything.
read volume three here: dearly departed.
prince donghyuck is running. he's sprinting almost, and his strapped bow and quiver hits his back with each of his coming strides. his hands are furious in breaking away the tall grasses that surround him on all sides with a blunt blade. cutting through them with swift flicks of his wrist. the dirt beneath his feet crunch and the blades of grass he's cut sway to the ground with slow and deliberate motions, avoiding the drag of gravity like paper in the wind. donghyuck is aware that he's leaving an obvious trail but there isn't time to spare if he doesn't want to meet death at his destination. he wished he'd been smart enough to take a horse, though he knows he would have had to abandon it as he drew close.
the skies are clear today, rare for the winter that has made itself evident in the past few weeks. there are no clouds to stir up a storm, and no threat of rain to muddle his sight. donghyuck pulls a compass from beneath his armored chest. his feet are still moving fast though his arms are now pulled in to read the display on the device. the grass that's no longer pushed back springs up and brushes the skin of his forehead, the skin under the cut of his hair, obtrusively. the needle points south albeit a tad east. he continues forth. the sun is just about setting, flakes of purple beginning to bleed into the blue and donghyuck swears he can hear the ocean. he swears it's near.
he breaks out into an open expanse, sudden in the way the grass stops short, but he sees soon enough that it stops short at the curb of a trodden dirt path. his hand against the ground, he feels the soil fine in between his fingers, sifting almost as finely as sand does. donghyuck's face tinges with the slightest annoyance in the realization that thin soil meant that tracks were covered up all the more easily, something that'd indeed be in his favor, if only there were tracks left to follow in the first place. the compass resurfaces again, the fine chain on which it hangs sloshing in the wind in conjunction with his hurried movements. lee donghyuck bites the bullet and recedes back into the mass of grassland, this time hurrying along the edge of the road whilst ducking once again in the cover of the reeds.
the sun is fast in waning and it's as if the prince is chasing it. he is on the descent of the hill himself when he begins to hear it clearly, the sounds of waves crashing against rocks, sputtering along the shore. he wishes he had time to go down and relish in the feeling of the water lapping between his toes, the salt and sand it carries shrugging off his dead skin. the sight he's first met with is the thatching of the roof, worn down and sodden through days of heavy rainfall. it sits like a weight upon the rest of the structure that soon forms in his line of vision. a decrepit shack, almost, or a sizable shack. the shiplack that holds the siding in place is doing the exact opposite, lifting off of its holds and fraying downwards into the ground, carrying pieces of the inner insulation of the walls with it. the shutters are absent in barricading the gaping holes the windows have abated to, the awning of the porch creases earthwards, blocking most of the front door. the visage reads, 'seaside home succumbs to the inexorable confines of loneliness and lack of care.' there is no other way to describe the forces that keep the assembly upright except the willfulness of a wicked hand.
donghyuck pauses and crouches to the roots of the turf. he peers between the strands to see a guard, no, two placed just before the widest cavity in the side of the house, the only way in he supposes. his fingers are quick to pluck the end of an arrow, to slot it in its place, to draw and arm back, an eye squinting. he's quick to duck under the cover of the grass once again when the arrow pierces the left of a guards' eye. he's quick to avoid ruffling the grass that would otherwise be giving away the whereabouts of his presence away to the other, frantic, guard. prince donghyuck is crouched at the foot of a tree when he draws another arrow, slots it, draws back, releases. he knows that death meets wherever the point of his arrows land, he's accustomed to it, he feels pride in knowing that one shot is all he needs to become the greater version of him, to decide who lives and who doesn't. one shot is all he needs to play god. at least, that is what you had told him on a lonely day of his fifth summer, the first summer he had spent at the northern palace but definitely not the last.
"and you'll keep staring from afar, will you? you in the creepers," you turned your head in exact to where he'd been crouching, "as if i wouldn't know." young donghyuck removed himself effectively from the brush, dusting off bracts from his trousers in effort to present himself with a little more ease. sheepily, he treaded across to a few yards behind where you were stood, stance rigid and facial muscles pulled taut when staring into the bullseye. you plucked an arrow, turned it over in your hands, fingers running along the ridges to inspect. prince donghyuck knew that you were the same age as him, he'd been taught of the four, of which he was one, who were birthed in the same year, in each of the kingdoms. he knew this, yet with the aura you're giving off, he couldn't help but think that you've been around for much longer. the arrow split the previous arrow in a clean half. both lodged into the red-marked center, fifty or so meters away and barely visible to the eye at such distance.
prince donghyuck stumbled to take a bow from the stand beside you. he placed an arrow clumsily between his fingers, strangely he felt the need to prove himself though he does just the opposite by fumbling. the arrow launched after his third try, but rather than taking on a straight course, it gave a feeble arc and lodged itself into the soil before him. the prince was a sight of vexation at this point, "my instructor said- he said…"
you crossed your arms over your chest, bow tucked neatly in between. "oh, i bet he said a whole bunch."
you taught him all you know and he learned with a newfound respect, though he was unwilling to admit to himself. you had him practice on a bird first, a bigger target than the red dot, so tiny that frustrations would surely be easy to come if he'd started there. donghyuck gave you an apprehensive glance behind his shoulders but you nudged him along with a nod of your head. it's the first time he hasn't missed. he never misses a shot after that. "is- is it dead?" donghyuck didn't dare peer over, afraid of what he might see.
"of course it is."
the five-year old boy was rendered a stuttering mess at this point, "d- did i just commit a felony?" shrugging, you plucked a stone from the shore of the creek, tossing it light across the water, "hunting is legal, if that's what you're asking."
"but i just killed a- a living thing!" he exclaims as if you hadn't said what you had said moments before. sighing, the next thing that comes from you left the boy in confoundment and annoyance at how curt you were, like an grown up he thought. "well, there are times where we are left with no choice but to comply with the blurred lines of right and wrong. there are times where we are left with no choice but to play god.”
his snappy attitude is all too quick to arise, no clue as to even what you were referring to and only in the knowledge that he disliked talking to you. "you're only five, just like me. what do you know?"
"i know a great deal," you turned abruptly to face the boy. you stepped in slow, paced motions, eyes strong and unwavering. he gulps as you spoke though unsure of why. "i know because i look for all my answers from what's put before me, not from my instructors."
prince donghyuck bites down on his lip, he wasn't nearly done with you yet, "so you're saying that you've learned all you know? then when will you learn that you don't have to act all high and mighty when you're already crown princess."
"i don't act. i am not an entertainer." he could not count the amount of times you've rendered him unable to process his thoughts. donghyuck can only retort back, "then what are you?"
"i am crown princess y/n, just as you've said it."
it's years later when he realizes why the earth seems to quiver beneath you, it's years later when he understands that it's because unlike the earth, soil that is bound by the pull of gravity, you've never allowed yourself to be limited to what something, someone, anything else subjects you to. you are a subject to no one, and that is why you will be queen one day.
he thinks this even as the second of the guards drop dead. he thinks this because he has never had less of a reason to carry out a task, yet he finds himself doing so with attentiveness to detail. donghyuck by no means could categorize you as manipulative, nor persuasive. he simply understands the way you work, the things you desire, the people you need by your side. even he, as much as he disagrees with the likes of prince jeno, he knows that only he can be your king.
the dust settles thick as he crosses through the threshold, one leg after another. he doesn't need to breathe to know that the air could suffocate if he didn't have his arm sleeve pressed into his nose. the inside of the cottage, the wreck that it is, seemed to be intact, for the most part. donghyuck even thinks that if you were to run a thick duster across the tapestries, the carpet, the counters, the armoire, most everything, that the place could live up to the coziness of just about a decade ago, minus the blatant hole in the wall and the condition of the walls itself.
donghyuck does his best, he's sure, but the halls twist in ways meant to confuse and he ends up at the same stairwell all too many times to count. he finds it soon enough, just as the sun regresses into night. the one stairwell that led down in the midst of all the ups. the absence of light is the only noticeable thing by sight, the moon isn’t nearly upon the horizon, but he uses all that he knows to make out the shine of the door at the foot of the steps.
skipping the last few steps, he rams into it with all his body weight. the brass, weakened through weather and age, cripples beneath him revealing the darker of night.
the first thing donghyuck does is cough, there is no way around that. his arm is back by his nose but this time his mouth also clamps tight onto the roughened fabric of his sleeve. he has a short blade in hand, his least favorite weapon of choice but a sword would have been too inefficient and a single arrow too thin. besides the heavy air that hangs, the room is also dead silent. four paces in and his foot hits a solid, a clang, a metal. he drags it along in the same direction, clang, clang, clang. bars. metal bars. a cage, an imprisonment of sorts.
the last bar he's hit escapes him, it swings open. the door, he supposes though he wonders why it hadn't been locked, why the door to the very basement hadn't been locked, why the whole vicinity was put under the supervision of two, poorly trained guards. donghyuck understands when his eyes do their part in adjusting to the dimness of the room and he sees the prince, slumped and unconscious, out cold.
perhaps, death really was waiting for him at his destination.
time is running thin as donghyuck dismisses his urge to check for a pulse, he figures he'd have to bring the body back anyways, alive or dead, and furthermore he has a deadline. long gone is the dagger, tucked away on the side of his left thigh, replaced with a metal arrow that clangs itself with each time it strikes the wall adjacent to it. to prince donghyuck, picking a lock with a sharpened point of an arrow is second nature; he's done it as many times as little boy scouts practice their square knots and soprano's run through their warmups. but even then, he hates the feeling of picking a lock that binds two wrists, he hates the feeling of how the wrists fall when they are no longer bound, and he hates the feeling of the chains as they clatter and clump at his feet. more than that, the dead weight of a man on his shoulders, void of all vicarious pretenses, is the worst among all feelings.
the sun carries with it shadows as it sets. it draws them like a coachman and his horses, a dog on its leash, a flock of baby geese and their mother. the shadow of the cottage, in particular, is seven feet from where it was when donghyuck entered. he doubts he'll have much time to get back into town on foot, running wouldn't work well with his already depleted stamina and the hunk of a man on his shoulders. he plays it safe with a jog and his compass in hand, the shine of the needle becoming harder to decipher in the fast-coming shadows that drown out his sight.
the first break he takes under a tree a little ways down from the cottage, shoving the weight of jeno under the cover of a few tendrils of vines. he almost wants to kick his figure in annoyance but under the guise that he was trying to wake him. prince jeno is very poor company when he's knocked out, or dead, he supposes now is as good of a time as any to check. fingers against his wrist, he feels the faintest of a pulse and is relieved in the most concealed way, though there is no one around for him to be concealing from. donghyuck thinks, with sureness, that if he were to let the boy wilt in his arms, to deliver him dead when he might as well have been alive, he himself would be dead in your eyes. he shakes his head and brings his flask to the lips of the older, slightly older.
the first few drops of water do nothing except sit in his dry mouth but the rest is gurgled, choked, swallowed. the prince, and soon to be king, lunges at donghyuck with his eyes still shut closed. he has his fingers tight around the eastern prince's neck when he finally regains the will to peel open his lids. the sun is long gone at this point and the moon has still yet to appear over the horizon. jeno is startled when he realizes that the ground his knees are rubbing against isn't dusted concrete but thick soil and stones. he draws back at that though his arms wind back as well, as if to drive into his unknown captor's cheek, to knock him out. donghyuck is a whirlwind of coughs as he barely registers the fist that's approaching fast, he's glad he still has it in him to roll to the side and croak out an, "it's me."
two princes are panting under the span of a tree, the roots that jut out slashing the backs of one of them and the twigs that litter the ground cutting into the kneecaps of the other. their breaths alternate, loud sighs and sharp inhales, as they regain their bearings enough to acknowledge each other. two princes sit side by side under the span of a tree, glancing at each other, or what they believe to be each other, in the shroud of darkness that envelops them. they wait for the moon.
jeno finds himself reaching for the flask that lays discarded a few feet away. he chugs and donghyuck eyes him in disgust, feeling how his own throat is clenching up with the same thirst. jeno must sense this because he holds it out for him when he's had his fill, "how much time has passed?" donghyuck throws back the rest of the water. they are bound to come across a freshwater stream on the long way back, he's sure and he swallows, "a week in approximation."
a week, he's sure a lot of things could've happened in the week he was gone. possibly, you'd know of his absence. surely, you know of the death of your father. no doubt were you in mourning and he was halfway across the region and in no state to comfort you. his brows furrow, "anything notable that's happened?"
there are many things donghyuck could say in response. he hasn't left your side since the day after your father's body was found, the day he'd arrived at the palace, ready to comfort. he'd never have expected you to lash out in rage with no one to blame. he'd been there when the maid had delivered news of the anonymous tip that'd made your knees go weak in an instant. a hell of a week it had been, indeed. he prefaces with the general. "the coronation has been moved up, three days from now you will be crowned king."
jeno nods in understanding. it's all his parents have ever wanted from him, to marry off into golden blood, to become golden blood, for their immediate family to bathe in golden blood. he sighs knowing that he feels it's fine if it's with you, that your presence in his life simply mocks that of his parents. but he needs answers, the yearning to see you is set alight in the pits of his stomach. "and how is she holding up?"
disgruntled, prince donghyuck answers curt and vague, the exact opposite of what jeno needs to soothe his worries, "she's holding up just fine." neither of them are in high spirits when they set off into the night. they suffice with the silence and when they come across the expected stream, donghyuck fills the flask, they bathe. the moon is kind that night, outshining all nights before and illuminating the compass needle, the guide into the outskirts of the southern kingdom.
the sun is on the rise when the two princes are met with the sight of buildings in the distance, small shacks, roofs thatched but unkempt and messy unlike that of the seaside cottage for royalty. the people bustling about are donned in the plainest of clothing and donghyuck is sure that his combat gear and jeno's days old and crinkle suit would draw unwanted attention from the commoners, after all, he's almost sure that they wouldn't recognize the faces of two royalty if they were dressed down, not here in the southern kingdom where the prospects of royalty are told like a fairy tale.
like how any disguise is gained, donghyuck sneaks through the bushels of the nearest house and snatches two pairs of trousers, two plain cotton tops, and a tweed satchel, leaving four golden coins under the back awning. they change before the sun arrives to clear the air of fog and mist and they bustle and weave within the crowd with ease when the sun peeks over diagonal, mid-morning.
they don't make it far on foot, there is still a ways to go before they can safely make it past jeno's homeland without being noticed. the farther they delve into the heart of the kingdom, the closer they mingle with the nobles, the higher-ranking families, those who would recognize them almost immediately.
a first of many close calls come when they are at the back end of a manor, a huge estate, spanning about half the palace itself. whoever the owner was, the individual jeno was rambling on about, wouldn't suffer the loss of two horses. that is, if they could be stolen in the first place. the stables were a mile into the plot of land from the back and though donghyuck could be so efficient in simply shooting dead all the guards that lined the outer premises, he really did not wish to cause a ruckus, not when he's sure the officials of the southern kingdom are aware of the escape of their second prince. and if jeno is correct in labeling this very estate as the abode of the capital governor, he wouldn't be keen in taking chances where it could hurt most.
night falls for a second time and, under the cover of darkness, jeno slashes the calves of two of the guards, a stroke that could easily be mistaken to be of a running and wild badger if timed correctly. he ducks between the electrical cords of the fencing, donghyuck just behind him, as he gets on all fours to survey the grounds. the guards that are left mill around the stables, the only structure that'll provide them light during their break. they are jolly and big-bellied when they laugh and jeno finds it all too easy to slip past the commotion to the back of the stables where the gates open onto the track. donghyuck moves with practiced stealth to the opposite end, foot looping on the edge of a table where kegs of beer are stood tall. he steadies himself, centering his movements around his breaths and not his impulses. retrieving his compass, he doesn't stop to crack it open this time, angling the sleek alloy cover in such a way that it glints in accordance with the glass of the window, left side of the stables that's illuminated inside out.
they count to three. the kegs meet the earth and while some roll, others simply spill. donghyuck leaves a mess in his wake. he'd like to stay back, admire his work, the looks of shock on their faces and the realization that'll come when they check the stables a little later. he gets this feeling each time he completes a mission, and very rarely is a prince allowed to do so. prince donghyuck loves the rush, the adrenaline, the anticipation and the satisfaction of completion. he knows that jeno feels the same. although as much as he would love to linger in the shadows to bathe in his victory, he knows that if he doesn't remove himself from the scene he will have a great deal more things to be worrying about. perhaps, his head on a stick.
with the horses accompanied by night, an ever-so-welcome friend, they are able to make haste. their course deviating the slightest to avoid the boundaries of the royal palace. jeno is familiar with the towns that lay just a little beyond and just a little before the middle glade. his familiarity means he knows where to book a rest for the night, where to get the needed replenishments for themselves and the horses and where to stock up for the coming day that will be spent entirely in the middle glade. his familiarity is helpful, but deemed futile when they arrive to see that each stall, selling food or goods, has a banner hung on the overhead. the prince's face is printed on each one, a lost prince, help needed! captioning each notice.
the pitstop, originally jotted to span a whole of two hours becomes a series of laborious tasks that involve intricate planning of thievery, indirect thievery as they make sure to leave, in their ructions, the rest of their gold coins, distributed evenly. they enter the middle glades with relieved and wearied hearts and sacks upon sacks of provisions.
the middle glade is the right place for any wearied heart. the grass is knee-length here, and it stays that way for a day's trip worth of land. the edges are crowded by a thick forest of trees with trunks too wide to hug and roots so big that traversing the land on foot is treacherous enough. but just beyond the thickets of trees and boughs that hang low is the glade itself. the four kingdoms were built to accommodate the livelihood of the grasses, wildflowers, gentle ponds that stretched only a few feet deep. the glade is a sight for sore eyes, and a marvel for all traveling through. it's where the four kingdoms diverge, and also where they meet.
rays of sun are harsh on their backs, it's been a little over an hour and though the looming threat of the southern kingdom has been left in the dust, the road ahead proves bleak, grasses the run along the horizon and, seemingly, endlessly beyond. jeno thinks of what he'll say when he sees you. he thinks of the smile that's sure to grace your features and he thinks of your warm embrace. jeno is patient when he thinks of you.
"she's been troubled."
jeno looks over in surprise at the sound of his companions voice, he notes the lilt and remains silent for him to go on.
"the princess and i, as i'm sure you know, we've been well-acquainted for a long time now." donghyuck steals a glance of his own and finds that jeno's sights are held to the front but his brows are drawn in consideration, deliberation. "and i've always known her the best, loved her the best, been the best for her. we've both been, for each other i mean. we both also knew that there would be a day where the same would be said for someone besides the other. i don't mean harm when i say that i didn't think it'd be this soon, not for her."
"why not for her, distinctly?"
prince donghyuck gives a moment to think of an answer that he knows all too well from being by your side for the good majority of his life, "because she's not one to talk. she prefers to listen." nudging his point along, jeno makes it known, "she talks to me."
"that's how i know you're the one for her." jeno smiles to himself. he lets himself relish in the feeling of your love, even indirectly. his lips stay turned upwards, even when he wills them back down. he can't help but feel a little silly so he disguises his countenance with another question, "did she ask this of you? to come for me?" a question that he already knows the answer to.
"of course," a playful grin spreads with ease across donghyuck's face. he supposes that the taut strings between them have loosened up ever so slightly, either that or the dreariness of traveling for days on end with only each other's company have done the trick, "i'd have never gone out of my way for you." jeno's expression is gruff but his tone is light when he quips back in agreement, "neither would i."
"i'll have you know though, she's beyond excited about the wedding preparations. the coronation as well but i can sense that she's more apprehensive to take the throne so early on. it's a relief to know that you'll be by her side when the time comes."
"as i should be."
"you know, i've heard some rumors about you, just picked them up here and there. and while i have made sure of your sincerity by means of this," he gesticulates, "this trip of ours, i would like to confirm that you're not...after her for the throne, are you?"
"not i, but i wouldn't put it past you to see it as so. much of my family sees her for only her blood," he doesn't bother to palliate the resentment in his expression as he spits out the last half. the other in the conversation is thrown into thought, once again. the moments he gives himself to respond are filled with the sounds of horse hooves fast on the crimpling grass.
"the death of her father, were you aware that it was dawning upon us?" donghyuck airs prudently, "in the assumption that it was of your lineage's doing."
jeno replies dismissively, not in the context that he is avoiding the inquiry, but more so that he found the case scenario obvious, "i was not aware, no. it had certainly been staged so that i could not have been there to prevent it, unfortunately." his eyes slide from the grassy hills ahead to his friend beside him, he lets new information fall from his lips in the face of someone he has come to trust, "i'm also apprehensive about her taking the throne so young, and not because of her duties. i have an inkling that she might be stolen before her throne is."
"another scheme of your parents, the king and queen? or is that past my bounds to be asking?"
the dismissive tone laces his voice again, but only for a few cumulative seconds, "not at all, there are many times a day where even i find it hard to identify as one of them." a turning point is reached where he gazes grows stern and the dismissiveness is replaced with an air of officiality, "but yes, i believe it to be one of their schemes to place a crown atop my head."
donghyuck considers jeno's words with heavy thought and a heavily-ladened question, "would you take it if it was offered?" he takes his answer with an equally heavy understanding.
