#and he was fine about it but after he left my colleagues were like :0 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slvault · 4 years ago

Text

Ship: Sung Jin-Woo/Woo Jin-Chul

Tags: Post-Canon AU, Future Fic, Canon Divergence AU, Immortality, Fluff, Smut, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers

Summary: Almost twenty years after they first met again, Jin-Chul gets his fair share of good-natured ribbing about being an eternal bachelor, while Jin-Woo’s parents would like to know if he’s ever going to give them grandchildren or even just a daughter- or son-in-law. Both of them smile, deflect, and carry on. Sometimes, when they’re out for drinks or a meal or a break in the middle of the day to feed the ducks, they even like to laugh about it.

Read on AO3

-0-

They’re not feeding the ducks this time. Winter has dug its roots in, covering everything under a fine layer of snow and chasing most people indoors whenever possible. So of course, it’s a fine day for a stroll outside in the peaceful quiet of the cold afternoon. Scarves and jackets and a cup of coffee each are enough to stave off the chill.

They end up in the same park, taking a seat on their usual bench by the lake once they’ve swept the snow off. The water isn’t quite frozen over, but there are bits of ice already floating on the surface.

For a while, they sit in silence, and neither of them feels the need to break it. Two decades they’ve known each other, across two lifetimes, as colleagues and friends and comrades tied together through circumstance and memories and the knowledge of a whole universe full of monsters that consider their planet easy pickings. With a foundation like that, they’ve both long since grown comfortable with simply existing in one another’s presence.

Days like today are normal for them. Not a week’s gone by since Jin-Woo was sixteen and Jin-Chul was twenty-four that they haven’t met up at least once every weekend, sometimes just to check-in, more often to catch up. Usually, they meet up on other days of the week too.

Unlike those days however, Jin-Chul carries an air of anticipatory determination today as he stares out over the lake, and Jin-Woo watches him out of the corner of his eye, patient in a way only a man with all the time in the world to spend can be. Eventually, Jin-Chul stirs, takes a distracted sip of his drink, and then glances over to his left, smiling faintly when he finds Jin-Woo already waiting.

“So, how have you been?” He asks, more as a lead-up than anything else. Jin-Woo had texted him just this morning to tell him about Jin-Ah’s newest boyfriend and the interns he’s thinking of hiring, as well as to pass on some information that looks to be connected to a case Jin-Chul is working on. It was a good day for Jin-Chul’s precinct when Jin-Woo received his private investigator license.

Jin-Woo answers him anyway. “My dad’s thinking of taking my mom on a cruise for their anniversary this year. Jin-Ho’s probably going to get disowned again for introducing his cousin to the joys of breaking into the house of that CEO we’ve been looking into, which probably means I’ll have to hire her sooner or later. And another Gate appeared in America yesterday, on the east coast, so that was an exciting two hours of my life.” He hides a smile behind his drink. “What about your week?”

Jin-Chul stares for a moment, then huffs out a laugh. “Nowhere near as interesting as yours.”

Jin-Woo shrugs lazily. “I keep telling you, you should come with me more often. I can barely get you out of your office once a month.”

Jin-Chul hums noncommittally. It’s not agreement, but it’s not a refusal either. In truth, he has no issues with tagging along whenever Jin-Woo has to go deal with yet another alien intruder or invasion, but there’s only so much responsibility he’s willing to dump on his subordinates, if only because he doesn’t trust them to run everything smoothly in his absence, and if something gets blown up or set on fire while he’s gone, three guesses who would be the one forced to clean up the aftermath.

The whole matter actually segues nicely into what he wants to talk about today though, and for a moment, he levels a searching gaze on the other, taking in the spark of mana in his irises and the flicker of a passing silhouette curling along his jawline and the figures limned in ghost-light that sometimes like to wave at him from the shadows all around them.

All if it is familiar to him these days, all of it dear, all secrets that Jin-Woo shares only with him, and Jin-Chul guards each and every one closely, more precious to him than any jewel or priceless artefact.

“I will be forty-four next week,” He says abruptly.

Jin-Woo blinks once, slow and deliberate, expression near-inscrutable. “I know. I’ve already made a reservation at that restaurant you like in Florence.”

Jin-Chul almost has to laugh at that too. He thinks he’s missed a few things over the past several years. Or maybe not missed. He’s always known; he just hadn’t registered all of what it had meant.

“One of my coworkers was actually complaining about it just a few days ago,” He reveals with good humour. In contrast, he keeps a sharp eye on Jin-Woo, not just his face because reading him is a whole-body endeavour, so Jin-Chul watches him, which has never been a hardship. “Even asked for skincare tips. She was joking of course, but I wouldn’t have been able to give her any either way. It’s apparently terribly unfair though, how I can get to this age, in my profession, and still pass for someone at least a decade younger. I even checked for grey hairs, when I went home that evening. Not a one to be found.”

Jin-Woo stares at him. Jin-Chul stares back, and when he doesn’t get any reaction, or rather, he gets a very resolute non-reaction, he drops his gaze to his coffee and lets the realization that should’ve occurred to him years ago finally crystallize in his mind.

Another smile tugs at his lips. When he looks up again, Jin-Woo has turned his gaze to the lake, the surface so still it seems as if time has frozen in its stead.

“...I’ll stop, if you want me to,” Jin-Woo says at last, and there are shadows in his eyes, dark as storm clouds and a hundred times more deadly. His words are light and inflectionless, but Jin-Chul has never known him to be anything less than honest when speaking to him.

“I should’ve asked first,” Jin-Woo continues, not quite apologetic, not at all regretful, but the admission itself feels like a wound, a surrender, a bended knee, and Jin-Chul’s fingers twitch with the urge to lash out and rip it to shreds.

He doesn’t consider himself a particularly violent man, not even back when he’d still been a Hunter, but anything that can make Jin-Woo sound like that has no right to exist between them.

“I should’ve guessed,” Jin-Chul corrects him, and Jin-Woo’s gaze finally slides back over to him, unwavering, mana-bright and almost fervent with something unspoken and straining against its leash. Jin-Chul shrugs lightly. “To be honest, I was going to ask. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but it probably would’ve been soon, if you didn’t mention it yourself first.”

He pauses, absently turning the cup around between his hands as he studies the micro-expressions flitting across Jin-Woo’s features.

“You have to have known,” Jin-Chul says quietly. “Not from the very beginning perhaps, but it’s been obvious for a while now, I think, that this was always where we were going to end up, sooner or later.”

It’s why Jin-Chul has never thought about finding a wife and settling down and starting a family, why he’s never been worried that Jin-Woo might one day take one of the ridiculous number of men and women constantly vying for his attention as far back as when he’d still been in university seriously. They’ve both dated occasionally here and there, but never for long, less and less as time went by, and basically not at all in recent years. With Jin-Woo, Jin-Chul has never pushed for more, for faster, content with the pace they’ve set, with friendship and companionship because those were just as important to him as the promise of something more that’s always been waiting for them to catch up one day.

There has never been any forks or detours along the path of their relationship. Their road has always only ever had one destination. And perhaps, when it comes down to it, it would be most accurate to say that Jin-Chul has never doubted his place in Jin-Woo’s life, because he has always known exactly where he stood in it.

Jin-Woo is still as stone for the longest time, and even when he moves again, Jin-Chul only catches the slight easing of his shoulders and the release of tension from his brow because he knows Jin-Woo, and he knows what to look for to understand such an emotionally contained man.

“I didn’t want to assume,” Jin-Woo says, more carefully than Jin-Chul’s heard from him in a while.

His eyes flicker away, then back, and something of that horrifying loneliness that had been far more persistent at the beginning of their re-acquaintance yawns open behind them like a bottomless pit.

“Humans weren’t made for eternity,” Jin-Woo tells him, and his voice rings with that otherworldly echo of the legacy he’d inherited. There is nothing human in his face now, not in the quicksilver flash of his teeth, not in the foxfire burn of his eyes. Someone with more sense would probably have run a long time ago. But Jin-Chul has never been afraid of Sung Jin-Woo, no matter what he looks like or what he’s become, and a godhood made visible isn’t going to change that.

“Then,” Jin-Chul says simply, steadily, with all the confidence of someone demanding what’s his by right. “Make me into something not human. You’ve already stopped me from aging; you might as well go the rest of the way. If you were waiting for me to catch on and give my permission, then of course you have it.”

He pauses, then adds, as earnestly as he knows how to be, all steel and steadfast calm, “I plan to stay with you for as long as you’ll have me, Jin-Woo, in any capacity you can accept. I hope you know that that’s a decision I settled on quite a few years ago, and it was never a particularly difficult one to make.”

He pauses again, just for a moment, for the space of time between the stutter of his heartbeat in his chest as his pulse races, and then he forges on, unfaltering because this too is a truth he feels down to his bones, and no matter how well they know each other, some things should still be said.

“You are very easy to love,” Jin-Chul admits, and he feels a little less nervous as Jin-Woo’s eyes widen, looking gratifyingly stunned, like he’d never expected Jin-Chul to say it outright. If this is the response he gets though, Jin-Chul can definitely see the appeal. “For me, there’s been no one else in a long time. I don’t find anyone else half as interesting, and certainly there is no one whose company I enjoy as much as I do yours, if that wasn’t obvious enough, with the amount of time I spend with you. And I don’t think I’ve been overly optimistic in believing that you feel the same-”

And that’s as far as he gets because the shadows around them are suddenly surging, swamping the snow at their feet, slithering over the bench and drifting over their legs. Half a second after that, his coffee is falling to the ground because there’s a hand in his hair, and another cradling the curve of his jaw, and there are lips on his lips, and Jin-Chul is far too occupied with pulling Jin-Woo even closer to think about where his drink has gone.

He’s short of breath by the time the kiss eases off into something less intense. Jin-Woo is little better, half-sprawled over Jin-Chul’s lap, eyes gleaming with naked hunger even as his fingers press near-bruises into Jin-Chul’s skin. Jin-Chul’s grip on the other’s hips is equally possessive, and even the winter chill around them doesn’t do much to cool the heat simmering between them.

“You have to be sure,” Jin-Woo says, voice gone rough around the edges. He’s still close enough to kiss, and that’s exactly what he does, licking into Jin-Chul’s mouth again with just a hint of teeth at its heels, and Jin-Chul groans under the onslaught, biting back into the kiss, one hand moving up to curl around the back of Jin-Woo’s neck to keep him in place. When they part again, his lips feel as swollen as Jin-Woo’s look. Jin-Woo stares back, eyes half-lidded and dark with arousal despite the flare of mana ringing his pupils, and Jin-Chul can’t help shuddering under that regard.

“You have to be sure,” Jin-Woo repeats. “If I-” He stops, blinks, and then forges on in low, almost urgent tones, “Twenty years ago, you regained your memories, and the first thing you chose to do was to let me know. You could’ve just kept pretending, you could’ve asked to forget - it would’ve been easier. But instead, you let me know that you knew, and that you were there, and that I could talk to you about any of it if I wanted to, and you kept coming back. Do you even how much that meant to me? Especially after I’d just spent twenty-seven years fighting a war, and then even my own dad came back one day remembering nothing, and the only people around me every day were a bunch of kids I could barely relate to. But then you were there, and you wouldn’t let me carry it all on my own, and I didn’t even realize how much I needed someone else to know until you insisted.”

He stops again, and Jin-Chul can’t look away from that fierce, near-blinding gaze.

“That’s why I need you to be sure,” Jin-Woo says once more. “Because if you tell me I get to keep you, I don’t know if I can be strong enough, and nice enough, to let you go if you end up changing your mind one day.”

And this time, it’s Jin-Chul who takes the initiative to kiss him, coaxing Jin-Woo into something less desperate and more gentle, humming approvingly when he feels the other melt into it. He’d love nothing more than to get his hands on more skin, but they’re still outside, and dressed for the weather to boot, so this will have to be enough for now.

“You’d let me go,” Jin-Chul murmurs against his lips. “You are kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

“And as always, you have too much faith in me,” Jin-Woo retorts, but some of the underlying apprehension from before has disappeared.

This is something they’ve long since agreed to disagree. Jin-Chul leans back, hands coming up to frame Jin-Woo’s face, thumbing over the faint flush in his cheeks with something like reverence.

“You’d let me go, if I asked,” Jin-Chul says with conviction. “But I would never ask, so what does it matter?”

Jin-Woo pulls back a little, still watching Jin-Chul like he’s looking for any trace of a lie. Eventually, he sighs, and one of his hands rise to brush back a few stray strands of Jin-Chul’s hair, tugging lightly before tucking them behind his ear. “This is getting long.”

“Hm, I haven’t had time to go to the barber’s,” Jin-Chul replies, turning his head a little into the feather-light touch of Jin-Woo’s fingers at his temple.

“But I like it like this,” Jin-Woo remarks, gaze slanting briefly to the way the longest strands fall just below Jin-Chul’s shoulders.

Jin-Chul smiles indulgently at him. “Then I’ll just go for a trim.”

Jin-Woo’s lips press together like he’s trying not to laugh, and then he shakes his head and chuckles anyway. He leans in and kisses Jin-Chul again, a brief brush of lips this time that Jin-Chul has no time to return before it’s over.

“Take the day off,” Jin-Woo murmurs, and the sly curve of his smile is all temptation.

As if Jin-Chul could go back to the office now of all times. He’d be distracted at best for the rest of the day, and the itch of it - of finally, openly acknowledging what Jin-Woo is to him, what he is to Jin-Woo, of knowing he can reach out and take - would seethe under his skin until he succumbed to it.

“Take us home then,” Jin-Chul says, and doesn’t bother specifying which. His apartment or Jin-Woo’s - they’ve both spent equal amounts of time in each.

Familiar arms pull him close, and shadows rise up all around them, blocking out the light of day, but Jin-Chul has never been afraid of the dark.

The two of them disappear, leaving an empty bench behind.

-0-

For someone normally so restrained, Jin-Woo kisses like he’s starved for touch and heat and pleasure. He gives Jin-Chul a moment to call in sick (”You were fine before lunch, sir??”), and then they’re tumbling into the bedroom, half their clothes already shed along the way.

Jin-Chul groans as Jin-Woo settles on top of him, and he doesn’t hesitate to run his hands under the other man’s shirt, over all that glorious bare skin he’s finally allowed to explore. Jin-Woo arches into his touch and kisses him again like he wants to stake a claim, like Jin-Chul isn’t already his. Their hips rock together for a moment, and then Jin-Chul makes a frustrated noise before nudging Jin-Woo back long enough to undo his belt and toss it to the floor.

“This is what you get when you need to wear a suit to work every day,” Jin-Woo mumbles as he dives in again, setting teeth to his neck and leaving a trail of stinging pleasure in his wake. Jin-Chul thinks briefly of reminding Jin-Woo that he can’t go into work with his throat all marked up, and then decides that high collars and scarves were invented for a reason.

“You love me in a suit,” Jin-Chul counters, busying himself with stripping Jin-Woo out of his shirt, and then rolling his eyes when Jin-Woo returns the favour by ripping his shirt down the middle and sending buttons flying. “Really?”

“I love you out of a suit too,” Jin-Woo says by way of explanation, sounding unrepentantly smug about it. He nips at Jin-Chul’s bottom lip, then flicks his tongue out to soothe the sting. “I’ll buy you another one later. You have a million of them in your closet anyway.”

Jin-Chul sighs somewhat helplessly before hooking a foot around Jin-Woo’s ankle and then flipping their positions. Jin-Woo doesn’t fight him, lying back complacently as Jin-Chul straddles him and smooths his hands down the firm lean muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“You are disgustingly perfect,” Jin-Chul laments. He keeps up with his own exercise, and now that he thinks about it, staying in shape is probably easier for him than other men his age, but Jin-Woo has the physique of a Hunter, and it shows.

