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defibrillate-the-hidden · 7 months ago

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Story

Haven't written a resus story in probably over a decade so be nice, actually doesn't include any resus so more of a whump story? idk felt like writing

"Hi Kelly, my name is Dr. Caldwell. How are you feeling?"

Kelly Walker's eyes darted from the kindly pale, freckled face hidden behind wisps of chestnut hair of the woman standing over her to the bright fluorescent lights of the ER hallway as they slowly rolled her down.

"I've been better," she choked out around the oxygen mask firmly held to her face.

"Well, let's see if we can help improve that a bit. Do you have any pain or discomfort?" she asked, looking over her.

Kelly managed as close to a nod as possible through the straps holding her firmly to the bright orange backboard. "My left hand is numb, my left knee hurts, it hurts to take a deep breath, and my neck and upper back hurt," she explained slowly.

The doctor nodded. "It looks like you might have a few broken bones. Any pain in your chest, abdomen, anything like that?" She gently probed Kelly's abdomen and chest with a stethoscope as she asked.

"No," Kelly responded firmly.

"Okay," she looked up to her coworkers. "Vitals are looking normal. Let's get her into imaging, get an X-ray on the hand, knee, chest, and neck, and we'll go from there."

Two hours earlier, Kelly Walker was curled up on the couch in her family's RV, her Yorkshire Terrier Lugnut sleeping in a ball by her feet.

"Kelly, time to go!" her mother called from the door to her 19-year-old daughter. Kelly tapped the small dog on the rear lightly to stir him and then slid off the couch. She caught a quick glance at herself in the mirror, zipping the front of her cream fire suit to the base of her chest and wrapping her sleeves around herself to hold it in place.

"I really need to get a new colored suit," she commented to her mom as she jumped down the stairs and out the door. "The cream just blends into my skin, and I just look like a mop of dark brown hair and floating green eyes."

Her mother chuckled slightly. "Convince my brother's dairy farm to change the color of his logo and the color of your car, and we'll get you a new fire suit. But no one sees you in the damn thing anyway!"

"They will in the victory lane celebration later," Kelly responded quickly with a mischievous glimmer of confidence in her eye.

Her mother smiled proudly but also a bit suspiciously at her daughter as the two began to climb the small wooden footbridge to the track's infield. The sun blasted the last warm rays of a Carolina summer evening on their backs.

At three-quarters of a mile, Blue Ridge Fairgrounds was one of the longer dirt tracks in the South. A sweeping D oval let the street stocks that ran there run nearly wide open and emphasized keeping the cars' momentum high through the turns. Success here was often seen as a harbinger of success at higher levels of racing, but for Kelly Walker, tonight was its own high point of the season.

The mid-July race during the Blue Ridge Fair was the midpoint of her racing season, one of the biggest under the lights. The multicolored lights of the nearby rides and games from the fair gave the atmosphere a bigger feel than a normal race weekend.

Large covered wooden stands, reminiscent of early 20th-century baseball stadiums, wrapped around the front straightaway and were often filled for the A main on fair weekends, heightening the energy.

Kelly had surprisingly done well in the prior day's qualifying events, putting her car in 7th place out of the 16 that would take the green flag. It wasn't enough to have anyone outside of her whispering about an upset win, but her confidence also did not seem entirely out of place.

The two women arrived at the cream and red street stock moments later as Kelly undid her sleeves and pulled the rest of her suit on. Her father, a burly mustached man of 55, handed her a racing helmet that felt too big on her small frame. She held it firmly to her side as the last notes of the anthem finished over the track's PA system and an excited rumble from the crowded grandstands filled the sticky but rapidly cooling mountain air.

Kelly quickly climbed in through the window, the rest of the world fading as she slipped into her seat, tightened her belts, and pulled on her helmet for the evening. The final wisps of sunlight disappeared beneath the western horizon as the command was given to start the cars, and they rolled out onto the grid.

Along with being one of the more prestigious races of the summer season, it was also one of the longest by mileage. Kelly took long, deep breaths as they ran the pace laps, flexing her fingers over the steering wheel. "Patience," she urged herself as they filed in behind the pace car.

"Just remember, long race tonight. Can't win it in turn one, and it's all about momentum, so we want to be there at the end," her dad's voice cut in over their radio. Kelly nodded in response, though no one could see her. She chuckled quietly to herself, realizing the foolishness of her muted response. She considered responding vocally, but the moment was gone by the time she found the courage to hit the radio button on her steering wheel.

She flexed her fingers one last time as the cars came out of turn four and in sight of the flag stand, a flash of green against the night sky unleashed the cars into turn one.

On her outside, the brown and gold car of Nick Thompson got a good jump going into the turn and got around her for 7th. Kelly slid in behind him and followed as they roared down the back straightaway for turn 3.

The typical nervous energy of a big race seemed subdued as the 16 drivers rode around the early laps nearly single file. It seemed everyone was going to follow their own mantras of patience as they let the first few laps click off.

After 8 laps, Emma Parker, the only other female driver in the race, got a good run to the outside of her brother Jackson coming out of turn 2 and raced him hard down the back straight for 5th. Nick chose to follow her as they entered turn three, opening the bottom for Kelly, who gladly took the opportunity to regain 7th place and hoped Jackson might overdrive his sister into turn one, giving Kelly a chance to pick off all three spots in a single lap.

She was able to pull alongside Nick's car as they got through the center of the corner, but the dirty air off Jackson's rear made Kelly's car understeer and slide up towards Nick's. In a desperate attempt to keep off Nick's car, she input more wheel into the turn, but without the downforce of clean air, the back end of her car became free and lifted out from under her, turning her hard out of the fourth turn.

Kelly's car slid off the lightly embanked dirt towards the infield as she let out a frustrated profanity. She turned hard back into the spin to try and correct it before noticing out of the corner of her eye that she was rapidly approaching an exposed light post wrapped in tires at the base. After a moment of paralyzed indecision, she smartly let go of the steering wheel and went to pull her hands back, keenly aware of only one thing—this was going to hurt.

Kelly had been in many wrecks in her life; she had been driving since she could fit in a go-kart at 4 years old, and none ever felt less jarring or annoying, but this hit was something much harder than even she had expected.

The car impacted the tires just behind the wheel well to her right front in a bone-jarring crunch. The suspension on the front right split almost immediately from the impact and clawed into the tire barrier, whipping the car like a catapult around the light post and ripping most of the front-end housing loose from the car. The rear end dug into the exposed dirt, rolling the car once before it landed hard, practically on the floorboard. There was an audible gasp from the crowd over the roar of the engines as the car came to rest.

Inside the battered car, the wreck was even more violent. The sound of hitting the pole was like a shotgun going off in Kelly's right ear, and the violent whipping of the car as it spun off the pole slammed her into her seat in a way she had not expected.

The whole experience was over in 5 seconds, but it felt like 5 minutes inside the car. There was an eerie silence in the moments after the car came to rest as Kelly started to take note of what had happened.

Her eyes shot open unexpectedly; she honestly hadn't even realized she had been knocked out. There was a sudden rush as she saw the pole approaching, then the ear-shattering crunch as she hit it, and next she was fully aware she was sitting awkwardly in the mangled wreckage of her car. The steering column sat awkwardly against the gearbox, and the whole dashboard had shifted 6 inches to the left, breaking the A-pillar of her windshield.

That was the point where the pain overwhelmed her nervous system. Her left hand fell limp to her leg as the pain overwhelmed her wrist, hips, and knee. Her head, neck, and upper back felt as though they had been twisted in half as she fell back into her racing seat, grimacing in pain. She swore various profanities again as her head rested awkwardly against the headrest of her racing seat.

"Kelly, you okay? Come on, speak to us, kiddo!" her dad yelled over the radio. She wasn't even sure how many times he had said something before she registered the sounds in her ears. She went to reach for the radio button, but the steering wheel was so off-center she could barely reach for it without recoiling in pain.

"Kelly! You okay?!" a track worker asked loudly as he got to her window. He lowered the net quickly as she groaned a forced "ow" in response, her only way to really let anyone know she was awake.

She knew she was slumped over awkwardly in her seat as an older, salt-and-pepper-haired EMT climbed in through the badly misshapen passenger window. Honestly, if not for the immense pain overwhelming her, she would've been impressed with his flexibility.

"Hey Kelly, my name is Tucker. I'm one of the docs here at the track. How are you?" he asked calmly.

"Fuck," was all the labored response she could muster.

Tucker chuckled calmly. "Understandable. Can you give me a little more than that? What's hurting?"

Kelly took a few harsh breaths. "Everything on the left side," she managed to wince out. "Hand, wrist, ankle, knee, back, neck—everything."

Tucker nodded. "Okay, we're gonna get you out of here. Because you're saying your back and neck hurt, we're gonna have to take the roof off and get you on a board, okay?"

Kelly forced herself to give a weak thumbs-up with her right hand, but honestly, it sounded like hell. She wanted nothing more than to climb from the car and crawl under the track surface, never to be seen again. She was physically hurt, but emotionally, her pride was more destroyed than her car. The hours of work they had put in had been for nothing, and her season was over, even if she only had some bad bruises. A small family team didn't have a spare car lying around, and she could see bits of the infield grass through the front of her car where the engine was supposed to be. Even in her damaged state, it was obvious the car was beyond any form of repair, whether they left the roof on or not.

Tucker reached out of the car and then came back in with a white plastic neck brace. "Kelly, I'm gonna put this brace on to keep your neck steady, and then we're gonna help you get that helmet off so it's a little easier to talk to you, okay?" he explained calmly.

She didn't respond; honestly, she was not really in the right space to talk to anyone right now. He worked quickly and calmly, getting the brace on her neck and slowly removing her helmet. With her helmet off, the cool night air hit her face like a brick. Her eyes blinked against the pain, and warm tears burned her eyes and cheeks.

A young woman who couldn't have been old enough to drink leaned into the driver's side window. "Hi Kelly, I'm Becky. I work with Tucker here at the track," the lanky blonde girl said in a thick southern drawl that even took Kelly, a native Carolinian, by surprise. "I'm gonna undo the top of your suit here and just listen to your breathing and your chest, just see how everything's working, okay?" Kelly gave a forced thumbs-up again with her right hand, as if she really had any choice.

Tucker turned away and started working with the EMTs to help remove broken pieces of the car. Kelly turned her attention to that as Becky gently unzipped the top half of her fire suit. She probed the top of her chest gently, but as she reached lower along her rib cage beneath her sports bra, Kelly recoiled with a sharp grimace of pain.

"Oops, sorry hun, I won't touch there anymore. Where's the pain?" Becky asked.

Kelly grabbed a few sharp breaths. "Goes from my side to my back," she labored out.

The rescue team was able to remove the broken windshield without cutting into the car, and the A-post was so badly damaged it easily cut in half. They peeled the frame off the driver's compartment and removed Kelly's belts slowly before sliding a hard plastic board behind Kelly's back. They slowly lowered her back and slid her gingerly onto the backboard. Kelly was surprised how little it hurt to move her.

Unfortunately, strapping her to the board was less forgiving, as the thick nylon straps dug into her shins and forehead. There were small pads on them, but they were of little comfort. Secured to the stretcher, they began to pull Kelly out of her wrecked car. For the first time, she was struck by the silence—there was no roar of the engines, and even the crowd had gone silent. She was unsure if she had gone deaf for a moment until she realized the race had been stopped for the accident, which unsurprisingly did little to help her mood.

She tried to give a labored thumbs-up with her right arm to signal to her family and anyone else that she was okay, even though she knew that wasn't exactly an accurate description of her condition. There was a muffled applause of support from the crowd as her arm moved.

They loaded her quickly into the back of the waiting rig and began to drive off. Becky took a pair of shears to the fire suit, cutting the length of Kelly's left side. The inside of the rig felt like a blast freezer to her exposed skin. Becky snipped away the side of her black Nike sports bra to get to her hurt ribs but kept most of the fabric across her chest for modesty. Tucker quickly inserted an IV into her right elbow so confidently Kelly didn't even notice it was happening until the warm relief of pain medication hit her bloodstream.

It was at this point, with some of the pain subsiding, that she noticed her vision was fuzzy in her left eye, and she closed it softly against the harsh lights. "How ya feelin' there, hun?" Becky asked caringly.

"Better," Kelly let out before taking a sharp breath against the pain in her ribs. Becky lowered an oxygen mask to Kelly's face as they rode smoothly to the nearby ER.

It was nearly 45 minutes before Dr. Caldwell entered the waiting room where Kelly's family sat nervously.

"Hi, you must be Kelly's parents," Dr. Caldwell said warmly, maybe a little fakely and overly prepared, but in the nerves of the situation, not out of place.

"How is she, doc?" Her father asked, clearly nervous of the answer.