"at the cost of her, i would give it up in a heartbeat."
you've lost count of the nights you've spent staring at the same ceiling you were faced with now. even turning onto your sides you know that you'll be met with all too familiar scenes. your mind, instead of relenting to the rest it needs, replays the same track over and over of prince jeno asking for you not to stay up too late, ironic in the sense that that's simultaneously exactly what you've succumbed to. you miss the way his locks bunch in between your fingers, something you haven't quite grasped the reasonings behind your liking of. it's just hair, but it being his hair supposedly makes all the difference. would it be foolish for you to be thinking of his hair when he might as well be taking his last breaths in the same second? there wouldn't be a way to know, the wall that you've encountered each time you venture down the glum alleyways of 'what if.'
"acceptance disempowers fear, darkness, shame." (my co--star day at a glance 1119).
you wallow in acceptance because the fear, the darkness, the shame stands too tall against your thin spears of hope. they've dwindled with each day that you've spent circulating between those three emotions in a hopeless and never-ending circle of self-induced torture. somewhere in between your fourth and fifth hour of intermittent lapses between sleep and wakeful exhaustion, the inner door of your chamber is burst open and you swear under your breath. murder is in the night.
or rather, it's your lady-in-waiting, her eyes bugged out and a coat haphazardly thrown over her nightgown. "your highness!" that's when you see the smile on her face, that's when a similar one begins to light your own. "the guards down in the valley, they say they've seen them!"
legs kicking up the blankets that hold you down, you scramble out of bed, even slipping on a coat is deemed too much a time-consuming task when the raptures that have enveloped you for the past weeks are now coming to a close. your fingers barely catch onto the door frame just as you skid out, peering back in to get another word for your maid, "them, them as in two. both lively and well?"
"i've been told of two men, both on horseback."
a grin splits your cheeks wide as your bare feet clap down hard on the frigid marble flooring. it echoes unlike the sound of your nightgown flitting between your form with each step, the whistling of wind curling your insides with warmth and joy. your heart sings like a village girl, whose love has just returned safe from the battling seas. perhaps you were a juliet, in the pretense that 'star-crossed' meant that you and him were written in the stars, not torn apart by them. your lungs welcome the morning air as you inhale as much as you can, replenishing the depths of your spirit, invigorating you down to each cell that you were built of.
the guard at the foot of the steps implores you not to go any further, the crisp winds that sift through the orchard would be far too dangerous with how little you are wearing. he sends for your lady-in-waiting, who had just arrived behind you, panting with all her might, to head back in to retrieve a coat or two for you. you tell her to take her time.
you're on your knees weeping when they come into view, the sight is unsuitable for the weak-hearted. head in your hands, you're making frantic motions to swipe away the furious tears that trace down your cheeks when the soiled dust from a sudden break of hooves lifts into the air before you. prince jeno dismounts as if it were his life's duty, his strides are long, as they have always been, and when he takes you in his arms, collecting your listless limbs and wearied bones in place, you find home within his embrace.
at the crack of dawn, on the bottom steps of the northern palace, a man clad in plain white and a woman in a silk nightgown rejoice in the name of love. his fingers never let the goosebumps on your skin stay for as long as he smoothes them over, you are absent of the wintry weather on your bare skin. at the crack of dawn, on the bottom steps of the northern palace, the up and coming king and queen of the northern kingdom rejoice in the names of each other, alive and so, so full of life.
you're looking up in curiosity at him as he crosses the room to the side of the bed, opposite of yours. jeno has a book in his hand, and rather than looking at you, his sights are on the pages, a finger skimming along with his eyes. he's by your side when he looks up, satisfied, "i brought something to read to you, love."
your eyes sparkle in the moonlight that slips undisturbed through your open balcony doors, "and what might it be?"
"you'll know when you hear, i assure you." he extends an arm and your back is pressed against his chest without a question, his arms encircling your frame, both hands converging to hold the book in front of the two of you. he spoke the truth when he said you'd recognize it. a smile makes its way to your face before you can even take notice. and when you do indeed notice, you mouth the words along with his voice.
“i will love you if i never see you again, and i will love you if i see you every tuesday. i will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. i will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, and the pepperoni loves the pizza. i will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. i will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. i will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness of the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written.
i will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. i will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp…i will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. i will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. i will love you until every fire is extinguished and rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods. i will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple. i will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close…i will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, i will love you until your face is fogged by distant memory. i will love you no matter where you go and who you see, i will love you if you don’t marry me. i will love you if you marry someone else–and i will love you if you never marry at all, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all. that is how i will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”
(Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters)
the book is discarded, but unforgotten, to the side when the curtains are pulled back. the moon is at its height. renjun has a lot of work to do.
the scene is as expected, the princess, inseparable from her prince is on the bed and clasped on all sides by his form. he regrets that he did not have the guts to ask for the murder of them both. his orders strictly called for the death of one, a much more tedious task when a possible witness, such as the prince, could hold a hefty punishment over his head if he were to be caught. renjun knows that isn't likely to begin with.
his first mistake is waking the prince. perhaps going in for a knife to the heart was the most efficient but the least accessible, seeing as the man clung to you like no other. renjun doesn't bother hiding though he knows his face covering and hood aren't enough to cover his unmistakable stature. the prince charges at him once he's gained a sense of his surroundings. renjun dodges his sleepful fit easily and uses this opportunity to strike at you. a quick blow to the side should do enough damage for his job to be considered completed.
his second mistake is misconstruing the sheer amount of power the prince possesses. in truth, the prince does not know himself, especially if that power is being drawn by the prospects regarding your safety and wellbeing. renjun is pulled back with veined arms that encase as if to wrestle him into surrender. he's experienced enough to worm his way out and to position himself opposite of the bed where you're now beginning to stir from all the commotion, the prince standing in front of him, shaking his head in disgruntledness as he tries to fight off the waves of post-awakening exhaustion and strain.
renjun knows a lot of things. he knows much about caged animals, he knows even more about greedy men, specifically greedy and powerful men, he knows of hierarchies and classes and exactly how to get what he wants from them, but in this moment, he knows nothing more than the fact that prince jeno will duck. and that he will regret.
when one is young and naive and still in the belief that their blanket will shield them from the monsters in the dark, they simply disregard that it will not. the flimsy, flimsy blanket, made of nothing more than woven, and likely processed, fabrics will do nothing against the demons that await, under your bed, in your shadows, from your ceiling. you are not young, nor are you naive, and it's in your understanding that these demons, they are a breed of sorts, fallen angels. perhaps, you will never understand. and in their line of work, they have never halted at the sight of a blanket. you toss it aside and you charge even as your prospects of living dim as the dagger parts the air, the air that scampers away and leaves an open trail for the dagger to the dead center of your abdomen, the very spot your father had been punctured with.
there is a part of renjun that wishes he missed.
the man in the moon frowns as the beams that foam and froth and bubble behind him are poured down from the heavens onto the west wing of the palace solely, the west-facing windows, a specific west-facing, wrought iron traced door that gives into the expanse of your room, your bed. it illuminates you, it bares its shine upon you, unabashedly, unashamedly. and it is also the sole reason jeno can see, with such clarity, the shank that slits your silk nightgown with ease, that embeds itself within your now-withering body, that in turn, makes his blood run cold.
renjun is long gone when jeno begins his cry for help. there are guards just outside but it would take a miracle for a medic to arrive before you bleed out your internal organs completely. the white of your sheets is stained with your blood, the strands of your hair are strung together with the stickiness of the substance, jeno's hands, the beds of his fingernails are deluged in the blood that spurts from where he is desperately trying to press down on. the hole in your front gushes with each breath you take and jeno could only wish that he could breathe for you, in your stead.
prince jeno cries, in the most literal and figurative senses, for help, for someone to wipe away his tears and to tell him that you're alright. to shake him awake as he dissolves further into the abyss of his fears. to kneel by his bedside and tell him that it was all a nightmare, that you're fine, really, that you've just gone to get a cup of earl grey with honey, that when you come back, there will be no dagger struck between your intestines and no red staining your nightgown. lee jeno cries because as time drags, and the guards that scramble about, fruitlessly counting on a distant and frankly unprepared medic, you are in his arms taking your last breaths.
"acceptance disempowers fear, darkness, shame."
and so he accepts.
volume five, the final installment: heaven belongs to you will be updated whenever the author sees fit.
copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.
✧ end note — i hope this piece brought back some cherished memories of 'a series of unfortunate events,' personally, such a great memory of my childhood, reading-wise. i say this a lot but, this has got to be one of my most favorite things i've ever written. i think i did quite well with this. it makes me happy. i hope it made you happy, i love you, have a nice day.
#nct fics#nct jeno#lee jeno#jeno fluff#jeno angst#jeno fics#jeno x reader#lee jeno fics#lee jeno angst#nct scenarios#rouiyan fics#rouiyan writes
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dissertation | yg
↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship
↳ words 3.1k
↳ summary many people doubted your union, how exactly an artist with as much influence as yoongi be a husband to a wife that is still studying.
↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, mentions of anemia
↳ song kodaline ‘saving grace���
It was a thunderstorm that night, when Yoongi laid in bed alone. Face shone by the light on his phone and he was squinting to see the news article clearer. He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently-- a habit he had. He glanced at the time mark on the top right corner of his phone, then to your side of the bed that remained empty. It’s 2:34 AM. Rolling several times over the width of the bed, Yoongi set his foot on the floor and made his way out the opened door where the light from the hall was still on. The ash blue hallway hall, and the wooden floor that creaks under his weight would not guarantee a smooth entry, but his concern was that you might have fallen asleep on the desk, although this was highly unlikely. He just wanted to check.
Took a peek, through the door gap of your study room. Lights on, papers everywhere, whiteboard filled with medical jargons he doesn’t understand. Your laser focused eyes, glasses sliding down your nose, pen in between your lips and typing sounds filled the room. Your purple pencil case unzipped with its contents scattered, next to the coffee mug. And the calculator facing down. Your phone is close by although Yoongi predicts it to be in silent mode. As it had been, since 2010. That’s why you never answer his call the first time. And when you’re in this study mode, an airplane could land in the living room and you wouldn’t even notice. Heck, if he was talking to you in this state, you would look at him blindly and heard absolutely nothing he said. Yoongi knows too well. After the short peek that went unnoticed by you, Yoongi waddled to the kitchen and ran the coffee machine to start.
He scratches his temple while he ensures the machine begins working, then walks to the fridge. Yanks it open to see what is inside. Some old ripen kimchi, newer batch kimchi, some milk and apples. He ran his eyes through several more things and took out two apples. He bought this for your fibre intake. The last visit to the doctor, you were recommended to take more fibres in, as well as iron because you are still anemic. Despite the considerable diet change by Yoongi, the blood count doesn’t project the effort. It was then decided by the nutritionist and doctor, together, that you have to take pills as well as monthly checks while they send your blood result to the lab for thalassemia management, if diagnosed. Yoongi carefully ran the apples under the water, gently. He begins to peel the skin with a knife, and then, wedges them. He places them in the bowl and by then, the coffee has started to pour into the mug he had prepared underneath.
The blue light from the screen is making you pinch the bridge of your nose. Creases begin to form in between your brow as the numbers you obtained from the experiment did not become tally to the theory, suggesting a mechanical error. With the restriction order loosening up, going down to the lab is allowed, but you figured that many other post-graduate students might squabble for a time slot to use the lab.
“Should have calibrated the thing before I started the experiment,” you silently cursed underneath your breath.
Yoongi pushes the door open with his back and reveals a tray, scuffling and making a lot of noise. He set the bowl with apples and switched the cold coffee mug with a new piping hot one. Your whole face lights up.
“Why are you not asleep yet?” you sang. Eyes following him. “How can I sleep, when you’re suffering like this,” he said in a straight voice, almost emotionless, that makes it hard to believe that he was being affectionate. But that’s Yoongi for you. “There were apples in the fridge?” “Don’t lie, we bought them together… If I don’t wedge them out like this, you won’t even eat it,” he nags, “Did you even take the pills for today?” “I did,” you shoved one wedge in your mouth.
“Before or after the coffee?” He was standing next to you and your head was tilting back to see him. “Before,” you chuckled through your nose.
Yoongi turned his attention to your work.
“Is there still a lot to do?” He mutters, kneeling by the table next to your chair. You comfortably circled your arm around his neck from your chair and buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and nodding as a response to his question. He smells like bedsheets, you thought to yourself. Yoongi’s wedding band shone under the bright light of your study room, and as he is careful not to disturb your work, he couldn’t help but worry about your mental state. He knows just how much stress you could handle and even if you weren’t shy away from an extremely stressful situation, it is the first for this kind of work environment. You told him that the mindset of working from home is entirely different from the ones actually working in the work area. But he always reminds you that, you weren’t working from home, you are at home, working.
“I saw the numbers and I knew that it was tally with the theory we learned in lectures, and have been hammering my head on what went wrong, so I checked on my methods and it was all correct, so it must have been the machine,” you turned to the side to see the laptop, still clinging onto him. Yoongi turns to the side and plants a kiss on your hair, standing up slowly.
“What do we do?” Yoongi leans his hip on the desk and folded his arm, looking down at you who is by now, pouting, helplessly.
“Either I go back to the lab and redo the whole painstakingly slow experiment, or just write the whole report and blame it on the error, and thicken my skin when my doctor screams at me for incompetency to run experiments, and ruin my credibility for the rest of post graduate pharmacy faculty,” you shrugged sadly.
Yoongi pouts too, now.
“Don’t stay up too late,” he gathers your head and sandwiched your face between his hands and kisses the skin between your brows, while your hand slid down his hip then over his butt, before grabbing the butt cheeks, playfully. You watch his back grow smaller and smaller as he gets to the door, leaves a gap between the door and the door frame big enough for an ant to enter, and leaves you to your work. You turned sideways to the word documents you have, and then to the calculations on the board on the far left of the room, and just, let out a massive sigh.
Several times the alarm clock vibrates on the bedside table next to you, and your hand would swiftly grab them to snooze mode, every single time. That eventually stops when the heat from the duvet chases you out and when you realise that it was no longer noon, it was actually almost 3pm. Your head pounds immediately, and even then you were counting the hours you slept to see if it was appropriate. Eversince the lockdown began, your sleep schedules have become even more disorganized. Doctor said looking out the window would help, but walking outside once in a while to get groceries proves to be even more helpful than the former. Yoongi always gets the groceries because he usually cooks. Now that the lockdown has slowly lifted, Yoongi started to go to the company building to resume his work, but you’re stuck at home because the university recommended studying from home.
Apart from having to use the lab now and then, there is no need for you to constantly be at the university. Even the lectures are held online, and assignments are submitted through emails. Group work is discussed through video conferences. But you’re an old school gal who always preferred to have her notes printed so you could scribble over the things you needed to do, and it makes organising tasks a lot easier. Walking into the study room, you saw the printer not where you set them. In fact, it has its own table with rollers on them, the cables are hidden and neatly bound by the computer, ready for use. The overall set up is neat. It made you smile first thing in the day. Because you knew who had done it that way, and you wondered how he made all this--assembling the tiny table and putting rollers on it, so quietly, that you managed to sleep through it.
At the office, Yoongi was just leaving a small meeting room. He has his facemask down covering his chin as he sifted through the papers handed to him by one of his staffs. The staff is standing nearby to wait on his comments. Upon waiting the staff realises that Yoongi had a bandaid on his thumb.
“A minor accident today, nothing to worry about,” Yoongi shrug it off and quickly turned the attention away from him, “...I think it looks pretty good, try to proceed with it first, and show me how it sounds.”
“Through email or Kakao?” “Kakao, because I don’t have the laptop fixed yet and the ones at home are out of discussion,” Yoongi added a chuckle at the end, slapped the staff’s shoulder and excused himself, just when his phone vibrated an incoming message. And a photo, sent by his wife.
“Babe?” - wife
It reads. A photo followed. Of the perfectly set up study station of his wife.
Yoongi smiled and dug his tongue to his cheek, clamping his lower lips between his teeth. He types a reply while leaning to one side of the office wall, by the hallway. Crossing his ankles.
“You’re welcome. Study well~~ Also, we’re having takeouts tonight.” - yoongi
The message chimes in. A jar of cookies in arm, you were nibbling on one java chip cookie while unlocking your phone to read Yoongi’s message. That’s strange. Takeouts?
“But I can cook. And its weekdays.” - wife
”Nonsense. You pulled an all-nighter last night. We are having takeouts. There’s this good new restaurant the staff had been hyping. Think we should go there.” - yoongi
”Okay… whatever you say then. <3 - wife
Yoongi shoves his phone in his back pocket and walks down the hall to his studio. On the way there, he passes by Hoseok who was just leaving.
“Where are you off to?” “Getting lunch, want to go get lunch together?” “Sure.” “Namjoon is joining us too, I’m waiting for his reply.” “Great…you guys decided where?” “There’s a BBQ house I know that sells really good broiled chicken feet.”
Twenty minutes went by since the last text with Yoongi and you had been staring at the calculation on the whiteboard thinking about Krispy Kreme’s premium donuts. You wonder if the outlets are open, as they should be because the lockdown never closed businesses. Yoongi would know, you figured.
“Yeah they are opened, Why?” - yoongi
“I am craving for the ones with the KitKat on, I think my period is coming on soon…” - wife
“We can have that as desserts later no problem, I sent you lunch, and it should be there in 25 minutes. - yoongi
“Yay! What are you having?” - wife
“Broiled chicken feet with Hoseok and Joon.” - yoongi
”That’s not...what you got me… right? - wife
”Of course not, I got you Kimchi jjigae with tofu, and some kimbaps.” - yoongi
Phew. For as long as you’ve gotten married, not once have you doubted that Yoongi wouldn’t understand your palate. But he is quite a prankster sometimes. Even if he is not as savage as your inlaws are, to put strange food in front of your plate, there’s a certain degree of cheekiness of him at stake. You were a bit of a picky eater should it hit you at a specific time of the month. Sometimes you could eat chicken liver with minor problems, sometimes you would vomit at the thought of it. Yoongi had been dealing with the latter, quite a few times now. You have about 3 blister packs of anti-nausea pills at home just to cope with it. Acquaintances and distant relatives would insinuate that you were pregnant, but that isn’t the case. Doctor said it would be difficult to have a baby with your anemia uncontained, and you and Yoongi both would not risk having a child while you were struggling with it.
It is just not worth the while. The risks are too great. Malformed, cleft-lips, premature--the list of risks are endless. Let mommy take care of herself first.
Hoseok drove to the restaurant he was talking about. They got a room to themselves, abiding the social distancing rule with several chairs spread apart. When the food arrives, Yoongi could understand why Hoseok loved the chicken feet. It’s savory down to the bone. He picks the pickled yellow radish with his chopstick and devours it with a mouthful of rice. Hoseok began asking if Yoongi would consider taking his wife here. Namjoon was sitting there answering a call, and had to leave the room so the sound of the grills didn't distract him from the call. Yoongi downed a glass of chinese tea before answering with a groan.
“She doesn’t eat those things. Chicken feet, gizzards, those weird smelling things that don't go away even when you cook it properly…” “Don’t she have that thing, anemic? Anemia, the blood disease?” “Yea, she’s on pills treating that, and I’m also fixing her diet, but she is plunged with work so she takes in more coffee, so that would disrupt the pills function, I heard from the doctor. The woman is a caffeine addict, I don’t think she’ll slow down anytime soon, especially not now.” “I see. She is pretty stubborn…”
Hoseok suddenly burst out laughing, and the reason was, “I remember that one time she went on a full force rant on why you shouldn’t place the picture frame where it was, how did it go though? She went like, why is it on the far left of the light like that…”
Yoongi’s eyes quickly disappeared as his smile grew wider at the memory. He remembers that day so well. You both just moved into the apartment you are living in now and several arguments were brought out as the apartment progresses into a living space and more and more things come in.
“I was the man of the house,” Yoongi pauses and, “So we hang it the way she wanted.”
When Namjoon walked in, Hoseok was full-blown laughing.
“You honestly think I would win against her? She’s a fucking scientist… It’s her world, I’m just living in it, bro.���
Yoongi’s lips pursed as he took another meat into his mouth and chewed, with one knee propped up. The boys continued to talk about their future plans. The games they could watch and eventually, work and where they are heading next. Namjoon was visibly cornered by it all so they were working out balancing work and passion, and it’s usually a difficult thing to do. They were lucky to be loving the job that helps put food on the table. But love can turn to hate so easily. Along the way, one could hate it so much, one could consider leaving it. It would feel like a good choice at the time, but eventually, they will think about longevity, and what makes money. Which is the reality of living.
Yoongi’s whole world is music. And your whole world is science. Both are the opposite side of the same coin. Through the differences, there are many quarrels and conversation shoved under the rug for later days. It is never comprehensible why one would do such a thing, in the perspective of a stranger, but when you are in a relationship, tolerance is as important as communicating, and the two go hand-in-hand with each other. It is only in a relationship that you see someone whose upbringing is so completely different from yours, try to understand the way you were brought up and the values you grew up with, the same way you try to understand theirs. They could be the one who mindlessly folds the doormat messily after they leave the bathroom and doesn’t fix it. Or they could be the one who is passionate about feeding cats but never cleans up after the poos. Or you could be so rigid in your ways of doing things that you simply cannot be flexible.