Jin-Woo hums, reaching out with one hand to touch as well, smirking when Jin-Chul shivers as a calloused palm slides over his nipple before trailing down the ladder of his ribs, only stopping once he gets to the waistband of his pants.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” Jin-Woo tells him with that maddening sledgehammer candor he likes to pull out every now and then, and under the combination of a blatantly appreciative gaze and the fact that the man who said it has never been one for flattery, excessive or otherwise, Jin-Chul can feel a flush of embarrassed pleasure rising in his cheeks.

He covers it by stripping them both out of the rest of their clothes. Jin-Woo seems to sense it anyway because he laughs, amusement gentled with delight, and when he draws Jin-Chul into another kiss, it lingers in a way none of the previous ones had, slow and sensual as if he could never get enough. Jin-Chul moans into it, shifting his hips down to grind his cock against Jin-Woo’s, and it’s easy to get lost in it, in the slide of a body against his own and the building pleasure pooling in his gut. When he reaches between them to wrap a hand around their cocks, Jin-Woo finally makes a quiet noise at the back of his throat, one that becomes an aborted groan as Jin-Chul strokes them both to completion.

It barely takes the edge off, even if it does leave Jin-Chul a little breathless in the aftermath. Jin-Woo on the other hand doesn’t even get soft, and he’s driving them into a second round almost immediately. The world tilts as Jin-Woo flips them so that he’s on top again, eyes bright with mana once more as he stares Jin-Chul up and down like he doesn’t know where he wants to start.

Jin-Chul makes an amused sound and spreading his legs wider in clear invitation, one that Jin-Woo takes with heated eyes and a ripple of air as he retrieves some lube. And then his head dips, and Jin-Chul swears as teeth scrapes over one of his nipples before a hot mouth closes around it and sucks until he’s arching into it, swears again when Jin-Woo stops only to do the same to the other. And then there are slick fingers at his hole, and the world dissolves into heat and lust and pleasure as Jin-Chul drags the man back up for another messier kiss even as he rocks down on those fingers opening him up for more.

Jin-Woo spends long minutes prepping him, or rather, Jin-Chul squirms impatiently as a third finger teases at his prostate, never enough to satisfy, right up until he presses an insistent heel to Jin-Woo’s lower back and urges, “Come on, I’m ready, Jin-Woo, please-”

It gets him a searing look as Jin-Woo finally obliges, grasping his hips and lining up and sinking into him, thick and relentless and spreading him wide until Jin-Chul is gasping from the stretch.

Above him, Jin-Woo stills, eyes like foxfire even as he studies the shifting nuances of Jin-Chul’s features like he’s looking for any hints of aversion. Jin-Chul laughs somewhat breathlessly and clenches deliberately around Jin-Woo’s cock, pushing back to take him that much deeper just to get a feel for it. He releases a long pleased hum that in no way hides the stutter of Jin-Woo’s breath or the minute jerk of his hips, the latter of which only serves to make Jin-Chul close his eyes from the jolt of pleasure snapping up his spine.

Opening them again, he arches an eyebrow at the man looming over him. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Jin-Woo scoffs out something that could be amusement but mostly just comes out hungry. His grip on Jin-Chul’s hips tighten, and then he’s pulling back, only to snap his own hips forward a moment later, shoving a garbled cry out of Jin-Chul that Jin-Woo swallows as he catches his lips in another kiss, licking into his mouth like he wants to conquer him.

Jin-Chul wouldn’t be able to keep back all the noises he makes even if he wanted to as Jin-Woo fucks him into the mattress, hard and fast and just as greedy for it as Jin-Chul. His cock is hard and leaking, and he can feel himself hurtling towards his next orgasm even as he tightens his legs around Jin-Woo’s waist and pushes back into each thrust and bares his throat when Jin-Woo nuzzles at his neck. He comes just as Jin-Woo bites down, the shock of pain twining with the overwhelming pleasure as he shakes apart on Jin-Woo’s cock, choking on a moan when Jin-Woo never slows, fucking him straight through it.

Jin-Chul cusses and claws at Jin-Woo’s back but does nothing to stop him as his nerves buzz from the onslaught, and he tastes the ghost of laughter on Jin-Woo’s lips when they kiss again. By the time Jin-Woo groans and comes in him, Jin-Chul’s reaching his third peak, and a hand on his cock and half a dozen strokes is all it takes to topple him over the edge once more.

“So lovely,” Jin-Woo murmurs against his lips as Jin-Chul’s legs fall back to the bed, and he’s trembling as much from the quiet reverent words as he is from the way Jin-Woo is still rocking against him, slow, gentle, shallow thrusts that prevent Jin-Chul from coming down from the high of his climax. It goes on and on until cum is leaking from his ass and his voice is cracking on a plea, to stop, to keep going, and he’s all but spasming around the other’s cock, wanting to get away, wanting more.

Jin-Woo makes a smug but enquiring noise from somewhere above him. “Should I stop?”

Jin-Chul forces his eyes open, feeling shaky and wrecked, drenched in sweat and twitching from overstimulation. But he meets Jin-Woo’s gaze and licks his lips, somehow finding the breath to chuckle when Jin-Woo’s attention drops to the flash of his tongue like he can’t help himself.

There’s no way Jin-Chul is coming again, and even the tiniest movement from JIn-Woo feels like electricity dancing under his skin. But he stares up into the glow of power in Jin-Woo’s eyes, and feels the possessiveness in the hypnotic brush of a thumb over his hipbone, and Jin-Chul just... wants. Jin-Woo is still mostly hard inside him, and Jin-Chul wants him to take and take until there’s nothing left for Jin-Chul to give, wants to be consumed by the abyssal depths of Jin-Woo’s desire, wants most of all for this god-king to claim him and keep him and show the world exactly who Jin-Chul belongs to.

He releases a shuddering exhale before tilting his hips up and summoning the energy to squeeze down around the length inside him despite how loose and fucked out he feels. Jin-Woo’s eyes flutter, and his lips part, expression splintering with startled pleasure. Jin-Chul will never get tired of this, of how much Jin-Woo is willing to show around him when he’s so very controlled and reserved around everyone else. Part of that is Jin-Chul knowing how to read him since Jin-Woo has never been an overly expressive man anyway, but he’s also willing to bet that even Jin-Woo’s former bed partners hadn’t seen him like this. Jin-Woo would never have allowed it.

“One more,” Jin-Chul says hoarsely. He can’t come again, but Jin-Woo can, and Jin-Chul wants to feel it, the ache of it, wants to be forced to take it. He digs his nails into Jin-Woo’s shoulders and widens his legs like a challenge. “I can take it.”

Jin-Woo smirks down at him, a wicked curve that promises exactly what Jin-Chul is asking for.

“Brace yourself,” He says, and that’s all the warning Jin-Chul gets as strong hands slide under his back and haul him up until he’s sitting in Jin-Woo’s lap and impaled on that thick cock, and all the breath leaves his lungs in a string of curse words that may or may not be all in Korean. He’s held down, forced to adjust to the new angle, to how deep Jin-Woo feels inside him like this, and the burn of pain-pleasure leaves him whimpering and clutching at the other’s shoulders.

He feels more than hears the rumble of Jin-Woo’s laughter in his chest, and it takes a few hazy seconds for Jin-Chul to realize what’s caused it - his stamina is flagging, and his nerves are on fire, but he’s already shifting a little, rising a few inches up off that cock before sliding back down on it, riding him in small hitching motions of his hips until the sharp twisting ache of his hole is all he can focus on.

“You like this then,” Jin-Woo muses in even thoughtful tones that’s just unfair. Fingers feather over his balls before one of them skirts around the trembling rim of where they’re connected, not pushing in but applying a teasing sort of pressure anyway. Jin-Chul closes his eyes and doesn’t ask for it, but he doesn’t need to look to know that Jin-Woo is cataloguing every single one of his reactions, and indeed, Jin-Woo sighs almost wistfully but says, “Next time.”

When you’re less breakable, he doesn’t say, but Jin-Chul hears it anyway, and a part of him almost wants to lament the last clinging remains of his humanity.

And then even that slips away as hands find his hips again, lifting him up like he weighs nothing until only the tip of Jin-Woo’s cock is still inside him. Jin-Chul has time to catch a glimpse of a knife-sharp smirk and burning eyes, and then he’s being yanked down just as Jin-Woo drives his cock up, right into the core of him, and Jin-Chul howls with the feel of it, jerking futilely between Jin-Woo’s hands, no mercy to be found as Jin-Woo fucks him in steady demanding thrusts that hurts in all the best ways and sends the most excruciating pleasure coiling through the rest of his body.

He can’t come again, but he feels it when Jin-Woo does, feels the warmth of it inside him, hears the breathless moan in his ear, and sobs when a hand finds his half-hard cock and a thumb rubs over the wet head, and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, but that hand is merciless, another comes up to tangle in his hair and tilt his head back before teeth and tongue ravage his mouth, and all of it drags him slowly but inexorably towards a fourth shattering orgasm.

It takes countless agonizing minutes before Jin-Chul finally comes again, jolting with the force of it, still split open on a cock so he has nowhere to go, a soundless cry trapped in his throat as he collapses into Jin-Woo’s chest, shivering uncontrollably from toomuchsogoodmorenomore oversensitivity.

He sinks into oblivion after that, too exhausted to fight it, and the last thing he registers is the press of a kiss to his temple and the comforting weight of an arm wrapping securely around him.

-0-

He wakes, hours later, loose-limbed and sated and clean, still shirtless but in fresh pajama pants, with bruises on his hips and the twinge of sore muscles just setting in. His tomorrow’s self will probably hate him. Or maybe not, because there’s water and a potion waiting for him, the latter of which just leaves him pleasantly sore instead. Even the marks on his neck only fade a little. Good thing it’s winter.

“I might have pushed too hard,” Jin-Woo admits as he bustles in with... Jin-Chul checks the clock - ah, dinner.

He also rolls his eyes and pulls Jin-Woo down for a brief kiss. “If I’d really minded, you would’ve known. Don’t fuss.”

He really did enjoy it, and he’d enjoy it more once he has the stamina to at least last a few more rounds.

“If I didn’t fuss, you wouldn’t get dinner in bed,” Jin-Woo points out dryly, and then laughs when Jin-Chul immediately holds out his hands for one of the trays.

Jin-Chul lingers on that, on how relaxed and open Jin-Woo looks right now, on how easy joy comes to him in this moment.

Jin-Chul would kill anyone who tries to take this away from him. He may have been a Hunter with more lines in the sand than most, but he’d also been the head of the Monitoring Division of the Korean Hunters Association, and one didn’t essentially become half-referee, half-babysitter of a country’s worth of murder-happy psychopaths by not knowing when to stand firm, when to yield, and when to make someone disappear. And when it came down to it, Jin-Chul had been Awakened at the very top of A-rank. He had a better handle on it, but it wasn’t as if he’d ever shied away from murder either, even if his position had always made it seem like a justifiable necessity to outsiders looking in.

(It’s why he calls Jin-Woo kind. Because Sung Jin-Woo never does anything he doesn’t want to do, what he says is what he does is what he means, and the choices he’s made each time lives are on the line speak for themselves. Jin-Chul doesn’t think him kind because he’s altruistic or heroic or particularly benevolent, although one could make arguments for all three. But no, Jin-Chul thinks him kind because Jin-Woo’s first instinct has always been to protect, and for a Hunter, no matter the rank or even class, or even just for a human, the extent of the protection Jin-Woo has always been willing to offer is rare. After all, how many people turned a blind eye to Jeju Island? How many did the same to Japan? And how many others would’ve turned back time and fought a near-thirty-year-long war on their own just to spare their fellow man all that future tragedy? Considering their track record, Jin-Chul would daresay not fucking many.

Jin-Woo once told him that becoming the Shadow Monarch stunted his emotions. Jin-Chul finds it ironically hilarious that someone with stunted emotions cares more than literally anyone else Jin-Chul has ever met in either of his lives.

“At least half the reason I went to Japan was because I wanted to fight the Giants, you know.”

“People aren’t one-dimensional, and you don’t hear me calling you a saint. You can want to fight and want to save lives at the same time.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“We make quite the pair then.”)

These days, he has no higher priority than Sung Jin-Woo. Killing someone in the name of hoarding all the secrets - big and small - that Jin-Woo leaves in his possession, knowingly or otherwise, is a negligible matter. Fortunately for everyone involved, Jin-Woo has never had the habit of divulging anything personal to veritable strangers. Only his family and his closest friends get the privilege, and even then, only Jin-Chul knows everything.

They spend the next few minutes eating in companionable silence, but Jin-Chul is well aware of Jin-Woo’s gaze on him, even if he doesn’t make it obvious. He finishes off half his plate before setting it aside and then reaching out to snag Jin-Woo by the wrist.

Jin-Woo makes it obvious this time.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Jin-Chul says with a mild sort of reproach. “So unless you have, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

He feels Jin-Woo go still for a second, two, and then the man pulls back, but only far enough to regard him with ghost-light eyes. Finally, he shakes his head, then again as if for emphasis before offering a rueful smile. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. Sorry. I guess I’m still getting used to the... certainty of it.”

Jin-Chul scoffs. “It’s been certain for years.” But he does understand, so he also squeezes Jin-Woo’s wrist before letting go. “Although, there will be a problem if I stay looking this young forever.”

“Oh, that,” Jin-Woo waves a dismissive hand. “I can slowly age you on the surface, and you can do it yourself once you learn how. Well, not exactly the way I do it - pushing death back is the Shadow Monarch’s domain. But the stronger your mana, the longer your lifespan, and illusions - even ones that affect the physical plane - shouldn’t be too hard to get a hang of.”

Jin-Chul stops halfway from reaching for his food again. “...I don’t think my powers fall within that purview.”

Jin-Woo is already shaking his head. “I won’t be Awakening you the same way the Rulers did.” He pauses like he’s gathering his thoughts, and Jin-Chul turns back attentively because this is new information. “In the previous timeline, whenever Hunters Awakened, they were basically borrowing a certain amount of power from the energy that the Gates gave off. That’s how Norma Selner could remove your ‘limit’, so to speak - she had the ability to expand the amount of power that a Hunter could take in and use, but even then, there was a limit. That power, that mana, technically didn’t belong to the Hunter, so of course there was always a point where they couldn’t get any stronger, even after a Reawakening or an upgrade. Even class divisions were because it was easier on the human body when manipulating mana if Hunters just went with what they were best at. An Awakening like that can only ever be a substitute. I won’t be doing that.”

He leans forward, and this time, it’s Jin-Chul who goes motionless as the other man rests a hand against his chest, over the thud of his heartbeat.

“Every living thing in the universe is born with mana,” Jin-Woo explains. “It could roughly be translated to soul energy. It’s just that for humans, it’s still dormant because your species as a whole hasn’t developed far enough, and your bodies wouldn’t be able to handle it. It would be like... introducing a second circulatory system into your body on top of what you already have. The human body hasn’t figured out a way to support that yet.”

“But... I would be different,” Jin-Chul says slowly.

Jin-Woo shrugs. “You already are. I can’t change someone with a snap of my fingers - I’d probably blow them up or something. It’s a gradual process, and I’ve been working on you since-”

He breaks off abruptly, coughs, retrieves his hand, and then looks down at his food almost awkwardly. Jin-Chul stares at him for a moment before huffing a laugh, even as a thrilled sort of pleasure rears its head inside him.

He wonders, sometimes, which of them decided they wanted to keep the other first.

“It doesn’t hurt you,” Jin-Woo assures, as if that’s even a concern. “We could go our separate ways right now and the only thing that would happen is that you’d start aging again. Your mana would just stay dormant.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Jin-Chul scoffs. “Do I have to do anything?”