"Going top to bottom, she's got a few good bumps. She has a concussion, four dislocated ribs, a bone bruise just above the elbow joint in her humerus, and she broke every finger except her thumb in her left hand. She has a meniscus tear in her left knee and a dislocated ankle. Ultimately, she may need surgery on the ankle, but the rest should heal with rest and time. We're just getting her settled in her room if you'd like to come in and see her. It's going to be a painful few weeks for her, but I expect she should be back to normal in a few weeks or months."

#resus community #resus writing #whump writing

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sebastian81 · 9 months ago

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Understanding Dog Pregnancy: Signs and Gestation Period

Bringing new life into the world is a beautiful experience, and when it comes to our furry friends, dog pregnancy is an exciting journey for both the dog and its human companions. However, recognizing the signs of pregnancy and understanding the gestation period are crucial aspects of responsible dog ownership. In this exploration, we’ll explore the telltale signs of dog pregnancy and delve into the fascinating journey of canine gestation.

Signs Of Dog Pregnancy

Changes in Appetite: Just like humans, pregnant dogs may experience fluctuations in appetite. Some may eat more than usual, while others may lose interest in food altogether. It’s essential to monitor your dog’s eating habits and consult your veterinarian for dietary recommendations.

Weight Gain: As the pregnancy progresses, you may notice your dog’s abdomen expanding as she gains weight. However, weight gain can also be attributed to other factors, so it’s essential to confirm pregnancy through veterinary examination.

Nesting Behavior: In the weeks leading up to delivery, pregnant dogs may exhibit nesting behavior, such as gathering blankets or bedding to create a comfortable space for birthing.

Changes in Nipples: Around the third week of pregnancy, a dog’s nipples may become enlarged and darker in color. Additionally, you may notice milk production (colostrum) from the nipples as the due date approaches.

Behavioral Changes: Pregnant dogs may display changes in behavior, such as increased affection, restlessness, or nesting instincts. Some dogs may also become more protective or territorial as they prepare to welcome their puppies.

Physical Changes: As pregnancy progresses, you may observe physical changes in your dog’s body, including a swollen abdomen, increased sleepiness, and even morning sickness (vomiting or nausea) during the early stages.

Dog Gestation Period

The gestation period for dogs typically lasts between 58 to 68 days, with the average being around 63 days. However, the exact duration can vary depending on factors such as breed, age, and litter size. It’s essential to keep track of the mating dates and consult your veterinarian for guidance throughout the pregnancy.

During the gestation period, your dog will go through three distinct stages:

Early Pregnancy: The first few weeks of pregnancy are characterized by the fertilized eggs implanting in the uterine lining. During this time, it may be challenging to detect pregnancy through physical signs alone.

Mid-Pregnancy: By the midpoint of pregnancy, the embryos have developed into fetuses, and the dog’s abdomen will begin to visibly enlarge. This stage is crucial for proper fetal development, so it’s essential to provide adequate nutrition and prenatal care.

Late Pregnancy: In the final weeks leading up to delivery, your dog will exhibit more pronounced signs of pregnancy, such as nesting behavior, milk production, and a noticeable increase in belly size. It’s essential to prepare a quiet and comfortable birthing area for your dog to deliver her puppies.

Dog pregnancy is a remarkable journey filled with anticipation, excitement, and a few surprises along the way. By recognizing the signs of pregnancy and understanding the gestation period, you can ensure that your furry friend receives the care and support she needs to navigate this special time in her life. If you suspect your dog may be pregnant or have any concerns about her health, don’t hesitate to consult your veterinarian for guidance and advice.

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autumnslance · 4 years ago

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FFXIVWrite2020 # 21: Foibles

Thancred stopped by the opened door. Inside her room, Aeryn was staring with a furrowed brow at her overstuffed pack. He leaned on the frame, watching for a moment. “Dare I ask?” He finally said when she hadn’t moved for well over a minute.

She jumped. “I didn’t see you there, sorry!�� She gestured for him to come in before rummaging through the pack again, removing some things, adding others. The wreckage of her indecision was scattered all over her desk.

“Obviously,” he replied, accepting the invitation. “Weren’t you and Lyse to be prodding our Doman friends for information?” He cast a critical eye over the array of items. Aeryn’s room was typically very orderly, clean and uncluttered--except for her adventuring pack and, so the rumors said, her wardrobe. Both were supposedly fit to bursting with a variety of items, keepsakes, trinkets, and more clothes than one woman possibly needed.

“We did,” Aeryn replied, puzzling over what looked like a hunk of titanium ore before placing it on the desktop. “And we were given plenty of advice. Getting ready to head back to Limsa to meet the others and our ship.”

“You really ought to just dump that and start fresh,” Thancred said, not for the first time. He gestured broadly to the mess on the desk. “Take only what you truly need.”

“But much of what I need is already in here, and there might be more—”

“Not if you can’t even find it,” he teased gently as she huffed. He looked over the flotsam on the desk again. “I’m not even sure what half of these are…for example, what’s this?” He asked, picking up a blade.

Rather, part of one; half a katana blade, from midpoint to tip. It wanted for a good cleaning, marred with dirt and perhaps, uncomfortably, blood along the still-sharp leading edge. Not unusual for a blade to break like this, depending where and how the swordsman struck. “Where did this come from? I don’t think it belongs to any of our Doman friends…” he trailed off as he looked at Aeryn again.

She was staring at the blade in his hand, face pale, eyes the darkened grey of a stormy evening. Her hands were pressed to her abdomen just below her breasts, where he knew under her clothes were still tightly-wrapped bandages--to support her bruised and cracked ribs, and also cover the alchemical medication used to ease her pains and continue healing the deep cut as well.

Thancred remembered reading the report on the assault on Rhalgr’s Reach, his blood running cold over how close so many more of his dearest friends had come to death, how many Resistance soldiers had died or been left crippled. When Lyse had come home to tell him about their plan to go to Doma, he had asked her if the reports of Aeryn’s defeat at the Legatus’ hand were as terrifying as the missives had made it out to be.

Lyse looked away, shuffling foot to foot. “It...it was bad,” she said. “I couldn’t stop him, Y’shtola’s shields broke, and Aeryn--gods, she tried, you know how she tries--but he was so...I’ve never seen anything like it. When I saw her fall, I couldn’t...It seemed impossible.” She chewed her lip, blue eyes distant. “Maybe I just started believing the stories too much, you know? How she’s always winning, always coming out the other side and I know it isn’t that simple, but…” Lyse took a shuddering breath.

“Is she all right?” Thancred asked, fighting down his own fears and anger--most of it at himself, not being there once again, when they needed him, when she needed him...

It took a moment for Lyse to reply. “As she can be. Physically, she’s healing well enough; you know she heals faster than most, and she’s had some of the best care. But...I think this has shaken her. Not that she’ll ever admit it.” Lyse shook her head. It took her a moment to continue, voice quiet. “We didn’t even know how bad it was at first. She stumbled to us to help with healing Conrad and Y’shtola. But when it came time to move them to the infirmary, she passed out.

“She didn’t want to worry us,” Lyse continued. “She had to hold on, be the hero everyone expects.” Tears welled in her eyes. “She knows how everyone sees her, what they expect, and she tries to be that unbreakable champion but she’s not, she’s Aeryn, and…” Lyse covered her face with her hands, trying to regain control.

Thancred stood there awkwardly for a moment. Finally he reached a hand to her shoulder. “Lyse, it’s going to be all right—”

The next thing he knew the air was whumped out of his chest by Lyse flinging herself against him in an embrace. He weakly laughed; he really should have expected it from her, of all people. He stroked her hair and patted her back. “Aeryn’s alive. Y’shtola’s alive. We knew the risks, and gods know we’re paying for it, but we can only move forward from here.”

“I know I know I know, but...I keep feeling like—”

“Tell me about Alphinaud’s plan,” he gently interrupted. “Trust me; getting mired down in the what ifs and if onlys doesn’t help.”

It was Lyse’s turn to shakily laugh as she pulled away. “It almost sounds like you’ve learned something, this last year you all spent up north,” she said, wiping her eyes. “But you’re right. So! Here’s why we’re in Revenant’s Toll…”

Back in the now, Aeryn continued to stare at the broken blade. “Aeryn?” Thancred asked, pitching his voice to give it a sharp edge sure to catch her attention.

She blinked and looked back at him, some of the color returning to her cheeks, some of the clouds lifting from her eyes. “I’m not sure why I kept it,” she quietly admitted, looking away and tucking a strand of fine black hair behind her ear. She still had a hand on her ribs, rubbing idly.

“...Is this the blade he used to cut you down?”

She nodded. He stopped himself from dropping it, swallowed the rising bile in his throat, and wondered how quickly he could get it to the forge--perhaps the Ironworks shop, that was closer and surely they had a way to smelt the wretched thing.

For the moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Aeryn. Are you sure you’re ready to travel? To search out Yugiri and Gosetsu and try to start another revolt in Doma?”

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned the pack over, dumping the contents out as he had so often recommended, shaking the bag until objects and dirt and gods only knew what else stopped coming out of it. She wrinkled her nose at the mess, but began sorting the supplies. “Help me decide what I’ll need; you’re good at determining necessities.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” he said tersely.

Aeryn paused, not looking at him. “I have to be ready. And I’ll have the entire sea journey to finish healing besides,” she continued, trying to forestall his reply.

Thancred frowned, even as he began to help pick through her gear. “It’s not just about the physical healing. You know that.”

“I don’t want a lecture, or an argument,” she said. “We decided the Scions would go to war alongside the rest of Eorzea. I’ll do what needs done, until this is over.” She flicked her gaze up towards him as she re-folded a pair of miraculously clean socks into a more compact shape. “And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

Thancred sighed. “You have me there. Just...do be careful. Nothing too reckless--by which I mean,” he said quickly, holding up a finger and giving her a wry grin. “Listen more to Alphinaud and Tataru than to Alisaie and Lyse.”

Aeryn affected a pout, but then grinned back. “I’ll do my best. Would help though if we had another bard with us. Sure you don’t want to come along? There are all sorts of stories about Kugane, and then there’s Doma…”

He shook his head. “Tempting, but no; with Y’shtola out of commission, I’ll be heading to Gyr Abania. Neither Krile or Arenvald have much experience in the field, and the others are still too new to our order. Still, we’ll rally and get the Resistance back on track while you’re fomenting rebellion half a world away.”

It really was tempting, he realized. Especially when the words “half a world away” left his lips. They seemed heavy, somehow.

He was simply affected by all the news of doom and gloom, and Lyse’s earlier tears. This was just another mission and Aeryn determined to complete it, while he had his own duties to attend. Hopefully, they really wouldn’t need him to watch their backs; it was always so tricky, when they were purposefully separated out like this, instead of acting in concert as a team.

Thancred realized she had not replied, but that wasn’t unusual for Aeryn. They continued to work in mostly silence, separating the piles of junk from the actually useful supplies and gear she would need for such a journey.

They were nearing the end finally when he lightly bapped her fingers with his own when she reached for a third alembic, making her pout for real this time while he shook his head.

“You already have one too many,” he admonished. “Even taking into account how the things might break.”

“I just really like that one,” she replied.

“Then swap out one of the others for it.”

“It’s not as precise as the other two, but it’s prettier and--”

He gave her a baleful look. She raised her hands in defeat. “All right; it can stay here in the cabinet,” Aeryn conceded.

“Then that should do it,” he said, looking at the detritus on the desktop. “I’ll see to cleaning this up so you can get going; wouldn’t want to keep Lyse and the others waiting too much longer.”

“I’ll be there sooner, and several ponzes lighter, than I’d be otherwise without the help,” Aeryn said as she closed up the pack--without having to resort to stuffing and shoving the thing. “Thanks.”

Thancred smiled. “Anytime.”

She looked about to say more, but then hefted the pack and began to walk out.

“Aeryn,” he impulsively touched her elbow to stop her as she passed him. She looked up, a brow raised. He instantly felt sheepish. “Do take care of yourself,” he said. “For the rest of our sakes, if not your own.” He earnestly meant it, recalling those storms in her eyes earlier.

She smiled at him, and then suddenly stepped forward to lean into a quick hug.

He was again caught by surprise, but swiftly regrouped, returning the friendly embrace. She was warm and her hair smelled of violas today; she had created a fresh corsage for her hair, the white petals stark against her fine black tresses. Her red coat was freshly laundered, leaving it a bit stiff--much like the tension underlying her frame.

“Sorry, I just...We’ll be fine, and back before you know it,” she said, stepping away again. “Take care of Y’shtola and the others while we’re gone.”

He hid his odd disappointment at how soon that was over, giving her a grin instead. “Of course. Safe journeys.”