Or walk the room with their hair dripping wet and leave trails of water droplets around the house. Or leave the dishes in the sink unwashed because it's ‘only one mug’. Or they could use the coffee machine without wiping away the spills that could attract ants. Or have aesthetics that are so different from the ones you like. Maybe they prefer a cupboard with its insides all showing, no doors. Or like to collect designer shoes that cost more than the things you deemed more necessary than that of shoes. Or they might leave their shoes unarranged at the front step and it might drive you crazy how they continuously do this even after countless times, reminded not to.
Or how he is so thoughtful enough to send you the KitKat premium donuts you mentioned just hours ago. Or how he carefully ensured that extra tofu is added in the kimchi jjigae because he knows you love them. Or how he has those printers set up so neatly without you worrying how messy it looks. He had the motion-detecting LED light installed on the balcony so you don’t have to turn on the lights when you want to walk outside. Or how he throws everything away when you say you need to talk. Sure he might fall asleep halfway. Sure he flips the doormats when he leaves the baths. Sure he left his one mug in the sink and went to bed without washing it.
But he also waits 20 minutes for you to get ready because you lost track of time, reading your reports and spotting the error in your datas. And he also smiles when you climbed into the car, with a heaving chest and sparred breaths. And he orders your favourites quite fluently, down to the preferences and drinks. And you might love the way he looks when he is literally just existing. There was no one else that looked so mesmerizing the way he does when he drives. Or when he eats, or when he was thinking, and listening.
At the end of the day, it wasn’t the flipping doormats or the one mug in the sink that became the issue. It was who would still want to hold you even after all these years, in complete darkness and in the brightest day. It was who would still feel you were worth their time, despite having only 24 hours in a day. It is the person you fell asleep thinking of, and woke up looking at.
.
.
.
.
You keep me strong when I can't carry on
When you lose your feet, fall down to your knees and your heart's about to break I will be your saving grace When your eyes can't see, take my eyes from me When you're lost and losing faith I will be your saving grace
Be my, be my, be my saving grace Won't you be my, be my, be my saving grace
.
.
.
copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading
#dissertation#bangtanarmynet#hyunglinenetwork#btsguild#yoongi fics#min yoongi#min yoongi fics#suga fics#min suga fics#yoongi fluff#kpop fics#yoongi#yoongi fanfiction#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#bangtan fanfiction#bangtan fics#bangtan fluff#myg fics#myg imagines#suga imagines#suga reactions#bts reactions
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Come back... Be here - Steve Rogers X Reader Part 2 (Final)
Repost from my account of wattpad: Fandoms-Assemble.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warning: Fluff, Canon typical violence, Angst.
Summary: Y/N and Steve meet at a party in london, from which a friendship is born. With only 2 weeks together and feelings blossoming, what will happen when steve finally goes back to America?
Over the next year me and Steve kept in contact regularly but as another year passed the texts and calls became less and less often. Lives got busy, new relationships, new friendships etc, so by the time three years rolled by it would only be the birthday and holiday texts, the type of texts you send to people who you care about enough to wish them happy holidays but not enough to regularly call and check in.
There had been a point a couple months ago where I was given the job opportunity to work for the CIA, I’d be back home and maybe be able to see Steve again. But I was in a point in my life where I was prioritising the relationship I was currently in, it wasn’t anything serious at the time but I had the feeling this guy was the one.
I was back home from work making dinner for me and my boyfriend when I heard the door open.
“hey sweetie how was work?” I call out but I didn’t get a response.
“babe?” I call out again.
“(Y/N) we need to talk” he says finally walking into the kitchen.
“okay what about?” I ask him cleaning my hands.
“I’m moving to Japan” he says.
“oh okay” I say knowing what was coming next.
“I got a job offer, my dream job I couldn’t say no” he explains, I scoff quietly to myself.
“and what about this? Us?” I ask him.
“well I knew you can’t leave your job, so I guess this is it” he says casually just shrugging his shoulders.
“that’s it were done, just like that” I state.
“oh come on you can’t be mad at me for this” he says.
“yeah I can! We’re in a relationship, we live together this is the sort of thing we should talk about, together!” I shout at him.
“this has nothing to do with you, it’s my life, my job, I can’t hold myself back because of this relationship, if the roles were reversed you’d be long gone, back home in America!” he shouts back at me.
“No I wouldn’t, I got that job offer two months ago and turned it down for you!” I yell at him.
“well my minds made up, I’m going” he tells me.
“then get out, I don’t want to see your face again” I tell him shoving him out the door.
I compose myself finishing the cooking before going around the apartment packing up everything that was his, I stop when get a text I look down at my phone seeing a text from Steve
‘I’m on a mission tomorrow so I thought I’d text now, happy birthday for tomorrow’.
The tears instantly begin to fall cursing my bad luck when it came to relationships, the only person I knew wouldn’t hurt me like this was on the other side of the world, not knowing how much I wanted to be with him right now.
A couple weeks had passed and I was sat at my desk at work, sifting through all the mission files.
“agent (Y/L/N) you have a visitor” someone says behind me, I turn round and see a familiar face.
“Fury, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask.
“I’ve come with a mission” he says walking closer and glancing over my desk.
“I don’t work for Shield anymore, remember” I say crossing my arms.
“true, but this mission requires a certain skill set, only you can do it” he say picking up one of the files quickly looking through it before setting it back down “plus all these missions are simple, and as you would put it boring” he adds.
“you seem confident that I’ll say yes” I say raising my brow at him.
“well this mission is important, if this isn’t completed it could have worldwide consequences” he tells leaning up against the desk.
“sounds like a job for the avenger” I tell him.
“maybe but they’re too well known for espionage and most of them are terrible at it” he smirks.
“okay I’m in, whats the job” I say standing up.
I’d been working undercover as a hydra scientist for the last month now, making notes on the experiments that were going on and making sure the most harmful ones didn’t work. It had been a relatively normal day, I was working alone in a lab trying to identify one of the serums and find out what it actually does.
Suddenly all the alarms went off, I knew the base was under attack and I needed to grab all the information and get out without getting caught and killed by the attackers. I had put some vials of serums in my lab coat and was working to download every bit of information hydra had from the computer. I could hear the fighting getting closer and closer.
“come on, now’s not the time to be slow” I say as the info downloads, too slowly in my opinion.
I hear the door behind me crash open behind me.
“step away” I hear a man say behind me.
I don’t listen and stay at the computer “I said step away” he growls and suddenly a round object, almost like a large frisbee, comes crashing into the computer making me jump away.
I instantly turn around holding a gun up, but before I realise what was happening the man ducks and swings his legs out knocking me down. I get back up instantly grabbing his arms and twisting it backwards. He tries to grab me by I dodge and kick my leg out to tip him backwards using his size against him.
Once he was down on the ground I pin him down finally getting a good look at my attacker who was looking back at me in surprise.
“(Y/N)?” Steve asks me confused.
“Steve?” I ask also confused surely the avengers wouldn’t attack if fury knew I was here.
“you’re hydra?” he asks looking hurt.
“what? No! I’m undercover” I say barely getting to finish before we were interrupted.
“Steve! I’ve got you!” I hear tony shout, his repulsers powering up, before me and Steve could react I was blasted by tony blowing me off of Steve and towards the wall.
The last thing I could remember was Steve shouting and the impact against the wall before it went suddenly all black.
I felt a burning sensation on my side and a pounding feeling in my head. As I came to more I could hear several voices around me and the sound of jet engines.
“why was she there?” I heard a female say.
“I don’t know, MI6 don’t tend to work against Hydra” I hear tony say.
Finally my eyes fluttered open, groaning slightly as I felt the pain of all my injuries inflicted by both Steve and tony in our fight.
“hey (Y/N), its okay, you’re okay we’re taking you back to the compound to fix you up” Steve says gently as he notices me waking up.
“Steve?” I say with a slightly groan turning my head slightly to look at him.
“yeah it’s me, how you feeling?” he asks me.
“in pain” I say wincing slightly.
“okay, bruce will give you some more pain relief” he say brushing some of my hair out of the way.
I notice bruce walk across the jet towards me “okay this might sting” he says getting the needle ready, as I feel the injection I instantly grab for Steve’s hand.
“ow” I mutter.
“I know I hate injections too” Steve chuckles slightly rubbing my hand with his thumb, I nod my head feeling sleepy again but try to fight it.
“hey its okay, rest you’ve been through a lot” Steve says gently.
I just nod my head giving in to the sleep, still holding onto Steve’s hand.
The next time I woke up, the pain had subsided and the room was much quieter, the only noise being the machines around me. I felt so tired I didn’t want to open my eyes, wanting to fall back asleep but then I notice the feeling of someone holding and rubbing my hand.
Despite having a very good idea who it was, curiosity won over and I opened my eyes to get instantly blinded by the bright light.
“too bright” I moan, I hear a soft chuckle and the blinds being shut.
“is that better?” I hear Steve asks, I open my eyes again to a dimmed room.
“much better” I sigh looking over at him.
“how you feeling?” he asks looking over at me.
“much better, no thanks to you and tony” I smirk.
“hey I never hit you with my shield, tony blasted you, its his fault more than mine” Steve argued smirking.
“true, he better have sorted a good apology” I laugh.
“so how come you were there?” Steve asks me.
“fury sent me, undercover work to gather information on their science experiments” I explain “I’d been there a month when you guys arrive” I add.
I notice Steve looking at me slightly confused “fury gave us the intel for this base, why would he send us in if you were there” Steve sighed.
“I’ve got no clue, maybe there was a mix up in the line of command” I suggest,
“maybe but I doubt fury would let that happen” Steve sighs “I’ll ask him when the mission debrief goes in” he says.
“god I haven’t seen you in years” I sigh looking over at him.
“I know, I feel bad for not keeping in contact more” Steve says.
“hey its okay, lives got busy, it happens, life happens” I reassure him, he looks up at me still looking guiltily “plus, I think I’m gonna need a couple weeks off before heading back to work, so we can catch up, properly” I tell him with a smirk.
“that would be great, I could show you around in return for you showing me around London” he smiles.
“I’d like that, can’t wait to get out of this bed” I say.
“well considering you’ve only got some bruises I bet if you take it slow I could sneak you out of here” Steve smirks.
“I’d love to, now help me up” I say holding my hands out.
“right lets go before bruce comes back” Steve smiles helping me out.
Steve took me on a tour of the compound showing me everything I needed to know, “so what have you been up to back in London?” Steve asks me as we walk around the lake.
“not much really, a load of missions but that’s pretty much it” I say shrugging my shoulders.
“so still with MI6?” Steve asks.
“yeah, I did get a job offer for the CIA but turned it down” I tell him.
He pauses slightly and looks over slightly shocked “really how come?” he asks.
“I decided to stay because I was in a situation where I couldn’t move” I explain.
“what kind of situation?” he asks as we continue walking.
“a relationship” I sigh looking down at the floor.
“oh, oh okay, are you still um- with er in a relationship?” Steve asks shoving his hands into his pockets.
“on no, we broke up over a month ago now, he chose career over me even though I chose him over career” I sigh.
“oh well I’m sorry, its his loss” Steve says sympathetically.
“aha thanks Steve, so you seeing anyone?” I ask him.
“uh no, not right now” he says with a slightly nod.
“ah okay, well it’s their loss, anyone would be stupid not to want to date you” I tell him making him chuckle bashfully “then again being super patriotic can be a bit of a turn off” I smirk.
“hey that’s mean, where you always this mean” Steve laughs shoving my shoulder gently.
“well we only had two weeks to get to know each other, I was playing nice to get you to like me” I laugh shoving him back but barely moving him thanks to his massive build.
“well maybe in these two weeks I’ll get to know the real you” Steve smirks.
“yeah maybe you will” I smile.
I’d been staying at the avengers compound for a week now and me and Steve were having a movie marathon.
“oi don’t hog all the popcorn” I say trying to reach for the bowl that Steve was keeping all to himself.
“nope my popcorn” he mumbles through a mouth of popcorn avoiding my grasp.
“Steve c’mon” I laugh trying to reach for it again.
“nope” he laughs moving away again, I give up crossing my arms and sitting back down with a huff hoping he’d feel bad but he carried on hogging it.
I watched him relax though and pay more attention to the film, I take my chance and grab the bowl before he realises what was going on.
“hey!” Steve complains but I was already halfway across the room, he was up like a shot running around after me.
Popcorn was flying everywhere as I ran over the couches and around the coffee table away from Steve, I thought I was in the clear when he stopped slightly but then he turns suddenly tackling me into the couch. The bowl went flying across the room scattering the last bits of popcorn everywhere,
“hey no fair” I laugh as he pins me to the couch.
“I’m not done yet” he smirks, I raise my eyebrow curiously at what he was thinking. When I suddenly realise what he was planning I was begging for mercy.
“no please don’t” I beg.
“too late” he smirks beginning to tickle me, I scream with laughter as I try and escape.
I manage to grab his hands and turn him over so I was pinning him, “ha I got you now” I laugh.
Steve suddenly went quiet “yeah you do” he says quietly looking up at me.
“yeah I do” I mutter quietly, before I realised what was happening Steve closed the distance and our lips were gently connecting.
When I don’t pull away the kiss become more passionate, but suddenly my brain kicks in and I realise what a mistake this was. I pull away suddenly standing up and taking a few steps away from him.
“what’s wrong” Steve says sitting up looking over at me concerned.
“I can’t do this Steve, I’m sorry I can’t not again” I stutter heading towards the door.
“can’t do what? (Y/N) wait” Steve says following me grabbing my hand stopping me from leaving.
“this, us it’s the exact same as last time” I say holding back the tears that were threatening to fall.
“what do you mean?” Steve asks gently leading me back to the couch to sit us both down.
“when we first met, 3 years ago, we spent two weeks together and then you had to leave, and this time it’s me that has to leave” I explain wiping away the stray tears that fell, Steve looks at me still slightly confused not saying anything.
“when you left it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, even though I told myself it was just a two week thing, that didn’t stop me from wanting to chase after you and beg you to stay or follow you to new York” I tell him looking down
“it was so hard, and it took me so long to get over you and I don’t think I can do it again” I continue.
I look back up at Steve and see him looking back at me “I was a mess for weeks too” he tells me.
“you were?” I ask him quietly not actually believing it.
He nods “I tried to find missions in England so I could visit you, when we lost contact I would constantly try and find something to say so I could talk to you again” he tells me.
“me too” I tell him.
Silence falls once again and when Steve kisses me again I don’t pull away this time, knowing that all this time he missed me just as much as I missed him.
“go on a date with me” Steve says in between kisses.
“tell me when and where” I tell him.
“just be ready at 7pm tomorrow, and I’ll take you somewhere” he smirks.
“not going to tell me where we’re going?” I smirk.
“nope it will ruin the surprise” he smirks.
It was the next day and I hadn’t seen Steve all day which just made me more curious as to what he would be planning for this date. It was getting nearer to the time where I would have to start getting ready for the date and since this whole trip was very unplanned the only clothes, I had were the ones I packed for the mission, perfect for day to day stuff but not so perfect for dates.
I decided to text Steve see if I could get an idea of what type of outfit I’ll need
‘hey Steve, I know you wanted to keep this all secretive but I don’t have any date type clothes so I need to know if I need to borrow something off of Natasha x’.
Almost immediately I got my reply.
‘nothing special, just what you normally wear will be perfect, see you soon can’t wait x’ Steve replies.
I smile to myself slightly before getting ready, it didn’t take as long as I thought since I didn’t need to dress up, doesn’t mean I didn’t make myself look good though.
At 7pm on the dot I heard the knock at the door, I compose myself before answering, Steve stood there with a nice light blue top on topped with his brown jacket.
“you look great Steve” I smile grabbing my coat.
“so do you, here let me” he says helping me with my jacket.
“so are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask as he leads me to the garage.
“well I thought I would show you around New York, return the favour for London ya know, but you’re originally from New York so I thought I would show you my New York” Steve says leading me to his bike
“Your New York?” I ask as he passes me his helmet.
“yep now hold on tight” he say before speeding off towards the city.
When we got there Steve first took me to Brooklyn pointing out every alley and corner he got beaten up on when he was a kid, he then showed me where he became captain America, showed me where he was when he woke up. He showed my the schwama joint the avengers went to after the battle of new York, his favourite coffee shop from when he lived in the tower.
We finally pull up outside central park, Steve helps me off the bike and takes me by the hand. We walk through central park together talking about everything under the sun, he then paused on on of the bridges that overlooked the lake.
“now for our final stop” Steve says looking out over the lake.
“its beautiful, I’d forgotten what New York was like during the summer” I smile looking out with him.
“this is where I came after my flight landed 3 years ago” he says “right here this exact spot, I stood here for hours trying to commit every little detail of my trip to memory so I’d never forget it, I stared at my phone just wanting to call you but knowing it was probably to late back in England. I thought about getting Tony’s jet and flying back begging you to come back with me, join the avengers” he tells me taking my hand.
I smile up at him wondering what would of happened if I had gone with him, would we still be together? Would we be thinking of marriage at this point? He was the one in my eyes but I don’t know if I was to him.
“and I want this to part of your New York too” he continues, I look up at him confused “there’s a place for you on the avengers, we could use someone like you, and it means we don’t have to spend a second apart ever again” he tells me.
I look up at him and wrap my arms around his shoulders “only if you promise never to leave me again” I tell him with a slight smirk.
“only if you don’t leave me” he says.
“I’m never letting you out of my sights Rogers” I smirk.
He laughs smiling down at me, “good, because you’re mine now and I’m never letting you go” he smiles leaning down to kiss me once more.
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"Protection" for consecuted au? (:
The assassins had been caught long before they reached her chambers. A human woman, dark hair long around a moon-blessed face, pale and round and full. She would look lovely - sweet, even - if not for the look of absolute hatred in those eyes.
‘You know who I am.’
It is not a question.
‘Yes,’ the assassin spits. She lunges forward, strains against the silver-link chains that hold her in place. ‘Empress bitch.’
Leylas sits back in her throne. Casts a look over the half court that is assembled - half to see who is here to witness this, half to see how the woman deals with boredom as reaction to her vitriol. She pauses a moment on the dark-skinned human who leans so arrogantly against Den Druvkai’s throne - empty for the past few years, it is nonetheless not the place for the human who still refuses amnesis.
‘Consider me appalled,’ Leylas intones, tone flat with boredom. ‘What was your purpose here? To kill me?’
‘Yes.’
She considers handing her over to the Taskhand right then and there but notices Beauregard - always notices her - and the way the woman stiffens, eyes narrowed to keen attention. Blue eyes lift to hers and Leylas arches a brow.
Lying, Beauregard mouths.
‘Liars are not kindly treated in the Dungeon of Penance. If there is something you wish to say, you can do so now. Or,’ Leylas moves her staff from one hand to the other as she shifts an inch forward on her throne and leans forward. From the momentary flicker of fear in the would-be-assassin’s eyes - and the look of veiled admiration in Beauregard’s that she has never in any life been able to hide well - she knows she cuts an intimidating figure. ‘My Shadowhand can pull it from you, along with your tongue when you are dead. Choose!’
The assassin grins. Blood stains between her teeth, drips down over her lips and down her jaw, splatters against the steps. She has done something to herself, Leylas realises in the same moment the guards do, something that is working fast to kill her, bleed her out right here in the Bastion, right at her feet. Leylas snarls, pushes to standing - only to stop at the assassin’s croaked words.
‘We know about her,’ the woman hisses in Undercommon, too harsh to ever pass for a native of Rosohna, each word drenched in hatred. ‘We know about your wife. An Empire girl. A human. Thought you hated our kind,’ she cackles.
Leylas has no retort. No answer. She stares down into eyes that begin to bleed, and has no retaliation to this. On the outskirts of her fixed attention, hands move - her clerics hurry to stem the bleeding, fix what has been hurt. Leylas pays them no mind. They’re too late. This woman is dying. Why is she tell her this? It’s certainly not a warning. A bluff?
‘So be it,’ Leylas says. She doesn’t shrug - such a gesture does not befit the Bright Queen - but merely tilts her head dismissively. It is sweet, to see all the rage and the bitterness and the disappointment in the assassin’s eyes as she dies, thinking that Leylas cares not a bit for what she said.
The pool of red has spread. It drips, in the silence of the court, down step after step, plinking in weighty droplets in a slow-moving cascade. It has soaked her boots and the hem of her cloak, Leylas notes as she glowers down at the dead woman.
‘Your Majesty?’
‘Taskhand.’
‘What -’
‘Have the Grave Wardens call her back. Interrogate her if they can. Then dispose of her.’ Leylas lifts a finger when the Taskhand begins to turn away. He pauses. ‘Carefully.’
‘Your will, umavi.’
‘And Nozir?’
‘Majesty?’
Leylas lifts her eyes finally to where Beauregard had been last - leant against the throne. She isn’t surprised to find that the woman is bent over the would-be-assassin now, less than four feet out of Leylas’s reach. Leylas flicks her eyes to Nozir, nods meaningfully.