“To Awaken? No, that’s on me.” Jin-Woo blinks at him. “Um. Now?”

“No time like the present,” Jin-Chul says blithely.

Jin-Woo’s eyes narrow, but after a moment, he pushes aside his own food, rolls to his knees, and shuffles over until he’s right beside Jin-Chul. Jin-Chul blinks, moving easily when Jin-Woo curls a hand around the back of his neck and draws him close until their foreheads touch.

“It’s been certain for me too, for years,” Jin-Woo says bluntly. “I wouldn’t have bothered changing you if I wasn’t. Even my family - I’ve only slowed their aging down, nothing else.” He stops, and his grip tightens briefly. “You told me I didn’t have to be alone. I’m going to spend the rest of eternity holding you to your word, so I really hope you’re prepared.”

And then, before Jin-Chul can do more than take note of the way a last lingering knot of anxiety unravels inside him, Jin-Woo’s other hand is back against his chest, shadows flaring around them like stygian dusk-light, and all Jin-Chul can hear as he instinctively closes his eyes is the thunderous beat of his heart and the calamitous whispers of the dead and the savage roar of the eternal void that Jin-Woo commands.

When it happens, Jin-Chul almost misses it, and yet, at the same time, there’s no way he could. He remembers the first time he was Awakened in his previous life - it had been sudden and explosive, an overwhelming dizzying rush of power that had made him feel invincible, at least in the moment, and like everything around him was as fragile as glass and one wrong move might break it. Even after he’d settled, and the initial flood of mana had levelled out, he’d always been very aware of its presence, unmistakable and distinct, almost demanding to be used in the way Jin-Chul sometimes felt increasingly agitated if he went too long without entering a Dungeon. He’d thought it was just restlessness, sitting behind a desk too long, but on hindsight, with what he knows now of mana and Rulers and Monarchs and their eons’ worth of war games, perhaps that urgent need to hunt hadn’t all been his own.

It’s different, this time. This time, his Awakening feels like a sigh of relief in the dark, like puzzle pieces slotting into place, like the first breath of mountain air on a winter dawn. It fills his chest, fills his lungs, fills his whole body, and nestled behind his ribcage, behind his heart, in the depths of his soul, something blooms, all shades of purple like the horizon at sunset and just as ephemeral, delicate like the wings of a butterfly, but vibrant like birdsong and mountain streams and the first touch of colour on a cold spring morning.

Jin-Chul’s eyes fly open, and he’s gasping like he’s just run up a dozen flights of stairs. He feels the burn of mana in his eyes, familiar and foreign all at once, and when he looks down at his hands, purple light glitters faintly in his palms. It takes effort though, far more than he remembers ever needing, to regulate his mana, like flexing a muscle he’s never used before. He releases his grip on it then, lets it sink back into the tiny pool of power inside him, and it goes without protest, patient as bedrock and infinite in potential.

When he finally looks up again, Jin-Woo is watching him, smiling faint and pleased. Jin-Chul breathes in, then out, and somehow, it’s like he’s gained a piece of himself that he’d never noticed was missing before.

“I didn’t realize it was supposed to be like this,” Jin-Chul murmurs in a daze.

Jin-Woo hums something like agreement. “The Rulers’ method was pretty clumsy and heavy-handed. To be fair, they didn’t have the luxury to change the internal-” He waves a hand at Jin-Chul. “-of an entire species. But yeah, if that timeline had continued, with no more Gates to draw energy from, and human bodies that couldn’t generate the stuff without outside interference but were also already forced to accommodate mana, even in the best-case scenario, Hunters would’ve imploded on their own in a few more years.” His eyes darken. “People aren’t clay, but the Rulers pretty much stretched and moulded them like they were.”

Jin-Chul... is suddenly even more glad Jin-Woo had managed to convince the Rulers to turn back time. He’d never realized just how many problems the Rulers and Monarchs had brought with them to earth.

“Anyway,” Jin-Woo continues more briskly. “Your mana will grow the more you train it, just like anything else.” He flashes a surprisingly boyish smirk. “Maybe one day, you’ll even beat me.”

Jin-Chul straightens, the first stirrings of interest bubbling up inside him. They’ve gone to the gym for spars over the years, but obviously, it was never with mana on Jin-Woo’s part, and Jin-Chul has admittedly missed the sort of battles one could only ever get as a Hunter. The incessant urge to hunt had probably been something instilled in him by the Rulers. But he knows himself well enough to acknowledge that the desire for a good fight is all his own.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get strong enough to surpass Jin-Woo. The Shadow Monarch isn’t someone you just defeat. But if the only limit Jin-Chul has now is his own willpower, then he’s confident that he’ll at least be able to give Jin-Woo some decent competition one day.

Something of his thoughts must show on his face or seep into his mana because Jin-Woo’s eyebrows go up, and then he positively grins, all teeth and challenge, and the interest Jin-Chul feels not only doubles but also puts heat in his veins.

Out loud, in contrast, he only says demurely, “Perhaps. In the meantime though, I’ll be in your care. Do train me well.”

A moment later, almost faster than his eye can follow, he’s been knocked over and pinned to the bed, and it makes Jin-Chul laugh, breathless with rising excitement. Jin-Woo hovers over him, bright-eyed and smiling and beautiful.

“Mana signatures are troublesome,” The man tells him. “They broadcast a bit too much.” He squints with faux-accusation. “You’ve had four hours and a healing potion to recover. When did I become the voice of reason in this relationship?”

“I’m no longer the head of the Monitoring Division,” Jin-Chul says in deadpan tones. “I need to make up for all those years I spent soothing injured egos and cleaning up temper tantrums. I think it’s only fair you hold the position for a while.”

Jin-Woo snorts even as Jin-Chul adds, “Besides, I think the Awakening healed me the rest of the way.” He isn’t even sore anymore. Shame. He peers slyly up at Jin-Woo, who’s suddenly gone predator-still. “I was expecting to take another day off on account of not being able to walk properly, but I suppose if that’s not going to happen, I can just-”

Jin-Woo cuts him off with a growled, “You asked for it,” and then Jin-Chul has no more words as a fierce devouring kiss turns his laughter into a moan.

Instead, he winds his arms around his lover and arches up into the hard lines of his body, movements fuelled by lust but lacking any urgency.

They have all the time in the universe now, and Jin-Chul plans to savour every last minute of it.

139 notes · View notes

nanoland · 3 years ago

Text

new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.)

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #lucifer morningstar #eve #amenadiel #michael #michael demiurgos #dromos #fanfic #my fic

5 notes · View notes

twomanyideas · 4 years ago

Text

Fish Slayer

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 Slayers Week 2020 Prompt: Adventure Relationships: Gray x Natsu, Sting x Rogue, Natsu & Sting, Natsu & Gajeel AO3

Summary: What appears to be a simple job request goes a little less smoothly than the dragon slayers had anticipated, but from their lack of proper teamwork, an interesting idea is born.

“What’s the matter, Natsu?”

Happy joined his partner in front of the newly remodeled request board, noticing Natsu's unusual lack of interest as he scanned the posted jobs. There was plenty to choose from; even though more than a year had passed, Fiore was still reeling from the aftermath of Tartaros, but Natsu couldn't seem to find a request that excited him.

Natsu's shoulders slumped in disappointment, “I dunno, I’m not really in the mood to find lost items or help around town. I want something that will let me go all out.”

Happy frowned and used his Aera magic to fly up to the board, slowly reading through the slips of paper that were pinned there.

“Natsu, Natsu!” he cried out excitedly.

“Hmm?”

“Did you see this one? It’s asking for you and everything, and fish is part of the reward!!!”

Happy picked the request off the board and gave it to Natsu, who quickly skimmed over it.

Isn't seafood great? Speaking of which, there's been an abnormal number of fish at the beach of late. They're a bit wild for me to handle myself, but they should be no problem for a guild wizard, right? I wanna try some fish! You can have whatever is left over.

Rank: A

Rewards: 27000J, Forefront Talisman

~Rebecca

Happy’s eyes were as big as saucers as he pleaded for his partner to consider the job he’d found.

“Fish, huh? Well, you know I never say no to free food. Let’s do it!” Natsu announced loudly.

“What are you so excited about, Fire Breath?” Gray Fullbuster, Fairy Tail’s resident ice mage, walked up to them, a curious look on his face.

“Believe it or not, Happy finally found a request that offers fish as a reward,” Natsu explained with a chuckle.

He decided to take a chance and asked, “Wanna tag along? It’s been a while since we did a job together.”

Before Gray had a chance to answer, a voice suddenly spoke up from behind them. “I hate to burst your bubble, but check the request again."

The trio turned around, recognizing the voice and in Natsu’s case, the scent of Sabertooth's dragon slayers and their Exceeds. Sting held up a request form similar to the one that Happy had just picked off the board, grinning widely and pointing at the requested mages.

"The client is asking for the dragon slayers, so it looks like you and I will be teaming up, Natsu!"

He looked as excited about this as Happy was about the prospect of getting to eat the leftover fish, talking too much, too fast. Natsu kind of tuned it out as he looked at Gray, feeling a little disappointed because he'd been looking forward to going on a job with him.

Gray frowned moodily at the Twin Dragons, Sting in particular. "You're here again? Don't you have other places to be?"

"Of course not, it's not like either of us is responsible for running a guild or anything,” Rogue responded sarcastically, side-eyeing Sting for emphasis, “But a request is a request, I suppose."

"Oh come on, Rogue," Sting whined back at him. "Gajeel is coming, you like that, right? And Wendy too! It'll be just us dragon slayers. We’ll have a great time!"

"I guess."

"Aye!" Happy chimed in, "not to mention we get all-you-can-eat fish! Everybody loves fish, right?"

"Not particularly," Carla rained on his parade, walking towards them with Wendy, Gajeel, and Panther Lily following close behind.

"Well, you're all Exceeds, and since we're going, you're coming too." Sting completely disregarded Carla's attitude, beaming at her as if he didn't see the glare she threw at him, "I'm sure you'll have fun!"

"You just want to hang out with Natsu," Happy called him out.

"Yep, he just wants to hang out with Natsu," Carla agreed with Happy for once, although she still looked less than thrilled.

Lily, Lector, and Frosch voiced their agreements as well, and at that point, Gray seemed to have had enough of the conversation.

"Knock yourselves out, I'm going on a job of my own," he said, not sparing any of them another look while he ripped the first flyer he could reach off the board. He headed straight for the exit but was stopped by Juvia begging him to take her along, and much to Natsu's dismay, Gray agreed.

Natsu could only stare at the guild doors as they closed behind them, unable to express any of the thoughts or feelings conjuring up a storm inside him.

0-0

They arrived at Akane Beach in the early afternoon. The weather was nice, perfect for a day at the shore, and it showed in the number of visitors present.

Wendy inhaled deeply and smiled happily, "The sea breeze smells so nice. Remember how much fun we had when we came here to train for the Grand Magic Games, Natsu-san?"

They’d come there to train as a team but had ended up spending most of their time in the Celestial World instead. Still, Natsu had fond memories of that trip.

“It was fun,” Natsu agreed as images of days spent swimming, sunbathing, building sandcastles, and having playful competitions of all sorts with Gray brought a smile to his face. Back then, they had just been happy to be alive after their encounter with Acnologia on Tenrou Island. They’d genuinely believed that the worst was behind them.

“I wonder where this Rebecca is,” Gajeel’s gravelly voice interrupted Natsu’s thoughts, bringing him back to the reason they were there.

“Maybe it’s that woman who’s trying to get our attention?” Rogue suggested dryly, pointing to a young woman standing further down the beach, arm raised in an exaggerated wave.

"Fro thinks so, too!"

“Yeah!” Sting agreed, eagerly walking over to meet her but not before telling Natsu, “This time, I’m going to take out more monsters than you.”

“In your dreams,” Natsu snorted, hurrying to reach the girl first.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a team job?” Wendy asked, staring after the two dragon slayers in confusion.

“Yeah,” Gajeel replied, “but you try telling that to those two idiots.”

“It’s like I don’t exist,” Rogue muttered under his breath, causing Gajeel and Wendy to peer at him confusedly.

“Come on, we’d better get to that lady before they make us all look bad,” Gajeel grumbled, speeding up to catch up to Natsu and Sting.

"Hi there! I’m Rebecca, nice to meet you!” the woman greeted them, “ I’m the Vacation Specialist for Akane Resort, thank you so much for coming. I’m glad you could make it so soon!"

"No problem, where are the fish?" Happy cut straight to the chase and was already searching the beach with hungry eyes, much to Natsu’s amusement.

Rebecca started at Happy with wide eyes as she took in the other Exceeds, her gaze softening when she saw Frosch who waved at her cheerily. That seemed to snap her out of it enough to answer Happy’s question.

"They’re a bit further down at our private beach. We closed off the area to prevent anything dangerous from happening to any of our visitors. It would be great if you could take care of this quickly so we can open it up again. There are some holiday cabins we had to keep vacant, and we'd like to make them available as soon as possible."

“I’m on it!” Natsu and Sting chorused before taking off in the direction Rebecca had mentioned with Happy and Lector chasing after them.

The other slayers gave each other an uneasy look but ultimately shrugged, trusting that Natsu and Sting would be fine.

“Is there anything else we should know before we join our colleagues?” Rogue asked, impatient to get moving but wanting to know what they’d be up against.

“Well, a few of the employees we sent to shoo the land whales away ended up frozen,” Rebecca explained, “that’s when we decided to ask the guilds for help.”

“We’ll do our best!” Wendy exclaimed, bowing her head and waving to their client before following the two older slayers across the beach.

Sounds of fighting pushed them to move faster until they found Natsu and Sting already engaging the large fish creatures further down the beach.

What looked to be a pod of fifteen land whales moved along the beach; their eyes fixed on Natsu and Sting. There were three different types: small, gray ones that had a dark, dome-shaped, and glossy organ atop their head, larger ones that were cream-colored, with green domes, and one massive black whale, whose dome was blood red.

“Natsu, not so hot! We won’t be able to eat the fishies if you burn them to a crisp!” Happy cried out, and although Natsu looked like he wanted to complain, the temperature of his attacks decreased.

Lector seemed to have no such concerns when one of Sting’s lasers split one of the smaller whales in half, searing the edges of the cut parts. His enthusiastic cheering managed to drown out Happy’s disapproval.

A loud wail arose from the black land whale, which appeared to be the leader, causing the medium-sized whales to surround the smaller ones. Rogue felt a sudden surge of magic coming from the massive creature and sunk into his shadow, rushing towards Sting.

“Look out!” he managed to yell before re-emerging and shoving his partner out of the way in the nick of time. He’d hoped to evade the vortex that whirled towards them as well, but got hit and found himself encased in ice all the way to his neck instead.

“Oh, great,” he muttered as he tried to release himself from the spell’s grasp.

“Thanks! Are you-" as Sting got back up and noticed Rogue, struggling but otherwise unharmed, he couldn't hold back his giggles. "Oh, I see, you're just chilling."

"Pay attention to the fight, you jackass!"

"Sky Dragon Roar!"

Wendy pushed the whale back with her wind attack, and while Natsu, Sting, and Gajeel continued to fight, she hurried over to Rogue.

“Don’t worry, this should just take a minute,” Wendy assured Rogue, already preparing to cast her next spell.

"Raise!"

Rogue could feel Wendy’s magic working on him, and as promised, the ice that surrounded him was swiftly dispelled.

“Thank you,” he bowed his head graciously before taking his place next to Sting.

“That’s five for me,” Natsu boasted, “How are you doing, Sting?”

“Can we just get this done before someone else gets frozen?” Gajeel grumbled, blocking yet another attack from the enraged whale.

“That’s not fair; you’re just picking off the little ones!” Sting complained as he found himself in a heated battle with one of the medium-sized whales. He watched in disbelief as the enormous creature began to roll around in the sand, faster and faster, its body coming barreling towards him in what looked like a fierce tackle.