She headed down the hall as he watched. He lingered in the room for a while longer, taking his time cleaning, determining which items needed to be put away on shelves and in drawers, throwing a good deal of trash away, dropping the clothing in a basket to take to laundry, wiping down the desk and sweeping the floor for all the stray bits that had fallen. He tried to be thorough, knowing how neatly she liked to keep things, but also, he eventually realized, he was stalling at the idea of leaving her space, though she had just left it to join the others as they traveled across the world…

On the other side of the realm was one thing; that was an airship or even teleport away, if he could get someone to take him. Kugane? Doma? That was entirely different.

He walked the broken katana blade to the Ironworks shop across the small square. The engineer on duty looked puzzled, but agreed it would be no trouble at all to scrap the metal. The awful thing gone, Thancred took a long walk around the Toll trying to clear his head.

He couldn’t get the scent of violas out of his nose.

He was simply concerned for her--for all of them, he told himself, as he returned to the Stones and went straight to his room to work on a few final bits of paperwork before heading out himself in the morning. The situation in the Reach had been bad enough, she was still healing the injury the Legatus had dealt her, and now they were traveling across the sea. Why shouldn’t he be worried?

He frowned at a form he had tried to read three times already, but instead kept thinking about the earlier conversation and packing. It had felt like old times.

They had been talking more again, true, and finally relaxing toward a more casual friendship as they had enjoyed before the Banquet--it had taken the events with the Warriors of Darkness and Minfilia to do it, perhaps, and now the more recent loss of Papalymo. He had appreciated Aeryn’s consideration and support through those difficulties, even when Thancred was being an arse, which he had taken several steps to apologize for. He had enjoyed returning to their long talks and comfortable silences, and they had even sang together after dinner once, her eyes sparkling as they harmonized while the others cheered. He kept thinking about her smiles, the way she laughed at his jokes, how she looked at him, how warm she had felt in his arms--

Oh bloody hells.

His nutkin squeaked and nosed his arm as Thancred sat with his face in his hands. “I’m fine,” he muttered to the rodent. “It’ll pass. Thrown off guard, that’s all.”

He took a deep breath as he wiped his hands down his face and stared at the ceiling. “It will pass,” he repeated to himself firmly, before trying to return to work.

After all, if he didn’t admit to it, even to himself, that meant it wasn’t true. At least not for a little while longer.

((Followed by “Realizations” here and on Ao3))

#FFXIVWrite2020 #Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Stormblood #Thancred Waters #Lyse Hext #Thancred x WoL #Shippy Nonsense #pre-relationship #Aeryn Striker

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lilkisara · 5 years ago

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My Born Again Review

Note: I basically just copy/paste my review of the show that I wrote over @ MDL but I thought I’d share it with the kdrama community on here as well.

First things first: Don’t watch the show!

If you have problems with the theme of stalking, psychopaths, and the likes then this show is not for you. Towards the middle of the show, I started to feel physically ill whenever Ki Yong’s character showed up on the screen because of his behavior and actions.

Story - 1/10 What started out as a promise of two lovers that were torn apart by the cruelest means imaginable, to find each other again in their next lives ended in a tragic ending of her actually starting a relationship with the murderer of her past boyfriend. I thought I might just rip the band-aid right off from the start. Yes, you’ve read correctly. The female lead forgives this man everything that he has done from stalking her, putting her life in mortal danger not once but three times (!), killing a woman in the past (because he was planning on giving the female lead that woman’s heart) and killing her then-boyfriend right in front of her eyes by stabbing him multiple times in his abdomen. But forgive and forget. Hyung Bin (played by Lee Soo Hyuk) and Ha Eun’s (played by Jin Se Yeon) love story as depicted in the first two episodes was full of wonder, sweetness, happiness and the promise of them getting married eventually. I don’t want to go into too much detail about the storyline because to be quite honest with you: none of it made any sense by the end of the show! And we’re only now finding out that part of the reason for that might be the fact that the show added 7 additional writers to the staff by the midpoint and eventually got rid of the original writer. Acting/Cast - 8/10 Lee So Hyuk - He was a delight to watch and the only reason why I stuck around until the end of the show. Hyung Bin was a puppy-like character of the first order. He was sweet, protective and wanted to take care of his then-girlfriend Ha Eun for the rest of his life. Su Hyuk was the opposite of Hyung Bin but also kind of not. I’m not sure how to describe it but Soo Hyuk did an amazing acting job. Hopefully, his agency will be able to get him a decent lead role for his next drama because he certainly deserves it.

Jin Se Yeon - I guess you could say that she did the best that she could with the script that was given to her. Ha Eun was the sweetest person on earth and her smile shone as bright as the stars above. Sa Bin on the other hand… She was frustrating to watch. Like I said, I think Se Yeon did the best that she could with the script. At one point I just gave up making sense of her character’s decisions.

Jang Ki Yong - Basically the same applies to Jin Se Yeon. I just couldn’t empathize with his character even though the show certainly tried to get us, viewers, there. Music - 3/10 The OST was hauntingly beautiful. My problem lies with the overall background music and the music choice during the stalking scenes etc. They really tried to romanticize the stalking scenes by adding romantic music. Overall - 3/10 (Rewatch Value - 1/10) Frankly, I’m traumatized by the show. I tried watching other sweeter shows that feature Jang Ki Yong and Jin Se Yeon and I just can’t hear their voices and look at their faces without feeling sick to my stomach and I’m devastated! I never felt like this before. How can a kdrama do that to its viewers? I just don’t want anyone else to feel the way that I’m feeling now. I’m begging you to really reconsider if you were planning on watching the show. Even if you want to watch the show only for Lee Soo Hyuk, don’t. Just don’t. Wait for his next project or rewatch some of his other works.

Don’t watch Born Again!

#born again #kdramanetwork #lee soo hyuk #jin se yeon

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hrina · 7 years ago

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Apericena (Il Ritorno Extra)

PAIRING: Alex/Y/N RATING: R WORD COUNT: 2.5k REQUESTED: yes!

hi my lovelies!!!! unfortunately, this isn’t the 3rd part of il ritorno, but i thought i’d write a little something to keep u guys satisfied until then!!! this is an extra (basically just a lil event taking place in the il ritorno universe) :D it was requested and i got inspired, so i rly hope u guys like it!

if u do, here’s my inbox (feedback really motivates me just saying) and my masterlist!! xx

here’s a short list of songs that came on shuffle as i was writing and that i think fit the theme fairly well. if u wanna listen to them as u read, be my guest!!!

night changes - 1d lost in your light - dua lipa the edge of tonight - all time low

if u haven’t read il ritorno yet, here’s il ritorno (part 1) / l’amato (part 2) / il devoto (part 3) :-) happy reading!

“She had no right!” you fume, clenching your jaw so tight you think your teeth may actually crack. Alex has got a tight grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the worn leather. You’re huffing angrily, your arms folded over your chest and your fists clenched against your ribs.

“She’s got nothing better t’do, love,” Alex says, attempting to soothe you.

You stare pointedly out the window, watching as small shops pass by. Alex had tried taking you out somewhere nice, somewhere no one would really bother the two of you. You’d been sat at a table, waiting to be served, when you’d overheard a syrupy voice carry through the air from a group gathered only a few feet away.

“Came back with her brother, I think,” someone had said. Both you and Alex had stared at each other with wide, panicked eyes, your backs stiffening. After a few long seconds, however, nothing else had been said. Just as you had begun to relax once more, you’d heard a high-pitched simper.

“Easy for it, isn’t she? Apparently, he’s living with her.”

Your bottom lip found its way between your teeth, and you pushed back abruptly from the table. The group of people looked up in shock when your chair screeched loudly against the floor. You stared evenly at each individual, hoping that you had gotten it wrong: maybe they hadn’t been talking about you.

But then you’d caught a glimpse of one girl nudging her friend and lifting her eyebrows, as if she was trying to point you out.

“It’s none of your business!” you’d said loudly, glaring at her harshly.

And yeah, it had been quite satisfying to watch her mouth pop open in surprise. You’d wanted to say more (or perhaps scream would have been a better description) but Alex had suddenly wrapped a hand around your wrist, pulling you out of the restaurant before you had the chance to cause a scene.

And now, you’re here.

“I thought it would be far enough,” you whine, leaning your head back against the seat, “Thought nobody would recognize us there.”

“We’ll just go further next time,” Alex suggests. He pulls onto a dirt road, and you squint as the sunset bathes your face in a dusty orange glow. You sigh dejectedly, and Alex removes one hand from the wheel, reaching for yours and lacing your fingers together.

The two of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, with Alex focused on the uneven road and you studying the way the sun slowly dips into the horizon. It’s quiet and peaceful, though your stomach still lurches grossly when you remember how condescending the girl’s tone had been as she gossiped.

Alex can tell that you’re still thinking about it, and so he turns the steering wheel to the side, fighting off a smirk when you squawk in surprise. You stare at him questioningly when he veers off the road and shifts the gear of the car so that the two of you are securely parked in place.

“She just had nothin’ better to do,” Alex repeats his earlier words, unbuckling his seat-belt so that he can face you properly. You bite the inside of your cheek, sucking in a deep breath.

“Is she right?” you ask in a small voice, avoiding his gaze, “Am I easy for it?”

Alex scoffs, rolling his eyes. The noise is enough to get you to look up at him, your lips pursed into a fine line. Alex squeezes your hand reassuringly, shaking his head. “’Course not, love.”

You don’t look convinced, and Alex swears under his breath. “Christ,” he says, “’M sorry. Dunno how else to prove it to yeh.”

“No,” you tell him quickly, sitting up straight. You unbuckle your seat-belt as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m just...I’m sorry, I’m just being difficult.”

“Not bein’ difficult,” Alex counters, “Just nervous. An’ I get it, y’know? When people say shit like that...’s never pleasant.”

“Yeah,” you lament, blinking sadly. Alex’s chest aches, and he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and pepper kisses to the crown of your head. He absolutely detests seeing you so torn up, especially when it’s a result of meaningless, insensitive prattle.

“Hey, c’mere,” Alex mumbles, untangling his fingers from yours so that he can bring a hand up. He cups your face gently, leaning forward over the console of the car and guiding you up to meet his lips.

A warmth spreads over your body when his mouth glides smoothly over yours, and you let out a soft, satisfied sigh. After a few short seconds, Alex pulls back, but you whine at the loss of contact. Your hand catches the back of his head, fingers finding purchase in his short hair. You’re not quite sure as to what’s come over you, but it’s okay. It’s okay.

“Come back,” you plead softly.

Alex chuckles but follows your command nonetheless, kissing you again. You part your lips quickly, urging him to take control. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whimper when you taste the complimentary soda that he’d been served at the restaurant before your little outburst.

Your quiet pleas and whines grow in volume and frequency, and soon, you’re grappling at the material of his jacket. Alex breathes out a curse, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Gonna be the death o’ me,” he tells you, and it makes you giggle shyly.

Warmth pools in your cheeks, and you’re scared that he can feel it when he strokes the side of your face. You lean further into him, nearly falling over the console of the car. Your hand lands on his thigh so that you can steady yourself, and Alex reaches for your hips, tugging you forward.

You grunt as you try to coax each of your legs over the midpoint of the vehicle, and Alex laughs loudly when you bump your head on the roof. You merely pout at him, and he presses a soft peck to your lips to appease you.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, though he’s trying desperately to conceal a smirk, “’S not funny.”

“Then why’re you still smiling?” you ask, frowning childishly. Alex’s hands cup each of your thighs, slowly sliding up your legs and bringing the material of your dress along with them. A shiver races down your spine, and you feel your stomach somersault with desire.

“So beautiful, y’know that?” Alex tells you, his eyes sparkling. The last rays of the sunset reflect strikingly off his irises, bringing out flecks of gold and bronze.

You bite your lip to keep a wide grin from splitting your face in half, and instead of answering him, you merely kiss him again. Alex hums happily, his fingertips digging into the plush skin of your thighs. You gasp when he growls and flips up the skirt of your dress, evidently done with keeping things slow. Goosebumps erupt along your legs, and you shudder vehemently when Alex hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear.

“Cute.” He grins when he pulls back, studying the material.

Your panties sit quite high on your hips, the silk of the fabric soft against his calloused palms. The pair is one of the fanciest you own, the white colour appearing silver as it creases with your movements. You inhale shakily when Alex slowly begins to inch the material down, exposing more of your abdomen.

“’S okay?” He asks, and you nod eagerly. He’s already had his mouth on you, for God’s sake. You’re not nearly as nervous about baring yourself to him as you once were.

“What d’yeh want?” Alex asks, his warm breath tickling your lips.

You whimper softly and wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand down and gasping when he cups your cunt.

His touch is feather-light—deep down, a more primal part of you wishes that he would apply a bit more pressure, be a bit rougher.