He has no love for humans; has lost a love and a life of his own to the Empire and their consuming greed. He nods back to her anyway, not far off a bow, and departs to alert the Grave Wardens of their expected guest.
‘What was that about?’
Beauregard. Of course she would not have missed the exchange.
‘Taskhand Nozir is arranging for the interrogation of -’
‘After that.’ Beauregard has the nerve to cut her off. ‘The super secret nod.’
Leylas nods to the clerics, who have given up their attempts at bringing the assassin back by means short of a resurrection, and to the guards who lift and carry the body and its chains away.
‘I’m just going to follow you,’ Beauregard warns her when Leylas turns toward her antechamber, and despite the scene they had just witness, she grins when Leylas levels a stern look her way.
‘Of course you will.’
Beauregard follows her into the antechamber. Steps right up behind her and dares to lift the mantle of her cloak from her shoulders without asking, without warning. Leylas doesn’t flinch. It may look like a flinch to the other woman, it must because Beauregard gentles, unties the binds with careful, slow fingers, shows her motions long before she follows through on them.
It is not a flinch.
There was a moment when Beauregard was close that Leylas wanted nothing more than to take her in her arms and pull her close; there was a moment when that would have been allowed, would have been expected. There was a moment when the removal of her cloak would have been nothing but a lingering, putting off the embrace because she could, because she enjoyed pushing Leylas’s buttons. But this version of her doesn’t know these things, this version of her hasn’t experienced the way a dozen lifetimes of love can roar through her, burn every other thought out of her mind. And so when Leylas moved to embrace her without thought, she came up against her own control - forced herself to stop.
Beauregard drapes the stained cloak over the barren desk.
‘I know a way of getting stains out of stuff.’ She touches the soft white, grimaces. ‘I can give it a go, if you want.’
Leylas remains perfectly still save for dark eyes that track the woman across the room. ‘Taskhand Nozir will assign a guard for you and for your friends while you are in Rosohna.’
‘You’ll need a whole tub of vinegar probably,’ Beauregard continues as though she hadn’t heard. ‘Cold water. Then the harshest soap around, the kind that lathers.’
‘You will not try to dodge the guard or leave them behind.’
‘I will.’
‘You will not,’ Leylas snaps, and she feels something click in her jaw when she clenches her mouth shut hard at the sheer obstinance on Beauregard’s face. ‘This is for your protection - ‘
‘We’re on the Empire’s shit list already. We can handle -’
‘You are not yet a target for being the Queen’s Consort!’
‘Mighty big assumption there.’
‘They won’t care if you have been through amnesis. They won’t care if you remember, Beauregard - ’
‘It’s Beau,’ she snaps, finally dropping the half-amused, half-challenging expression. ‘Beau. Not fucking Beauregard.’
Leylas lets a harsh breath out her nose. ‘Beau,’ she agrees. Feels the familiarity of the name prickle over her tongue - she’s not allowed this, not yet, she can’t have this until Beau gives it to her, she doesn’t want it if she doesn’t get more later - and quashes the flurry of questions that rise in her mind about this woman, her dislike for her name, everything that Leylas has missed of this life that she desperately wishes to know. ‘They won’t care if you accept who you were. They don’t care about you.’
‘Seems familiar,’ Beau grumbles.
‘They care about how I feel for you. And you must understand - they will do anything they can to harm me. If you walk unguarded, you make yourself a target. With a bow atop your head.’
‘Nah. The bo’s on my back,’ she laughs, gratingly, harsh, and so obviously amused with her own joke that Leylas squeezes her eyes shut and hates the tiny smile that pushes up one corner of her mouth. ‘I don’t need the protection. We don’t need it.’
‘Beau -’
‘But fine. I’ll take ‘em now.’
Leylas blinks her eyes open, surprised. ‘What?’
‘I said I’ll take ‘em. I’m not stupid,’ Beau tells her forcefully. ‘I understand. You make a good point.’
‘I am the Queen.’
‘What’s a Queen without her Captain?’
‘Sad.’
Beau blinks. Drops her gaze to the floor. She clears her throat, pulls the conversation back to safer ground. ‘I get it. I’m a target if anyone knows. If.’
‘We can’t risk -’
‘That they didn’t get word out somehow,’ Beau agrees with a jerk of her head. ‘Yeah. I figured.’ She drags a hand through her hair, the other propped on her hip.
It’s such a purposeful show, her posture, seemingly so lazy, so arrogantly open as if in challenge for someone to try and strike her, but Leylas can read the readiness in every line of her.
How very different she is from her past lives. How very similar.
‘We’ll talk about it. Me and the Nein.’
‘That is...all that I can ask of you. And that you stay vigilant.’
‘Always.’
‘Very well.’
Beau is silent a moment. Then, ‘You want me to clean this cloak for you or what?’
Leylas frowns. Waves a hand. The red dries to brown and flakes into nothing, sifts into the air and away from the cloak, leaving it as pristine as before. The other woman looks impressed - and some other expression Leylas can’t quite place.
‘Right. That’s a no.’ Beau gives her an awkward nod - not the slightest attempt at a bow, so arrogant this life is - and steps out from the antechamber without a look back. There is the shift of metal on stone as guards fall into step beside her, which fade as Beau takes her leave.
Leylas wipes at her face when the door is closed. Ice cold sweat has beaded just at her hairline and she dabs it away. The urge to follow, the urge to see that Beau makes it back to her house safe - the urge to keep her here, at Leylas’s side, in her chambers, to not let her leave the Bastion at all - is intense, strangles her throat until her breath comes shallow and sharp, stabs into her lungs. She twists, half-collapses with braced arms against the desk and the soft cloak Beau had carried with such admiration. Digs her fingers into it and breathes. Again. And again until the moment passes.
She will have Nozir double the scrying upon the guest house. And invite Beau - and her Mighty Nein - to the Bastion in the morning to discuss matters. Not just to assure herself of Beau’s continued existence.
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How about G26, G27 and R5 for Cal, please and thank you.
No problem, @jewalsgem! Thanks for taking the time to send in a request and I hope you enjoy!
G26: “I was on the fence for a while but I’ve finally come to the conclusion that… you’re brutally wrong.”
G27: “That’s bold coming from someone with a pretty generic fashion sense.”
R5: “It’s not everyday someone manages to make (Caleb North) swoon.” “What can I say? You’re a rare specimen.”
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What does Caleb North do when he’s losing in a card game, you ask? Well, he bluffs--and he bluffs hard.
He’ll have his losing cards stuffed in his hands and a determined, smug expression, his blue eyes alight with the promise of winning. He’d remark about how little he’s trying and how hard MC seems to be playing, when in reality, he was the one who was desperate to win. Cal was swindling her, obviously, but MC wasn’t that gullible. She didn’t fall for his show of sportsmanship--MC was playing to win, not build relationships. Rapt for victory, MC dishes out a red seven and sends Cal a challenging brow arch. “Your move.” Cal returns her challenge with an equally cocky smirk. He flicks a card from his lofty hand and it flutters onto the growing pile, and MC groans once she realizes it’s a red skip. “Yes, my move, oh, and my move again,” Cal tosses down another skip, this time blue, followed by a blue three, ��well, would you look at that? Looks like you’re not as untouchable as you think.” Cal bluffs, laughter twinkling in his eyes. If she wasn’t seated at the opposite side of the table, MC would’ve jabbed her fist into his shoulder blade--how dare he skip her back to back like that?
“Never said that. Just said that you have no hope of winning against me, that’s all.” She shuffles through her deck as she scoffs, fingers sifting through the many choices. Down to just five cards against Cal’s whopping ten, MC could play a couple different cards, all with varying outcomes. Two threes and a wild card, hmm... what should I play next? MC selects the one of the yellow threes that she had, considering that a majority of her cards--excluding the wild card--were yellow. She adds the card to the pile and Cal makes a thoughtful noise, his eyes narrowing as he examines his hand. Ha. Got him. “Drawing again, are we?” MC suppresses a snicker at the glower on Cal’s handsome face as he reaches for the drawing deck. That had been the third time in just ten minutes and probably the next beginning for his wealth in cards. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of me all you want. I’m gonna get you after--what the hell?! Where are the yellows?!” Cal’s rebuke is intercepted with his frustration of finding no compatible cards three cards deep. MC can’t help it this time; she snickers behind her petite supply of cards. Oh boy, I almost feel bad for him--having to lose so pitifully. Finally, after plucking three more cards to add to his deck, Cal finds an appropriate card and angrily throws it down; a red three. He slumps in his chair a little, eyes cast to the side; sulking silently. MC plays her second three, which is yet another yellow three. She almost felt bad for playing it on poor, yellow-less, three-less Cal... until out of nowhere, the gunslinger plops down a draw four card! Her heart just about stops in her chest. What?!
“Gotcha,” he preens, “thought you had the advantage, huh?” His words causes the pieces in her mind to click and she scowls--it was all a part of his grand plan, wasn’t it? “I think I’ll go green this time...” Cal then slams down a green plus two before MC can even draw, his complacent grin somehow even more annoying than stacking a plus two--which is what Cal does. He adds another green plus two which ups the amount of cards MC needs to draw to a staggering eight. Now Cal had as many cards as her: thirteen to thirteen. Welp, guess we’ve got another half hour to go before anyone wins. “You... you filthy, slimy, snake! Can’t you just play without being such a buzzkill?!” MC snarls. She hated how he always seemed to have the upper advantage, so when he suggested a card game to pass the time, MC had been eager to show him that there was some things he couldn’t be king of. But now that starting motivation fizzles out into frustration as Cal smiles at her, eyes wickedly gleaming with pride. Doesn’t he look pleased with himself... it’s okay, he can have his those five seconds of gratification. They’ll be his last once I win. “Come on, MC, don’t be such a sore loser,” his pure blue eyes hungrily follow her hand as she collects the eight cards he tolled her, “it’ll already hurt your pride enough to watch me win.”
“You’re going to eat those words, Caleb North.” She states as she shuffles her larger deck of cards, prepared to see his downfall.
...Tch.
“I was on the fence for a while but I’ve finally come to the conclusion that… you’re brutally wrong.”
Just ten minutes later and Cal was on Uno, while MC still had four cards to use; all useless as Cal plays his final card. The trick shooter had won. “I win and you don’t, just like I promised would happen earlier.” That accomplished grin on his face... MC really wanted to swipe it off--why’d he have to draw a plus four when she was on Uno just a minute ago? MC rolls her eyes and glares at him pumping his fists in the air. “That’s bold coming from someone with a pretty generic fashion sense.” She snipes defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. It was something that came out of her naturally, like an insult ingrained in her system that was ready to be weaponized at any time. Maybe I’m bitter, but that was such a dumb game. I think I have a right to be bitter. Cal takes the ramshackle pile of cards--with his winning card on top, rubbing his victory all in her face--and clacks them against the tabletop to fix their disorder. A knowing grin climbs his mouth. “Going after my looks now, huh? You really are a sore loser...” He trails off as he absently organizes the cards in his hands, so graceful that it made MC’s aggravation heighten. She just about explodes. “If being angry that your opponent is a tryhard and doesn’t play by the rules makes me a sore loser, then hell yeah I’m a sore loser!”
The table rattles as she limply throws her arm down on the surface and Cal hisses. “Hey, not so hard! You wanna lose a table while you’re at it?!” Even through his frustrated reprimand, MC could sense the cocky aptitude lacing his words--it left something unsaid. She could almost guess what he was about to say. “...cause you seem like you’re losing a lot today.” Cal mumbles under his breath, the cards in his hands slowly assembling into a neat, flawless stack. She kicks his shin from under the table just to watch him yelp. “Ow,” he sends her a pained glower as he reaches under the table to touch his shin, “the hell was that for?!”
“You know what that was for, jerkface,” MC matches his indignant expression, teeth gritted, “you didn’t have to be so mean about it, you know. Not every victory has to be a jeering contest.” Her eyes soften. The truth of their banter had just dawned on her--they were fighting over one little card game. If this sets them off, how in the hell do they get along day-in and day-out? Maybe it was a cheap move to morph this banter into a lesson but MC didn’t really care; maybe a cheap lesson is what they needed. Cal, still massaging his aching shin, sets his pristine pile of cards aside and reaches for the drawing deck. He notes the reflective expression on MC’s face and sighs quietly. “Now you’re reminiscent, huh? What’re you thinking now?” His voice is gentler when he says this, gaze sweeping over MC as if checking for an unseen injury. The gesture, however insignificant, tugs at MC’s lips. It was nice to see that his ego hadn’t blotted out his thoughtful nature. She fidgets with her jacket’s zipper, her ankles crossing then uncrossing and crossing again as she thinks of what to say. Maybe she was thinking too much these days, maybe that was her overall issue. “Well, I don’t know, I just... I guess I’m being harsh. We both are. That’s not like us.” MC confesses, low and timid, as if her words could shatter a bond that had lived for so long.
She was being precautious again, wasn’t she? Careful to not strike a nerve in Cal or stub her own interests, dipping her toes in just enough to judge her next move. Maybe that was something she needed to work on in the future. Or maybe she didn’t, if Cal didn’t mind. Since when did I consider changing for Cal’s approval? Something must be in the air. In front of her, Cal’s eyes become thoughtful as they scrutinize her features. Like hundreds of times before, MC felt the magnetic pull of his eyes, how the blue seemed to yawn out for her to drown in--a sea of emotion that she wanted to be in the waves of. That same blue softens as Cal rests his chin in his palms, cheekily smiling a lazy smile. The posture reminded MC of someone whose charmed--but that couldn’t be true. Cal, charmed? Only myths spoke of such a thing. “Worried about us, huh? Here I was, thinking you were the most bitter loser this world has ever seen-” a frown spreads over MC’s features that has Cal hurrying to finish his thoughts “-and here you are, proving that you’ve got enough heart to take an L.” He smooths a hand through his windswept hair with another sigh as MC smiles to herself. I think the translation of that is that I’m right. “No one likes a sore loser,” MC agrees, watching in awe at how his fingers’ prowess seemed to melt the cards all into one tidy stack, “so I’d rather not be that kind of person, you know?”
Cal slides the deck he’d just organized to the side, nodding his head. “Figured. You’re not the kind of person that’d fit in those shoes too well.” Again, just like before, Cal’s tone is delicate and observing and nearly fond. That made her heart jump a little in her chest, pumping just a little harder than before. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions and this next sentence would be the biggest regret of her life, but...
“It’s not everyday someone manages to make Caleb North swoon,” she braces her elbows on the tabletop and leans forward slightly, “I think I’ll go down in history as the first.”
...what was the worst that could happen? Except being teased and embarrassed daily by the person it was directed towards, of course. MC can’t help but suck in a breath and hope that she didn’t just screw anything up. Her sights were on the word ‘swoon’ and how effortlessly she used it, like she was exposing feelings even she didn’t know of herself. Cal’s eyes flicker up to hers, amusement dancing within their depths, before he slants back against his chair with a faint scoff. “Tch, you really make it easy to hate you, MC.” The trick shooter licks his lips--a brief action that catches MC’s attention. She could feel heat creep up her neck at how quickly she latched onto the movement, almost like she’s touch-starved or something. Which I am definitely not! Nope, not at all, I get touches all the time from gorgeous gun-wielding assassins and this isn’t totally taboo!
“But what can I say? You’re a rare specimen.”
Uh-oh. Here comes the second wave of embarrassment ready to swallow me whole... As discreetly as she can, MC fans her face before the blood can rush to the surface while Cal’s miniature, practically affectionate smile pushes her into his spotlight. ...What is composure again? I forgot what it meant again.
Needless to say, MC left Cal curious and baffled, her feelings starting to wrap tighter and tighter within her chest. Soon the strings would get knotted and twisted, then what? How could she decipher the warmth she felt in Cal’s presence?
And most of all, what ran through that boy’s head when intimate moments like the card game happen between them?
What was he thinking?
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Thank you again for your request! I loved writing this for you!
If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.
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Phantom Network: Malware Uninstall
A common question bandied about in regards to the Phantom Network is how a bunch of (insert adjectives like “lowlife” or “no good dirty”, etc) thieves manage to work together without constantly stabbing each other in the back. Yes, I’ll admit, even I didn’t quite understand it back when I was but a wee passive civilian living a mundane life, but I now realize this was only because I grossly misunderstood what a Phantom Thief is.
Most often, you hear “thief” and you picture someone taking something for themselves--a selfish hoarder who collects by any means necessary. A Phantom Thief, however, has more noble goals in mind...and a flair for the dramatic. Bit of a tangent, but important to note. You see, Phantom Thieves don’t steal for themselves: they steal for others. We take from the rich and give to the poor and all that jazz, because even if it’s only a drop in the ocean of wealth the elites have built up, the act of stealing from them proves that they aren’t invincible. It’s all too easy to feel powerless in this world. But when those with power aren’t able to stop regular people from knocking them down a peg, you get a tiny bit of hope, and more often than you might expect, that tiny bit of hope can make all the difference. Those dedicated to making that happen join the Phantom Network with a simple vow: “honor among thieves”.
Usually, that’s enough. But no organization is inherently pure, and no matter what your goals are (especially when you’re working outside the law), it’s only natural you’ll attract some folks who are in it for the wrong reasons. And that’s what we have the FW Protocol for! If a thief is found to have no honor, the Protocol strips them of their privileges and finds the safest way to expunge them from the organization. We don’t go as far as to execute somebody, but with how difficult memory deletion is to pull off, lifetime imprisonment is a fairly common result. The system works...most of the time. The Protocol can’t be too aggressive, so it usually waits for someone else to file a complaint. But, with the whole “honor” thing, a lot of good Phantom Thieves won’t feel right ratting on their colleagues unless they go way over the line, at which point they’ve probably already caused an incident and have the Protocol on their tail. Plenty of thieves manage to operate in that gray area, serving themselves without pissing anyone off too much...and I’ve all too frequently had the pleasure of dealing with one such individual.
Kari always pushed the limits even of that gray area. But it’s rare to find someone who can competently manipulate time, so she wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that the Network needed her. Even after being betrayed over and over, I still haven’t filed a complaint, because she hasn’t outright ruined any job she’s been on and I don’t want to resort to drastic measures just for being personally wronged. Like I said, honor among thieves. I had decided to just put the whole thing behind me, not work with or even think about her ever again, but...things took a bit of a turn.
The “courtroom” we have at HQ is rarely used, so it’s a bit cramped. I practically had to wedge myself into the corner as I took my seat and waited for things to kick off. Opposite the door, the Phantom Network Admin sat at a blocky steel desk: a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned individual with a cyan bionic eye and metal down one half of their face, the other partly obscured by their many red curls. Between us were four lightly-armored folks who each wore solid red shades, and in the midst of them, Kari, with a jamming bolt stuck to her alchemar between her shoulder blades and shackles on her wrists.
“Phantom Thief Kari, the Epoch Swindler,” the Admin said. “Following the recent incident at Navy Canyon, the FW Protocol has conducted an investigation and found you in violation of your vow as a Phantom Thief. What do you have to say in your own defense?”
Kari adjusted her bangs with a puff of air. “Listen boss, I know I’m not exactly a paragon of virtue--honor isn’t something that comes all that easily to me. But have I really done anything that awful? I’m still serving the essential functions of a Phantom Thief, and none of my transgressions have impeded operations in any meaningful way.” Under her breath, she added, “Until Navy Canyon, at least...but that was an accident.”
“It is worth noting there have been no formal complaints filed against her,” said one of the FWs surrounding her. “However, when we interviewed those who have worked with her in the past, we noticed a running theme of dishonorable conduct. Several such thieves have been brought in today to share their accounts on-record.”
The various assembled thieves were called up one by one, each sharing a lovely little tale about some time Kari shafted them. Honestly it was hard not to laugh: I felt their pain. Through it all, Kari just stood there, completely silent as her misdeeds were laid out before her. Part of me couldn’t help but take satisfaction in the sight. But, another part...
“Lastly, we would like to hear from Phantom Thief Roche.”
I pushed my way to the front of the room, avoiding eye contact with Kari for as long as I could. When I faced the FWs, though, I could see her out of the corner of my eye, staring dag...huh. Well, she was staring, but not as maliciously as I was expecting.
“Roche. On how many occasions have you worked with Kari?”
“Ah, nearly a dozen, I guess,” I said.
“And during these occasions, did Kari conduct herself in a manner you found questionable?”
“Every time.” I saw Kari look to the floor. That’s the most remorse I’ve ever seen her show.
“In particular, please share your recollection of the Cosmic Sapphire heist.”