“Get out of the way, you fool!” Rogue snapped, too busy with his own whale to be of any help.

"Iron Dragon's Sword!"

Sting breathed in relief as Gajeel’s arm stretched to form a long sword, shoving the whale off course and slicing off its tail. Unfortunately, while he was doing that, the largest whale hit him with his ice attack, and suddenly a very pissed off Gajeel stood frozen, much as Rogue had earlier, his arm still extended.

“I am not picking off the little ones!” Natsu protested, darting to the right and gathering his flames for a roar, directed at the largest whale to counter Sting's argument. His fire made a direct hit, causing the whale to screech in pain and anger, but it didn't take it down just yet.

“Gajeel-san!” Wendy called out, distressed to see another friend frozen. She ran to his side, ignoring Lily’s snickers at Gajeel’s predicament. She cast Raise as soon as she was close enough for it to take effect.

"Shadow Drive!"

Rogue boosted his strength, "Forget your stupid competition, we need to focus on the big one and take it out before it gets Wendy, or we'll all be screwed!"

“I’ll take care of it,” Natsu declared confidently.

“Are you stupid? You’re a fire mage, aren’t you weak against ice?” Rogue scolded.

“In more ways than one,” Gajeel retorted, earning a glare from Natsu and confused looks from the others.

“I’ll be fine,” Natsu explained, “I train against ice all the time, I’ve built up a resistance to it. Just trust me. You guys work on taking the others out.”

“Alright,” Sting agreed, his eyes already fixed on the remaining creatures, “Let’s get this done, everyone call one.”

"Gihi, dibs!" Gajeel ran towards one of the whales, using his iron dragon sword again to slice it up.

"Fire Dragon Sword Horn!"

Sting ignored the sound of Natsu fighting, running towards his target, a whale that was getting ready to attack Wendy.

"Holy Ray!"

Sting watched as his attack hit, creating a massive explosion of bright white light that sent the sand flying around them from its shockwave. He smiled as he felt the sudden warmth that signaled the boosts to his attack and defense capabilities that spell granted, not just to him but also to all his team members.

“Sorry, Happy,” Sting apologized as the Exceed wailed at what remained of the whale, “but it’s time to get serious. Stand back.”

“Thank you, Sting-san,” Wendy called out shyly, having already taken out her whale with her most potent spell, Sky Dragon Wave Wind.

Sting spared a moment to smile at her before moving to Rogue’s side, ready to assist as one of the remaining whales launched itself at him. However, before the attack could land, Rogue had already disappeared into the shadows, popping up behind the whale and finishing it off with his slash attack.

"Was that the last one?" Rogue looked around, eyeing all the whale carcasses and checking for any sign of movement, ready to pounce if necessary.

"Fire Dragon Brilliant Flame!"

The temperature around them rose to almost intolerable levels as Natsu pushed on with his final attack. Even though the whale put in a valiant effort, it was clear that it wasn’t going to last much longer. Still, it managed to pull off one last spell, freezing Natsu just as he landed. The loss of mobility caused Natsu to lose his balance and fall backward, but it wasn’t enough to change the outcome as he'd already released his fireball.

Natsu lay on the sand, staring up at the sky as the others rushed to his side. Wendy prepared to cast her Raise spell but soon noticed her help wouldn’t be needed.

“He put up one hell of a fight,” Natsu remarked cheerfully, his fire already melting the ice that encased him.

“I’m glad that’s over,” Gajeel remarked, looking at the remains of their fight with disgust. The once pristine beach was now littered with fish guts and blood.

“Someone should probably go tell Rebecca we’re done,” Rogue pointed out, and Wendy quickly volunteered with Carla following behind to keep her company.

“Can I eat now?” Happy asked, and it was clear that he was doing his best to wait for approval.

"You want to eat that?" Lector frowned as he looked at the fish remains, "shouldn't we cook it first or something?"

“Why would you want to ruin it?” Happy asked with dismay.

The Exceeds continued to talk in the background, but Rogue tuned them out, his attention drawn to the two reckless morons who stood not ten feet away high-fiving each other seemingly without a care in the world.

“And just what exactly are you two so happy about?” He stomped towards Natsu and Sting, who immediately flashed him their most innocent smiles. "Save it! You just ran off together, without gathering any more information other than our opponents' location, and leaving the rest of us behind!"

"We finished the job together, no harm done," Natsu shrugged, and the complete lack of remorse for his actions only made Rogue more irritated.

"Because we were lucky enough that it was just a pod of land whales we were fighting! What would've happened if you'd run into something unexpected? If it hadn't been a freezing attack, but something more dangerous?"

“But it wasn’t, what’s the use in worrying about something that didn’t happen?” Natsu replied.

“No, he’s right,” Sting joined in, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. “I got excited and forgot everything else, and although it turned out fine in the end, that might not be the case next time.” His moment of reflection ended there, and a big, toothy grin reappeared on his face, “So let’s work hard on our team skills! We’ll do better in the future!” “Team skills? Future?” Rogue gawked at him, “Are you saying you want to do this again?”

“We can talk about this later,” Sting declared, pointing at Wendy and Rebecca’s approaching figures, along with some other guy they hadn’t met when they arrived. “For now, we should start cleaning up some of the mess we made.”

Rogue frowned, clenching his jaws to keep from expressing how much he hated the idea of being forced to watch Sting choose Natsu over him time and time again.

“Goodness, you sure made short work of them,” Rebecca practically beamed at the slayers, “Too bad it ended up being so messy, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped.”

The man had already ventured over to the beach, wielding a large knife he used to check the state of the different corpses.

“That’s Carlton,” Rebecca explained, “he’s one of the resort’s chefs. You are welcome to help yourselves to as much fish as you want after he has selected the ones he wants for tonight’s specials.”

“There should be plenty for everyone,” Rebecca assured Happy, whose ears had drooped at the sight of Carlton claiming his fishies.

More employees arrived, and Rebecca and Carlton divided them into groups, some assigned to clean up, while the others began to lug the land whales back to the hotel’s kitchen. The dragon slayers offered to help, but Rebecca told them just to sit and relax until she could get back to her office for their reward. They soon received the jewels, the lacrima, and as a bonus, they were offered to stay in one of the cabins overnight as part of their reward, which they quickly accepted.

Once Rebecca realized Natsu was a fire mage, she asked him to help her set up a large bonfire for the guests. Sting and Wendy helped him gather some wood from the nearby nature trail, while Gajeel and Rogue sat down on a couple of lounge chairs set under a large thatch parasol just in front of their cabin. They remained quiet for a few minutes before the Iron Dragon Slayer gave a frustrated sigh. “Look, I’m not one to get involved where I don’t belong, but you’ve got the wrong idea about the Salamander.”

“What do you mean?” Rogue took his eyes off Lector and Frosch, who were busy making sculptures out of the sand, and stared at him, confused.

“Fire Dragon Roar!”

The sound of Natsu yelling out his spell startled them momentary, both forgetting Rebecca’s request as each instinctively searched the beach for more land whales.

In typical Natsu fashion, he overdid it, and the flames shot up higher than any sane person would appreciate. Still, his laugh was infectious, and the way Wendy clapped her hands in admiration was adorable, so when Sting ran over to get them both, Gajeel and Rogue followed him, their conversation forgotten.

They moved their portion of the fish to their cabin, and dashed right back out to the beach, not wanting to waste a minute of the remaining daylight. Sting, Natsu, and Rogue spent some time body surfing, while Gajeel and Lily watched over Wendy and the Exceeds.

Hotel guests and tourists alike soon arrived, enticed by Natsu’s fire. They sat in lounge chairs or on bright towels, and the atmosphere became festive as the hotel band began to play on a small stage.

When the evening fell, and most of the other beachgoers had returned to their accommodations, the slayers took advantage of the cabin to wash up and eat. As Rebecca had anticipated, there had been plenty of fish left over, more than they could ever eat, but they put in a good effort. Gajeel sliced up the meat; Rogue seasoned it using some salt and pepper he’d found in the small kitchenette, while Natsu made quick work of the cooking.

"Man, I’m stuffed.” Sting collected their empty plates and tasked himself with washing them, delighted to see Wendy joining him for the drying. “See? We can totally do the teamwork thing,” he smiled at the others over his shoulder, “and we had lots of fun today, right?” “Aside from the part where I became a popsicle, yeah, it wasn’t too bad,” Rogue said after giving it some thought.

Natsu valiantly tried to hold his laughter in, but hearing Gajeel’s gihi worked against him, “Rogue’s face,” he howled, his arms coming up to his stomach as he laughed.

“What’s so damn funny? Both of you got frozen too!” Rogue snapped, still finding it hard to see the humor in the situation.

“Yeah,” Gajeel agreed good-naturedly, “thank god for the Squirt, huh?”

“She was the only one of you to be helpful in any way.”

“So it’s settled then, we’re teaming up,” Sting announced.

“Wait. What?!” Natsu and Gajeel chorused.

“I don’t recall being asked,” Natsu protested loudly, “Besides, I already have a team.”

“Yeah, Glowstick, don’t go around making decisions for us,” Gajeel muttered, “Salamander and the Squirt might like to do the team thing, but Lily and I work alone.”

“I don’t mean a permanent team; I just mean going out on a job together once a week or so, maybe get some training in. You guys can do your regular thing the rest of the time.”

“Well, isn’t that gracious of you,” Gajeel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Look, the fact of the matter is that Acnologia is going to come back sooner or later,” Sting reminded them, “As we are now, we have no chance in hell of beating him.”

He headed off Natsu’s dismissals by pointing out the one thing he couldn’t deny, “You guys can’t even go into Dragon Force at will yet. But maybe if we train hard and learn how to work together, the next time he makes an appearance, we’ll be ready for him. We owe it to our dragons to try our best.”

Sting was surprised by Natsu’s reaction to his words. His fists clenched at his sides, and whether he realized it or not, he’d covered his body in a thin layer of flames. His expression was the most confusing of all - it was utterly devoid of emotion- something Sting couldn’t remember having ever seen before.

“He has a point, Natsu-san,” Wendy hugged herself tightly, “Our magic is the only one that has any chance of taking him out, and we’ll need to get a lot stronger if we’re ever going to beat him.”

Natsu chewed his lip thoughtfully as he gazed at Wendy, “Alright, if Wendy’s in, then I guess I am too. What about you, Bucket Head?”

“Are you allergic to using each other’s names or something?” Rogue rolled his eyes.

“Why? Does it bother you, Mopey?” Gajeel baited before turning to Pantherlily. “Well, what do you think, Lily?”

“Why are you asking your Exceed?” Sting asked, puzzled.

“I’ll have you know Lily’s not just any Exceed; he was a First Division Commander in the Edolas Royal Army. You could stand to learn a thing or two from him,” Gajeel bragged, “More importantly, though, he’s my partner.”

“I think it’s a sound strategy to ally ourselves with the other dragon slayers,” Lily nodded his approval.

“Then, I guess we’re in as well,” Gajeel announced, “but don’t for a minute think this means you’re the boss of me, Euclifffe. You might be a guild master, but on this team, you’re just another dragon slayer.”

“Gajeel-san!” Wendy scolded, horrified by his rudeness.

“It’s okay, he’s right,” Sting waved away the insult, “If we’re going to do this, it has to be as equals. What about you, Rogue, what do you say?” He grinned at his partner, confident he knew the answer.

Natsu got up from his chair as soon as Gajeel answered. “I’m gonna go outside and check on the fire,” he muttered before exiting the cabin.

Rogue peered at Sting, debating his response. “Does it even matter what I say?" he bit back the rest of his words, noticing the tension that hung around them, and not wanting to make it worse, but he did make a point of staring at the door through which Natsu had just left.

"Huh? What do you mean? Of course it does," Sting said perplexed, his gaze ping-ponging between Rogue, the two other slayers, and the cabin door as he tried to figure out why the conversation had taken a turn for the worse.

“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Gajeel explained, “He hasn’t been the same since he came back from his training thing.”

“Oh, crap! I didn’t think when I brought up what happened at Tartaros,” Sting groaned, understanding his mistake, “I didn’t realize he was still upset about it.”

“It’s getting late,” Carla interrupted, recognizing the conversation would probably only become more upsetting, “You should get to bed, Wendy.”

“But-” Wendy’s eyes were fixed on the cabin’s door.

“No buts, Natsu will be fine. He just wants some time alone,” Carla insisted.

“Don’t worry, Squirt, I’ll go check on him in a bit,” Gajeel declared, and that seemed to be enough to reassure Wendy.

“I suppose,” she looked down, smiling fondly when she noticed Happy was fast asleep. “I guess I should get him to bed, goodnight everyone,” she scooped the sleeping Exceed into her arms and followed Carla to her bedroom.

Rogue did the same, picking up Lector and Frosch, who had been snoring alongside Happy and taking them to one of the other rooms. He left without saying another word.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sting asked Gajeel.

“I think there’s only one person who can help him through this, but he’s not here at the moment,” Gajeel replied thoughtfully, “but I’ll give it a shot in his place.”

Sting raised an eyebrow at that, but when Gajeel didn’t expand on who it was, he decided to leave it alone. It wasn’t any of his business anyway.

“Later,” Gajeel said before going off in search of Natsu.

"Later…" Sting put the last of the dishes away and looked around the cabin. Only he and Lily were left, but the exceed was already hopping off his seat, giving him a quick nod before heading off towards the bedroom he would be sharing with Gajeel.

Nothing had gone how Sting had imagined when they'd agreed to stay in the cabin together for the night. He'd expected, or at least hoped that the idea of teaming up would be received with a bit more enthusiasm, that they'd all grow a little closer, but it felt as if the opposite was true. He guessed he'd been too optimistic.

0-0

Lector and Frosch were sleeping peacefully, each tucked in one of the beds that were on opposite ends of the small bedroom. Rogue sat down on his bed next to Frosch, debating whether he should go back to the living room or just sleep. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t looking forward to any more discussions. He smiled fondly when Frosch mumbled something in their sleep, distracted just enough to calm down a little. He’d been internalizing his emotions all day, letting them simmer to the point where he’d been this close to boiling over and saying things he’d only regret later. Maybe he should just sleep it off and face it with some fresh energy again in the morning, save his woes for another day.

Just as he’d made peace with that idea, having already taken off his boots and jacket to store away into the empty closet, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Hey, are you still up?” the whisper of Sting’s voice sounded from behind the bedroom door, and Rogue had to repress an exasperated groan. After feeling bypassed and replaced all day, he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or annoyed that his partner was coming to check on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to ignore Sting either. He never could.

“What is it?” Rogue opened the door, hating the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of his partner, and that stupid, sheepish, disarming smile he flashed him.

“I don’t know, you seemed mad. Can we talk about it?”

“I wasn’t mad,” Rogue stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him and walking over to the kitchenette to pour a glass of water. “I was disappointed.”

“Okay, somehow that feels worse,” Sting frowned, following and observing him closely. “So why were you disappointed?”

“Because-” Rogue stared into his glass, thinking about what he wanted to say, ��because you keep raving about this team stuff, but you seem to have forgotten we are a team. You didn’t even bother to discuss this with me first. I was the last one to give an opinion.”

“And it’s not just that,” he continued before Sting had a chance to respond. ”It’s like you don’t care about what I think at all lately. After the Grand Magic Games, we vowed to rebuild Sabertooth from the ground up- together, but instead, you keep looking to Fairy Tail to improve our guild. I don’t want to be them; I want to be us.”

He cringed internally upon hearing himself saying that last part, even though he knew Sting was way too dense to recognize its hidden meaning.

“I never realized that’s how you felt about it...” Sting said, looking genuinely dismayed. “I do care about what you think, but…I don't know, I just want to do a good job, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I guess I didn't want you to notice."