You don’t realize that you’ve said this out loud until Alex growls low in his throat and squeezes his eyes shut. His lips warp into a pained grimace and he exhales slowly. “Bloody hell,” he hisses, “’S that really what y’want? Need me t’be a bit meaner?”

“Not ‘meaner’,” you correct breathlessly, subconsciously rolling your hips into his hand, “Just…dirtier.”

“I’m gonna die,” Alex croaks out, staring up at you with helpless eyes, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, darling.”

You snicker quietly and bury your face into his neck, trailing wet kisses up the column of his throat. Alex’s hands work rapidly to tear your underwear down your legs, and the new pace makes you gasp. Your panties get stuck around halfway down your thighs due to the fact that you’re straddling Alex’s lap, but they allow enough space for what he has planned for you.

“C’mere.” Alex coaxes you out from where you’re burrowed against him, “Gimme a kiss, yeah?”

“Okay,” you say, your voice scratchy. You smear your lips against his, sighing when his index finger spreads your lower lips and presses flat against your clit. He begins to rub delicate circles around the bud, not wanting to overwhelm you with too much right away. Plus, he’s quite enjoying the way you keen softly and begin to move slowly against him.

“Good so far?” Alex asks, pulling back from your mouth.

You can’t help but to notice how swollen his lips are, the skin around them slightly red from having been pressed so tightly against yours. His nostrils flare as he strokes his middle finger up and down your slit, feeling you out. You’re slick, but only slightly, and he knows that if he were to try to slip a finger inside, it would hurt without the proper lubrication.

“Need—,” he fumbles, and you whine when he pulls his hand away from you, bucking against the air. Alex slides his index and middle fingers past his own lips, wetting them with his spit and lolling his tongue around them. You watch him with hooded eyes, your lips parted.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper.

Alex snorts, drawing his fingers out of his mouth before placing them back where you need him.

“‘Pretty’?” he echoes, cocking an eyebrow, “Not handsome?”

“That too,” you assure him breathlessly, twitching when he begins to stroke his fingers against your clit again. You lean into him, your thighs growing tired from having kept the rest of your body upright. “But it’s m-more than that. You’re just—oh!”

You moan loudly when his middle finger dips only slightly into your cunt. It’s not enough to fill you, but you can feel him circling your entrance before sinking in again, this time a bit further. You look at him with wide eyes, and he’s about to ask if you’re alright, but then the words leave your lips in a rushed slur.

“More—I want more.”

He eventually gets the entirety of his finger inside of you, until the cool band of his ring is pressed tightly to your entrance. Your eyes have drifted shut, and your lips move around silent breaths and indistinguishable words. Alex swallows heavily, his cock aching against the confines of his trousers. He’s sure that you can feel the bulge against your thigh.

“’S good, right?” Alex questions, pulling his finger back slowly. He feels your walls pulse around the digit and has to bite back a string of colourful curses. You nod quickly, your eyelids fluttering open as you watch his face morph into an expression of concentration. The tip of his pink tongue pokes out from his lips, and the space between his eyebrows creases as he gazes down at where his finger has been withdrawn, shiny with your arousal.

“I—,” you choke on a gasp when he dips the digit back into you. He doesn’t hesitate or pause this time, following through on the action and curving his knuckle upward. You let out a loud yelp and your hips jerk forward reflexively.

Alex smirks, satisfied with himself. He continues to tickle that special spot inside of you, relishing in the way you squirm in his lap. “Definitely good,” he quips, answering his own question.

You can’t form words, only able to communicate through gasps and squeaks. Alex’s eyes fall from your face to your chest, and without a second thought, he leans forward and fastens his mouth to one of your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress. Even through your bra, he’s able to locate your nipple, giving forceful sucks until the bud puckers proudly and strains against the material. He pulls back, admiring his handiwork and pressing his thumb against your clit.

“Beautiful,” he tells you, “Wish we could stay like this forever, love. Just wanna play with yeh, find all those special spots that make y’feel good.”

“Alex,” you whisper, your hands diving into his hair. You play with the strands, brushing them away from his forehead and running your fingers along the close-cropped parts on the side of his head.

He’s so damn handsome.

“Like it?” Alex hums, scattering soft kisses against your lips, none of them firm enough for you to catch his mouth with your own. “’S nice just being able t’let go, yeah? I wanna be the one t’make you feel like this—just me.”

“Just you,” you confirm, nodding your head zealously. There’s a tight knot in the pit of your stomach; it seizes and contracts with each passing second, winding you up higher and making it hard for you to keep your grip on reality.

“Want a kiss,” you whimper, pressing down on his hand to gain just a bit more friction.

Alex smiles and nods.

“Sure, my love. C’mere.”

After a few more minutes of heavy kisses and hurried fingers, you come undone. Alex watches in awe as your shoulders hunch and your lips part in bliss. He helps you ride out your orgasm, rubbing dainty figures against your clit and only ceasing when you push his hand away. With his help, you’re able to pull your panties back up and rearrange the flowy material of your dress so that it covers your thighs.

You kiss him again, your eyelids drooping slightly. The way he moans into your mouth has you feeling drowsy, but then you brush against a very prominent bump in his trousers, and you stiffen.

“I can help,” you say, reaching for his belt.

Alex begins to protest as you undo his pants. “’S okay, love, honest. I’ll just—”

He cuts himself off with a moan when your fingers dive past the waistband of his boxers and wrap firmly around his hard cock. His hips buck up instinctively and you lean in, pulling the collar of his shirt to the side and sucking a dark bruise into his skin.

And okay. Okay. You’re obviously determined.

Alex really fucking loves you.

#hope u like it!#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #harry writing #dunkirk!au #it ritorno extras

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ahumanintraining · 7 years ago

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compatible

"I wonder what marks you would have, if you were Altean.” —shallura. (ao3 link)

Even after a long and hard training session, they’re not done sparring, bringing teasing jabs and vengeful tickles back to Allura’s bedroom. This goes on even after they’ve showered and dressed down for sleep, and they toss and turn in her bed, rolling over each other until she ends everything and sits on Shiro’s hips, pinning him down with her thighs. Ever the pillow fight victor, she leans over to give him a triumphant you’re-mine kind of kiss.

She looks down at him for a long quiet moment, grinning and catching her breath. Her hair falls out from behind her ears and spills over his face. Some of the ends of her silver waves fall over his eyelashes and he lightly blows them away so he can see the curiously pensive stare she gives him.

She blinks. “Take off your shirt,” she suddenly commands him.

“…What?” he asks, unable to help the goofy grin that emerges over his face.

“Just take it off,” she repeats. She climbs off his body, getting back up to her feet and standing next to the bed to watch him do just that.

“Yes, Princess,” he immediately obliges, not exactly sure what to think of it. He hadn’t thought their bed wrestling was actually any kind of foreplay, but he figures he can quickly get into the mood for sex if that’s what she wanted out of him at that second. He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, and then shirtless, he looks back up at her.

“Good,” she says. Her eyes sparkle. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” he protests, pulling off the sheets and blankets from over his legs. He reaches forward to grab her leg, as if to pull her back into bed.

“No, stay there! I told you to stay!” she laughs, ducking his grasp. She quickly grabs a pillow in each hand — fallen off her bed from their earlier messing around — and throws both at him before skittering away to her dresser. Opening a few of the drawers, she rummages but is unable to find what she’s looking for.

All the meanwhile Shiro is very confused, unable to figure out what this is all leading to. Although, he supposes, at the end of the day, for him, this really just boils down to — one, they were having sex; or two, they were not having sex.

For the sake of his rising libido, he sincerely hopes for the former.

He watches her search for whatever it is that she’s looking for, more like, enjoying the sight of her long brown muscular legs slipping out from under her nightgown and her loose and untied hair following her every motion.

Still trying to find whatever it is, Allura browses every other nook and cranny in her path. Eventually Allura reaches her closet door, pulling it open and glancing over each shelf until she finally finds her coveted item, giggling when she sees it.

“What are you laughing about?” he asks her accusingly.

“You’ll see,” she promises him, growing a few inches taller so that she could reach the jar on the very top of her closet shelf. She shrinks back to normal height as she walks back toward the bed, quickly reading over the label.

Seeing that indeed, there was no expiration date to be wary of, she places the nondescript jar into Shiro’s hands.

He furrows his eyebrows. “What’s this?” he asks her, turning the jar around to read the label. He tries to understand as much of the writing as he can, but doesn’t get very far. “All I can read is this vowel,” he tells her, pointing to a character. “Ah,” he sounds out.

“Bravo,” she congratulates him, also giving herself a little clap for the impromptu lesson she gave him on the phonetics of Altean alphabet the other day.

He tips the jar back and forth, watching the glowing magenta liquid inside of it slide from side to side. It looks viscous — and definitely not edible. After some observation, he daringly twists open the jar and peers inside before looking up at her to demand an explanation.

“It’s agluri,” she tells him. “We used to play with it when we were children.”

“So…” he muses, looking back down at the substance. “…what do you do with it?”

“Children usually paint it over their faces and arms, trying to guess what colors and designs would emerge on their skin when they grew older,” she says, taking the jar from him and sitting back down on the mattress, crossed-legged in front of him. She smiles. “It doesn’t have much use for me now since I already have my marks, but I should like to imagine the marks you would have, provided you were Altean.”

Shiro looks at the magenta crescents under Allura’s eyes for a moment, then following the lines that start at her clavicles down her arms, and the swirls that trail down her thighs to her calves.

“Is there a pattern to them at all?” he asks her.

She shakes her head. “Other than the ones under our eyes, everyone’s marks are different,” she tells him, thinking to herself. “Some fortunetellers make a science out of it — reading marks and positing the personality traits and fates associated with each kind of whirl or line, but honestly I’m not too much a believer in all of that symbolism.” She shrugs. “But the marks are important to Altean culture and to personal identity… after all the only person that knows your marks is yourself.” She flirts her eyes up at him. “And well, whoever you’re intimate with, I suppose.”

The faint smile on his lips grows. He loves these moments when she shares about Altean people, language, society, culture, everything. “So how do you imagine mine would look?” he asks.

She ponders a moment. “Well, of course we can start with your eyes,” she says, dipping her finger into the agluri. She comes close to him, raising herself to her knees and crouching down to meet him at eye level. “Hold still,” she whispers, her eyes focused. Obediently, he closes his eyes, holding his breath.

A cool and moist liquid rolls under his eyes, his left eye first and then his right eye, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Allura smiling to herself on a job well done.

“Perfect,” she mumbles. She looks down at his bare chest, thinking to herself before dipping her finger back into the agluri and dotting halfway up his neck before drawing a line over his collarbone and shoulder, ending with a small loop midway over his right arm. She stops just before his arm becomes metal. She does the same to his other arm, and self-satisfied she sits back and admires her work.

Shiro looks down at himself, but he can’t really see the work that she’s done so far. “You’re just making this up as you go along, aren’t you?” he teases.

She ignores the question. “Turn around,” she instructs instead through pursed lips.

Obligingly, he turns his back to her, sitting straight up. He feels her finger trace two cool lines from the top of his neck, following his spine all the way down to the top of his hips, before creating a few more lines along his shoulder blades.

He closes his eyes, trying to imagine what exactly she’s drawing on him, but her fingers are too fast and his back can’t feel the details well, and so eventually he just lets go of his thoughts and just enjoys the experience of being her canvas.

Eventually she stops, and then he feels her kiss his right cheek from behind him, getting herself up and off the bed. “Come,” she tells him, urging him to rise as well.

He does, standing straight to his full height and turns to her. She looks up at him, but more below his eyes and along the lines she’s painted on him with the agluri. She beams, and then out of nowhere, she drops to her knees and pulls his boxers down to his feet.

“Allura!” he chokes, instinctively covering himself. He quickly tries to recover, sputtering, “You can’t just do that while you’re… down there like that!” He feels a blush come over his face.

“Oh, you’re such a boy,” she chides him, sitting herself back on the mattress and tucking the jar of agluri between her thighs. “Not everything we do is sexual.” She rests her hands on his hips, turning him to face his front to her. She looks up at him. “Besides, I’m familiar with everything already,” she adds, leaning forward to kiss his abdomen.

He looks away, embarrassed. “Honestly, this feels a little kinky.”

She smiles, picking up the agluri and dipping her finger in it again. “Well if you find we have better sex after such an activity, we can add it to our list of foreplay,” she tells him cheekily. “Turn to your side now, will you? Right side first.”

He does, and she stares at his body very intensely before seeming to settle on an artistic plan. She starts a line from about midpoint of his spine and follows his lowermost rib, crossing over to the front of his abdomen until halfway to his bellybutton, before diving straight down to the jut of his hip bone. She turns him around and makes a symmetrical line on his left side. After positioning him to face her, she connects the two lines from his right and left side in a straight line just under his bellybutton, chuckling to herself as she crosses a line of short hairs.

She leans back on her arms, giving him a once over.