“Right.” I shifted my weight a little. “A certain Mr. Snyder had the national museum display a set of fine jewels he had collected over the years, so the two of us set out to steal the exhibit. Breaking in was easy, and then I went to the display room while Kari disabled the security. As soon as I had an opening, I snatched the jewels, but as I was headed out I was jumped by a mercenary using a sound alchemar. Turns out Snyder had shelled out quite a sum bringing in extra help once we warned him we were coming. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail about why fighting sound-users is tricky--suffice to say I was on the back foot, with things only evening out once Kari showed up. We were doing okay, so I made a plan to end it. I got in close as a distraction...next thing I knew, my bag felt a good bit lighter, and I was eating concrete. Took me a minute to piece everything together, but basically: Kari stopped time, took the jewels off my hand, and then bolted back here on her own. Not to be dramatic, but I almost died there. That’s the only time since joining the Network I’ve had to make an emergency call. In the end, Kari got full payment, I looked like an amateur, and…”
Hesitation struck. See, I haven’t taken a look at the Cosmic Sapphire Collection--it was turned over to the Admin and stored in the Network’s cache--but I’ve always had a strong suspicion that a few of the jewels didn’t make it back to HQ. I wanted to bring it up, but...it’s not like I had any proof. It was baseless, and I’d just be slandering Kari and making her (already very bad-looking) case look a lot worse. She was still looking at the floor, and it was still weirding me out.
Nodding, one of the FWs asked, “And?”
Mmm, I might hate her, but I gotta be fair. I sighed, continuing, “And, I’m just mad about it. Being left to die and all. But, there you have it.”
I went back to my seat. The Admin folded their hands before their face, staring at Kari as they sifted through the information they had just absorbed. “Well. It sounds to me as though you’ve been awfully consistent, and all that’s saved you from comeuppance is the reluctance of more honorable thieves. Do you have anything to add, Kari?”
She shook her head. “...No.”
Yikes. I’d never seen her like this, and it was really starting to get to me.
“This selfish streak casts itself upon your current claims. Having previously been so willing to let your colleagues come to harm, it becomes more difficult to believe that the losses suffered at Navy Canyon were simply an accident. Especially considering how flippant you were in the wake of the incident.”
“Makes sense.”
The Admin paused, and boy did it drag on. Eventually, they said, “Have any come to speak in defense of Kari?”
“None,” answered an FW.
“So we truly have only your word to go on that this was an accident?”
“Come on, I--” Kari snapped, but cut herself off with a huff. “Alright. I’m an asshole, no two ways about it--it’s not like I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t react right to what was going on, but at this point, what do I have to gain by lying about it? It was an accident. I didn’t want those thieves to die. Believe me, don’t believe me, whatever. Are we gonna keep running in circles, or can we just get this over with?”
Damn, okay. Something got to her.
The Admin said, “You must have an idea of what my decision would have to be if we leave things here. Are you alright with that?”
“I just want it over with,” Kari mumbled. “If there’s no changing it, then this is just torture.”
So...she’d already accepted being banned from the Network? And was still insisting it was an accident? Why? What did she benefit from being honest at that point?
The Admin sat up straight. “Very well.”
Hold on.
“Kari, you are hereby--”
“Wait!” I said. All eyes turned to me. “...Boss. To be fair...I think she’s telling the truth about Navy Canyon being an accident.”
The Admin raised an eyebrow. “You do? Even though she’s put your life in jeopardy before?”
“I mean I’m still mad about that, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not like she let the others die and then got out of there: she stayed and finished the mission, and even saved the lives of the right flank later on. Why would she do that if she had killed the vanguard on purpose?”
After another all-too-long pause, the Admin said, “You make a fine point. But even if that was simply an accident, the trend in her conduct still stands.”
I glanced at Kari. She was staring at me, eyes wide with confusion. Don’t ask me, I didn’t get it either. “Of course. But, we don’t need to overreact, right? I think the fact that she stayed after that accident shows she’s not a completely lost cause--maybe we can help her to be a little more honorable, given enough time and incentive.”
The Admin considered this, leading to yet another long silence during which I could feel myself growing old.
“Plus, where are we going to find another time-user on her level? Not to sound like a business bastard, but you can look at it as an investment.”
The Admin chuckled. “Practical. I suppose if we lock her for a while, we can take the time to educate her on proper Phantom Thief conduct. Mandatory, of course, and she’ll be confined to quarters otherwise. Reparations will also need to be arranged, but that’s something we can work out at a later date. Does this sound acceptable to you, Kari?”
She turned back to face the Admin. “...Well, doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time, but...I suppose it’s better than my other option.”
“This will only work if you are truly willing to learn. If you remain obstinate, this verdict can and will be amended.”
“Okay, I get it. I’ll take it seriously.”
“Good. Does anyone else have anything to add?” No one did. “Then we’re done. Please escort Kari back to her quarters and confiscate her alchemar. Once you are satisfied the conditions are secure, please inform me, and then we can proceed.”
The FWs ushered Kari out of the room. As she passed, she stared at me, but I kept my eyes forward. The other thieves filed out, and I stayed where I was until finally the Admin walked up to me.
“I have to admit, Roche: I wasn’t expecting that from you.”
With a shrug, I got to my feet. “Yeah, me neither. Couldn’t tell you why that happened.”
The Admin smiled. “I see. You know, if we’re going to instill a sense of honor in Kari, there’s quite a bit she could learn from you.”
Every muscle in my body went stiff as I began to question recent decisions.
“Don’t worry, I won’t put you through that.”
The tension drained out of me all at once. You’d think it’d be cathartic, but it was more like the experience of finally vomiting after hours of nausea.
“Thank you for speaking up, Roche. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Kari was locked for a good few months after that. She wasn’t entirely responding well to her training, but she did make an effort, and eventually we got somewhere. After doing a handful of supervised jobs pro bono, she was allowed to leave her quarters, and no one at HQ saw her for another couple months after that. But, she did come back eventually and resumed duties as normal. I haven’t interacted with her since the investigation, and I don’t really feel an urge to change that. I’d like to think she’s made some real progress, but...it’s hard to give someone the benefit of the doubt after repeated betrayal. I’m gonna keep my distance. With any luck, she’s at least got some sense of honor now, and she won’t be my problem ever again.
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Superheroes By Day (Queen fic)
Summary: Queen are rock stars by night, superheroes by day. Each member has his own exceptional powers. They assemble for an important mission cerca 1986. Also, cellphones exist.
Inspiration: Totally random, pure ridiculousness, plz enjoy.
Warnings: Language.
Link to all my writing HERE
My burner phone rings. They always call me. I’m the only one who can be trusted to pick up.
“This is John.”
Freddie always loses his phone; he would lose his moustache if it wasn’t attached. Brian spends too much time frolicking with and rehabilitating forest creatures, so his phone goes dead and he can never charge it because surprise surprise, there are no wall sockets in the fucking woods. Rog is hopeless, hopeless. Last time they gave him a phone it ended up at the bottom of a jacuzzi tub in Morocco. I’ll let you try to figure that one out.
I listen to our latest mission, jotting down a few notes with the pen and notepad I keep in my fanny pack. Yes, I use a fanny pack. You would too if you had four kids. Shut up about it.
“You are tasked with assembling the others.”
I sigh, quite dramatically. “Can’t you...I don’t know, send limos or something?”
“Complete the mission, John.” They hang up. Superheroes get a lot less fanfare than rock stars.
I sprint outside and jump into my Mercedes-Benz 190E. I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing.
“No!” I gasp. I try again. Nothing. “No no no!”
I rush back inside the house. Veronica is taking fish sticks out of the oven and forking them onto plates for the kids.
“Babe, there’s something wrong with the Benz!”
“Oh,” she replies, unbothered. “Well I can take it to the shop tomorrow.”
“But I need it now! I have a mission!”
She peers out the kitchen window and into the driveway. “What’s wrong with the minivan?”
I follow her gaze, horrified. “Babe, love of my life, I cannot pick up the band in a Plymouth Voyager.”
“Why not?” she replies innocently. “Kids, lunch is ready!” I hear the stampede beginning upstairs. Veronica looks at me with her eyebrows raised. “Do you want the van or not?”
I tug at my permed hair in exasperation. “Okay, okay, I’ll take the van!”
She tosses me the keys and I’m out the door like a bolt of lightning. The Voyager roars to life without any hesitation.
I arrive at Brian’s house first. I honk precisely six times: the secret honk, the we-have-a-mission honk. A neighbor lady leans out her window, shakes her fist menacingly, and calls me a barmy wanker. Thanks, lady.
Brian toddles out of his house looking very sensible: button-up shirt, slim white trousers, general demeanor of a brooding academic. And then there are the clogs.
“You, ah, you’re not going to trip in those?” I venture.
He glares at me and slips wordlessly into the passenger’s seat. The Plymouth Voyager pulls out of his driveway. I fumble with the radio, and eventually find a good song. It’s disco. I bop my head and sing along, entirely offkey. Brian stares sullenly out the window and presumably wishes for death.
Roger is next. Six honks.
“Good god, there must be a more practical way to communicate in this day and age!” Brian says.
“I could try turning up the disco,” I suggest. He is not amused.
Rog is wearing all black, including his prescription sunglasses. He climbs into the back seat. “Good morning, gentlemen!” he announces cheerfully. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and produces an entire bottle of tequila.
“It’s 2:37 p.m., Rog,” Brian informs him.
Rog recoils, bewildered, then shrugs. He knocks back a few swallows of tequila and glances around the minivan. “Ooo, there are cupholders!”
I return to singing disco. Brian peers back at Rog. “Give me a swig of that.”
Freddie is waiting at the curb with a lit cigarette between his fingers. I roll up beside him. He appraises the Plymouth Voyager.
“Um, excuse me, but what the fuck.”
“I know, I know, the Benz wouldn’t start. Why are you out here already? Did someone call you? Did you actually know where your phone was?”
“Oh no, darling, the cats just don’t like me smoking indoors.”
“Whatever you say, Fred.”
“Miko sneezes terribly!”
He crawls into the back seat with Rog. They immediately begin giggling and shoving each other and inventing drinking games.
“Okay,” Freddie instructs, “every time Bri says something pretentious you have to take a shot.”
“Fred, I’ll fucking die!”
Brian buries his head in his hands. I clear my throat as I speed through traffic. “Um, is anyone actually interested in the mission?”
They settle down. “Oh yeah,” Roger says. “Go ahead, Deaks.”
“There is a family in Ealing whose dog, Mr. Doodles, has been stolen, probably to be held for ransom. We’re in pursuit of the burglar.”
“Wait, isn’t he going to be, like, way ahead of us by now?” Bri asks, ever the skeptic.
Roger rolls his eyes. “Fortunately, we happen to have...” He does jazz hands. “Superpowers!”
“Right. I’ll find him.” Freddie rubs his temples and closes his eyes in concentration. He has a dash of telepathy, but it only works on bad guys. Thank god for that, or the constant bombardment of space nonsense and disjointed basslines and naked women and car engine revs from us would completely drown out anything useful. “He’s heading west on Warwick Road!”
I put the pedal to the metal and within a few minutes we’ve spotted him. The Plymouth Voyager squeals to a halt along the sidewalk. All four of us dive out of the van and into the street.
The burglar is tall and burly and wearing a black ski mask, how original. He’s also cloaked in a tremendously tacky mustard yellow coat and carrying a satchel that likely contains the aforementioned Mr. Doodles. He sees us and pulls a gun out of his international fashion crime of a coat.
Roger unleashes a sonic scream—“aaaaaAAAAAAAhhhhAAAAAAAAAA!”—and the gun flies out of the burglar’s hand. He curses in frustration.
“Avian friends, attack!” Brian calls out. A flock of ducks descend upon the burglar, swooping and pecking at him. He attempts to smack them away clumsily.
Freddie flies to the burglar’s side. Did I mention Freddie can fly? Well, he can fly. Short distances, anyway. “That coat is awful and you should feel bad about it.”
Now it’s my turn: snark so savage it can incapacitate a wrongdoer in seconds.
Freddie, reading the burglar’s deepest thoughts and darkest fears, gives me the information I need. “Deaky, he’s still traumatized from middle school algebra! Talk about algebra!”
“Quadratic equations! Polynomials!”
“Ahh!” the burglar screams, crumpling to the ground. He loses his grip on the satchel, and a small white ball of fluff tumbles out. Mr. Doodles barks, panicked and disoriented, and Brian rushes over to comfort him.
I shout: “If x times seven equals 49, what is the value of x?!”
“Please stop! I’ll do anything!” The burglar writhes helplessly, vanquished.
Brian laughs, cradling Mr. Doodles in his arms. “Pathetic!”
I unzip my fanny pack and sift through the stationary and toast crumbs. “Oh dammit, I forgot the handcuffs!”
“I got it,” Rog says. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. He clicks them around the burglar’s wrists and flashes a grin. Oh my god. Did I really just see that? Oh my god. “Do you need a blindfold too—?”
“No, Roger.”
The police arrive to take the thwarted burglar away and return Mr. Doodles to his rightful owners. Brian thanks the ducks kindly and feeds them cracked corn from his outstretched palm. Roger argues with the police because he wants to be sure he gets his fuzzy handcuffs back.
“Alright, darlings.” Freddie claps his hands together. “Job well done. Back to Garden Lodge. I’ll have Jim put some cookies in the oven for us.”
Roger raises his tequila bottle into the air and winks. “I’ll make the tea.”
#queen#queen fanfic#queen fanfiction#freddie mercury#brian may#john deacon#roger taylor#queen imagine
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Legends Never Die - Chapter 1
Lately, I’ve been consuming a lot of Mortal Kombat content (Especially Erron Black and Kabal ones). So I thought that I should contribute in some way to the fandom, because you just gotta be the change you see in the world sometimes.
My OC’s name in this, is Vanessa. Basically, this is an Erron x F!OC fic, where the OC is a field medic, and Kotal wants to have friendly relations with Earthrealm by calling Special Forces for a field trip.
I’m sorry for a slow first chapter, but sometimes you gotta lay down the framework, the same way you lay down a table mat before you eat to avoid making a mess. God, I’m so hungry.
Anyway, enjoy! I’ll include a link to the AO3 fic, or you can just search for it with the same name.
Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806688/chapters/49453874
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“And thus, Kotal Kahn has agreed to receive Special Forces’ Entourage as a sign of trust and cooperation between Outworld and Earthrealm.”
She hears General Blade’s voice boom throughout the hall, the entire fleet pays close attention to their leading officer-in command.
“This delegation will be led by Commander Cage. I, myself and Johnny will stay behind to watch over things here, just to make sure Earthrealm is kept in check. Take this as an opportunity to further sharpen your skills and reflexes. Don’t ever let your guard down, you never know what danger finds you in Outworld.”
There is no sugar-coating with General Blade, but it is apt for the situation.
General Blade continues on with her announcements; The time and place for the Delegation to assemble, the necessary and optional squadrons needed, and a briefing in Outworld Etiquette and Propriety later in the evening. The General ends the meeting, and dismisses everyone early to allow for preparation and packing. Every soldier needs to be fully ready; Their physical fitness at their peak, and iron-clad mental fortitude to persevere through the unknown days ahead.
Despite the warnings and precautions, the allure of danger and mysticality still has everyone whispering excitedly, or worriedly. She can’t tell at this point, because all sorts of whispers seem to drown out any distinction between the two.
What would they be doing there? What would they see in Outworld? What does Kotal Kahn want with Special Forces? Is Outworld coffee stronger than Earthrealm? Better yet, does Outworld actually have coffee?
She doesn’t stay long for the excitement nor dread that has everyone rapt in their conversation. She sees Jacqui and Cassie in the distance, and calls out to them eagerly. There are more pressing and urgent matters on hand, and she has a tendency to procrastinate.
-
“And here I thought packing my stuff would take the longest,” Cassie grumbles as she hoists another box to the corner of the room.
Jacqui is busy going through her extensive vault of books; Any journal, document, or research paper that would be useful goes in the box while others, would collect dust on the large shelf during their 6-month stay in Outworld. Jacqui is impressed by the sheer volume of reading material in the office, but silently hopes that this is the last of it. The whole sifting and sorting process is wearing her spirits down, and she feels the impending migraine pulsing at the back of her head.
“Don’t worry gals, I have come with gifts,” She comes in with a tray of hot coffee in hand, and immediately, the girls lighten up.
“God, I needed a break from all these books!”
“And I need a break from all this heavy lifting. We’ve gotta KonMari your office when we get back, Van,” Cassie says, taking the offered coffee with a tired hand and a soft thank you.
“We’re almost done, actually. All that’s left is the books, and after that, we can start moving my stuff onto the trolleys.”
“Thank God! If I have to sit through another ‘Cardio’, ‘Surgery’ and ‘Benign’, I’ll go nuts and throw the books through the roof. Why do you need so much books anyway? Most of the information is in the Special Forces Database.”
She shrugs carelessly, “Some of them are very old tomes and medical journals that are not online, and I prefer having paperback anyway. Makes jotting and scribbling little notes easier.”
“What ever you say, Doc,” Cassie holds her hands up in defeat, “Just make sure you pack for all sun and no rain, because Outworld is hot as hell.”
“No kidding. I almost got a heat stroke, and Outworld’s bedside manners aren’t exactly… up to par,” Jacqui’s grimace at the recollection is evidence enough that Outworld weather is not to be trifled with. Although, it does sound like the perfect weather to have ice cream and brownies, and every other dessert on the chilled spectrum.
Her glance moves beyond the window, into the outside world, and finally, settles at the sunset sky – The splashes of purple, pink and orange washes the sky in vivid technicolor, and it leaves her feeling some kind of way; Like she would never come to see the sunset sky the same way ever again. It is somewhat unsettling, yet, she doesn’t feel her skin prickle at the thought. Maybe it’s just her nerves or paranoia flaring up.
All of them finish packing her things up, and unloaded the boxes onto the designated trolleys. At least, she’s packed her stuff early and if she ever needed to pack more, she could just add to the load.
Cassie is the first to initiate the conversation, “So, Jacqui, Van, where do you wanna eat? We’ve got 2 whole days before we make a move, so we might as well start satisfying every craving known to man now.”
“Should we make a head start on sushi, then?” Nothing could’ve been any better.
-
Outworld is every bit as hot and dry as Jacqui and Cassie had described it to be, and she is thankful for their advice; Her medical outfit is light and loose, allowing for easier movement and a reprieve from the searing heat. She wonders whether everyone else is suffering in the heat, and if they’re cursing their decision to come to Outworld—Whether the allure of ‘I’ve been to Outworld and survived its hell’ had been worth the attraction in the first place.
Although, it is not her place to doubt the Special Forces. All of them had been trained for extreme climates and situation, and this delegation is no different. Cassie is front and center, with Jacqui at her side as her right-hand man. Everyone has their guns lock and loaded, and a contingency plan had been formed prior to their arrival should anything go wrong.
She catches a glimpse of 3 figures in the distance, and she can only guess who they are: Kotal Kahn, Kitana and Jade. They had rolled out the red carpet treatment, coming to greet the delegation themselves. The air surrounding the Force tenses in anticipation as they near the Kahns—Everyone’s standing a little straighter, and the grip on their guns tighten ever so slightly.
“Welcome to Outworld, fellow Earthrealmers,” His welcome had been loud and clear, “We hope that you enjoy whatever Outworld has to offer, and do not worry, we have prepared food and accommodation for your stay here.”
The Imperial Army had descended upon the Special Forces, (and to their relief) started helping them with their equipment and luggage. Immediately, everyone was up in arms, trying to work and sort through all the different boxes and luggage, making sure they don’t accidentally end up in the trash or some other unsavory place. She’s never went dumpster diving in Earthrealm, and she’s not going to start the habit in Outworld.
The Imperial Guard guided her through the Palace halls, and like any person with new experiences, she observed her surroundings; Talltalltall ceilings overshadowing longlonglong hallways, the pillars stand strong with their embellishments of royal red and gold, and there are windows interspersed to grant the Palace inhabitant a splendid view of the City from above. All in all, this Palace is bigger than any castle she’s seen back home.
The infirmary is nothing out of the ordinary – Cabinets filled with medical equipment and solutions, the beds are adjacent to the wall and there are people filing in out and out of the room. Her office is neat and tidy—Tables, bookshelves, and other assorted furniture had already been moved in for her comfort. I could get used to this, she mused to herself. Her office back home wasn’t this big nor spacious. It wasn’t cramped either, but one could always upgrade to bigger spaces once in a while.
There is a garden outside of her office, and its splendor can be admired from the infirmary. The spread of green stretches as far as the eye can see, yet there are fragments of oranges, reds and white that makes the garden all the more surreal. She spots the row of unknown plants in one corner of the garden, and wonders if there are herbs planted here for easy access. Maybe, she’ll ask some of the other doctors for help.
“Miss Vanessa,” The guard brings her out from her daydream, and speak of the devil, “I would like to introduce to you the Palace Doctors. They will be here to assist you should you need it.”
“Thank you, but I think I would be needing their help more than they mine.”
“Don’t be so modest, Miss Vanessa. We could all stand to learn from each other,” One of the Doctors joked, and before she knew it, she was being huddled by all these strangers. She was relieved to be welcomed so warmly, the fear of being an outcast had been an idle thought playing in the back of her head for the past few days.
The routine in the infirmary had been simple; 2 off-days, make sure that the medicine cabinet is always stocked, all rounds must be completed on schedule, paperwork must be filed, and other things she was already doing back at Earthrealm. She is reassured by the fact, that there is something that she is used to doing and it makes adjusting to life on Outworld a little easier.
Clack!