“You’re still scared to fuck up," Rogue nodded, recognizing that feeling all too well. It was a habit that was hard to break after years of fearing punishment for having failed. "Well, that makes two of us, so can we at least trust in each other for back up again, like we always have?"

"Yeah, of course," Sting was happy to agree, "I'm sorry for forgetting that in the first place."

He caught Rogue completely off guard by pulling him into a hug, almost making him drop the glass. Rogue didn't dare ask where this sudden affection came from, afraid that the words would come out wrong, and it would be the first and the last time.

"So, what do you think about teaming up with the other dragon slayers?" Sting asked, pulling away just as quickly again. "If you're out, then I am as well."

"I-I, uh…" Rogue stammered, still a bit perplexed, "yeah, let's do it."

"Alright, let's go tell the others then," Sting smiled, but then pouted again as he remembered Natsu storming off earlier. "I should apologize to Natsu as well. I should've known better than to bring up our dragons so casually."

Rogue finished his water and placed the empty glass back on the counter. "Yeah, you're downright rude sometimes," he grinned, unable to resist teasing his partner about his lack of tact. “But you heard Gajeel, it’ll be fine.” He offered Sting a reassuring smile before following him outside, feeling less tired already.

0-0

Natsu closed the cabin’s door behind him, taking a few small breaths to try to calm down his racing emotions. Once he felt a little better, he took off his shoes, enjoying the feel of the cool sand against his feet.

He headed towards the remains of the bonfire, the flames he’d conjured earlier had mostly turned to embers, but he built them back up to the size of a regular campfire before sitting down next to it. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he stared off at the waves, attempting to fight off the melancholy that Sting’s words had reawakened.

His training journey hadn’t been anything like he’d expected. His power and stamina had undoubtedly increased, a testament to all the hard work he’d put into his efforts to get stronger so he could defeat anyone who came his way. So that he’d never again be forced to watch as someone he loved was taken away from him. But despite his best attempts at fulfilling his promise to Igneel to look to the future, all he could do was focus on his past failures.

It was more than that though, Igneel had been his future, and now that he’d been taken away from him, Natsu felt lost. He’d hoped that once he saw his friends again, he’d get back to his usual self, or at the very least that Gray or Erza would beat this feeling out of him, but it hadn’t worked out that way.

Instead, Lucy had been angry with him for leaving, while Gray had joined a dark cult. And even though it had turned out to be part of an undercover mission for Erza, Natsu could tell that his friend had changed. Whether it was due to his new magic or the things he’d experienced while being a part of that cult, Natsu had no way of knowing.

Even worse, Gray had moved in with Juvia during his absence, dashing any hopes Natsu had held that the ice mage might return his feelings.

He sighed in discontent, he was trying to be what everyone expected of him, but it was so exhausting, especially when all he wanted was to train and hide out in his house.

“Wendy’s worried about you.”

Natsu turned his head to find Gajeel standing beside him. He’d gotten so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t detected him at all.

“She shouldn’t, I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Gajeel snorted before sitting next to him and gazing out at the ocean. “It’s nice here. I’d never been here before today.”

“Yeah, I’ve always liked this beach,” Natsu replied, ignoring the dragon slayer’s comment.

“So, what do you really think about Sting’s little idea?” Gajeel grabbed a twig and stuck it in the fire, creating a small torch that he waved around lazily in front of him.

Natsu shrugged, “It can’t hurt, right? Besides, if it gives us any kind of edge against Acnologia, we’d be fools to say no. We should probably talk to Sting about including Laxus and Cobra.”

“Won’t that be fun?” Gajeel visibly grimaced at the thought.

Natsu snorted, “How much d’you wanna bet Laxus zaps Sting ten minutes after meeting him?”

“I suppose you’d know better than anyone,” Gajeel pointed out with a shrug.

Natsu grinned in acknowledgment, struggling to keep the smile plastered on his face.

“You don’t have to do that on my account,” Gajeel commented, “Frankly, you don’t have to do that at all.”

Natsu peered at him in confusion, “Do what?”

“Act like nothing’s wrong, you’re not fooling anyone with that shit.”

“I’m -,” Natsu tried to argue that he was fine but found he couldn’t get the words out, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Hell if I know. Yell, cry or, I dunno get up the balls to talk to the one person who understands what you’re going through.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? Cause you got the hots for him?”

“I don’t!” Natsu was quick to deny the accusation, but when Gajeel smirked at him, he couldn’t hold his gaze, and the Iron Dragon Slayer only laughed knowingly.

“There’s no point now,” Natsu admitted, slumping his shoulders in defeat, “he’s already made his choice.”

“Know that for a fact, do you?” Gajeel rolled his eyes at him, “Never figured you for a coward.”

“I’m not a coward!” Natsu snapped, he could feel his anger stirring at the taunt, but it wasn’t enough to overcome his gloom. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Gajeel startled him by being the one to look away, “You’d be surprised.”

Before Natsu had a chance to ask what he meant by that, Gajeel changed the subject, “So, how long have you been lusting after the Ice Prick?”

“It’s not like that!” Natsu protested, offended by the implication that his feelings for Gray would be that shallow.

“Fine, fine, how long have you been moping over your everlasting love and devotion for the Ice Princess?”

“Ugh, why do you have to be such an asshole about it?” Natsu complained, “Probably since Galuna, although I didn’t exactly realize it at first.”

“I’m surprised that you realize it now,” Gajeel snorted before his eyes narrowed and his tone changed to grudging respect, “Wait, Galuna? Wasn’t that the S-Class Mission you took without permission?”

“You went on an S-Class mission without permission?” Sting asked excitedly.

“Tact, Sting,” Rogue sighed. “What he meant to say is, are we interrupting anyt-”

“Yeah, we did! Completed it too!” Natsu grinned proudly, purposefully not mentioning how it would have been impossible without Erza’s help.

“What’s an S-Class mission like?” Sting asked, his eagerness showing in the way he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Sabertooth doesn’t have S-Class?”

“Nah, we’re trying to get something going, but it’s going to take a while. The council has bigger things to worry about right now, ” Sting explained, “So your mission, what was it like?” He plopped down on the sand next to Natsu and Gajeel, Rogue following suit.

“We had to destroy the moon,” Natsu couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease Sting.

Rogue blinked slowly, “Destroy the moon?” He looked up at the night sky, where the moon was still very much present. “Why would anyone want that?”

“The island’s inhabitants were cursed, and they blamed the moon,” Natsu explained, “They thought if we destroyed it, their curse would be broken.”

“I can see you and the Bunny Girl doing something that stupid, but how the hell did you talk the Ice Prick into it?” Gajeel asked with interest.

Natsu laughed nervously, having conveniently forgotten that part, “Uhm, well, you see, Gramps sent him to bring us back. Gray found us when we were trying to convince a boat captain to take us the island. He wouldn’t listen to reason, so I knockedhimout, tiedhimup, and put him in the boat,” he said, knitting the words together, eager to return to the part of the story where he didn’t sound like an asshole.

“You knocked him out and tied him up?!” Gajeel roared, slapping his knee as he laughed, “I can just picture his face when he came to.”

“Well, it would’ve been fine if the boat hadn’t capsized,” Natsu defended himself.

“Boat?” Sting looked green, just thinking about it.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Rogue muttered, horrified by pretty much every word that came out of Natsu’s mouth.

“Anyway, it was pretty complicated; this group was trying to use Moon Drip to help free a Demon of Zeref that was encased in ice underneath this old temple’s ruins.”

Natsu quickly realized that he shouldn’t have started discussing this mission. He didn’t feel like he had the right to tell others about Gray and Lyon’s conflict, especially since Sting and Rogue knew both of them. But now that he’d started, he couldn’t very well just stop, could he?

“We fought them off, but then the leader ordered the village destroyed and all its inhabitants killed. Obviously, we kicked their asses, but it didn’t help with the demon issue. I managed to tilt the temple enough so that the Moon Drip couldn’t reach the demon, but another mage showed up and used this crazy magic to undo it, ” Natsu glared, still annoyed by Ultear’s dirty trick.

“Next thing I know, the demon was released from its seal, and Gray tried to cast a spell he’d learned from his Master, so I stopped him. Good thing too, the demon was already dead.”

“Wait, I don’t get it, why would you stop him?” Sting’s brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what Natsu was leaving out.

“Because, it would have killed him,” Gajeel guessed, flashing him a look of understanding that Natsu immediately disliked. “Am I right?”

“Yeah, it’s a spell that’s powered by the caster’s spirit, it transforms their body into an unmeltable ice prison.”

“There are spells like that?” Rogue marveled, “That’s horrible.”

“Stupid Ice Princess,” Natsu growled, still furious that Gray would even consider such a thing.

“You really care about him a lot, don’t you?” Sting’s smile was warm, “Have you been friends for long?”

“Uhm, I don’t know if I’d call us friends, but we’ve been fighting each other since we were kids,” Natsu rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to explain their weird friendship.

“Anyhow, we won, but it turned out none of that had anything to do with the curse. Erza was the one who finally figured it out,” Natsu admitted. “S-Class quests are hard.”

“Wait, when did Erza get there?”

“Oh, some time while I was working on the temple, I guess,” Natsu shrugged, “She commandeered a pirate ship to take her there. She was sent to take us back to the guild when we didn’t return.”

“That whole thing sounds so cool,” Sting grinned, “I can’t wait to go on a mission like that!”

“I thought it was just you, but your entire team is insane,” Rogue gaped at Natsu, who could only smile sheepishly in reply.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Wendy’s the only sane one in the whole bunch,” Gajeel confided with a playful grin, “The stories I could tell.”

“I bet we’ll have even more fun when we go on jobs,” Sting exclaimed excitedly.

Rogue groaned, “I hope not, I don’t know if I can handle that much, uhm fun.”

“Where should we train?” Natsu asked, getting caught up in Sting’s enthusiasm.

“Knowing you two, as far away from any cities as we can possibly get,” Gajeel teased Sting and Natsu.

Rogue snorted, before adding “I saw on one of the requests I was looking at earlier this morning that there were some tough monsters in Mikage Forest. We could start there?”

“Tough monsters? Count me in!” Natsu bumped fists with an equally excited Sting. Even Gajeel looked enthused by the idea.

“Natsu, does your team have a set schedule?” Sting asked.

“Not really, Erza’s the one who usually picks our jobs,” he admitted, “but I don’t think she’ll mind if we let her know ahead of time.”

“Then, we could get started as soon as next week?” Rogue asked, and when Natsu and Gajeel nodded, he declared, “Great, I’ll put together a list of potions that I’ll expect everyone to bring, just in case.”

The other slayers all groaned, but no one argued the point. “Did you plan on talking to Laxus and Cobra?” Natsu asked, suddenly remembering he’d mentioned them to Gajeel earlier.

“Oh yeah! I didn’t think about those guys,” Sting admitted, “Do you think they’d want to?”

Natsu shrugged, “Won’t know unless you ask.”

“True.”

“Hey, about the dragons,” Sting started, dropping his cheerful act and staring at the sand. “I uh, wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you. Sometimes I forget it was different for you guys,” he explained, looking remorseful.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m still having a hard time accepting that he’s gone,” Natsu admitted, “but it’s getting better.” Sting lay back on the sand, staring at the stars with interest. “Do you think we did this when we were little?”

“Did what?”

“You know, hang out. I mean, I don’t remember much, but it sounds like our dragons knew each other.” Sting pointed out.

Natsu couldn’t help but notice that Sting sounded wistful, “I don’t know. I don’t remember much either, but I guess it’s possible. You guys would have been younger than us then,” he smiled, thinking of what that might have been like.

“For the longest time, I thought I was the only one,” Natsu recalled, “until I met Gajeel and then Wendy.” “I thought the same before I met Sting. It’s nice to have someone who understands, and I know we all disagree on a lot of things, but I’m glad we met each other.” Rogue smiled, looking genuinely content for the first time that day.

“I suppose I can put up with the lot of you, now and again,” Gajeel muttered.

“I think this team thing is gonna be fun,” Natsu proclaimed, finding himself looking forward to embarking on a new adventure.

They’d keep getting stronger, and when the time was right, Acnologia wouldn’t know what hit him.

@ftguildevents

#fairy tail #gratsu #stingue #ft game au #dragon slayers #fanfiction #inspired by the fairy tail game #fics #new AU #slayersweek2020 #prompt: adventure

50 notes · View notes

oofchris · 4 years ago

Photo

⌠ MADISON BAILEY, 19, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CHRISTINA ' CHRIS ' ANDERSON! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MACGYVER SURVIVAL SKILLS & NAVIGATION + PROTECTION & ENFORCEMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( speckles of dried paint on fingers, cruising round on a longboard, joints tucked behind ears wrapped in colourful papers ). when it’s the ( sagittarius )’s birthday on 12/27/2001, they always request their PHO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ mochi, 24, she/her, gmt ⍀

@gallagherintro

hi uwu, here is a new baby who is not very baby but still a lil baby

. . . it got quite long so tldr; she’s a stubborn art hoe from california who’s dad died so she’s come to gallagher bc her mom is a professor in the p+e major <3

parallels

wyldstyle — the lego movie: 85%

mulan — mulan: 84%

nymphadora tonks — harry potter: 83%

princess fiona — shrek: 83%

robin buckley — stranger things: 82%

here is a full list

HISTORY

potential triggers — car accident, parental death, divorce

so she’s grown up on on the west coast p much ??? her whole life. her mom worked as a bodyguard for sum famous peeps, dad was doctor but occasionally also a medic in the field — they didn’t always see eye to eye and divorced when chris was around nine. it was mostly to do with chris’ future like whether she’d go to spy prep school and follow in their footsteps and her dad didn’t want that for her so they disagreed, and she lived with him instead, living a more or less normal life. her mom then moved away when the opportunity to become a professor at gallagher presented itself, so they’ve really not been close at all since then

lived fairly comfortably, either way her dad had money and her mom sent support too. her father definitely earns less from no longer being in the spy world but he vowed to leave that behind when he divorced his wife and other than a few people from his past popping up unannounced, he kept that vow. they moved around a couple times in order to keep chris safe, and especially when someone did find them ( even if it was friendly ) but mostly grew up in california, and a lot of it is to do with the fact chris loves it there so much

but chris knows about the spy world, what her mom does and the type of school she works at, but it never interested her enough to try and reach out or fight her dad on it as she enjoyed her life

she remembers her mom as someone stubborn, argumentative, volatile which is the opposite of her dad who was patient, loving and endearing — so it’s a no brainer for her, she loves her dad a lot and he gave up a lot for her while her mom gave chris up for that world, her job, etc aka nada

BUT her dad died in a car accident recently that she was also in but was only a bit beaten up at most ( has some cuts / new scars, learn more below ) leaving her mother to swiftly pick her up and enrol her into gallagher, more to keep an eye on her than anything.

her mom chose her majors and some of her classes for her, which chris is mad about, but mainly bc looking at what ones were offered she’d def pick macgyver anyway, and her mom argued p+e was a step into the physical and combat side of thing without being too heavy on it ( tho it’s the major she teaches so she’s biased and chris just thinks she wants to be closer ) but tbh ? chris just doesn’t want her mom to be right whatsoever or have the satisfaction of thinking she knows her daughter in anyway at all but she knows if she went undecided she’d probably pick those up again in her second year so she’s just ‘ going with it ‘ begrudgingly as if she has no choice