“Done?” he asks, feeling like a weird combination of an art specimen and a naked model.

She shakes her head. “I’m trying to figure out what sort of a design I should draw over your legs,” she tells him, thinking to herself.

He looks down at the pink slithering marks on her legs, from under the slit of her nightgown. “Why don’t we just make them like yours?”

“No,” she replies. “I want something more valiant for you.”

Momentarily confused, he wishes he could read her mind, watching her intently as she swings legs back and forth until a thought occurs to her. She picks up a glob of agluri onto her finger and makes an open circle midway up his right thigh, adding a downward straight line before deflecting the line to the backside of his thigh and continuing down until just past the underside of his knee. She shifts her attention to his left leg, making the same marks as she did on his right leg, but this time, the circle on his left thigh is filled in completely.

“Done,” she says, lifting her finger from him. She stands up and takes his shoulders. “Now come, let me show you,” she says, gently prodding him over to the full-length mirror against her wall. “See?” she says, pointing at his reflection in the mirror. “Now you look properly Altean.”

He takes a look at himself, seeing the unnatural colors painted over his skin. But as alien as the color is on him, there’s a somewhat familiar feel to seeing the agluri designs. He turns, seeing the lines, dots, and swirls along his back and the bit that ends at his calves.

“What do you think?” she asks him, almost breathlessly, also staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“It’s strange to say but it feels… right,” he admits. The shimmering agluri looks so realistic; if Shiro forgot for a moment he’s an Earthling, he thinks he would fit right in with the other Alteans. “You’re very good at this,” he tells her, pulling her into an embrace. “Whatever… this art would be called.”

She smiles. “Let me explain what I did,” she suggests, slipping out of his arms. She points up to the beginning line of agluri on his neck, the three dots at the start. “This is where Alteans represent the voice, our language,” she explains. “And I connected your voice to your upper arm because you are a leader. You not only say things you want done, but you’re willing to put in the effort yourself to see that change through.”

She spins him around to face his back to the mirror. “The two straight lines along your back are to represent your strength and stability,” she continues. “In the face of adversity, you stand tall whether you will win or lose.”

“And the designs up here?” he asks her, pointing to the swirls and dots over his shoulder blades.

“I’ll come to that later,” she promises him. “Now turn back around.”

He feels a smile growing over his lips, and does as she says, facing himself in the mirror again.

“And now, I emphasized your belly because…” she trails off, and when Shiro looks at her, she’s covering her mouth as if to hide a grin. “Well…”

“Don’t tell me it’s because you were finding an excuse to feel me up,” he says.

“No!” she exclaims. She takes both his hands in hers. “No…” She smiles and finds the words. “I just really like your laugh,” she admits. She takes a breath to think. “It’s very genuine. You laugh from the inside,” she says. “It’s very rich.”

His smile widens and he leans in to touch her forehead to his, pulling her hands to his lips. “I love your laugh and smile, too.”

“Hm…” she hums, staying there a moment against him.

“Tell me what you’ve drawn on my legs,” he says softly, urging her to continue.

“Yes. You’re an adventurer,” she explains, stepping back to recall what she drew along his legs. “And you journey not only in the outside world your body lives in,” she says, running her hand on the open circle on his right thigh. “But also seek purpose within the inside world of your mind,” she continues, her other hand shifting to the closed circle on his left thigh. “You’re a deep thinker,” she concludes. “Your mind and body never rest.”

He thinks on her words for a moment, letting them settle in his heart before he grins. “Is this all bullshit symbolism you just created on the spot?”

She playfully hits his chest with her palm. “No!” she laughs. “I really meant all of that!”

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” he replies, trying to catch her eyes. When he does, he smiles at her.

She returns the smile. “Let me tell you what I did here,” she says, tapping the back of his shoulders.

“Ah, yes,” he says, turning his back to the mirror and craning his neck over his shoulder to get a better look at the set of branched curving lines that all together looked somewhat wing-shaped.

“They’re meant to match mine,” she tells him, quickly unbuttoning her nightgown and letting it fall to her feet.

Although he’s completely naked himself, he’s not quite ready to process Allura unclothed without feeling a catch in his throat. Her gown slips off her easily, like drops of water in the shower, and as her silver hair tumbles back over her shoulders, some strands curling over and around her breasts, he takes a breath.

She pulls her hair over her shoulder and turns around to show him her back.

He’s seen her back many time before — the marks on her back a soft and shimmering pink that glowed when she was deep asleep and dreaming, and sometimes flushing so bright when he kisses her that he can see the light through his fingers when he holds her close to him. But it’s really only know that he actually looks at the arched lines that radiate downward two-by-two, branching off a single line down her spine, like the veins of a dogwood leaf.

She looks over her shoulder and traces the lines with her finger. “These are the marks of the Archer,” she explains. “I’m supposedly a visionary, aiming my arrow into some infinite space at a target that no one can foresee but everyone will eventually come to.” She looks over at his back. “And according to the fortunetellers, the complementary marks are that of the Architect — someone that can ground the quixotic nature of the Archer but also can form a base to build dreams from.”

She continues, as if reciting from her memories. Her hands come to his body, her fingers tracing over his skin delicately. “The Architect is an innovator, good with their hands, resourceful and able to make something out of what seems like nothing. Despite their prowess, an Architect is cautious and risk-averse, sometimes getting in the way of their inventions. The Archer balances that. The Archer is blind and can’t fear even when fear is staring them right in the eyes, and often pushes the other signs out of their comfort.”

“Hm,” Shiro replies, taking it all in. He thinks there’s something to how familiar the marks feel to his eyes and how he identifies with Allura’s words, and feeling an overwhelming feeling of fate and destiny and adoration that he doesn’t think he can contain, he quickly switches the subject. “Reminds me of horoscopes, but I’ll take it,” he jokes.

She shrugs, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “I suppose every culture will hold beliefs over things they can’t control and will create significance out of things to understand.”

“You know for someone that doesn’t believe in reading marks, you certainly know plenty about it,” he remarks, reaching forward to wrap his arms around her waist. “Unless you actually believe them?”

“Well sometimes it’s hard for me to think it’s just by chance you found me,” she tells him softly, draping her arms around his neck and sinking into his embrace. She looks up at him. “I just feel like this is all too perfect, you know?”

Shiro can’t find the words to respond, so he says the only thing that’s on his mind. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” she replies, lifting her lips to give him a long kiss.

It’s a moment that Shiro enjoys to no end. The feel of her soft warm skin up against his, the ends of her hair tickling his forearms, her smell completely surrounding him. Her breasts are supple against his chest and his hands rest comfortably at the dip of her back. His fingers trace circle over her curves.

“So,” he says, when they take a breath. “What do the signs say about our sexual life?”

She looks at him funny. “What?”

He bites his tongue. “Is that not part of reading marks? Things about an Archer’s romantic life or future careers? Sex with an Archer?”

“That’s silly,” she laughs, resting her hand on his cheek. “We don’t quite take mark reading that far.” When her laughter subsides, she traces his face with her eyes, resting on his lips. “But I suppose we can determine that for ourselves, can’t we?” Her eyes flicker up to him.

He grins, slowing stepping them toward her bed. “Our clothes are already on the floor. We’re already halfway there.”

She walks with him backwards until her calves hit the side of the mattress.

“It would be a shame to waste our efforts, yes,” she agrees, and pulls him down.

To Shiro’s horror, the agluri doesn’t come off in the shower, even after a full minute of scrubbing so hard it makes his skin flush pink.

Allura doesn’t seem to notice, wrapping her hair up into a towel over her head. She bends down and then in one swift maneuver sets the swirl of towel and hair over her head. She turns around to face him and beams, coming forward to give him a kiss.

“That was amazing,” she tells him. And then she sees his concerned face and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Is this… stuff supposed to come off?” he asks, looking at the bathroom mirror after rubbing the mark under his eye in one last attempt.

She furrows her eyebrows. “Yes. Did you not wash yourself properly?”

“I’m trying,” he says, now rubbing the agluri line over his stomach. Nothing happens.

“Oh,” she says, looking closer. “Well…” she says, thinking to herself. “It’s supposed to come off, but…” She steps out of the bathroom, letting a burst of cool air from outside of the shower come into the bathroom as she leans over to pick up the jar of agluri left on the nightstand. She reads the label quickly. “Right,” she says. “It’s supposed to come off without much — oh...”

“What?” he asks, but he already know it sounds bad.

She turns around, giving him a shaky smile. “Well… as long as you remove it within an hour it won’t stain your skin,” she says slowly.

He quickly does mental math, recounting the last time he looked at a clock. “So by the time we got into the shower, we were already well past an hour.”

“Yes,” she confirms. She gives him another guilty smile. “Sorry?”

He blinks. “Okay, we’ll just…” He looks back at the mirror. “No one’s going to notice, right? The only marks visible are the ones under my eyes.”

Allura hesitates. “Well… those are fairly obvious.”

“It’s fine, I’ll…” He thinks to himself. “How long does this stain last?”

“I don’t know,” she replies, taking the agluri jar and immediately returning it to the top shelf of her closet. “Maybe until your skin sheds it?”

She watches him rinse his face off one more time before he looks in the mirror, unfortunately seeing no progress in the disappearance of the agluri.

“It’s fine,” he tells her, but more to himself. “It’s fine. No one’s going to notice, and it’s just going to be a couple of days.”

But everyone did, and it was for much longer than just a couple of days.

“Hey, Shiro, I know how bad you want to dress up as an Altean, but it’s still three months until Halloween,” Lance says at the breakfast table, cackling.

“Maybe it’ll last until then,” Pidge adds with a chortle.

Shiro takes a deep breath in and out. “You know, Lance, if you want to keep making fun of the situation, at least find a better joke,” he replies.

Coran leans toward Allura, shielding his mouth as he whispers. “How long has it been now?”

“Two weeks,” she answers, unamused.

“You know,” Coran tells her, with a twinkle in his eye. “Your father fell for the same mistake back many deca-pheobs ago. He had a smorgasbora scrawled on his knee for at least a month. Can you imagine? He had to pretend he had injured his knee so he could cover it with a splint! For an entire pheob before the agluri came off!”

“Incredible,” Allura replies dryly.

She doesn’t mention there’s now a heart and a smiley face stained on her stomach, the byproduct of Shiro taking revenge while she was fast asleep one night.

Like father, like daughter, she presumes to herself.

#shallura #shallura positivity #shiro x allura #shiro #allura #voltron #just me and a headcanon im entertaining #—shallura

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kalico-to-the-letter · 7 years ago

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REVIEW: RWBY – Vol. 5, Ch. 11: “THE MORE THE MERRIER”

Salutations to all celebrating this little holiday period. I’ve never been one for festivities, but have no choice in this particular one – hence me being in another country and expecting to be late with this review. In the end, it’s thankfully on schedule.

This week gave us: All the shounen manga-style fighting you could want from RWBY, and a really dumb thing.

The Internet here is so poor that it can’t handle .gifs, to my great dismay. So in lieu of my usual “spoiler warning” .gif, please enjoy this picture of a cat – people on the Internet like cats, apparently.

See? It’s telling you not to progress any further if you don’t want the spoilers.

In “The More the Merrier”, RWBY takes us straight into the endgame of the season. It relies a lot on shounen manga-style storytelling, which is a good and a bad thing. And ultimately, this is an episode which is about building to a singular moment – the problem being that the moment in question takes a spear to the abdomen and falls flat on its face. Oh wait, too soon?

I don’t see why I should beat around the bush any further, so let’s just get into it. If this show kills Weiss, then I’m going to have a major problem.

This is so different to Pyrrha. With Pyrrha, a significant part of Volume 3 was spent building up something major for her – certainly from the midpoint onwards. I can justify how the show used her – for the most part – because her arc was leading her to a definitive destination. She was either going to triumph over Cinder or lose and die – or something similarly massive, anyway – and because the story was to build up Cinder, and Ruby by extension, Pyrrha was doomed the minute the scenario was drawn up.

Again, this thing with Weiss is so different to Pyrrha’s situation that it’s insane. Weiss’s last major arc was in Volume 4, and nothing has suggested that she could be heading to the same fate. She’s been ancillary for so much of the season – she’s been fantastic in that role, but there’s no denying that her story this season has existed on the fringes, compared to the likes of Yang and Blake, whose arcs have driven the season.

Some argued at the time and since that Pyrrha’s death was a fridging. My opinion was that it could be seen that way, but only in a very narrow context. To me, her death was the bedrock of the entire Volume 4, and, like it or not, death is a very effective and useful narrative device – not that the decision to kill a character off is easy, but sometimes it is the answer. Cinder killing Pyrrha was the right move for the direction of the story – one that Monty himself planned. Sure, I’ll bite on how it affected Jaune, as that plays into the Weiss issue as well. But that argument only goes so far before one has to look at what benefitted the overarching direction at the time, and it certainly would have been a bit pointless for Pyrrha to just defeat Cinder and for Beacon to never fall.