The sound of heavy footsteps against the marble floor had everyone’s breath held, there had been some sort of frenzy; Some frantic urgency that had caused them to file out of the room like a deer out of headlights. She was… confused? Confounded? What? She had walked to the doorway to find the reason for the commotion, and true enough, there had been a man at the center of it all.
Deadly—Had been the first word that came to mind. Gore and glory seem to go hand-in-hand because he shows up bloodied and slightly haggard (with mud trailing behind him, to her annoyance), yet his mere presence is enough to command everyone’s respect, is enough to have people whisper in awe and alarm at the sight of him.
He is tall—He towers over some of doctors crowding him, and even she can see that his physique is packing serious amount of muscle under all that clothing. He is dark – The tufts of brown can be seen in his sideburns, and he has a slight tan from all his days of yeehaw-ing around. Is he handsome? Hard to tell considering he has the bottom half of his face obscured with a mask.
He looks at her, and it makes her stand a little straighter. His eyes are intense, and it scares her how deeply he’s staring into her, but she still can’t look away-- Something in her tells her, forces her to hold his gaze. It feels like forever since they’ve been staring at each other, but finally, something in his eyes change, and he subtly tips his hat off to her. Whether it is a sign of respect or acknowledgement, she doesn’t know.
But she breaks their staring contest, turns around and shuts the door behind her.
-
1868 words
#Mortal kombat 11#Mk11#erron black#mortal kombat fanfiction#erron black x F!OC#mortal kombat#mk#cassie cage#jacqui briggs
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Chonky Spider-Tober Prompt dump (12-19)
200+ Words per Prompt, Feedback appreciated.
(Be prepped for a lot of Lore for Funnels Earth, don’t be afraid to send Asks seeking an explanation of things though, I’ll explain gladly)\
Minor Warning:
Mention of Gunshot Wounds
Minor Profanity use
Scars
Day 12: Cold
Beanies over full-face masks look rather stupid, a token reason Funnel had forgone such a thing in exchange for a cotton-lined Pauper hat. The only problem was that with no receivers for the bioelectric seaming, this piece of headgear was sailing off his head almost every second swing. The Winter streets below echoed with the frantic shouting of the Spider, his once elegant travel turned into a display most akin to a cat in heat, darting across the air to retrieve his hat in every instance it joined the snow in their act of falling. Kyles never wholly disliked the cold, but his perspective changed after swinging around so much. “Gotcha!” he cried as they scooped their hat up from midair once more, posture going lax with relief upon his landing upon an old billboard. “This hats more trouble than it's worth, but I’d really rather not risk getting a literal brain freeze...” “Do you really like hats that much? You seriously could’ve just worn a scarf or something.” The ever investigative tones of their partner Kamala breaking the silence of the thought-to-be inactive comm line, catching the Spider off-guard and nearly causing him to drop the hat again. “Jesus Kamala, were you listening to all that?” “You bet, it's amazing how often you keep forgetting to disconnect all the time.”
Day 13: Sidekick
“Just a minute asshole, since when did I become your sidekick?”
“What? We’ve worked together a few times now, besides you’re… clearly younger.” Kyles clenched at the fists, mask furrowing quite visibly to mimic a low, angered brow. “Seriously!? You’ve been at this for how long compared to me and you think I’m just gonna happily be your sidekick?” The Defender fell silent. Funnel could see the moment of unsureness cross his face before they let out a response, “Okay well... But I’ve saved your life! That's gotta be worth something, huh kid?” “Nighthawk, look, I’m thankful for what you’ve done for me, I truly am. All I’m saying maybe you’re taking this a bit too far, I’ve got no interest playing Sidekick to anyone.” Even if he didn’t want to admit it, the Defenders were certainly right to call this guy rather self-centred, another one in the shortlist of things they agreed on. Nighthawk could see his chances slipping, and went to grasp for some kind of bribe, “But I can pay you! I can get you a better suit! Better Webs!. '' Kyles had certainly heard it all now, expression unchanged as the only thing left to do was walk out, “Get yourself a better attitude, then we’ll talk.” disappearing out the closest skylight without so much as a noise.
Day 14: Winter Suit
The dust pile coating the old closet interior kicked up into Jonathan's face, causing the unfortunate soul to become blasted with a hail of months old dust. “When the hell did you guys last clean this thing!?” Kyles sputtered through his sleeve as he shook the old hairs & dirt off of him. Darcy’s voice echoed from the bathroom down the hall in response, “Beats me, I asked Phil to clean that last month! Remind him if you see him, ‘kay Kyles?” “Yes Miss Marko!” With only minimal dust to complicate things, Jonathan began sifting through the bulging racks of downright ancient jackets, humming to himself as they inspected whatever caught their eye. Whilst he had claimed his want for a different jacket was just to mix things up, he was desperately on the search for whatever he could assemble as part of his more ‘lower-temperature’ suits. His past 2 weeks braving a New York Winter for the first time had left him barely wanting to even get out of bed. But he knew eventually Mayday would kill him if he kept the suit stuck underneath his bed for more than a week. “Do we have any fur jackets?” “Fur Jackets?! What are we, rich?” an unfortunate eavesdropper on Kyle’s own ramblings, Miss Marko barked from her porcelain palace, “Come on Johnny! It's not like you’re in the cold that long, man up!”
Day 15: Scars
“This? Bullpup Slug clipped my thigh.”
Her pale skin exposed to the harsh, crude old lighting, the interested Teens could see the splotches of raw skin faintly, like accidental paint dots blemishing an otherwise perfect canvas. Leaned in from their seats at the table, the young heroes marvelled silently at Chetz’s aging wounds, seeing it as something of a mark of dedication than a past injury. “Alright, someone else’s turn.” Silence struck the dilapidated warehouse room before someone stepped up to the plate. “Alright, Let me see what I got.” Raising a gloved band to his tightly affixed Vest, Patriot popped a button or two, “Funnel, remember the mob front we took down a month or two back in Upper Harlem?”
Eyes darted towards the Spider. His telescopic lenses shooting wide in surprise, his agape mouth shielded by the mask. “So you DID get shot?” He blurted out, curled fingers rapping against the rusted metal bench they all resided, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Patriot shook his head in return, gripping his thick undershirt and pulling it up to reveal. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“You got shot!”
“I got better.”
Funnel arched himself over his chair, head staring up into the dingy, grime coated ceiling lights. “Christ Patey, If all our adventures don’t kill you, I will myself someday.
Day 16: Movie
“Snacks too? I don’t want to take too much of your money...”
Chetznakova didn’t listen, shoving the note into his arms and strutting past him towards the snack booth, followed quickly by Kamala & Elijah. Kyles had no other choice but to follow, kicking off his heel to catch up with them once more, “I’ll try not to get too much, I’d-“
“Jonathan. Seriously, It’s fine.” It hardly felt that way for him, spider-senses rendering them alert to the prying eyes of public onlookers. Compared to his friends, he didn’t look like the sort to be hanging around this part of town. “I-... Okay.” The harsh lighting of the tiled snack booth bathed the quartet of teens in light, reflecting off the weathered plastic candy containers that they began to pick at with the aid of equally small shovels. “I’ve been waiting to see this movie for a while, you guys?” Looking to change the subject to another topic, he gazed towards his compatriots, waiting to see who would receive & answer.
“Saw the first movie last month, didn’t look like a bad idea to see the sequel when you guys offered.” Chetz relayed, scooping a handful of sour gummy-bears into her snack bag. “It reminds me though, we hitting any more places after this?”
Day 17: Town
KA-CHING
A momentary transaction brought the fresh paper bag into his grasp, weighed down by its cargo as it dangled lightly in the air. “Thanks Sir!”The Spiders eyes fell onto the Umbrakenite to his right, staring her featureless costume in its face. The Shadow-being met his gaze with the void of her own, almost motionless as light ceased around her. “What.”“Say Thank you.”Her head noticeably twitched in confusion, “Sorry, What?”Funnel gestured to the employee at the register, clearly too deep into his graveyard shift to emote to any substantial degree. “He let us buy snacks”“So? That’s his job.”Knocking his head back, the Funnel-Web pulled the shopping bag to his side, “Y-... Whatever Let's go.” Turning on his heel to brush past the counter and onto the short path outside, Dusk followed without a moment's hesitation, taking to his side in an instant. “Did we get those Chips Patriot wanted?”
“Yes.” Parting the bag open with a thumb to double-check its contents before scrunching it back closed in a fist. “...Do you want your thing yet?” choosing to look past her lack of gratitude for the team being, he awaited her answer.
“...Yes, Thank You.” A surge of momentary anger dashed through his system, snapping in & out of gaze with the Unregistered as they frustratingly reach into their bag and snatch a carton of Orange Juice from within, thrusting it into her grasp in their attempt to avoid doing anything overly aggressive
Day 18: Luck
The moments between the bullet graze & the ensuing pain certainly made top-list of worst moments Kyles ever had this week. An almost deadly High-caliber round piercing the dense mesh of his suit as the albeit minor impact still sent him flailing through the sky, buckling the reinforced steel of a car roof upon touchdown with the street. The aches of a bruised back paled in comparison to the torn flesh & muscle of his left arm, a holeshot clean through the Spiders tricep and leaving him to bleed across his side and the dented metal of some unfortunate person car.
Sensations dulled as the world around him began to fade, the blinking lenses of his mask informing its hazy user of the blood they’ve lost before coming to reap the consequences of such loss, vision going dark as the disturbing bliss of silence washed over them…
“Jonathan...”
The word prodded at his subconscious like a fly, persisting as the world around the Spider began slowly, yet surely creeping back into conscious. Shapes formed, colours came into sight, and the fuzzy blob in the near-distance was saying something.
“Woah Woah, stay still there Kyles, We-... You’re still hurt.”
Without so much as thinking, the wounded youth shifted his feet, unable to feel them underneath the electric blanket coating them, inciting a tired groan of partial panic & frustration.
“The hell did I just say?! Just… Lay down okay? You’re lucky to even be awake right now after that.”
Day 19: Freestyle
Kyles always considered himself to have a weird relationship with pets, minor allergies aside, he enjoyed their presence, yet whenever one got close, strings of panic never failed to dart his mind, feeling as if at any point they would grow hostile and attack him, and now? His latent fears had paid off after so long. His soles met the intricate ceiling with a hard thud, curling up with his hat firmly within hold as Miss Hardy's ravenous cats hissed and leapt in an attempt to claw & maim the intruder, their wild scampering rousing the attention of their owner from their slumber.
“Castel!?! What’s all the noise about-”
“Uh… Hello Miss Hardy!”
Her snow-white hair frayed and her night-gown creased, Felicia Hardy gazed upwards to the unexpected entry, currently cowering in fear on the ceiling to escape her… aggressive family.
Furrowing her wrinkled brow, she reached the cat bell from the high-shelf and jostled it, the piercing brass-on-brass echoing across the room and bringing the ravenous feline herd to a stop. “Run along now children, Mommy has business.” a dismissive gesture scattering them in flocks back to their mundane cat lives.
“Th-Thank you Miss Hardy.”
“Save it Little Spider, Care to explain what you’re doing here?”
The affectionate nicknames never failed to irk Kyles the wrong way, feeling the hair stand up on his arms as he fumbled for his purpose of coming here.
“Its Barracuda, I think he's sent someone after you.”
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Soul Meets Body Joshua Graham x Arcade Gannon
Got this idea at the ripe hour of 5:50am while talking to my artistically brilliant friend Angel @gangnome. This is loosely based on the ending of New Vegas where Arcade went exploring. I like to think he found himself fascinated with finding new reading materials. Naturally he finds himself following this bandaged hunk who at Happy reading you precious bastards!)
I want to live where soul meets body and let the sun wrap its arms around me,
And bathe my skin in waters cool and cleansing and feel, and feel what it’s like to be new.
The reddening ex-follower had been walking for hours on end. He’d left town when his Enclave identity was revealed, only seldom did he look back. Usually he cursed the sun and the sky and the highly irradiated desertscape he found himself trapped in. His idea was simple, when put on paper. Explore and study, find a place where he can thrive on his naturally high intellect. He’d told only Six where exactly his first trip would be, definitely not because he wanted backup.
He was headed to what was left of New Canaan. As he said to Six, his trip was to sift through the wreckage for what might even resemble a book he hadn’t yet read. Through the mountain spotted areas leading into Utah he went, until an ambush of White Legs remnants proved nearly life-threatening. At the near sound of someone attacking, he was caught off guard. Losing his footing found him sliding down the hillside into a body of cold, clean water.
The sounds of a .45 pistol firing kept his attention away from the horrendous fall. Against all better judgement he sat up in the water to watch what must’ve been fourteen men get blown to pieces by one man.
“Weird flex, but okay,” sarcasm flowed naturally from the blonde man’s mouth.
“They would’ve killed you, but okay,” the burned man’s wit was just as sharp it seemed.
He helped the man up and got him to the camp. He even stayed by his side while the smock-clad man self-administered first aid. After his wounds had been cared for, the leader asked him to stay a while. They spent many hours in deep conversation. From that he learned why his ex-companion had been wary to come back. It was, honestly, unsurprising to find out his old pal Six had helped overthrow nearly the entirety of their rival gang. That was always up their alley. He adjusted his glasses before making his own proposal to the ex-legionnaire. He couldn’t talk, he’d been in the enclave since he was a child. He helped the sick in his own way, mostly by teaching others how to fix their most common issues for themselves. All-the-while affections grew between he and his newfound friend.
At first it was a common admiration. then like a miracle Arcade had found a certain, less irradiated plant that had some numbing properties. Man might think it insane but the scientist found himself the first test subject. In an era without sunblock, sunburns were seldom helped out and certain cancers enjoyed taking lives to those without some form of protection. Applying the bark along with some ash seemed to cool off those pesky burns though. Proud he found himself looking to his heavily burned friend.
“So, um,” he had no idea how to say what he needed to say. “You’re in…. Constant pain, Joshua?”
“I can handle it, why,” he didn’t even look up from his holy book.
“I discovered something that might possibly help,” how in the hell did he get nervous offering this hunk help? The world may never know.
“Absolutely not,” he shut his book, stood from his perch and walked away.
This baffled the would-be medic. “Wait, what the actual hell?”
The New Canaanite stopped, “I said no, this is my cross to bear.”
Naturally the blonde haired gent had to go follow his friend. There was no way in hell, or on Earth he would let another person suffer if he could help it. There was an old saying, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.
Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station where I send my thoughts to far off destinations where they may find a chance of finding a place where they’re far more suited than here.
The crusade went on for two weeks until the older man caved. He couldn’t help cracking a smile at the idea that anyone would gladly want to help the likes of him. On a particularly painful day he sought out the medic he’d somewhat employed. The binding bandages on his wrists towards his fingertips were the first to go as Arcade prepared his solution. If it could stop the places where rope burned into skin from stinging like death maybe he’d ask for more help.
“You ready to be subject number two in my notes,” a strange, unretractable statement the man lightly tanning man regretted instantly. “ That was… Um, Here.”
He gently took the hand of his acquainted and applied a small, rectangular-ish splotch of the sticky mixture. After it’d been painted on the reaction was nearly instantaneous. A hushed oh followed by a genuine smile inevitably met the top list. Breaking the silence himself, the bandaged man admitted.
“I expected nothing,” it was a small, pseudo-complement. “It actually stopped some of the pain.”
“You’re kidding, right,” he half expected everything he worked for to end in vain.
“For once, no, you actually helped,” yet again with the wit. It was accompanied by a grin that was nearly visible between bandages.
“Wow, finally, I can die happy tomorrow,” they shared a laugh as he realized he’d not yet let go of the charred hand he held.
That night the two sat a bit closer to eat dinner. Joshua told stories and things were oddly calming. No attacks neither animal nor tribal. The stars spotted the sky like bright freckles the moon was but a silver thumbnail up above. In the flickering firelight beneath the blanket of the endless sky the two’s conversations lasted well past the morning’s sunrise. On bedrolls, adjacent practically, they theorized everything. Each of the two men drifted off to slumber courtesy of the other’s voice.
The next day woke the acting leader after a few good hours of rest. He glanced over to the person who’d kept him company. It was unfamiliar, to feel this way about someone else after all he’d done. He had to, in his thoughts, find a way to figure out what exactly the feeling was. Like some sort of trial. He’d not the foggiest of ideas about the possibilities. When the blonde awoke there was cooked food and silent bible reading. Obviously he thanked the blue eyed food-bringer who’d been wearing onto his heart. In response the man’d been quick to pass the love onto someone else, claiming one of the Dead Horses had cooked. Protest threatened to fall from his lips at the blatant deflection of affection.
I cannot guess what we’ll discover when we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels,
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another and not one speck will remain.
An unexpected guest came and went. Turned out several of the friends he’d left back in the Mojave were a bit worried about him. An expedition lead by Six to see if the Arcade Gannon they knew was still alive and well. Luckily for him, things were more than swimmingly. Six months had come and left bringing to his feet the very man of his dreams. He, of course, hadn’t said anything about it to the person of his affection. Six pulled their friend aside, seemingly knowing everything.
“It’s Joshua isn’t it,” their years of wingmanning had given them natural insight. “You’ve got the hots for him.”
“Who the hell do you--” he began to argue then stopped himself. “Yeah, honestly I’m taken.”
“By Josh,” they’d played only to get chastised lovingly by their friend.
When they’d left taking with them the rest of their gang, he had ample time to confess his affections. Six had pretty well insisted that if he thought this was it to jump. The last part was, in the semi-professional opinion of the ex-follower, was inconceivably hard to actually do. Little did he know, the one he had fallen for, too, was in deep in the emotional department. The blue eyed, swat-vested male sat beside his childhood friend. Intensely conversing over heaven, hell, and choices the men made.
“Daniel, have you ever thought of taking a lover,” it sounded hundreds of times better in his head.
“I have, why do you ask,” it was unlike the friend he knew to talk openly of feelings. However, that’s exactly what they did.
An hour or so brought forth the kind of confidence in the ex-legate he had long since forgotten. His loving friend hand fed him a pep-talk and together they assembled a bouquet of flowers. They were to be brought by the burned man to his crush. His gifts were met with gifts of sweets from the rosy cheeked blonde. Chocolate Frosted Fancy Lads, the kind of confirmation he so clearly sought. Words couldn’t capture the beauty of the entire moment. A well needed hug, however, was an offer neither could refuse.
“You got me flowers,” first to break the silence was the handsome scientist with lacking social skills. “I don’t know what’s worse, my chocolate offerings or-” Their lips met once, then twice, breaking the sentence before it could be complete.
I do believe it’s true that there are roads left in both of our shoes,
But if the silence gets you then I hope it takes me, too.
A month found the two happy in love. Given the upcoming holiday Arcade longed to see his friends. Every year he’d spent with the courier and their friends Raul would play his guitar and sing once popular christmas songs. Lily loved to decorate the home, it was all lovely. He couldn’t wait to share these traditions with his man. The one he once dreamed would swoop him up. They’d be proud and it made him so soggy with sentiment.
He talked about them a lot to his man, as did the fiery leader about his friends and the tribals. First they’d spent three days searching nearby cities for gifts. Useful or not the forest eyed man only ever became sappy during the holidays. It was like, a hidden feature of himself only few could see. Once he’d spent well over a few thousand caps on a crapload of repairs needed in the Old Mormon Fort. The look on Julie’s face when she saw actual huts being built to replace some of the tents. From then it kind of snowballed.
“So, you’re sarcastically devoted to your friends,” asked the one he’d been info-dumping history to well into their walk home.
“Pretty much, I hate them, but they’re the greatest,” he didn’t mind clarifying as his lightly calloused hand brushed the bandaged fingers of his boyfriend’s hand.
They’d commandeered a shopping cart from the side of the cracked road to carry back supplies and gifts. Among a bit of the salvage were a few sweaters untouched for the most part save some fallout and dirt. When they arrived back to camp, the green eyed man jokingly suggested Joshua try on the sweater proclaiming ‘Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal!’ To humor his love, he actually slid it over his shoulders and head. When he turned to ask how he looked, he was met with laughter and cheers. After such a display it was only natural that the blonde man bore his sweater with a one headed radstag.
“I look ridiculous,” he couldn’t help but laugh at himself and his decisions.
“We both look ridiculous,” who was the natural leader to not laugh with his love. “It’s an everyday thing, the sweater just emboldens it.”
“You ready to head to the Mojave,” there was excitement and adventure-lust deeply lacing his tone. “Your friends are going to love this, dear.”
The road back to the strip was actually rather lax, the only things daring to step up were Viper gang members who just wanted everyone to ‘stay as far as possible the fuck away from our post’. The burned man himself saw to it that no one occupied the post anymore, all it took was one shot whizzing past Arcade’s head. The shock on that blonde man’s face when the bullet grazed by was enough rage-fuel to set the building aflame but that he did not do. For miles afterwards the usual chatter was replaced with a calm, collected silence between would be married men.
Across the state line a ways into Nevada the green eyed blonde actually spoke up, “so you know you didn’t have to kill them, right?”
“I didn’t,” he admitted in response. “Until they shot at you, then all bets, my love, were so far off.”
“Okay, but next time we could always tactically evade getting attacked,” he knew in his heart that some people just could not be reasoned with.