PERSONALITY

extremely stubborn, which she gets from her mom, would rather ruin her life than go back on something or admit she was wrong, if she apologises for something she'll find a way to do it where she's not actually ever saying the words ' im sorry ' or ' i was wrong ' and would rather start another argument than do that — but obviously she loves other people apologising to her

she is generally nice ??? i just think she can be irritated easy ?????? like a bit of a hot head tho she'd argue she's chill, she is mostly chill but likes to debate, be right, and can be very my way or the high way at times — i’ll figure her out more as i play her bc i can’t tell if she’s mean or not but i don’t think so, just a bit tougher than she needs to be

in my head she’s like a seb/luc hybrid so . . . take that as you will

doesn’t dislike gallagher ( mostly ) but thinks all the legacies — even tho she technically is one, she doesn’t identify as one — are entitled spoiled brats and should get their heads out of their ass, doesn't like that being a legacy is even a thing though a lot of it definitely comes from her bitter resentment towards her mom and how she'd have rather leave her and her dad than leave the spy life hbsjhbsjhb also i think bc of her mom she has level 5 clearance which . . . she’s not complaining about but definitely complaining that clearance levels are even a thing, she’s gonna contradict herself a lot, i feel it

MISC

i THINK she’s only arrived, like, at the start of spring semester tbh, she wasn’t here for fall so she is new new

halfway through her first year at stanford studying art alongside film and media as a minor before her mom brought her to gallagher — which she's kind of not happy about like she understands her dad didn't want it for her, she also wanted to just stay in california but the only family she has now is on her mom's side.

she's still enrolled at stanford, though dropped her minor, and is studying online for her major as she's made it clear to her mom she doesn't want to be a spy so she pulled a few strings with the stanford admission board to allow her studying to continue ( idek if this is allowed i'm just pretending her mom is powerful enough to do it ) — it was a big reason chris agreed to come to gallagher, not that she had much of a choice, bc she wants her ‘ normal ‘ life and her ‘ normal ‘ degree regardless of being at a spy school

only her mom calls her christina and she actually hates it so pls dont unless you are trying to get on her bad side — also she probs avoids her mom like the plague so don’t bring that up either

often covered in little cuts and bruises from her skating but she’s got two fresh / soon to be scars on the left side of her face on the top of her cheek bone and on her jaw from a shards of glass when she was in the car accident — she is the type to pick her scabs until they bleed again, too, so i picture her with loads of little scars especially on her hands, elbows and knees

she did learn self defense from her dad growing up and she has studied jiujitsu and akido since she was around thirteen, she also boxes but it's more casual like for stress and stuff rather than something she takes overly seriously

she likes surfing, diving, enjoys the kind of world that exists underwater where it's just peaceful and calm so she will be around the lake a lot / at the pool if you need to find her

she’s 5’3 and never wears heels

pansexual and while it might change i wanna say she's not overly sexual, like wouldn't have hookups for no reason ?? but potentially some one night stands or drunken mistakes or whatever. doesn't look down on sluts but i think she doesn't have the most confidence in that area, or in self esteem in general, so she'll ??? only really have a frequent thing if she feels Hella comfortable

the type to have crushes tho, but not act on them at all bc again self esteem issues

bit of a tomboy, skater, stoner — though she wouldn't identify as one — really loves movies and can be a proper filmophile, probably has more film soundtracks on her spotify unwrapped than she does actual artists and don't get her started on Women— in film bc she won't stop

very active, sporty, probs trying to parkour around campus

enjoys painting, sketching, simply creating things — often is filming, riding a longboard, working on some kind of little project she'll take too seriously but won't show people until it's perfect

is a little pretentious at times ??? doesn't necessarily mean to be but if it's a debate on a topic she's passionate about ( such as art, film, etc ) then she will try to ensure you know just how knowledgeable she is on it, she's not afraid to flex but she wouldn't outwardly flex for no reason if that makes sense

she also . . . feels p dumb at gallagher tbh, a lot of her strengths lie in her creativity and art and now she’s very ??? wtf am i doing ?? but she will continue to act like she knows !

can speak english, french, german and spanish all pretty fluently, italian well enough to get by, knows a bit of japanese bc she’s . . . a weeb sometimes but also bc of her martial arts

CONNECTIONS

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( SPY ) — so this would more than likely be before her parents divorce, but she’s not against keeping in contact a little if she liked you, it could have also been a family who reached out to her dad afterwards because while he’d move away / hide his location promptly after, he would still help them if they needed it ( 1 / ? )

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( NON SPY ) — same thing, but would have probably been after the divorce, just normal families that her and her dad knew, neighbours, work colleagues, school friends, would more than likely have also needed to be west coast sorta area but if your muse was there briefly, they could have kept in contact once they’d left ( 0 / ? )

LEGACIES — she potentially . . . won’t like you if you’re a legacy and you are egotistical / assholey even a tiny bit, bc that basically proves her argument that they’re ALL like that jshbjsbjs but i wud like her to have legacies that she . . . hates that she likes as well, i think she’ll realise p quickly most are fine lmao

ART HOES — whether they’re into painting as well and they do it together or they let her paint them !

SMOKE / SKATE BUDS — one or the other, both, whatever !!

A HOOK UP THAT’S EITHER ALREADY HAPPENED OR GOING TO — in my head she’s a bit ??? w sex tbh so maybe plot this out a bit more but can be a ?? positive relationship or a negative one idm

CRUSHES !!!!!!!!! — she’s not even been at the school long but im certain she probs has some already

i’m not good w wanted connections so pls just hmu if u have ideas and as usual like dis for plots / jus message me, i’ll be on discord !! if you don’t have/use discord just message me first on tumblr bc otherwise i wont realise jhbsjhbjhbsj

#GOD ITS SO LONG #gallagher:intro

9 notes · View notes

onf-headcanons · 4 years ago

Text

ONF IN PSYCHO PASS AU (PART 3)

Setting : angst, murder (influenced mass murder), futuristic society, you can read the introduction post prior reading this AU headcanon (for a better understanding cos some keywords will be slightly difficult for non anime audiences)

And warning long post and shipping hinting (I wont write it over explicit but if you are anime audience you can get the hint of which character I based so its suggestive should you integrated anime counterpart to ONF couterpart) if you are uncomfortable with that just kindly ignore it. Only adding it not just because to follow original series but also for the AU/headcanon storyline conflict purposes

Below is the known situation when the story starts in Yuto's POV

Yuto - Inspector

Changyoon - Inspector

Hyojin - Enforcer former Inspector

Jaeyoung - Enforcer

Minkyun - Analyst

Seungjun & Minseok - dead

And again sorry if its messy (Cos mainly I just want this AU to exist and making it to a birthday gift for myself XD)

The whole structure is followed the anime,but I will skip filler/solo case episodes and fast paced-ify to focus on main storyline. Also I will tweak my words/wordings to a more simpler format so that I wont cause you all headache.

1-6

(loosely based on episode 9)

Due to recent events, Hyojin felt that Yuto need to get an upgrade on his skills of being an Inspector. He has good hunch but he still needs a proper profiling skills. Yuto mentioned that he did get to learn profiling skills on his training but both his seniors felt it is not enough because of his inexperience.

Even though a bit apologetic, Changyoon agrees with Hyojin that Yuto need to catch up to obtain veteran skills as soon as possible. (He only joined 8 months ago) . They both have the same person in mind who could help.

It is off day for Yuto, so Hyojin arranged them two to go visit a former professor of training academy.

The former professor is nice enough to agree on giving Yuto a crash course in profiling and extra tips for observant skills. Back in office, Changyoon advises Yuto that he better be careful and Yuto has to keep his own stance when approaching with people like their professor.

"One must have their own clarity so that their hue does not get clouded by others easily." Changyoon says to Yuto with a stern look. Yuto understands Changyoon's points.

And since they got their young culprit for previous case, CID tries to interrogate her. Changyoon and Jaeyoung tried to talk with the young girl during Hyojin and Yuto's absence but fruitless.

But when Yuto goes into the room to give it a try, the girl starts to open her mouth but not confessing or revealing details. Instead she made a request while looking at the one way mirror behind Yuto.

"That man with red hair, he is your dog isn't it?" the girl's choice of word made Yuto uncomfortable. "I will only speak to him alone if you allow me to, no cameras, no writings and no one behind the mirror."

That request was bizarre, the whole CID understands the risk of doing that as well. Jaeyoung also offers to step up and increase the interrogation with a bit of violence, but being rejected by Yuto. "She has kept quiet for that long and you think suddenly change interrogation tactic after request was made will let her mouth loose? I don't think so." Yuto tries to convinceJaeyoung.

Minkyun is worried, not about Hyojin's interrogation skills, but should there is something deeper, he is worried that Hyojin might get caught up into it. The only thing that can save CID and Hyojin from trouble was digital record of what happen in the room, be it video or audio.

Hyojin only pats Minkyun's shoulder and gives him a reassuring smile. And then gives Changyoon and Yuto both a nod before heading out the monitor room.

"Don't get clouded and played by the criminal, Hyojin." Changyoon blurts out his concern before Hyojin's presence exits entirely from the space the team was in.

Hyojin unplugs the surveillance camera and to let the young criminal feels assured, Hyojin brought in a few piece of papers and tape to tape up the one way mirror so that those who are behind it could not see what is happening inside.

Outside/behind the one way mirror, Changyoon is letting out sighs of regret of letting Hyojin going in alone and without any record to be left. Is not that he does not trust him, but since the system views Hyojin as delusional, how much of Hyojin they can trust without going against the system? He is worried to the extent he is rubbing his stomach due to gastric. Yuto notices that but Changyoon brushes him off and endure it alone.

Meanwhile Jaeyoung and Minkyun agreed that tech department should come up with a mini audio recorder that wont gain suspicions

Back in the interrogation room, Hyojin finally sits in front of the girl who is smiling eerily towards him. Hyojin did not back off, but he is not with his bright persona and his tone is cold as he speaks, "So, I heard you wish to talk to me? "

The girl leans forward, still smiling while contemplating at Hyojin's face. "Yes, I have been dying to see you in person." she whispers. "If I remembers precisely, Hyojin? Am I right?"

Hyojin's hunch starts to alert him, he does not like this. He clearly understood immediately that the girl is trying to get on the upper hand for the interaction. But he persuaded himself that his name might have been leaked during the process of catching their culprit, could be his colleague or Changyoon calling him and the girl heard it, happens occasionally.

But he quickly adjusted his mentality. He raises an eyebrow and leans closer towards the girl, "So you go through all the length just to get caught and meet me? I don't think I have that kind of charisma though..."

The girl lifts her hand and rest a side of her cheek on her knuckles/back of her hand, her eyes were still locked with Hyojin's. " You underestimated yourself, mister." she hisses. "And no, I let myself got caught because I still wanted to live."

Hyojin is not a fool and by that phrase, he can tell there is someone behind the young criminal from her words. And this smart minor, is trying to seek refuge from CID/Bureau. What kind of existence behind her, so frightening that even a murderer with a grotesque MO felt intimidated? Or was it because she is still a kid?

"Now that is rude," the girl breaks of the silence, "To go off into your own train of thoughts while ignoring a young lady in front of you."

Hyojin knew he is busted but he still kept his cool and poker face. He was an Inspector/detective before though. "My bad." Hyojin apologies while mirroring her posture and smiles at her fondly. "So why do you even wanted to see me anyways? "

"That's because I heard a lot about you. To the extent that my ears are going to bleed." she replies. "It was boring listening to it, while I do hope he talk about himself more."

Hyojin raises a corner of his lip and mutters. "Are you sure it's fine for you to drop hints like that?"

The girl only laughs and pushes her upper body backwards, her back comes contact to the back rest of the chair she is sitting. "That is to make sure you are paying attention."

"So how is he like?" Hyojin asks with a interested expression.

The young girl's smiles broaden as she thinks of the said person. "Brilliant. smart and handsome. " Her smile vanishes as she continues, "But my instincts tells me that you definitely wouldn't want to get to his bad side."

"Is he your partner in crime? " Hyojin asks and the girl shakes her head.

"More like a consultant or a middle person. "

"How did you come in contact with such dangerous existence?" Hyojin tries to sound as concerned as possible. "Is it group?"

The girl shakes her head again and starts to tell her story how she met her consultant for crime at school. He approached her during her own free time drawing in the art classroom. (This part you can follow anime where Makishima interacts with the young girl)

"Why are you betraying him now?" Hyojin asks after he listened.

"I put all the pieces together and I figured out that, you, could be his weakness." She smiles at Hyojin again. "Its a woman's instinct and I am pretty accurate for most of the times." She winks at Hyojin while at it.

"How so? Was it something he said about me?" Hyojin tries to sound that he is intrigued.

"The context since its vague. For most of the times, he goes Hyojin once said blah blah blah... or Hyojin once did blah blah.." the girl mentions " But I can tell that he cares about you a whole lot."

"He tried to tell me some stories in one go everytime he monitors me doing my work but I could not focus to all of it because I was busy cutting up my artwork, I only remembered how he laughed when he said you are a red-hair maniac." the girl recalls. "And that is how I recognized you."

"Did he showed you a picture of me?" Hyojin chuckles

"No, " she retorts, "He said you will never lost your love towards dying your hair red. Never once he met someone in his whole life has such obsession with dying their hair red. Should the two of meet again, he is confident to recognise you instantly."

Hyojin could not help feeling confused, his circle was not large and once he has turned into Enforcer, his ties were all cut and he is living in seclusion/under confinement by the system. So who is this someone who seems to know about him in a personal level?

Noticed that Hyojin is perplexed, the girl suddenly laughs.

"Oh dear, could it be you don't even know who he is???" She laughs while hitting the table lightly with her fist. "Oh my, what drama is this!"

"Looks like you got a fan, mister! An obsessed one." She exclaims while giggling at her thoughts. "Awwww....I feel very much sorry for him now. I was being slightly jealous but now...hahahahah"

This does not make any sense to Hyojin at all. There are so many criminals out there but this criminal mastermind admires a plain Enforcer like him with 0 notable committed crime, to the extent of executing a psycho hazard?

Hyojin decided to drop the act and asks the girl in a straight face who the hell is the person who told the girl about himself

The girl still finds the whole situation amusing , nearly laugh her heart out. She catches her breath while Hyojin patiently waits for his answer.

"I will tell you his name, he calls himself J-US." She wipes the tears rolling from her eyes due to laughing too much. "Does it ring any bell?" the girl questions Hyojin.

No it doesn't. But Hyojin regains his cool.

"I met a lot of people in my life, it will take some time eventually." Hyojin shrugs his shoulder.

"You'd better," the girl inhales before she tells Hyojin. "Poor him if you never remembers."

The girl then ends the topic by telling Hyojin that she will cooperate about her MO/crime. But what she told Hyojin in that room, is only for him exclusively.

"I don't think anyone will believe you if you told them that you got a fan." The girl's smile is back to the eerie vibe just like the moment when Hyojin comes into the room.

Hyojin leaves the room, closes the door and frowns as he goes into his train of thoughts again...

Who is this J-US?

Is the girl even telling the truth?? They never talked about the possibility of a mastermind in front of her so why did she and why can she see through CID's concern, found a perfect timing to prove the existence of a criminal mastermind?

And why she deliberately shared about this J-US to Hyojin only and purposely does not want it to be recorded?

Did she and the criminal mastermind behind wanted CID to break and having distrust amongst themselves? (If so its a smart move considering Changyoon's attitude towards Hyojin)

And should Hyojin told Changyoon about this J-US, will Changyon believe in him? Hyojin's hunch told him no.

And the most important point of all,

DOES THIS J-US ACTUALLY HAVE ANY THING TO DO WITH THE TERROR ATTACK FROM 2 YEARS AGO??