If Weiss dies though, then I will jump on the fridging bandwagon – hell, I’ll start the engine.

Jaune has been a nonentity this season. He – as well as Nora and Ren – have been the fringiest of fringe. He’s had less story than Weiss. So why on Remnant is he so central to this episode? Ignore the problems I have with involving Weiss in the first place – why is he the one attached to her moment?

(Of course I know why, but I’m loathe to actually write it down, because it’s a horrendous thing.)

I get it. Pyrrha kissed him before she died, she was the only one who really gave him a shot, and he’s torn up about it; seeing Cinder again sets him off. But I don’t like that the show is now making Pyrrha’s death and Weiss’s situation all about him, when it wasn’t before. Like, at all. I’ll say it again. To me, Pyrrha’s death was about the narrative, but now the show is retroactively making it central to Jaune, when that was not originally the case.

And to go even further, Weiss has had nothing to do with Jaune for years. I would be similarly animated if Cinder threw her spear at Ren, for instance, because it makes no sense. The only one I would be okay with being put in this scenario is Qrow. He’s the one who has been built up to be the fall guy for two years now. Why is Weiss being put in a situation that he has been groomed for?

There are still three episodes left, it is important to remember. In fact, I’m still sure that Qrow will die before this season is over, and this Weiss thing is merely a fake-out for another purpose, like triggering Jaune’s semblance or something, which is problematic in itself. But if anything, that’s a reason why I’m sure she’ll survive.

This was a move pulled for shock value, hence its placement at the very end of the episode; hence the show cutting to black before she even hit the floor. With so much time left in the season, there is still a lot of story to tell. Consider all of the above just my warning shots – my preemptive salvo – in case the show does decide to do something stupid, like actually killing off Weiss right now.

But the fact that this is even happening is why I can’t consider this a great episode. There was a lot in it, but to break it down is to realise that this episode was relying on the stuff with Cinder and Jaune to make it gold. Nothing else could touch the depth that this subplot was trying to mine (keyword trying); it was the hook and the line, but the involvement of Weiss is what sinks it, and it taints the rest of this episode.

Forget the other fights for a second; this episode was all about building to the moment where Weiss falls, and that moment did nothing but confuse me.

Up until the ending, though, I liked the rest of this. And I’ve tried to grade this episode with that in mind – this was on track to be a great episode until all the big stuff happened.

I like that the show is really kicking off the endgame with so much time left. It suggests that there will be room for the conclusion to breathe and feel smoothly paced.

Even though it’s cheesy, I like the shounen anime feel of all the confrontations and fights. I picture a scene from Naruto, with two warring shinobi talking well-scripted trash and interlacing it with bursts of action. Every fight in this episode starts with this formula, and it’s fun.

I like that Ruby did the silver-eyes thing again, even though it felt oddly-placed and proved entirely useless. Just seeing it again was a big deal.

Yeah, Weiss was the first to struggle against her opponent, but that makes sense because it’s Vernal and we haven’t seen her fight yet – we have to see evidence that she’s strong. We became aware of some vulnerabilities in the link between Oscar and Ozpin, which was intriguing. Jaune held his own against Cinder, but she didn’t look particularly troubled by him – which makes me think that it’s been five years and he’s barely progressed, but whatever.

This would have been a great way to start this last little run of the season. But it ends up just being weird and making this review sound angry. Of course I’m holding my breath a bit as I await the next episode, which will probably provide the clarity necessary to make my preemptive salvo moot, and will probably give us a way for Weiss to survive.

But as a whole, I’ve still gotta give this episode the side-eyes, while still acknowledging its positives. And I’ve gotta give that ending a hard pass.

Additional Observations:

- So we’ve got Jaune v Cinder, Ruby v Emerald, Yang v Mercury, Weiss v Vernal, Qrow v Raven, Oz v Leo, and Ren & Nora v Hazel.

- It’s out of nowhere, but I wouldn’t half mind if Jaune’s semblance was healing-related and he saved Weiss. I would prefer it if she just pulled through on her own – or with someone else’s help, sorry – but I wouldn’t mind if this whole thing is a build-up to the awakening of his semblance. It would be corny and dumb and manipulative and dumb, but writers have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves to make anything seem plausible, and these writers are no different.

Grade: C+

Final Thoughts: “The More the Merrier” is, overall, an okay attempt to set up RWBY’s endgame for the season. It’s come at an opportune time, surely allowing the stories to develop properly. The episode is a competent packaging of shounen-style confrontations and fights, and the ending sets the stage for a momentous conclusion to Volume 5. But the ending itself is a dud. Whether it’s intended as a fake-out or the actual death of Weiss, the handling of the moment is clumsy, grossly constructed, and reeking of one of the worst kinds of story manipulation. No surprise that it hurts the episode as a whole. – Kallie

#rwby spoilers #rwby reviews #rwby5 #rwby volume 5 #rwby

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duhragonball · 7 years ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (62/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[24 November 236 Before Age. Extraliga.]

The Shockmaster’s punch hit home, and Luffa staggered backward from the force of the blow. Yet she stayed on her feet. The yellow aura that flashed around her body thrummed as strong and as steady as ever. A second later, she reached up with one hand to touch her jaw, then she stood up straight again and chuckled.

"Good one," she said. "But you’re still holding back. You still don’t want to kill me."

"I WON’T KILL, LUFFA," he insisted.

"That’s right, you won’t sink to my level. You’ll just get one of your soldiers to finish me off, right?"

She looked around at the Wistian soldiers who had gathered around the two of them. "How about it?!" she shouted. "Anyone here want to try to kill me? Your leader’s too scared to do it himself."

The Shockmaster made an irritated growl, and readied another punch. Luffa turned her back on him.

"Fair warning!" she called to the soldiers. "The last guy who tried to finish me off? He’s dead. So maybe you ought to run away while you still can. Or stay and fight, if you have the courage. Shocky needs all the help he can get!"

The Shockmaster threw a second punch, but this time Luffa dodged it. She grabbed his forearm, and swung him forward, using his own momentum to send him flying into his own soldiers.

"Come on!" she screamed. "You’re warriors, aren’t you?! You came here for a fight didn’t you?! Well I sure as hell did!"

She raised her left hand and swung her arm towards the sky, pointing two fingers directly above her head.

"Vengeance Canon," she muttered.

A streak of crimson light erupted from her fingertips. A moment later, a point of light appeared in the sky, indicating a ship she had destroyed.

The soldiers were dumbfounded. Most of them either stared at her or looked fearfully to the Shockmaster. A few of them moved in to help him up, but he was on his feet before they could touch him.

"Vengeance Cannon," Luffa said as she fired again. Another point of light appeared in the sky.

The Shockmaster charged towards her, and she leaped into the air, avoiding him with ease and landing squarely on the top of his glittering silver helmet.

"Vengeance Cannon!" Luffa shouted, firing into the sky once again. "You were right, Shocky. You won’t kill me, not as long as you keep trying to toy with me the way you did last time! If you don’t start taking this seriously, you won’t have any ships left!"

He roared and grabbed for her ankles, but she had already jumped down from his head and now stood directly behind him. When he turned to find her, she delivered an elbow to his voluminous gut.

"Vengeance Cannon!" she screeched, firing at the sky again. "Do something about it!"

At last, he stopped chasing her and stood his ground, summoning more of his power. Luffa watched him with perverse fascination.

"That’s it!" she screamed. "More!"

*******

In orbit, the Shockmaster's invasion fleet had broken formation and moved to a higher orbit to avoid Luffa's attacks. Most of the crews had no idea who was firing upon them. The working theory up to this point had been that the Extraligans had some new weapon in their arsenal, something powerful enough to shoot down enemy ships from the surface, but small enough and mobile enough to avoid return fire.

But a number of mercenaries in the fleet had the ability to sense ki powers, and when Luffa's was suddenly revealed, they reported it to their leaders.

"It can't be her," insisted Cosia, the robotic captain of the mercenary ship Infinite Recursion. "She couldn't have fired upon us and concealed her ki at the same time. It doesn't compute!"

"I don't know how she did it," replied Ty-83. The humanoid man was one of the few organic beings in the universe to earn Cosia's trust. "But I've sensed Saiyan power before. Only this is beyond any Saiyan I've ever encountered. It has to be the Super Saiyan. Captain, if she gets past the Shockmaster, there'll be nothing to stop her from destroying us next."

"The Shockmaster is our client," Cosia said flatly. "If we abandon him now, we will forfeit our payment, to say nothing of the damage to our professional reputation."

"We can't spend our pay if we're dead, Captain," Ty-83 said.

Cosia considered this for a moment, calculating whether her nickel-rhenium frame could survive the destruction of her ship.

"Helm, take us to the opposite side of the planet from the battle," she commanded. "And tell the engine room to be ready to take us out of the system. For now, we will wait and see how the Shockmaster handles this."

*******

The Shockmaster tried to hit her again, and this time she hit back, their fists colliding at the midpoint between them. The impact made a sound like thunder, and the air around them seemed to ripple from the sheer magnitude of the forces at play.

Many of the soldiers watching decided to take Luffa’s advice and ran. Many more were too stunned to move, and they became engrossed by the battle that unfolded before them.

The Shockmaster continued to throw punches, only for Luffa to block with punches of her own. This repeated itself over and over, faster and faster, and then the two of them vanished from sight as they began to move across the ground and through the air, much faster than any Wistian eye could follow.

It was at this point that Tigon regained consciousness, and slowly began to re-establish control of the camp.

"All personnel, full retreat," she said weakly, still rubbing her face from where Luffa had batted her away with her tail. "We expected something like this. Find a radio and raise III Corps. Tell them to rendezvous with us at coordinates... 67J."

The troops were shaken, but they still followed orders. She could sense the Shockmaster’s power had been withdrawn from her body, and she wondered whether that meant he was being careful... or desperate.

*******

"Do you want to know where you screwed up?" Luffa asked.

The Shockmaster refused to dignify that with a response. Luffa had tried to bait him with idle chatter in their last fight. That she was doing it again only proved she had learned nothing from her past defeat.

And yet, he found her new tactics bewildering. Before, she had focused on gathering large stores of ki and unleashing it in big attacks. Between these onslaughts, she would dodge and use diversions while she gathered her strength to try again. None of this had worked against him, but he understood the basic approach.

This time, she was fighting at an even keel. She would dodge and block, and sometimes strike, but she wasn’t building up to anything. It was as if she was trying to wear him out, except that was impossible. His powers had sustained him for millennia. In their last encounter, she had been the one to collapse from exhaustion. He had expected her to try to end this quickly, before her body succumbed to the strain.

It all felt like a trap somehow, but he didn’t seriously expect her to explain that to him.

"You’re incredibly strong," she said. "But you don’t understand war. You’re just used to dominating enemies with your power. It’s made you sloppy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m speaking from personal experience. I know how tempting it can be to fall back on brute force."

He charged his left hand with power until it glowed bright violet, and fired a burst of energy at Luffa’s head. She ducked, batting the blast away with her right forearm, and moved inside his reach to hit him in the abdomen.

"I’m not saying you’re a lousy fighter," she added, as though the last exchange had never happened. "You beat me, after all. But you couldn’t finish the job. Just like you keep blowing this invasion."

"YOU THINK MY REFUSAL TO KILL MAKES ME WEAK?!" he shouted, unable to resist her taunting any longer. "YOU’RE WRONG! I’M MORE THAN A MERE FOOTSOLDIER, LUFFA. I’M THE HOPE OF THE WIST, THE SAVIOR OF CIVILIZATION."

He put his hands together and launched a torrent of lighting from his arms. The bolts of energy surrounded Luffa like a cage, and for a moment, she seemed to be stymied.

Then she made a loud, sharp cry, and the entire energy structure dissipated in a field of yellow flame.

"Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. You think your powers solve everything, so you forget about tactics and focus on big picture stuff. Only, the big picture doesn’t tell you how I got here so quickly. Be honest, you thought I wouldn’t show up here for another three weeks."

She was right. All of his intelligence reports put Luffa on a remote planet in the center of the galaxy. It was less than half the distance to Extraliga than his fleet had traveled, but only his fleet had known the date of the invasion. So how did she anticipate his arrival three weeks in advance?

"I got here two days ago," Luffa said with a grin. I’ve been picking off your ships as soon as they entered orbit."

"YOU'RE LYING!" was all the Shockmaster could say.

"You should know better," Luffa scolded. "After all, you’re the guy who gave me the idea. You used a wormhole to launch the first invasion, so I used my own wormhole to come here and stop you."

"HOW DID YOU FIND A WORMHOLE FROM EXTRALIGA TO YOUR OWN WORLD?" the Shockmaster demanded.