That being a cold hard fact never stopped the small twinge of regret he would seldom get for the fallen. There wasn’t another word until they reached New Vegas proper. It was a bit of a surprise to find that the ex-legate had never seen the strip. The best friend of Mr. couldn’t make medicines from desert plants met them near the entrance to Crimson Caravan. Upon first sight of their old doctor companion returning was like seeing the first snow of a nuclear winter, except less death and more excitement.
Hugs were passed around like a peace pipe, then they were off again to the strip. It never occured to Six that they were the sole reason some of their friends actually made it onto the strip. Next stop was the Lucky 38’s presidential suite. Inside the old casino, many decorations were being strewn about with purpose. Ed-E had the wasteland equivalent of mistletoe and was flying around with great purpose. Stopping once in a while to get his friends to smooch. For a piece of AI tech, he sure had a way of putting people together.
The day for gift exchanging was upon them, Christmas some called it. Six just called it ‘give me what you wanna and I have some stuff for you’ day. After Joshua gave his first holiday sermon to his newfound friends, the building seemed live. In the cafeteria the salvaged securitrons had a line up of actual decent food. There was enough booze to tranquilize a young deathclaw. Then, after eating well over everyone’s weight in festive goodies they finally traded presents.
From Arcade to Six was an ample amount of stimpaks and some festive combat armor. In return he received an old textbook that talked about native plantlife in the areas. Joshua had given them all bibles, jokingly. His boyfriend’s hand in his he delivered the “you’re all sinners let’s party” speech.
“Hemhem,” spoke up an old brotherhood scribe. “Where’s mine?”
The smile that spread the width of green eye’s face was gorgeous. A true treasure for those who saw it, “hold on junk junkie I’ve got what you need.” He tossed a blue and white dress her way. “Did you think I’d let my gays go without?”
“You’re a dork, Gannon,” Veronica hugged her wouldbe wingman. “How did you know I liked the color blue?”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to walk around in gourd colors,” they shared more than their fair share of laughter. “Unless you’re like, into that sort of thing.”
Their sentimental shitchat was cut off halfway when the Courier brought in a runt gecko. They introduced the seemingly harmless pet, Squishy. That night was spent with great happiness. When it was time to hit the sack, it wasn’t surprising to find Joshua and Arcade comfortably snuggled up in one of the few rooms. They’d be sure to make this tradition a yearly thing. Finding the crappiest gifts possible and getting the same in return was more than anyone could ask for in the company of both boyfriend and best friends.
So brown eyes I’ll hold you near ‘cause you’re the only song I want to hear,
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere.
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere..
#joshcade#joshua graham#arcade gannon#joshua graham x arcade gannon#gangnome#falllout new vegas#fallout new vegas#fnv
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Memories
Loki x greek god! Stark! reader
Summary: the reader is Tonys little sister and has been having a lot of strange breams latly . During Avengers assemble loki realises that she is the spirit of a greek god who's taking over her and kidnaps her...
Part : 1
Author's note : I've been thinking about this for a while and i wanted to write it. It's pretty messed up and my grammar and spelling sucks. Also this is my first fanfic but i've been told i write pretty well so it might be good. I really hope you like it!!!!!
Warning : curses. Violence maybe ?
You were sitting in a chair in the middle of a room full of screens at the top of the Stark tower. A pair of expensive gaming headphones were hanging from your neck and your fingers wer running through your y/h/c hair.
"Y/N" Tony yelled loud enough so you could hear him even if you didn't have your headphones on. "Yep " you said bringing them to your ears "I've been screaming for half an hour what were you doing?" He said furiously."Sorry"you said while rolling your eyes " Couldn't hear ya ". He sighed and answered in a sassy tone " that's what you get when you use the same equipment to play Minecraft and talk to the fucking iron man" . You giggle turning on your computer .
The screen showed tony , flying above a mansion in Germany in his suit ,which you had helped build ,his vitals and what he could see. You pressed some bottons and the jet in which black widow has on appeared in the screen in front of you . "Ok jerk you ready ?" You asked .He cleand his throat wispering "go". You typed something and hacked into the jets megaphones."hey agent Romanoff .Did you miss me ?" Normally you would be thrilled by those lines and the song you played next but you were . You didn't even notice captien America nor the terrified people nor your brother being a badass . You only had eyes for the tall handsome man fighting i the middle of the square.You sweared you had seen him before. You were completely lost in your thoughts about loki when you heared your brother calling you once again "Y/N! Meet me at the helicarrier with Coulson. You can get there by your self right?" " Yeah ,yeah i'll be there" you said eyes still locked at the gorgeous god's face , who was now carried to the jet by Steve
"so who's that point break guy?" You asked taking another look at a video of Thor's and tony's fight that the jet had taken ." Point break? Realy y/n ? What a silly nickname" said tony annoyed. You look towards him with murder in your eyes.Thing that was totally normal 'cuse you were siblings and insulated each other every 5 seconds ."What about greasy boy over there..." You pointed a picture of loki trying your best to hide your dreamy smile. You just thought he's hot and that's all . Although you could help but imagine yourself in his arms placing soft kisses at his long raiven hair .And tony knew."What about him ?" Said Coulson completely unaware about your small crush to a mass murderer."I don't know ... He remains my of someone." You said still staring at his picture" like i swa him in a dream or something". "Y/n !!! No one cares about your fantasies" Tony laughed "NOT LIKE THAT !! " You tried to explain yourself .
Actually the dreams started quite a while ago. You dreamt about various things but always with one thing in common. A beautiful balcony with girl sitting at it . It was really blurry every time and you couldn't see much details but the sunset behind the girl was truly breath taking. The sky was painted in the most beautiful shades of orange and red. The sun almost swallowed by the maintains making a small vail of gold light cover everything . It was marvelous.
"Y/n ? Y/N!!!" said tony dragging you out of your day dream. He rolled his eyes and turned to face tye agent."So while my sister is searching for Loki x reader fanfics on Tumblr could we talk about integrate Reindeer games.?""Fury is already on it..."Coulson started saying before you interapted him "Hey what about me ?" Tony looked at you unable to believe that that stubborn childish girl that he was staring at smarter than him
" No. No way. You are not getting involved in this" "Tony i'm not 10 any more you can't tell me what to do!!" You snapped .This had been going on since mom and dad died.He always act like you were going to break if he let you out of his sight for one second . He still let you work with him tho. Going on mission with you behind his ear ,telling him what to do ,made him feel safe. Maybe you should get involved with this? . After a lot of thinking he said "Fine.But you won't anything to dangerous or stupid 'cuse if you do..."he stopped for a dramatic pause " i will burn your panic!at the disco albums" You giggle and left the room
You were walking down a corridor reading a file with everything there was to know about loki. You were assigned to watch over the mischievous god by a agent called Maria Hill . You were pretty sure Tony made her do it to tease you. You entered the room you were supposed to spend your entire day in baby sitting a crazy ass criminal. Not that you had a problem with it but you would rather meet be next to your brother doing science .You sat in the chair in front of you still looking at the file and didn't notice the tall man who was standing in the middle of the room.
"Tell me, what is an angel like you doing gaurding a monster like me?" He asked in that hot , British accent ." Who said i'm an angel " you said trying to sound cool . You looked at him with discuss and added "I'm definitely not worse than you but i don't think anyone is " . He didn't bought it. He could see right through your mask and took advantage of it . "You definitely look like one. But again 'angel' is an small world to discribe such beauty" he said and took a step closer to the glass that was separating you two. His eyes scanned your body as his eyes filled with lust. The way he looks at you send sivers down your spine and your cheeks turned red. He loved that . How you turned for a confident agent ready to kick every ones ass to a blushing girl who craved compliments and affection so much she would except them from a murderer.
His eyes wondered your face before stopping at your y/e/c eyes. His look softened a bit and his lip formed a small smile. " What you name ,love" he asked softly." Y/n" you said before thinking it was a bad idea."Y/n Stark". He quickly took a few steps back with out breaking eye contact.Only now he has looking at you with fear. You wondered what you could have done to scare a god. His expression sifted from terrified to worried , paniced and then just curious."Stark?As in Tony Stark ? The man of iron." He said with a creepy smile forming at hid face. The smile of a mad man. "Oh , i've got grate plans for you , love" he whispered .
Thankfully you heard someone calling you . If they hadn't you would most definitely start cursing."thank god" you said to yourself and yelled " I'm coming". You rushed down the room to find yourself standing next to a red haired agent. " Hill wants you at doctor Banner's lad right now she says it's important, i'll take care of the prisoner" she said quickly . She seemed to be in a hurry. " Yeah be clearful with that guy. He's kinda creepy." You told her while mentally slapping yourself from being an award in front of Black widow. "Noted" she said and turned around running . You looked behind you to the door that lead to the glass shell ." Wait ain't you supposed to go that way ?" You asked but she was already gone
Was it her ? Was it really her? Loki tought . Before he came to earth thanos had warned him about a girl named Y/n Stark. A girl that possessed the power to distroy thousands of planets . He said she was the spirit of greek goddess Artemis who died in a battle. When goods die the are sometimes reborn in bodies of humans and their spirit takes over their bodies at young ages. But now he had seen you he didn't believed that . You were so innocent and kind . You were happy , had a healthy relationship with your brother and surly didn't act like a ancient being that had lived hundred years in the woods. But that all didn't matter now . He had already dicided what to do with you . You would die if you stayed at earth and the titan would kill you if he took you to him so there was only one option left ... He's thoughts were interapted by a loud explosion
The corridors were silent and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of your steps. Having given up on trying to find the lab by yourself at this huge ship you turned around , desperate to find someone to ask for instructions. Suddenly you a loud explosion echoed through the walls of the hellicarrier and panic started taking over you . Without even realising realising two men slipped behind you and attacked you. You screamed for help but it was worthless because of their hand that were covering your mouth. " TONY!!" You managed to cry out. One of the men punched you in the face causing you to black out. As everything went dark around you , you heard someone's laughter.
" So... It's ironic isn't it . How the tables have turned." A familiar voice said. You slowly opened your eyes ,which only made your headache worse since you couldn't see clearly. The only thing you managed to see was a tall figure facing you . When your vision cleared you realised who it was.Cold metal was touching your skin keeping your hands behind your back . The handcuffs were heavy but not very tight. You pulled your left hand trying to escape but the god's words stopped you "Don't even dream about it pet . The hole place is surrounded you aren't going anywhere"." My brother will come for me ..." You told him. "Yeah of course!" He laughed " Those fools don't even know from were the battle will start how do the hope to win it ?" . " I'll start from New York" you told him.He opened his mouth trying to say something but he closed it unsure what to do. "It won't" he finally said. You rolled your eyes saying "Yes it will. I always will . Every time someone wants to take over the world... They start from New York. You think you are some kind of super cool villan , your not !!! Ya just basic." He was left speachless from your nerv and courage.You seemed like such a good girl back at the helicarrier. But what an insult tho . " I like you" he wispered while ordering the guards to take you out of your sell.
You slapped one of them in his arm when he tried to pick you up telling him a quick"Hands of" .With hands now released you thought about escaping but a gun at your head made you forget about that.You walked down the hall to were the men led you . You soon realised what was that in front of you. The tesseract in some kind of machine. Loki was going to take you back to Asguared"That your plan huh? After you destroy earth you'll go back to where ever the hell you came from and take me as your little slave. Your pet ? " You hissed. " Don't speak" he said and pushed some buttons. You thought about your brother how many times you saved him. How he'd be helpless without you especially now that there was a war coming. Even tho you didn't admitted it to yourself you would be the helpless one. God you would miss him . Him, your friends , Pepper , everyone . A tear fell down your cheek." YOU CAN'T DO THIS" you screamed "PLEASE , I HAVE FRIENDS HERE PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU". Suddenly a bright light appeared around you and everything disappeared .
Felling something snatching you for the gound and throwing you in the air was not a good feeling . Combined with the heaviness at your chest from crying and sadness it made you want to vomit .You cosed your eyes and screamed holding the closest thing near you which ,fortunately or unfortunately was loki's chest. He protectively brought you closer to him making sure you were comfortable. Normally you would think that's very sweet and that he is a true gentleman but you after imprisoning you and killing all those people ( thing that you actually didn't give a damn for) the only thing you felt for him was hate . As soon as you felt soild ground underneath you ,you pushed him away and slowly opened your eyes.
The first thing you noticed was that you handcuffs were gone .You were in a dark alley and it was pretty late. " Walk slowly like nothing happened" the trickster told you. He led you to a large building and after exchanging a few words with a guy with a gold armour he took you inside. You walked besides him with tears in your y/e/c eyes . He saw that and frowned " I don't understand. Isn't this what you wanted? Haven't you've always felt out of place on midgaurd like you didn't belong there "he asked and he was right. You never exactly fit in back at home but sure as hell you wouldn't abandon everyone 'cuse of it . How the fuck did he knew that anyway? After a while you stoped outside a bedroom door.He opened it and pushed you inside.
" you can't do this" you hissed " Oh please you should thank me . I could have thrown you in the dungeon or worse let you to die on earth " he sassed at you and locked you in the dark room . "NO PLEASE .NO. HELP" you screamed while punching the door. Normally you would n'd mind about the dark but now it terrified you . The felling that you're all along , that you had to face the unknown by yourself, that you didn't knew what you'd wake up tomorrow it killed you . You collapsed at the foor in sobs and weak screaming for help but no one was there to hear you . You cried yourself to sleep that night thinking about what you left behind at earth.
#loki#avengers#infinity war#infinity war destroyed me#thor#loki odinson#thanos#iron man#marvel#spiderman#they deserve better#loki (marvel)#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson
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“Gauze in the Wound” - Part 3
(Parts 1 & 2)
Going into a bit of a flashback on this segment! The events in this chapter actually take place before part one, where Varian goes in for his trial with the royal court a few days after being arrested. It...does not go well. There is a LOT of angst in this portion, so just be ready for that. Otherwise I hope you enjoy it!
Another Quick Note: Also, for those of you who are fans of King Frederic, Queen Arianna, and/or Rapunzel, I just want to make it clear that Varian’s dialogue does NOT necessarily reflect my own thoughts and opinions on how the characters conducted themselves in the series. While I do think that everyone has their share of the blame in how things unfolded in season 01, this piece is very much Varian’s perspective on what had happened, so it’s of course incomplete and serves to primarily to try to justify his actions as he sees fit. Just so you know and don’t think this is meant to be an attack on the other characters, because I do like the others. There’s just going to be a lot for everyone to have to sift through in the future for sure.
“Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, 'Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words.'
“A glib saying. When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years which you have, all that time…been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words.” ~ Queen Orual, Till We Have Faces
(Several weeks prior...)
[“Varian,” Quirin interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation at his son’s persistence. “Children have no place in court.”]
“…What was that you were saying Dad?” Varian couldn’t help but think to himself bitterly as he faced the doors of the palace’s throne room. Any moment now, they would be opened, and an entire court would be assembled on the other side, all for him. Waiting for him. The irony of it all would’ve almost been comical, had it not been so utterly tragic.
…So, how many lies did that make now? Varian had lost count…
With a low, heavy noise, the doors to the throne room finally swung open, and Varian did his best to ignore the murmurings and whisperings that his presence prompted as Pete and Stan ushered him in across the threshold. It seemed as if nearly the whole kingdom had turned out to watch this trial unfold. Varian’s head hung low, his dark bangs dangled in front of his face, and his footfalls were heavy on the carpet as he walked through the gauntlet of eyes lining the pathway to the front of the chamber. The chains around his ankles and wrists clinked together, and their noise echoed painfully off the marble walls, tiles, and high ceiling as we went.
Varian hated it. All of it.
He hated the feeling of so many eyes boring into him as he passed before them, and he hated all the people behind those eyes. He hated the feeling of Pete and Stan’s hands on his shoulders as they forced him onward. He hated the chains that clung to him like metal snakes, weighing him down. He hated the decadence of the lofty chamber with its purple banners and gold trim – the levity of colors and light only serving to mock his miserable state. He hated not having his goggles or work apron on, leaving him feeling even more vulnerable than otherwise. He hated not having Ruddiger at his side (the little creature having been left locked up in their holding cell until after his trial). He hated the royal advisor, Nigel, who stood ramrod-straight to the side of the dais, and held a scroll in his hands. Varian hated that scroll, and the list of charges it undoubtedly contained against him. He hated the Captain of the Guard who stood dutifully to the opposite side of the dais, his hand resting vigilantly on the pommel of his sheathed sword as his eyes followed Varian to the front of the room.
Most of all, Varian hated the two figures that had yet to enter the chamber, though Varian glared daggers at their empty thrones as he was halted in front of them.
“If only…” the incredibly hostile side of Varian thought to himself upon seeing them as such…Though, in a most fleeting moment, Varian also felt a tiny shudder run down his spine at the idea of how it nearly had been what was now before him those few nights ago – the small part of his old self that still had a say in things feeling a sense of horror at the thought.
At what he had nearly-
“ALL RISE,” Nigel’s voice rang out, interrupting Varian’s thoughts and shoving that small voice inside of him back down into the depths of his soul as the door to the side of the throne room opened, and the crowd of people all rose to their feet behind him. Varian tensed as he heard and felt their synchronized movements like a tidal wave of judgment threatening to break over him at his back. “FOR THEIR MAJESTIES, KING FREDERIC AND QUEEN ARIANNA!”
As King Frederic and Queen Arianna entered into the court from one of the side doors, Varian had half a mind to sit down right in the middle of the floor out of spite, but Pete and Stan’s grip on his arms prevented him from doing so. Varian’s eyes followed the king and queen as they went, and for a brief second Varian made eye contact with the queen. As Varian’s steely, icy blue eyes peered out at her from the shadow behind his oily, ebony hair, Varian saw a wince flash across her face before she forced herself to quickly look away.
Had her expression been out of fear of him? Out of pity for him? Both? Varian wasn’t sure, nor did he care. He loathed it all in any event.
As the king and queen came to their thrones, the king bid everyone be seated, and Varian could feel the wave behind him come roaring back down again, feeling reality crash its way down over him in tandem.
“COURT IS NOW IN SESSION!” Nigel’s voice rang out again. “HIS MAJESTY KING FREDERIC PRESIDING!”
Varian’s trial had now begun.
Opening up the scroll, Nigel stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Varian, son of Quirin,” he began, Varian’s eyes casting down and his hands balling into fists in anguish at hearing his dear father’s name spoken aloud (and in that stupid fake accent). “You are hereby charged with acts of trespassing, theft, sabotage, conspiracy, disturbance of the peace, avoiding arrest, deliberate destruction of both public and private property, blackmail, assault, illegal animal experimentation, breaking and entering, kidnapping, holding multiple persons hostage, attempted homicide, attempted regicide, and treason. How do you plead?”
Varian could practically feel the air get sucked out of the room as everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his answer.
…Varian kept silent.
“How do you plead?” Nigel repeated firmly. Still Varian did not answer. After a moment of full, awkward silence, the king finally made to speak.
“On behalf of the defendant,” he began, causing Varian to tense up even further as the blood boiled in his veins upon hearing his enemy’s voice. “I as judge will offer a ‘not-guilty’ plea to the charges presented.”
“The court accepts,” Nigel replied, rolling the scroll back up in a flourish. Varian frowned hard at the floor in front of him. Despite how it may have sounded, he knew full well that the king didn’t actually believe him to be ‘not-guilty’ – quite the contrary of course – but it was standard procedure for a ‘not-guilty’ plea to be the default when a defendant refused to speak. Varian didn’t know much about Corona law, but that much he knew.
“The court will now hear from the defense,” Nigel continued as he signaled for Pete and Stan to let go of Varian’s arms (though the two of them remained stationed close by his sides, ready at any moment to make a grab for him if need be).
“Varian, son of Quirin,” Nigel repeated, Varian’s eyes now turning to look at him with a sideways glare. “The court will now hear your testimony. Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
Varian’s eyes suddenly took on a faraway look as he heard those words.
“Promises…Promises!? The TRUTH!?”
For anyone looking on, it was eerie to watch and to listen to what came next.
For a second, it almost looked as if Varian would only remain silent again. But then, his face turned downward, his eyes shut tightly, as his shoulders began quivering. Pete and Stan could hear a shaky intake of breath coming from him, and for a moment, it looked as if Varian was going to cry. Queen Arianna already began to feel having to restrain herself from rushing forward to bring the boy into a motherly embrace as she saw it. She knew such a thing would surely be against court procedure – and likely Varian would despise such contact – but O how she longed to comfort the clearly hurting child that stood before her (even after all that had happened)! How badly she wanted to make things even only a little bit better for him, if only she could-!
But what it all actually came to made nearly all the warmth in Arianna’s heart run cold, and she couldn’t help but sit still as stone upon her throne in horror as the realization hit her.
Varian was not crying. He was laughing. A joyless, ironic, pained sound to be sure, but it was indeed laughing. Perhaps there was a hint of a sob somewhere in it too, but Varian’s anger soon pushed it back down.