To be continued at part 4

#onf #onf headcanons #onf imagines #onf scenarios #onf headcanon #psycho pass au #scheduled

2 notes · View notes

lokisgame · 5 years ago

Text

A Generous Donation [2]

[part 1]

A/N angst ahead

"Why are you still up?" Scully asked hanging her coat in the closet. Will's feet dangled from the armrest of the couch, game on tv played on mute. "Extra reading from professor Mulder, due tomorrow." "Oh, you won’t have class with Mulder tomorrow." "What?" Will looked at her over the edge of the book. "You broke my professor?" "I did not break him," she said, feigning outrage, "cold did, I only refereed." "Seriously, you have to stop messing with my college education." "It was dinner, nothing more." She smiled and stopped on her way to the kitchen, to lean over him and kiss his forehead. Will coughed. “You still have that cough?" “I'm fine," he sighed, catching his breath, "it’ll pass eventually.” “It's making me worried," she said softly, perching herself on the edge of the couch, "come to the clinic tomorrow, we’ll draw some blood, do an x-ray.” “Fun but I can’t, I’ve got school.” “You have an hour to spare,” she said, brushing fingers through his chestnut mane, “humour your mother.” “Fine, whatever.” He said and picked up his book. She left him reading and went to fix herself a cup of tea.

Mulder sipped coffee from a paper cup on his way to work. It's been a while since he talked to Scully and he was starting to feel the pull again, to pick up the phone and call and take her out to dinner. He didn't think he could be friends with a woman and it surprised him, how simple it was. Watching his friends and colleagues being dragged through courts by the very women they claimed to love forever, he never once felt the need to put himself through that. He had his job, his students, an odd girlfriend twice a year, he was content with his daily run, weekly basketball game at the Y, and semi-regular poker nights with the Gunmen. It was a happy life. But! If he could add some regular time with the good doctor he wouldn't mind. She was sharp and gorgeous and fun, and he didn't mind she had a kid, at all. He liked Will, so much that his absence from class was starting to worry him a little.

The coffee grew cold as he wrapped his last lecture that week. Will's empty spot like a gaping hole in the lecture hall, filling him with irrational sense of dread. He dismissed the class and as the students filed out, he caught Will's name in one of the conversations. "We should go see him," said a cute blonde, Kimberly something. "At the hospital?" Her friend said, taken aback. "Well, yeah." "Kimberly?" Mulder called, before she stepped out. "Yes, professor?" She said, batting her eyelashes at him, as usual. "Do you know why Will isn't coming to classes anymore?" "Oh, I was just talking about that," she said, her smile fading, "he got sick, apparently it's bad." "How bad?" Mulder's blood went cold. "I'm not sure, but I heard some talk about organising a blood drive so," she sighed, hugging her binder tight. "I'm sure he's going to be fine," Mulder said, trying to keep his tone warm, despite his instincts screaming at him that something was very wrong, "let me know, if you need any help with the blood drive." "We will, thanks." She forced a smile and followed after her friend. No wonder Scully didn't call in weeks, though it wasn't as if they agreed to anything, except keeping things casual. 'Well, screw casual," he thought, finding his way through the crowd and out to the parking lot. He had an appointment at the Boston General.

She didn't pick up her phone, which could only mean she was working. Boston lunch time traffic was a murder, but the drive felt too short anyway, his emotions still reeling when he entered the main clinic. A young nurse at the registration caught the worst of it. "Sir, I need you to calm down." She said for the third time. "You don't understand," he said, trying to force the panic back down, "I need to see doctor Scully, now." "Do you have an appointment?" "No, but," her kid is sick and I need to do something, he though then paused. Who was he to assume, he just wanted to know what was going on. "Just, tell me where I can find her." "Neurology ward, but," the girl began but he didn't listen. One glance at the directory on the wall and he was heading for the elevator.

He knocked on her office door, heard her call out and pushed the door. "Hi," he said sheepishly, doubts finally catching up to him. "Mulder," Scully said, rounding the desk, "is everything okay?" She reached out for him and he knew she did it unconsciously, guiding him to the couch and making him sit. For once he didn't find the lack of space funny. "Me? Are you?" He said folding her hands in his, "I heard about Will, how bad is it." "Oh God." She choked and he noticed her sunken face, worry lines on her forehead, dark bruises under her eyes. She looked like she would ever smile again and he pulled her into his arms. "It's okay," he said, gently stroking her back. "No, it's not, it's bad, he will need a bone marrow transplant." She shuddered on the last words. "There are donor banks," he soothed, holding her tighter, realising the chances, "tell me everything." "It was just a cough," she said, against his shoulder, "but then his blood work came back and his cell counts were abysmal. It all went down hill after that." "He's a strong kid," he tried, but really, what did he know, "he'll get through this." She crumbled in silence, melting into his arms, and he didn't know what else to do but hold her up. "It’s all mu fault," she whispered after a while, "God is punishing my pride." "What?" "I thought I could do it all by myself." "You did good," Mulder whispered, rocking her lightly. "And now I will loose him." “You won’t,” he said, a little more forcefully, drawing her closer, “and you're not alone, it’s gonna be fine.” "Mulder," she sighed. "Never give up on a miracle." He said, before reason sent her under again. He held her for long minutes, breathing her shampoo and hospital disinfectant. He knew he had no power to make this right, they had dinner a few times and the kid was his student, but something in his heart broke and he couldn't sit idly and watch them suffer. "Test me," he said once her silent tears dried out. "I can’t," Scully said, looking up, "I can't ask you for that." "And you can ask strangers?" He raised one eyebrow at her, and she softened a little. "We have the same blood type." "How do you know that?" "It came up in a discussion once," he shrugged, "I'm a universal donor, 0 negative, so test me." "There's more things to consider. The probability of finding a match," "Is zero if you don't try," he cut her off and she frowned, "c'mon, I'm sure you have that sterile swab thing here somewhere." "I do," she said. "Go get it then." She pulled away and got up, and he instantly felt better. Not because she was gone, but because he was finally doing something to help them. Scully rummaged through things in the glass cabinet and came back a minute later, plastic tune and a syringe in hand. "Blood will be better," she said. "You're the doctor," he said, and shrugged out of his jacket. Scully rolled up his sleeve and tightened the tourniquet above the elbow. She prodded around the crook of his arm for a few seconds and looked up. "Are you sure you want to do this? I won't hold it against you if not." "Do your worst." He said, confident as ever and she snapped on a pair of latex gloves, broke the seal on the needle and drew blood. He didn't flinch. She was that good. "There," Scully said a minute later, pressing a piece of gauze to the crook of his elbow, not letting go. "I know it's not the time to make vampire jokes," he said, "but there's definitely one in here somewhere." Corners of her lips went up for the first time since he walked in. "You should talk to Will about that," Scully said and the smile vanished again, taking last of Mulder's humour with it. She could stop his arm from bleeding, but not his heart, not with her hands at least, so he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, gentle but solid, making his heart skip a beat, because she kissed back. "You won’t loose your kid," he said, leaning his forehead against hers, her breath on his lips warm and sweet. "I can't." She said and cupped his cheek, brushing one more kiss on his lower lip.

#generous donation #msr mini fic #x files fanfic #sweet nothings #angst

96 notes · View notes

maia · 4 years ago

Text

A Complete History of My Salary & Wages

A few months ago, I listened to a podcast interview of Ashley C Ford where she laid out the details on how much money she makes, and from which sources. I’ve thought about it a couple times since then and found it very grounding and reassuring whenever I did, even though I am not on the same career path as Ford, and I had never heard of her before the interview. (I have since started following her on twitter though and highly recommend it).

If you follow me on twitter, you know I am brutally honest on all kind of intimate topics. It’s because I believe in the strength behind transparency and the impact it can create. Transparency is particularly powerful with salaries and compensation, and that is why we had transparent salaries at Pinch. Well, that’s my motivational vibe.

So I am posting my complete salary history here in the hopes that it is interesting or helpful to other people.

2007: ~$25,000 in wages

Spock hired me as a summer marketing intern: $2,500/month salary (with potential for a $1,500 bonus at end of summer).

I was 18 when I started at Spock and had my 19th birthday there. I adored working for Spock — it taught me that being excited about the internet could be a career. And my boss Jay was the first person who really believed in me, and was willing to give me enough rope to hang myself. He told me not to tell people I was 18 because they would underestimate me, that I should tell them I was 27. I told most people I was 27 until I actually was. At the end of the summer I decided to take time off from college and continue working for Spock. They brought me on full-time, at a $75k salary.

I had spent the summer living in Redwood City (where Spock’s office is) and renting a room for $800. After the summer I moved to San Francisco and sublet at different places, paying between $600 for a room and $1000 for a studio apartment.

2008: $28,307 in wages

Most of my friends left Spock, so it seemed like the right thing to do. I emailed SeeqPod because I thought they had the coolest product in all of tech at the time — a web app that streamed music from the internet on the iPhone! (this was before there were 3rd party apps on the iPhone). I told them I was really excited about what they were building and would love to contribute however possible and would come on as an unpaid intern. They interviewed me and I did a take-home project: writing a Product Requirements Document for a Hi5 App (Hi5 was the third largest social network after Myspace and Facebook at the time). SeeqPod hired me as a product manager, I think with a $60k salary. My boss Mike was the second person (in an infinite stream) to believe in me and take a big chance on me.

I didn’t have an iPhone, just a flip phone, but I was so excited about the idea of posting photos on the internet from a mobile phone that I set up a tumblr called https://www.maiaeats.com/ that would post new entries every time I texted it a photo or text. I recorded everything I ate in this way.

I went back to college for my sophomore year in the fall. When I left, the CEO of SeeqPod said “Maia, you are the most diplomatic person I’ve ever had work for me. I watch you in meetings help people take their foot out of their mouths and start espousing your idea as if it was their own”. SeeqPod said they would keep my equity vesting over the school year, and we planned for me to transfer to Berkeley the next year as a college junior, to keep working for them. SeeqPod got sued out of existence though, so I stayed on at Olin.

2009: ~$10k in wages

In summer 2009, one of my former colleagues had been impressed with my work at Spock and wanted me to run marketing at his startup, Archivd. I did, but unfortunately his company went under about a month after I started when his cofounder couldn’t get a work visa.

For the rest of the summer, I picked up a half-time job running social media at a startup called NationalBLS in San Francisco. I got another half-time job doing front-end web development for Sprowtt, in Palo Alto (like Kickstarter + AngelList). I lived in a basement in Oakland and had a terrible commute.

That fall, I lived in Cambridge and got a part-time internship at HubSpot while in college. It was magical to live in Cambridge and work for HubSpot… the best time I had during college. I think they offered me $14/hour and I surprised them by negotiating to $15/hour.

2010: $1,800 in wages

I worked full-time for Hubspot ($15/hour) for the month of January before I went to study abroad in Copenhagen for Spring semester. I stayed in Europe that summer and did not work the rest of the year.

2011: $0 in wages

I graduated college in May 2011, sort of… having spent the spring busy trying to convalesce from a horrible car accident in January 2011, I was behind on my school work and so I walked on stage at the ceremony in May but technically hadn’t graduated yet. My generous professors let me make up the work in summer/fall, and I got my diploma at the end of the Fall 2011 semester.

I sold stock I had bought during college with my income from my year off to pay for my life this year.

2012: $61,988 in wages

Desperate for a job, my friend Richa helped me find a role at the consultancy she worked for in January 2012, where I wrote XSL-T (it’s like CSS, for XML documents). I made $60k salary (less than I had made when I was 19), but I was grateful for the opportunity (and for the health insurance!). They originally offered me $55k, and I negotiated up a smidge.

At the end of the summer, I met Meg who was starting a new company, Rocksbox. She hired me as her first employee, a UX designer. I think Meg asked me “What do people like you make?” and I said “Something like $75k,” and she said “Ok, that seems fine.” My salary was $72k.

2013: $22,416 in wages

Meg invited me to join on as cofounder & CTO of Rocksbox. As a cofounder, I took no salary for much of the year.

I lived in a two bedroom apartment with several other people — my friend Katie and I technically shared a bedroom together with one queen bed and both spent most nights at our respective boyfriend’s apartments. The household hosted people from Airbnb in our dining room and I made an additional $5k on top of my $22k salary to put towards my rent.

I remember being exhausted, flipping Airbnb rooms. My boyfriend asked “This seems really terrible, why do you do it?” I said “…. for the money, obviously.” He said “Oh but you don’t need the money,” and I sat there quietly, thinking, what does it mean for one to need the money?

2014: $66,323 in wages

Meg raised $1.5M for Rocksbox, and I was able to take a higher salary — I think back to $72k!

We still hosted Airbnbs in our dining room from which I made an extra $3,300.

My lawsuit against the guy who hit me with his truck settled for $100k. My lawyer took 1/3 and transferred me $66,000: the most humiliating, exhausting, painful, least worth it money I have ever “earned” in my entire life.

2015: $84,725 in wages

I was making more from Rocksbox — my salary increased from ~$72k at the beginning of 2015 to about ~$150k towards the end of the year.

My roommates and I moved to a big fancy house with a separate bedroom where we could host people on Airbnb. Technically my rent was $2,400/month but with the Airbnb it usually netted out to $1,400. I made $2,400 from Airbnb this year.

2016: $67,769 in wages

I left Rocksbox (and my $150k annual salary) to start Pinch, where we paid ourselves $50k. Rocksbox bought back my unvested equity for $780.

This year, with the separate bedroom on Airbnb, I made another $9,220. In September my roommate and I moved to a different apartment and stopped hosting on Airbnb. My rent was $1,500.

2017: $58,686 in wages

Towards the end of 2017, our $50k salary at Pinch was really starting to hurt. We raised a bit more and upped our salaries to $100k. The money from my car accident dwindled. I moved to my own apartment for the first time, and my rent was $2,000/month.

2018: $121,277 in wages

In summer 2018, we sold Pinch to Chime. My job offer at Chime was for $175k.

Some of our offers for Pinch came with a signing bonus. I wanted to evaluate offers based on the people and the culture, so I told myself I would act as though I had received a signing bonus even if I technically hadn’t. When we joined Chime (no signing bonus), I bought myself a scooter online. It never arrived, and I eventually did a chargeback on my credit card.

2019: $195,834 in wages

My salary at Chime was increased to $200k early in 2019 as a market adjustment, where it remains today. In October 2019 I moved out of my $2,000/month apartment to couch-surf with plans to eventually move to New York.

Conclusion

I was really excited about the idea of writing this post and bringing transparency. The process of writing it out and reliving it all though… it feels bad. I think of myself as a happy person, but when I read this now, I feel for my younger self. I worked and scrambled and stressed out about everything.

I’ve tweeted before that my biggest regret of my 20’s is that I didn’t spend more money. It wasn’t received well by the financial responsibility crowd on twitter, but my guess is that they’ve had a different (and more stable) career history than I have. I do regret that I saved any money in my 20's — I should have spent it all, spent freely on frivolous creature comforts, used money to make my life easier whenever possible and worried less about the future. But of course, hindsight is 20/20.

3 notes · View notes

fuck-customers · 5 years ago

Text

Oy. A very long one.

I've been working in the same place for the past 4 and a half years.

Started out as cashier, went on to become shift manager. I've had my ups and downs during the years, but I mostly stay there because I know the job, I got a small raise recently (which more than anything shows how the managers appreciate my work) and I like and respect my managers.

But a bunch of new people started working there in the past several months - several who work in the online orders dept. - it's part of the general dept. which I'm part of. They're supposed to take care of online orders and when they're done with their orders for the day - help us stock shelves and organize the storage area, mostly.

Another woman who started working there a few months ago started in the cosmetics dept., then they made her also a cashier and they mainly "use" her in whichever dept. needs an employee at that moment.

So for the last month or so (maybe a bit more) she's been working mainly in the general dept., but one of the cosmetics sales ladies quit 2 days ago so yesterday she worked in that dept.

I'm not the perfect worker, I'm really not. I have my slow days, I suffer from anxiety and depression, and usually I'm OK, but sometimes they kind of take over and then I work even slower. But I know my job, I work my hardest and I expect nothing less from the people I work with.