"I didn’t," Luffa said with a shrug. "I asked the faeries who lived in yours. They built one for me. You remember Queen Phenylal, right? You forced her to let you move your troops through her domain. Well I liberated them, so they owed me a favor. I asked if they could construct a new wormhole for me, and they were happy to do it."

She held up her thumb and forefinger, spacing them less than half an inch apart. "It’s not a spacious as the one they live in. No more than eight feet across, but that’s plenty of room for me to make the trip."

"BUT I SHOULD HAVE SENSED YOUR PRESENCE ON THIS PLANET WHEN YOU ARRIVED!" the Shockmaster protested.

"I’ve been masking my energy," Luffa said. "Not just from you, but from anyone else who might leak my plans before I was ready. I can’t conceal all the power I’m putting out right now, but I can dial down my ki just low enough that I can hide it from you. Turns out that’s still enough power to take potshots at your fleet, and to run around the planet so your goons can’t tell where it came from."

She dodged a kick and laughed. "You people probably thought the Extraligans had some mobile surface-to-orbit cannon! Only, how could something so powerful move so fast?!"

"HOW?" the Shockmaster snarled. "YOU DIDN'T HAVE THAT ABILITY--"

"Before? No," Luffa said. "I’ve been learning some new tricks, Shockmaster. I knew you’d come back here, and while you’ve been rebuilding your army and polishing that stupid helmet of yours, I’ve been preparing to stop you."

"THEN WHY DID YOU WAIT UNTIL NOW TO CONFRONT ME?" the Shockmaster demanded. "YOU COULD HAVE DESTROYED MY SHIP BEFORE I REACHED THE SURFACE."

She laughed again. "You’re a fool," she said. "What sort of a coward do you take me for?! There’s no way in hell I’d be satisfied with a hollow victory like that! Besides, you’d probably survive and fly the rest of the way to the surface on your own somehow. You seem like the kind of guy who can pull off a stunt like that.

"No. I want to beat you one-on-one. No distractions, no soldiers running around, no meddling spouses to get in my way. That’s why the Extraligan army hasn’t attacked you so far. I told them to steer clear of you, and to focus on fighting your other forces."

She was almost giddy as she boasted of her plan. "You probably thought you were overwhelming our defenses, but this whole time we’ve been herding you like livestock, she said with a twisted relish in her voice. "And now that I’ve got you all to myself, out here in the middle of nowhere..."

"YOU’LL LOSE, LUFFA. YOU CAN’T MAINTAIN THIS POWER LEVEL FOR MUCH LONGER. I DON’T NEED TO DEFEAT YOU, I JUST HAVE TO OUTLAST YOU."

"Is that so?" Luffa said with a smirk.

Without warning, she screamed, and the aura surrounding her expanded in size. The Shockmaster backed off, thinking she was preparing to unleash some offensive move, but it never came. She was simply raising her power... raising it beyond what he had thought possible.

"NO..." he said, unable to hide his amazement. "IT’S IMPOSSIBLE..."

When Luffa finally stopped, she looked at him and snorted. "'Impossible?'," she scoffed. "You know, I hear that word all the time. I’m going to make you choke on it."

She rushed towards him and grabbed his hands, locking fingers with him. He tried to shove her away, only to find that he couldn’t. And she was still pushing forward, her teeth clenched as she grunted and huffed with effort.

And then he started to feel himself move backward through the air, in spite of his efforts to resist.

"Well? How about it, Shockmaster?!" she shouted. "Is this possible?! What about this?!"

Before he could summon the additional power to stop her, she swing him by his hands around in a circle, and flung him to the ground like a sack of laundry. The impact of his body left a crater, and as he lay face up in the dirt, he could see her looming over him, cackling with delight.

*******

As Luffa battled the Shockmaster over the night sky of Extraliga, her only concern was that maybe things were going a little too well.

She had been looking forward to this moment for months, and she had been a little nervous at first, but now that she had finally gotten the Shockmaster to take her seriously, she was starting to enjoy herself. Occasionally, she turned her ki senses to the rest of the planet, in search of any sign that things had gone wrong. So far, she had found none.

She had divided the conflict into three theaters. On the Orbital Theater, she had softened up the Shockmaster’s fleet prior to attacking him. Soon, a Federation fleet would be arriving to finish them off. When that happened, they could land ground troops to assist the Extraligan military on the Surface Theater, and mop up the Shockmaster’s ground troops, though Luffa suspected they might not need the reinforcements after all.

The third theater was simply herself versus the Shockmaster in isolation. If anything went wrong, she supposed she could try to defeat him quickly, but she didn’t want it to come to that. He was still a formidable opponent, and while she was much stronger now, she didn’t want to make the mistake of underestimating him again. Also, the Wistian troops were counting on him to lead them to victory. By keeping him occupied, Luffa could effectively paralyze the Shockmaster’s army. They would fight defensively while they waited for him to win, and that attitude would give the initiative to her allies.

Besides, it was more fun this way. The Shockmaster managed to land a hard right to her jaw while she was sensing the troop movements, but she managed to avoid his follow-up attack. She had a worthy opponent, and a planet-wide set-piece battle going on at the same time. It was the nearest thing to heaven that she could imagine.

But the Shockmaster still wasn’t using his maximum strength. She wanted to push him to his limits before beating him, both to satisfy her pride and to ensure his attention was focused on her instead of his objectives. Fortunately, she knew just the thing to get his goat.

"Oh, by the way," she said casually. "You can forget about the Recollector."

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?!" the Shockmaster growled.

"Oh, plenty," she said. "Those rebels on your home planet? I’ve been in touch with them. They did some research, and found out why you wanted to take this planet so badly. They contacted me because they knew I was the only one who could stop you."

"YOU WON’T STOP ME!"

"Yeah? Well, how about you beat me, and you can drag me over to the Recollector and show me just how stupid I was to get in your way! Or did you come here for something else?"

"YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! A SAIYAN COULDN’T COMPREHEND THE POWER OF THE RECOLLECTOR--"

She ducked a right hook and slipped around to his back, and kicked him with both feet. Before he could hit the ground, he stopped in midair and turned to face her, only to be bombarded with ki blasts. He weathered this storm, and started firing back.

Luffa noted that he was ramping up his power. She had struck a nerve.

She wanted to strike it again.

"Here’s what I 'comprehend'," she said. "Your worthless planet used to be a big deal a long time ago, because they had some power source called the Ur-Ember. Right? Only it was destroyed, along with Wist’s moon. After that, Wist just had to make due with whatever they had left."

She flew through the crossfire, slipping between the Shockmaster’s ki blasts until she reached his person. Then she drove her elbow in to his abdomen. He tried to grab her, but he was too slow, and she flew straight up and kicked the chin of his helmet as she avoided his hands.

"Only you couldn’t accept that, could you?" she continued. "You wanted to go back to the way things used to be. Eventually, you found out that Extraliga used to be a Wistian colony. I guess that explains why there’s a wormhole between them."

He managed to grab her by the shoulders and pin her arms to her sides, but she simply grinned at him and continued her story.

"The Recollector was some doohickey built by the last Sorcerer King of...of... well, I forget which dynasty it was. I’m interested in history, but I'm not that interested. It was supposed to be used for archaeology research. Instead of digging up relics, you’d turn this thing on and pluck objects out of the distant past, back when they were still new.

"But the Recollector was abandoned on this planet. Forgotten, along with the colony, until you rediscovered it. You wanted to go find it and use it to pull the Ur-Ember out of the past, right at the moment Wist’s moon was destroyed. Then you can take it back home with you and use it to jumpstart your little fantasy, right? Well, you might have pulled all that off, if I hadn’t come along."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" the Shockmaster asked. She heard a trace of panic in his voice, and chuckled.

"Who, me?" Luffa asked. "I haven’t done anything. The rebels on Wist found out about all this. I just relayed the message to the Extraligan government. Once they knew what you were after, it didn’t take them too long to track it down."

"YOU LITTLE FOOL!" he shouted. "YOU THINK THEY CAN HIDE IT FROM ME?!"

"Oh, we aren’t going to hide it," Luffa said. "We’re going to destroy it."

"NO!" the Shockmaster cried. He tried to squeeze Luffa in his hands, but she just laughed.

"Yes," she said darkly. She set her teeth and growled. Gradually, she pushed back against the Shockmaster’s hands, until finally she force his arms away with a burst of golden light.

Seeing him stumble backward like this was a thing of beauty. She dove after him and started punching him. His helmet, his chest, his legs, they were all fair game.

"You don’t even know where the Recollector is, or you would have secured it when you had the chance. No, you didn’t want to take any risks, so you tried to invade the planet with as little destruction and bloodshed as possible. You were going to wait for the planet to be completely pacified, and then you’d start searching for it. Well, it’s too late for that now."

"NO!" he screamed. "YOU THINK THAT YOU’VE OUTMANEUVERED ME, BUT YOU’RE WRONG! I’LL DEFEAT YOU, AND THEN I’LL--"

He tried to shove Luffa away with his ki, but she crossed her arms over her face and blunted the force of it. Then she delivered a kick to the side of his head, and he went tumbling to the ground.

"You still don’t get it, do you?" Luffa shouted. "You lost the moment you decided to spare my life, Shockmaster. I’d be grateful for your mercy, except that you thought I’d slither under a rock and hide like a pathetic animal while you went on with your scheme."

She dropped down beside him and grabbed him by the collar of his sleeveless jacket. "For you, this war is just a means to an end. But me? Hah! Before I was a Super Saiyan, I was a mercenary, from a family of mercenaries. I was bred for war. I was steeped in war. I killed my first hostile when I was three years old. At seven, I was reading battlefield maps and tactical readouts. I was teaching aliens how to fight when I was sixteen."

He began throwing punches, and she deflected each one with ease, backing away slowly to invite him to come forward. "Unlike you, I know how to fight a war. How to gather intelligence, how to deploy troops, how to manipulate my enemy, and how to utilize my allies."

She sidestepped him, and drove the point of her elbow into his ribs, staggering him.

"I wasn’t completely sure I could get strong enough to fight you like this," she admitted. "And a good friend of mine told me I’m more sensible when I’m around other people. You have to learn to be careful when you’re as strong as I am, you know? It got me thinking about how to beat you. Not just win this fight, but to utterly crush you. That’s why I contacted the fairies to make me a wormhole. That’s why I stayed in touch with the rebels on Wist. That’s why I’ve been relying on the Extraligans to keep your goons out of my way. And I’ve got my wife handling the Recollector."

"SHUT UP!" the Shockmaster shouted.

"It keeps me motivated, you know?" Luffa said. "I always wanted to beat you, but now I’ve got to, because if you somehow make it past me, you’ll have a clear path to her. Thinking about that, well, I think it helped me with my training."

He began to scream, and Luffa made a satisfied grunt. She’d been pushing him, trying to break through his cool and calculating demeanor, and now her taunts and jibes had finally paid off. She could sense his ki rising, and while she was impressed, it wasn’t quite the increase she had expected. It didn’t bother her too much. If this was his limit, she could still have a good match with him.

And if he still had more power to call upon, well, she had plenty of time to wring it out of him.

NEXT: Recollection

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #tigon #the shockmaster #cosia #ty-83 #extraliga #lssjluffafic #it's clobberin' time

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master-sass-blast · 6 years ago

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Strong as Stone --Part Fifty-One.

So, apparently, Tumblr removed the “dash” function that I used to separate my scenes from each other. Which means I had to develop a completely new system while editing this update. Yay.

*insert OCD rage here*

Anyway.

Last time, we got to see Okoye meet the rest of her biological family! Actual yay!

This time, we get to see the aftermath of the South Korea mission --and get a much needed girls’ night.

Rating: T for language and mild angst.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku and T’Challa x Nakia.

Author’s note: We’ve got a maximum of eleven chapters before this story’s done! I can’t believe we’re in the final stretch. After over a year of sticking with this story, it’s hard to wrap my head around.

Taglist: @the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

As a nation, we are blessed with advanced technology, weaponry, and information gathering ability. As such, there will be times that you or the King you will serve will know about disasters and wars before they come to fruition.

Our vibranium is a gift from Bast, and it is our duty to use it wisely, for the betterment of others.

It is not, however, our duty to save the world from itself. Know when to step into fights and when to stay clear of them, my dears.

***

Okoye pursed her lips. “Shit.”

Ayo grimaced in response. “I know.”

When Ayo had called her earlier that week to warn her that the “haul” from the HYDRA base in South Korea was going to be large, Okoye had expected a decently lengthy list or two, maybe a moderate amount of paperwork to go with.

She hadn’t expected the codes to every nuclear cache held by every country, along with confidential government emails, security measures used to protect heads of state, and placements of classified, active military teams, to name a few.