“Ha ha ha ha!” Varian’s chuckles crescendoed, before rounding off with a huff of disbelief. “Really!?” Varian finally burst out, his eyes turning up to glare at the royals, and the both of them feeling horribly pinned beneath the pure fury that held them there with an expression that swung between sneering and scowling. “REALLY!? You’re honestly asking ME to promise to tell the truth!? Ha! That’s REAL rich, coming from you! Why don’t you ask yourselves that same question-!”
“None of that now!” the Captain of the Guard called out as Varian dared to take a small step forward in his outburst, and Pete and Stan made to resume their grip on the boy. Disturbed mutterings and chatterings could be heard growing in the crowd behind them in response to Varian’s words and impudence.
“Everyone, please!” the king called above the din as he stood, everyone pausing and going silent in response. Frederic swallowed hard, forcing his next few words to come out as Arianna looked up at him with deep concern in her eyes. “The court has agreed to hear from the defendant. Let him speak.”
With great reluctance, the Captain, Pete, and Stan stood down, and Varian jerked his arms out of their grasp, his chains clinking roughly together.
King Fredric sat back down. “Varian,” he tried again, attempting to refocus the proceedings as Varian’s eyes met his own with a response of pure rage. “You have been brought here before this court to answer for the charges brought against you. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“…That depends,” Varian replied through clenched teeth. “Do you?”
King Frederic’s eyes narrowed. He knew this was going to be a hard trial, and he knew Varian wasn’t in his right mind, but he wasn’t expecting this.
“What do you mean by that, Varian?” he dared to ask.
Varian guffawed again in response. “Oh honestly-!? Please, let’s not carry on this farce any longer, your majesty!” Varian mockingly bowed for a second as he said it, Arianna wincing once again in response. “You want the truth!? Fine! I’ll give you the truth!” Varian’s voice grew louder as he carried on, his shrill voice echoing around the chamber (sounding almost foreign to his own ears, as all the words he had been storing up inside of him poured out in a verbal torrent that he hardly thought to stop).
“Yeah, I did all that stuff you said! Yes! Fine! Boom, guilty as charged! You can all go home now! Congratulations Corona! You caught the bad guy! Case closed! Problem solved! Way to finally lock up that maniac who just needed to be gotten rid off after ignoring him didn’t work! Oooh, but you so counted on that in the beginning didn’t you Fred!?”
King Frederic’s mustache twitched in anger at Varian’s casual address of him, but he held his temper and his tongue as the boy carried on.
“Yeah, if only everyone else had ignored the situation like you did! If only we all had our own ivory towers that we could retreat to away from danger! Then everything would be all right for you, wouldn’t it? Well guess what!? We don’t all have towers! And it WASN’T all fine!” Now Varian felt the first stirrings of his emotion beginning to break as he thought of what he was to say next. But it was all right. He knew he was right, and the first stitch had already been applied to the wound he scrambled to close as he went.
He continued applying the verbal sutures. “The black rocks weren’t stopping, and Old Corona was being destroyed! And my father! – Your friend! – He ended up paying the price for that! For what you refused to do anything about! For what your daughter brought upon the kingdom! And-!”
“What would you have had me do, Varian!?” King Frederic now interrupted, angry that Varian would drag his daughter again into this. “You know very well yourself that the black rocks couldn’t be cut! And I gave your village more land to rebuild! What else was I to do! It was not within my power to-!”
“But it was within Rapunzel’s power, wasn’t it!?” Varian shouted back. “You know it! I know it! We all saw it only the other day! She was connected to the rocks the whole time! She could’ve done something! And you knew! Oooooh no, but NO! This was your daughter of course! You couldn’t possibly risk her precious safety for the lives of dozens of villagers living on the outskirts! Oh, but don’t worry your highness! Your daughter learned better than you! She knew better than to put hundreds of lives at risk for the sake of one person! She made that very clear the night she had me thrown out of here after I came begging for her help – begging for her to help save my father from a disaster she started! Oh, and before you ask if I went to find help elsewhere, of course I thought of that! But then I find that apparently my begging had been mistaken for attacking!”
Here Nigel shifted uncomfortably in his corner by the dais.
“But good for you, your majesty!” Varian gave a couple of slow claps. “Good! For! You! You played your cards well! Your people are so loyal to you that they wouldn’t even dream of helping anyone who was rumored to have attacked your precious little girl! Better safe than sorry though, am I right!? That’s how it all runs around here, doesn’t it! Never mind if you’re proven guilty or not! It’s all arbitrary in the end isn’t it!? With magic! Nothing works according to the equation around here! Nothing around here is fair! Nothing-!”
Varian’s voice trailed away. He paused, taking a few deep breathes as he found himself dizzy and winded after his long rant. He staggered a little, but remained on his feet as Pete and Stan reached out and steadied him (though of course Varian felt no gratitude). Varian swallowed hard, and when his voice came again it was no longer shouting, but the edge still very much there. “Yeah,” Varian began again. “I did all that stuff you said I did. We all know it. And no, I’m not sorry. Why you may ask? Well…” Varian sneered up at the king. “I could ask you the exact…same…thing.”
Guilty. Of course that had been the verdict.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty…
The world echoed in Varian’s brain as he was escorted back to his holding cell in the palace dungeons. He felt exhausted. He felt sick – the horrible aftertaste of all his words burning in the back of his throat like bile as he staggered down the stone steps.
The trial had moved on of course, as only trials do in Corona. With Varian’s unapologetic confession for his crimes, there was little need for witness testimony, though a few were heard nonetheless. Varian had blocked them out as best as he could…but however hard he tried, he could not block out the sound of the queen’s voice as she had given her testimony. He honestly didn’t remember a lot of what she actually said, but her tone had dripped with the courage and dignity of a true queen, yet also with all the gentleness and compassion of motherhood.
…And Varian had hated it.
Varian let his arms hang limp as the Captain removed his handcuffs from him, and after taking off his shackles the door was shut and locked behind him. No one would be coming by again until morning.
Then, silence.
Varian stood in the middle of his cell, utterly despondent as the light of a waning moon streamed in from the barred window. Cautiously, Ruddiger made his way out from where he had been curled up underneath Varian’s cot to the side, alerting Varian to his presence with a few soft cooing noises.
“…H-how did it go?” Ruddiger attempted to ask through his soft chitterings. Varian looked down at him for a moment (though his eyes almost left the impression of looking through Ruddiger as opposed to actually seeing him), and then Varian walked a few paces more to where he leaned a tired shoulder against the wall.
At that, the dam broke.
Varian didn’t even bother trying to stop it as the tears and sobs came pouring out of him almost right away, and that tiny voice he had shut away those many hours ago broke back through with a vengeance. It brought no words with it this time, but only a need to release the heartbreak that burned like acid in his chest. Leaning back against the wall, Varian sunk his way down into a miserable ball on the floor, burying his face in his arms as he cried in agony, and his brain reeling as the reality of it all began to hit him.
This was it. He had truly hit rock bottom.
Varian wasn’t sure how long he had been sobbing on the floor, but presently, he wrapped his arms around himself as he suddenly felt how chilled he had become. He wouldn’t be surprised if he were coming down with some sort of fever after everything. But what did it all matter anymore anyway? Why should he bother to-?
Varian’s thoughts were again interrupted that day as he now heard the sound of cloth being dragged across the floor. Wiping the tears from his eyes for a better look, Varian saw Ruddiger dragging one of the blankets from his cot across the floor, and presently began to pull it over his master’s quivering form. This done, Ruddiger then brought his face up to Varian’s, wiping away his remaining tears with his forepaws, and giving Varian a few quick snuffly raccoon kisses on his forehead. “It’s ok,” he seemed to be trying to say. “I’m here! It’ll be all right! I’m with you! Don’t cry!”
Varian let a few more tears fall in grateful response, Ruddiger wiping them up as Varian pulled him in closer, burying his face in his friend’s fur.
“So, it’s come to this,” Varian thought both gratefully and pitifully. “I’ve sunk so low I have to be mothered by a raccoon.”
A few minutes later, Varian felt himself beginning to fall into unconsciousness, hugging Ruddiger close as he made to fall into the dark embrace of the first night out of what was to be a long five years-worth for him. And what about after that?
He felt numb. He felt hopeless.
Or perhaps…nearly hopeless.
“Please,” Varian found that small voice in himself weakly praying in his mind as sleep took him. “Please…someone…help me!...”
Xavier stared hard at the fire burning in the hearth, the cup of tea he had made for himself sitting cold and untouched as he rested his chin on his hands clasped in front of him, the blacksmith’s mind deep in thought. Xavier could hardly believe what he had witnessed during the trial that day. He could hardly believe that so much bitterness and hatred could be present in so young a person as Varian.
“…What happened to you?” was all the blacksmith could think in grief and bewilderment for the boy as he thought back to what he had seen and heard from him that day. Of course, on one level, Xavier knew perfectly well what had happened to Varian. Everyone in the kingdom knew about it.
But…something was still missing.
Xavier couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the whole thing just didn’t feel complete.
“Why?” The question had been left hanging at the end of Varian’s testimony…and it was a question no one else seemed to be asking.
Xavier cringed as he recalled what he had heard people saying around him as the court had adjourned that evening.
“Can you believe that?” one lady had said. “The nerve of that child! I would’ve thought Quirin would’ve raised a more well-behaved son.”
“Yes. Poor fellow,” a man had replied in response. “Though even before this whole thing with these horrid black rocks, I had heard that it was all Quirin could do to prevent the boy from destroying Old Corona long before such a disaster came.”
“That’s because of all the witchcraft the he dealt with!” a frightened voice had piped up next to Xavier.
“It wasn’t witchcraft you fool!” another voice interjected a few feet away. “Everybody knows the boy was a wizard! NOT a witch!”
“My cousin in Old Corona once told me that it was alchemy.”
“Alchemy? What’s that? Sounds like a kind of witchcraft to me!”
“No, alchemy is a science. At least, that’s what the kid told everyone.”
“Yeah. He probably told them that so he could go on making his brews and creating his spells to make his monsters and living metal men in secret!”
“Oh come on! That part has got to be exaggerated!”
“But the witnesses all said it was true! Oh! Hey! If you don’t believe me, we could go over to Old Corona and you can see for yourself! I’ve heard a whole bunch of his metal soldiers still sit there impaled by the black rocks that the princess used to defeat him.”
“No way! I’m not going anywhere near that place-!”
Most of the conversations Xavier had overheard went something along those lines, and it broke his heart. Xavier didn’t know Varian very well, but he had seen the boy a few times before today, and he could hardly believe that such an excitable, energetic, and sweet child could’ve made such a drastic turn as that. Perhaps most people chalked it up to what Varian had spouted on about earlier, or perhaps a sort of displaced anger in the face of an accident tied to the princess. But Xavier wasn’t convinced.
Again, something was missing…But how to go finding out about it?
Finding out?
Xavier rubbed his hands over his eyes, really questioning where his mind was going as he came back to himself. “Really now Xavier ol’ boy,” he muttered to himself, attempting to be practical. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to help in matters like these? What a disaster that had been.”
And it truly it had been. Of course Xavier had found out shortly after that most peculiar day (the one with the whole debacle with his mood potion) that Varian had used a modified version of his elixir for his own schemes. And what even greater disasters came from that. Best then for the blacksmith to not try to stick his oar in again if he-
Xavier suddenly sat upright as it hit him like a thunderclap. “My potion!” he thought to himself with a sour jerk of sick guilt.
Oh no…
Whether Xavier liked it or not, he been an unwitting agent for furthering Varian’s crimes. In fact, you could even say that it was Xavier’s small potion that proved to be the point from which Varian’s whole revenge scheme was able to start from in the first place.
Varian may have been the one to start the fire, but Xavier had given him the matchbox.
…What to do then now? Perhaps Xavier was old-fashioned that way, but he felt convinced that given this knowledge was now obligated by honor to try to rectify what he had done.
To the kingdom…to Quirin…
To Varian…
“Well…” Xavier thought aloud, an idea beginning to form in his head as he stood up and walked over to the nearby table, grabbing some paper and ink as he did so. “Perhaps there is one thing I could do on that front…”
With that, Xavier began to compose his letter.
“Attn: The Royal Advisor Nigel, by urgent request
To their majesties King Frederic and Queen Arianna,
Greetings. If quite agreeable to you both, I would like to request an audience at your earliest possible convenience. I have a proposition I would like to make…”
#tts#tangled the series#fan fiction#gauze in the wound#varian#king frederic#queen arianna#nigel#captain of the guard#pete the guard#stan the guard#xavier the blacksmith#*collapses at my desk*#don't worry peeps it'll start to look up from here#flashback#hurt/comfort#angst#courtroom scene
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Chocolate Espresso Cake
Hiya! Welcome back! Hope your holiday weekend was fun and delish! Don’t want to stress you out any more than necessary, but do you have any idea what you’re going to do for New Year’s? It’s always an issue, right? And this year, more than ever, as we can’t/shouldn’t party or eat in restaurants or go to the movies or...arghh!!!!! Stay with me and take a deep breath cause I think I’ve found a solution. And boy, is it a delicious one! Let’s make cake. Not just any old cake though, no sir! It’s got to be something stand out, amazing tasting and time-consuming enough to fill up the hours until we ring in the new year. So taking into account all that criteria, let me present this show stopping, knock-your-socks-off, worth every sinful bite, Chocolate Espresso Cake.
Three tender, deeply chocolate, not-too-sweet layers of cake, covered with a velvety coffee buttercream which itself gets topped with a rich, smooth chocolate ganache, plus chocolate covered espresso beans and chocolate sprinkles—Take that 2020!!!
To tell the truth, my daughter and I first made this amazing treat back in August for her birthday and it was a huge hit! Honestly, it might be my most favorite celebration cake ever and that’s saying a lot cause I am not a coffee drinker. But somehow the whole combo just works amazingly well here and the actual chocolate cake is quite possibly the best I’ve ever tasted!! I held off posting because with all the smaller gatherings, big fancy cakes didn’t exactly seem appropriate, but now having too much cake around is the least of our worries!!
Before I get to showing you how to put this masterpiece together, I just want to mention that the recipe calls for coffee extract, which can be tricky to find. You can definitely get it on Amazon and maybe even in some specialty shops, but if you can’t, no worries. An easy sub is to get mix instant espresso with hot water and let it cool to room temperature. Easy-peasy and done!
And now, onto the cake: there are three layers which you could easily make the day before and have all ready to frost and build with on new years eve or you can totally make them the same day—in any case you want them to be entirely cool before you start to frost them with the silky coffee buttercream:
Once all three layers have been assembled, you cover the outsides of the cake with a thin coating of the frosting, aka the crumb coat. This helps to make sure that any loose crumbs adhere to the the cake, creating a base that will allow you to spread the frosting smoothly and evenly. It also helps to seal in the cake’s moisture.
After a short stint in the fridge to firm everything up, we’re ready to slather on the rest of the frosting and pour on the luscious chocolate ganache—
Which we’re gonna help to drip down the sides—
So we get that drizzle effect—
It’s a bit messy but hang tight because the end result is pretty spectacular!
Once all that gorgeous chocolate has dripped down the sides and set, it’s time to decorate with crunchy chocolate expresso beans and sprinkles. Tada!! Cake perfection!!
Look at all those gorgeous layers! It would be almost impossible not to have a happy new years with a slice of this at your beck and call!
There’s happiness in every chocolate-y-coffee-ish bite!
Happy birthday 2021, boy do we need you more than ever!!!
Chocolate Espresso Cake
Serves 12-16 people
Prep Time for cake: 20 minutes: Bake Time for cake: 35-40 minutes; Prep Time for Coffee Buttercream: 25-30 minutes; Prep Time for glaze: 10 minutes; Assembly Time: About 1 hour (much of this is hands-free—the frosted cake has to chill twice and then again for glazing
Ingredients
For the cake
¾ cup good quality dark unsweetened cocoa powder (I used Valrhona)
⅔ cup sour cream
1 ¼ cups hot water
2 ⅔ cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter (¾ cup), softened to room temp and cut into cubes
1/2 cup vegetable shortening (I used Crisco sticks)
1 ½ cups sugar
1 cup dark brown sugar, packed
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
For the coffee buttercream
1 ½ cups sugar
1/3 cup unbleached, all-purpose flour
1 ½ cups whole milk
⅓ cup heavy cream
1 ½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, soft but cool, cut into small pieces
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 tablespoons coffee extract (if you can’t find this, use 3 tablespoons of instant espresso mixed with 6 teaspoons of hot water and let cool to room temperature)
For the chocolate glaze
8 ounces good quality bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped (I used Lindt 70%)
12 tablespoons (1 ½ sticks) unsalted butter, softened and cut into cubes
1 tablespoon light corn syrup
Chocolate-covered espresso beans and chocolate sprinkles for decorating (optional)
The Recipe
1. To make the cake: Preheat oven to 325 F. Butter three 8 or 9 inch round cake pans, line the bottoms with a round of parchment paper and butter the parchment. Dust the pans with flour and knock out the excess. Set aside.
2. In a medium bowl, stir together the cocoa, sour cream and hot water and set aside to cool.
3. Meanwhile, sift the flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt together in a bowl and set aside.
4. Use an electric mixer to beat the butter and shortening together on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. When you lift the beaters, the mixture should sort of ribbon. If you’re using a handheld mixer, you may need to tack on a few more minutes. Add both sugars and beat on medium speed again for about 5 minutes, scraping the bowl as needed with a rubber spatula, until the mixture is light and fluffy. One at a time, add the eggs, beating for 10-15 seconds after each addition, until the egg is incorporated. Then add the vanilla and mix in on low speed. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and mix for another 30 seconds.
5. On low speed, alternate the dry ingredients with the cocoa mixture, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients, scraping down the bowl between the additions as needed.
6. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans, smoothing the tops. Bake the cakes for about 35 minutes all on the same rack, rotating the pans halfway through the baking time, until a tester inserted into the center of the cakes, comes out clean. (If you can’t fit all three pans in the oven on the same rack at once, bake two at a time and then bake the third one separately. You don’t want to bake these cakes in the bottom of the oven—they might get too dark). Transfer the cakes to wire racks to cool for at least 45 minutes, then invert onto the racks, remove and discard the parchment and let cakes cool completely. You can definitely make these a day ahead and wrap well in plastic wrap at room temperature.
7. To make the coffee buttercream: Add the sugar and flour to a medium, heavyweight saucepan and whisk together. Add the milk and cream and cook over medium heat, whisking every now and then until the mixture comes to a boil and has thickened, about 10-15 minutes.
8. Transfer the mixture to the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or just use a large bowl and a handheld mixer) and beat at high speed for about 7-9 minutes until the mixture is cool. On low speed, add the butter and mix in well. Then increase speed to medium-high and beat for another minute or two, until frosting is light and fluffy.
9. Add in the vanilla and coffee extracts and mix until well combined. If you feel the frosting is too soft, place the bowl in the fridge for a few minutes and then beat again until the right consistency. Alternately, if the frosting seems too thick to spread, place the bowl over a pot of simmering water and beat with a wooden spoon until it’s the right consistency.
10. To assemble the cake: cut 4 strips of parchment or wax paper and place them on top of a cake plate in a square. Place one of the cake layers centered on the square. This will help you keep the plate neat. If you need to, trim the cake so that it has a flat surface (I didn’t need to). Evenly spread about 1 ¼ cups frosting on top of the layer. Add the next cake layer and trim and frost it. Top with the final layer and spread a very thin layer of frosting all over the top and sides of the cake (a crumb coat that will help keep any loose crumbs from making the final frosting messy). Place the cake uncovered in the fridge for 15 minutes to allow it to set. Use the remaining frosting to cover the top and sides of the cake and return cake to fridge for another 15 minutes.
11. To make the chocolate glaze: place the chocolate, butter and corn syrup in the top of a double boiler set over an inch or two of simmering water and use a heatproof spoon or rubber spatula to stir the mixture until it’s completely melted and smooth. Remove the pan from the heat and stir the glaze for a few minutes to release some of the heat.
12. Starting in the center of the cake, slowly pour about ¾ cup of the glaze over the cake, using a small offset spatula or butter knife to smooth it out to the edges. Place the cake back in the fridge for another 5-10 minutes to allow it to set. Now, pour the remaining glaze over the top of the cake, letting it drip down the sides any which way. Return to the fridge for about 5 minutes to set—it’ll be easier to clean up any drips on the plate. Remove the paper strips and discard. Use a damp paper towel to clean up any smudges on the cake plate. If using, press the chocolate sprinkles into the cake along the bottom and decorate the top with the espresso beans. Return the cake to the fridge for another 20-30 minutes and serve or carefully cover and store at room temp for up to 1 day. Chill any leftovers in an airtight container in the fridge.
Enjoy!
Note: Recipe adapted from Baked Explorations by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito. I stuck pretty close to the recipe buy changed a few of the techniques.
#Unsweetened Cocoa Powder#Sour Cream#Hot Water#Flour#Baking Powder#Baking Soda#Salt#Butter#Vegetable Shortening#Sugar#Dark Brown Sugar#Eggs#Vanilla Extract#Whole Milk#Heavy Cream#Coffee Extract#Bittersweet Chocolate#Light Corn Syrup#Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans#Chocolate Sprinkles
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