Every conceivable detail, every dossier and file, every single dirty, war starting secret there was, they’d found.

“This is bad,” Okoye murmured, feeling the blood drain out of her face. “This is really bad. If we get caught with this kind of information—”

“HYDRA will paint us as the villains,” Ayo finished. “Easily. The release of the SHIELD files barely did anything to slow them down. This—”

“This definitely won’t.” Okoye pressed her fist against her mouth as she sat back in her seat. “We can’t even run the end of alerting everyone that their information’s been taken. There’s no way to paint the picture without making a mess of ourselves.”

“This also raises the question of how widespread they really are,” Ayo pointed out, expression equally as grave. “Do they have operatives in every nation, or did they manage to collect all of this remotely?”

“That wasn’t the question I had.” Okoye clicked back to the top of Ayo’s mission report. “You said that the base was barely guarded.”

“Right. It was… odd.”

“It was. And now we’re in possession of the world’s secrets.”

“What are you thinking?”

Okoye drummed her fingers against the top of her desk as she tried to find the right words. “Having a… collection point for electronic files makes sense. It could act as a backup if an email system or server got hacked or went down. But if you were going to make a physical site with everything you collected, wouldn’t you make it harder to break into?” When Ayo nodded, she went on. “Having a backup site for electronic files makes sense. But pooling all your physical weapons into one remote location? Instead of distributing them to all active cells?”

“You think we’re being set up?”

“Either that, or led on a goose chase.” Okoye sighed and rubbed her temples. “We’ve been handed a bomb. We need to figure out how to disarm it before it goes off.”

“It would be easy to delete everything from our systems,” Ayo suggested. “If we don’t have it, there can’t be any chances of someone discovering we have it and accusing us of ill intent.”

“Which raises the question: do we have the moral obligation to comb through everything in search of threats? You’ve seen what’s in this list. Do we need to go through everything and handle things before they spiral out of control?”

Ayo pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if that’s our job.”

“It’s not America’s job to have military cells illegally active in the Middle East, either,” Okoye muttered. She glanced over the list once more, then shut it off with a huff. “I’ll speak with the King about this; he’s the only one who can decide if we act or not. In the meantime, have Jhanvi figure out how HYDRA got their hands on all of this information. We need to know how many people we’re dealing with.” She nodded to Ayo as she left, then contacted T’Challa through her kimoyo beads to set up an emergency appointment. Bast, please let there be a safe answer to all of this.

***

T’Challa’s face went ashen when she told him about everything they’d unearthed in the South Korea base. “This is not good.”

“That does seem to just about sum up the situation,” Okoye agreed.

T’Challa sighed and sat back against his throne.

They’d elected to meet in the throne room, given that it was the midpoint between where they’d both been when Okoye had sent the meeting request. The room was empty, save for them and the secrets Okoye had just shared. In the waning light of the ending day, it felt less like a command center where countless meetings on the nation’s future had been held and more like a tomb.

And all these secrets might just send us to ours.

“Do you think we’re being set up?” T’Challa asked as he looked up at Okoye.

“It makes sense,” Okoye said. “I’m having Miss Singh look through everything for any indications of a set up, but until we find proof there’s no way of knowing. And, in the meantime, we have a more pressing question: do we have a moral obligation to use the information we have to head off as many possible wars and disasters as we can, or is it better to delete it all and possibly save incriminating ourselves with good intentions?”

T’Challa rubbed his temples, expression weary. “As much as I loathe to say it… it’s not our job to save the world. We can’t try to stop every other nation from committing atrocities. Besides, preventing them from happening won’t change the attitudes and policies that created them; there’s no sense in cutting off leaves if we have no way of reaching the roots.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled and nodded to himself. “Delete this list. It will only bring us grief.”

Okoye bowed her head. “Yes, my King.”

T’Challa sighed, then smiled tiredly. “How’s your baby doing?”

One of her hands automatically went to the swell of her abdomen. “Good, as far as the doctors say. I miss drinking coffee. How is the Queen?”

“Good,” T’Challa said with a smile. “She misses drinking coffee, too.”

“Did she threaten you with bodily harm while going through the caffeine withdrawals?”

“Only once or twice.”

“She had more restraint than I did,” Okoye muttered, smirking when T’Challa chuckled.

***

“Do we have enough boxes?” Ayo asked as she surveyed Okoye’s apartment.

“There’s never enough boxes,” Djabi replied. “You’ll think you’re done, and then ten thousand other things that need boxing will appear out of nowhere.”

They’d called a “Girl’s Night” to help Okoye pack up her apartment; she and M’Baku had found a new, more spacious place in Birnin Zana –closer to the palace to boot—which meant that she had to pack up her belongings.

And then M’Baku had been called up to the Jabari lands to handle some official tribal business –some sort of agriculture related dispute from the sounds of things—and Aneka had taken the opportunity to make the event an official “Girl’s Night,” given that it’d been a while since the four of them had been able to spend time with each other.

“We should have enough,” Okoye said. “I’m not packing clothing and bedding until we’re completely ready to move, so we should be fine.”

There was a quick rap at the door, and then Aneka popped in, followed by Natasha Romanoff.

Okoye had hesitated to invite the Russian agent until Aneka had assured her the Natasha was genuinely unobtrusive –and Ayo had supported her girlfriend’s claims when Okoye had asked her second-in-command for a second opinion.

Besides, extra hands were extra hands.

“Welcome to the packing party,” Djabi said, nodding her head in greeting at Natasha. “There’s beer and wine in the kitchen.”

“And herbal tea for those of us who can’t have alcohol,” Okoye grumbled as she sipped from her glass.

“It’s good for the baby!” Aneka said cheerily as she hugged Ayo in greeting.

Natasha merely smiled and nodded. “Well, thank you for inviting me along –and I’m happy to help, of course. How’s the baby doing?”

“Growing,” Okoye said tiredly. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get back pain until later.”

“My sister said that she only had back pain with her boy babies,” Djabi commented. “You might be having a boy.”

“That’s just a superstition,” Aneka interjected. “Aside from genitalia, the only discernable differences between fetuses are heartbeat rates.”

“No, it makes sense,” Ayo argued. “Male babies tend to carry more weight, which puts more strain on the mother’s body.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Natasha said mildly as she began to help Djabi box up some books. “I can’t have children.”

Aneka frowned. “Do the Avengers have a policy against kids? I thought they were more open-minded about that.”

“No, nothing like that,” Natasha replied after a moment. “Tony made sure the policy was inclusive and supportive. It’s just me that can’t have kids. All Black Widow agents are sterilized before they enter the field.”

The room went deathly silent as Okoye, Ayo, Aneka, and Djabi all stared at each other, then at Natasha, eyes wide with horror.

“Why did they need to do that?” Aneka asked, finding her voice first. “Were you sick?”

Natasha shook her head. “It’s to prevent us from becoming mothers; they said it was ‘the one thing that might distract us away from being agents.’”

“Categorically false,” Djabi muttered. “I’ve had plenty of sex that would persuade me to stop being a Dora. Fuck, I’ve eaten food that would persuade me to stop being a Dora.”

They all laughed, and the tension in the air abated.

“I hope this isn’t your way of saying you’re dissatisfied with your job,” Okoye teased.

“No, it’s my way of saying that if I could spend the rest of my life eating good food and having even better sex, I would.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad way to live life,” Natasha agreed with a smirk. “I take it the Dora are much more open to motherhood?”

“Comparatively, it’s not much of a bar to step over,” Ayo pointed out.

“Fair enough.”

“I get to keep my job, if that’s what you’re asking,” Okoye said. “I just have to stop field missions for a while for my own safety.”

“So you get maternity leave? Healthcare benefits?” Natasha asked.

“Obviously,” Okoye said. “And Wakanda has national healthcare.”

“Most nations don’t have a form of national healthcare,” Natasha pointed out.

“Most nations are run by idiots,” Ayo grumbled as she wrapped a vase in bubble wrap.

Natasha chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Would you ever want to have kids, Agent Romanoff?” Aneka asked. “There’s a lot of options available with surrogacy, adoption, and fostering.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Natasha admitted as she taped a box shut. “Admittedly, my line of work wouldn’t make raising a kid easy, and I do like my job. I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years, too; I don’t think I’d want to bring a kid into all of that. Besides, I get to be an aunt to Agent Barton’s kids, which basically alleviates most of the kid related desires I could have.”

“That’s good,” Aneka said with a smile.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Okoye said. “The Princess and her team recently made a breakthrough. They managed to construct a function uterus and ovaries out of synth-organic material. It has potential for both transgender women and women who struggle with infertility or have sustained injuries to their reproductive organs.”

Aneka clapped her hands. “That’s incredible!”

“Alternative: I just donate my uterus and ovaries,” Djabi said. “I’d be so happy to get rid of them and my menstrual cycle.”

“And here I thought we wouldn’t find a way to make organ trading legal,” Ayo quipped.

Natasha snorted, but her smile was a little melancholy. “I think I’ll have to stick with the Barton kids until the rest of the world catches up.”

Okoye regarded the Avenger for a moment before speaking. “If that was something you wanted, we’d make sure you got it.”

Natasha blinked at her, stunned, then smiled softly. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, focusing on boxing up various keepsakes and books.

“So, what’s it like, working with the King?” Natasha asked.

Okoye, Ayo, Djabi, and Aneka all looked at each other.

“I mean—” Aneka started.

“He’s alright,” Djabi said.

“He’s a good ruler and boss,” Okoye added.

“He once walked into a door because he got distracted looking at his wife,” Ayo said.

Natasha choked on a laugh. “No way. Really? He seems so… dignified.”

Okoye rolled her eyes. “The Queen –before she was his wife—was on a mission when the King was scheduled to go through the coronation rites. He and I went in to extract her; he got so distracted when he saw her that he literally froze. I had to step into to make sure he didn’t get his ass handed to him.”

“Wow. Honestly, that sounds like half the men I work with. More than half.”

“Even Captain America?” Aneka asked. “He seems like he has it together. Mostly.”

“He’s one of the worst,” Natasha asserted. “He’s a massive dork.”

“Okay, you can’t say shit like that and not back it up!” Djabi insisted.

Natasha smirked. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing I have plenty of stories to tell.”

***

Okoye nearly dropped the picture frame she was holding. “No! He did not!”

“He did!” Natasha insisted, sounding nearly as irate as Okoye did. “He took off his helmet because the fucker asked him to! And fought him!”

“I mean, at least he won,” Aneka offered, trying to find some sort of bright side.

“That doesn’t matter!” Ayo nearly shouted, aghast. “You do not take off your armor in a fight! Especially when an enemy asks you to!”

“Trust me, it gets worse,” Natasha said. “He jumped out of an elevator.”

Djabi shrugged. “Okay, well—”

“Eleven stories up.”

“What!” the four of them exclaimed in unison.

“He fell through a glass roof and had only his shield between him and ground when he hit it.”

Okoye stared at Natasha, then shook her head. “No. That’s impossible.”

“I agree.” Djabi pointed a finger at Natasha. “You’re fucking with us.”

“I swear I’m not!” Natasha said between bursts of laughter. “And it still gets worse. He stole his old uniform from the forties out of the Smithsonian and wore it to go fight a super assassin on a Hellicarrier. You know, lighter armor, doesn’t hold together as well—”

“Men,” Ayo spat out as she rubbed her temples. “Are so fucking stupid.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Natasha said as she wiped at her eyes. “Not in the slightest.”

Okoye opened her mouth to make some sort of similar comment, but was cut off by the emergency call chirp coming from her kimoyo beads.

T’Challa looked up at her when she answered, expression grave. “Turn on the news. The international station.”

Aneka grabbed the remote off the coffee table. She turned the TV on and flipped to the appropriate channel. “What—”

An image of Brazil flashed on the screen, accompanied by a reporter’s voice.

“Several warheads containing a more aggressive version of the Zika virus were released from an unknown location inside Brazil today. Most of the targeted nations were able to safely disarm the warheads before they made contact, but both Mexico City and the Honduras were hit before the disarming process was completed. The United Nations has already sent medical aid to both of the affected regions. Authorities are unsure if this was a terror attack or not—”

“We’ve also tracked several shipments heading out of Brazil,” T’Challa added as the reporter continued reading through their script. “HYDRA is mobilizing.”

“I’ll contact Steve,” Natasha said, phone already in hand. “I can have my team ready in two hours.”

Okoye nodded at Ayo. “Get your people ready, too.”

“This only reinforces the ‘goose chase theory,” Ayo pointed out.

“I know. But right now, we can’t afford to not give chase.” She turned to look at the TV screen once more, brow furrowing with worry as she took everything in. Bast, please let us get on top of this quickly.

#sass writes #black panther fanfiction #okoye x m'baku #t'challa x nakia #getting towards the end of this story #i'm legit emotional #wakanda forever

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