Some people who worked there in the past - we became close friends and we got along well at work because aside from us getting along well together, we also worked hard together and we all did our parts.

Some of the people who work in the online orders section - they work while talking on their phones, they take far too many breaks, they take a very very very long time to do a half-assed job, they don't pay attention to what they're doing and then (I, usually) have to go after them and fix their mistakes, or else point out their mistakes to them and tell them to redo it.

I get angry and frustrated, because I keep having to chase them around, and I haven't quite figured out yet how to get them to come to me for new tasks instead of having to go after them and ask them if they're done with their last task yet.

The new cosmetics girl (let's call her Shirley) is closer to my age ( I'm 38, she's about 35) than to most other employees there (in their early 20's).

Shirley makes so many mistakes at the register, which she then calls the shift manager to fix (like, she scanned an item and the price didn't match the price on the sticker), or a coupon didn't scan and she didn't check it, or she forgot to give change and the change drawer has to be opened up again.

Most people grow out of those newbie mistakes after about a week or two.

Now, I'm OK with newbie cashier mistakes. God knows I made all of them. (I still make mistakes occasionally, like closing the register without giving change, but it's easy for me to fix it very quickly) What I'm not OK with is if you keep making the same mistakes over and over and over and over again for MONTHS, without actually learning.

I heard that some other people who work there decided to give her a hard time. I'm not sure if they're picking on her, or if they're ostracizing her, or what's going on there. I don't speak their native language and rarely do they bother to inform me of what's going on.

So she decided that because some people aren't nice to her, that she has to collectively punish everybody. I told her not to do that with me because I don't do that sort of thing, and she kept arguing with me, that she's not willing to do what I asked her.

All I asked her that day, shortly after she got hired was to pick up the trash and clean the registers area to prepare for closing the store. She refused to do it becaue, as she said, "everybody got used to me cleaning up and organizing, and I refuse to do this for them any longer."

I explained to Shirley that she's about a decade older than the rest of them and she should set an example as a "responsible adult", and if I'm asking her to do something, it isn't because I'm being mean to her, but because it's something that has to be done and is part of the job (often I find myself cleaning the store, especially in the weekend when the cleaning guy isn't around).

Yesterday she worked the evening shift together with me and 2 other people.

She was supposed to be in the cosmetics dept., but there were sales ladies there, she was just sitting at the register and I decided to take her out of the register and give her some tasks until about 8-9, when the last sales lady left for the day, when she'd have to sit in the dept. to prevent people leaving the store with shit they didn't pay for.

At first she asked a technical detail about which dept. to log her work hours, so I told her I didn't know and that I'd have to ask the manager.

I texted the manager to ask if it was OK to "borrow" Shirley for 3 hours and she said yes.

So I called Shirley at the cosmetics register and told her to get to the baby food isle, I'll give her a task.

She said something like, "It doesn't suit me right now to switch depts. and do work in the general dept."

She continued talking, but I have 0 patience for bullshit, so I said something that translates more or less to "do whatever you like" and hung up on her.

I reported all this to the manager, and apparently Shirley also texted the manager and asked her to call her back.

I heard a colleague that I'm friends with that Shirley was ranting in the back about how I sit around in the kitchen all day and just tell other people what to do.

A while later, I was filling my bottle at the water cooler, and Shirley calls out my name.

I don't react. At all. No stopping what I was doing, no turning around, nothing.

So she said, "I don't like this, this doesn't suit me, I'll talk with the store owner tomorrow."

So she acts like a 3 year old and she expects me to actually pay attention to her?

We had to open the exit door closest to the cosmetics register instead of the other one, because someone cut their toe there somehow. Behind the cosmetics register there are a few cabinets with very expensive perfumes and samples, so it was prudent for someone to sit there.

I asked her if she could sit there, and she told me, "you can't tell me what to do."

OK, fine, fuck it.

Not my problem if someone empties those cabinets on their way out.

There's a pharmacist who thinks I'm his personal servant. He can order me around, but I can't get him to follow store policy for SHIT. And EVERYBODY adores him!!!

I'm REALLY not a fucking doormat, people!

You want me to work well with you, you work hard, you play nice, you do your job well (or at least try your hardest) and you respect me when I tell you that I can't multitask when I'm dealing with money (because I get confused easily) and we'll get along perfectly, the same way that I get along perfectly with everybody who does their fucking job.

So this idiot was the stick which broke this particular camel's back.

#cashier problems #fuck co-workers #fuck retail #fuck coworkers #submission

94 notes · View notes

iadprocess · 5 years ago

Text

Week 1 - Into the Wild!

The first day conducting field research we wanted to focus on our main interests for our project. We agreed that an AI-based application to create a sensation of help, not to replace therapy, but more companionship would be a suitable idea to pursue, seeing the current situation. For two weeks all citizens, who do not work in a field that is viewed as essential, have been constrained in their homes. When this quarantine will end is uncertain. This to maintain a social distance and avoid the spread of COVID-19. In these moments, people have to start to deal with a situation of isolation. We thought that loneliness and boredom could become a growing problem for general wellbeing.

We wanted to get in touch with a wide variety of people. We got in touch with persons from the age of 14 to 80+. We were interested in how the quarantine is affecting people’s behavior and mood. If the restrictions and disruption to their daily routine would affect them negatively. We thought of a set of questions that could give us a first overview.

· Who are you? (age, occupation)

· Who are you spending your quarantine time with?

· how has your everyday life changed since the quarantine?

· how does quarantine affect your mood?

· What do you do to improve your mood at home?

· Where would you rather be right now?

We wanted to contact workers who are working at home, workers who are still working outside, students, retirees and unemployed. We wanted to discover if there were any patterns with the answers. Our Expectation was to recognize categories of people who react and respond in a similar way (I am fine, I am not fine).

Phone Interviews

David got in contact with seniors who live in a retirement home, through his mother who works there. He conducted 4 interviews through the phone, all respondents were over 80 years old. Two of the three people are fully cared for and the third person lives in an apartment right next to the home. The fully cared for people had difficulty understanding my questions and could not answer open questions. We think it would be better to do something visual and have contact in real life. Because of the coronavirus, we have to find out how this could work best. Cultural probes could be one possibility. Here a snippet from an interview:

vimeo

Getting information from the people in the home was very difficult. A visual Observation in everyday life would be more effective.

Themes: occupation, entertainment, social interaction, time for oneself.

The statements on the phone seemed quite cold. One notices the loneliness and possibly also boredom. The question whether they would appreciate it, if acquaintances would call more often, they would say yes. But can one trust this answer? Do they answer honestly or is it just politeness?

Person 1 Occupation: - Read - Number game (Lotto, Bingo) - Wandering around the home - Set the table! ⇢ Feeling needed.

Person 2 Occupation: - Lying / dozing - „zvieri näh“ - Talking to people - read the Bible The situation is calm and "grave". She prefers to make phone calls. She doesn't want a change now. "It is the way it is" is probably the most heard sentence in the conversations. She says the situation hasn't changed much since the quarantine: she still and always felt a sense of helplessness. She takes each day as it comes and still is alone. Residents have the same perception of the atmosphere in the home as before.

Person 3 Terrible not being able to see anyone. Still meets with the neighbors. No longer allowed to have lunch with the other residents. "Unecessary information" comunicated. When I was asking if she is using the phone, she told me about her phone provider and how much it costs, even thought that was not part of the conversation.

Person 4 Made more shopping, to prepare. Everything is still working normally. Says that 15 and 16 year olds have no trouble at all.

Video Interviews

Conclusion

For 1/3 the quarantine has brought little change in the routine.

1/4 misses the direct contact with classmates

1/7 misses seeing her family

1/3 is more in virtual contact with people than before the quarantine

1/3 is feeling less productive because of the quarantine

2/3 are scared of the current situation and of the uncertainty of the future

What helps to lift the mood

2/3 feel better when they exercise

1/3 contact with people online and thorugh the phone

1/3 feel better when cooking

1/6 feel better through entertainment (tv shows, games)

Instagram Poll

We decided to ask three short questions in our Instagram poll, here are the answers we got:

How has the quarantine affected your routine?

From lab work to home office for paper research and report writing, from fitness center to jogging and online courses

Routine has become really important to keep the feet on the ground

Home School :D

Can’t go outside for no reason, little afraid to visit my parents and sad that I can’t see my

grampy’s

Saving time and money. At work: slowly losing immediacy with clients and colleagues

I can not meet my friends and family :’(

I have exams in June and I have no clue of what will happen because I’m doing online school but it’s literally 2 hours a day (I live in Italy)

All activities acquired the same value: it’s not worse to wash the dishes than take care of plants

I have more time, I go to sleep later however less structure

Watching Netflix more

I’m more concentrated during lessons

0 change. I’m a natural isolationist. I was born to do this.

Got more time to read and spend in the kitchen now

Almost nothing changed

I have to practice stuff for work at home but the crying ain’t helping (hairdresser)

I discovered that I’m a morning person, I started making the bed

100% smart work, self-quarantine for every individual of the family

How do you entertain yourself or improve mood during the quarantine?

Playing chess

Watching Netflix

Watch “dumbest purchases I made in my 20s” videos to feel better about myself

Self-penetration

More cooking and eating

Dreaming of me jogging

I plant mushrooms in my garden

Drinking alcohol

Youtube workouts and yoga apps

Watching porns

Playing switch, doing sports and reading books

Scrolling through social media, chat a lot, movies, sit on the balcony, rearrange and clean home

Playing sims

Online apéros

How does quarantine affect your mood and why?

Negatively because I can’t go to restaurants/clubs or travel

I am nervous cause I see the same people all the time and staying in the same rooms

All good

Everything is fine, I work from home but at the weekends it gets harder and if the weather is bad

Feeling balanced, try to keep daily routine (work, sport and social contact)

I recognise that I can’t go outside, especially in the evenings I am tired

Sitting in front of a computer the hole day is exhausting

My mind is very relaxed, because I don’t hear the word corona all the time

Sometimes a bit lonely, then I call someone, and I am happy again

There is nothing better than this situation, let’s go for a drink after everything

Doesn’t affect me, because I throw a corona party every weekend

I can still work, so I am not that quarantined. I know what to do

The quarantine is not the thing that is annoying, it is the way how we have to work from home, everyone expects you to be online 24/7

More difficulties to get up in the morning, more exhausted in the evening

Sometimes I feel irritable or anxious, but most of the time I feel relaxed and good

I am not in quarantine I have to work

I watch more Netflix

Video Diary

youtube

Ramona asked a friend of hers to document her day with her phone camera. This was a quite playfull and fun way to discover the routine of a student who now has to stay home, for both us researchers and for the subject. In the video she says she mostly works on her computer. To lift her mood she goes outside in the garden to catch some sunlight. She’s trying to stay positive and that seems to work.

Google Survey

Click here to see all the answers. 61% answered positively - they are well 19% answered negatively - they are not doing well 19% answered positively and negatively. Either they are doing medium well, or they are slowly getting quiet, or sometimes good and sometimes bad. 71% of the people left their contact datas, if we want to contact for new survey.

Feedback from a psychologist: “What answers do you hope to get? Maybe give someone to read again, so that it is clear, everyone is understood correctly. Questions 1 and 3 are a bit similar. If you want to get more out, a reward would be helpful. From a psychological point of view what is important is anonymity, if any sentence is written that the whole thing will be treated anonymously if you don't give your email address. Added: either people don't fill this out if they think it’s too uncomfortable. Answers become more honest when anonymity is guaranteed”

Feedback from a anonym participant: “Quantitative surveys are easier to evaluate with multiple choice questions.” A lot of participants left their email address if we wanted to contact them. We were quite surprised how many participants left their contact.

Send a picture of what you are doing

We asked 13 people to send us a picture of what they are doing. Most of them are young adults, some of them are employees, most are student. We can see that most of them stay in front of a screen. Some are playing board games, other are cooking, taking a break of pursuing their hobbies.

Facebook livestream

We saw in this facebook group that many users did livestreams. They talked about their personal lives and communicated with the viewers who were commenting. We tried to go live and engage in a conversation with the members of that Facebook group. To start a conversation and get viewers to answer questions was very hard. This is probably because the main focus of such a livestream is the livestramer and not the viewers.

Why did we select those highlights?

Instagram Story Questions We liked the spontaneous answers people gave us. Also the length of the answers is limited so people have to focus on the core of their statement.

Google Forms Survey Interesting more in depth answers. It is easy to share the survey link and therefore can reach people outside of our bubble.

Video Interview The interviewed people are more freely to communicate compared to a phone call. They can show environments or objects through the camera. Furthermore the interviewer and the participant are “closer” together.

Audio Interview Negative highlight. It should that not every medium works for every target audience. Elderly or children would probably benefit from communication mediums where they don’t have to articulate sentences.

Were the expectations fulfilled?

Like expected the answers to our questions were very different. Most people were relaxed and others are scared and sad about the quarantine. Most people know how to entertain them self. Most people feel bad to have social distance and are afraid of infecting someone.

Which changes have to be made?

We need to find a better way to improve trust, so that we are able to ask morepersonal questions. Furthermore we need a better way to express more “hard to explain” topics like loneliness in the online medium. Maybe it would be a good idea to have group discussions and we as the interviewers stay in the background. Especially when talking about difficult topics.

Older people (some have slightly dementia) are having difficulties to answer to open questions. Furthermore they are not so technical advanced that they could use smartphones or other tools to communicate in a more visual way. A way to get a better understanding of their situation would probably be cultural probes. Unfortunately we can not meet them in person, due to the coronavirus.

We want to test if anonymity could help to communicate more personal topics.

What could be the next steps for field research?

Inform better about the topic communication.

Discovery: What is on the market that is used for communicating online or online multiplayer games.

Explore how people in different living situations (home-schooled, home-office, still working outside, retired and unemployed) use communication tools (which ones? for what purpose? how often?)

Unpack your topic further, see what angle you would like to look into

Playful humorous communication, connect people who are in a similar situation orhave similar interests and bring them to communicate and play with each other.

How do you want to get in touch with people online? How do you find your online community?

Contact people we personally know

Use Online Forms

Use social media to find interested people

Friends of friends

Public online groups

What type of media could you use to collect and record your impressions (chats, online video, sound, a mix of different media, etc..)

Chat

Video Interview (single and groups)

Telephone Interviews

Video or Photo diary

Cultural Probes (notebook, drawing and writing down thoughts, giving theminstructions on the pages)

1 note · View note

actuallyspencerreid · 6 years ago

Text

Ticking

A/N: I wrote this in an hour and a half in my biology class lmao. i’m just working through all of my requests, so if you requested something, please know that i am in fact working on it!

Requested by @mychemicalimagines

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags: @the-unfortunate-fangirl @cynbx @princesswagger15 @obsessivereader36 @hearts-to-the-sky @mantlereid @dreamxcollide @qu3n-elizab3th @hiya-imthatgirl @literallyprentissstwin @bauboywonder @everyday-imfangirling @spencerreidreads @alixcharmedworld @writer-of-camelot @grubler @10kcriminalsatthedisco @extremeobsessions101 @spideysstarks

——

-- 3 Months Ago --

0 y : 104 d : 42 m : 12 s

You sighed, pulling your sleeve down over the timer on your wrist. You hadn’t meant to stare at the ticking clock again, but sometimes you just couldn’t help yourself. Over the years, watching the numbers go down was always your favorite pastime. Now, knowing your soulmate was just over three months away made you happier than anything else in this world.

You remembered the day your parents finally explained the clock on your wrist. You were eight and a boy had just moved into the house across the street. Your family took a basket of muffins to welcome them. Upon meeting, the timers on both your younger sister’s wrist and the boys’ started flashing and beeping real loud before they fell off. Your parents sat you down that night to explain your “soulmate watch.”

“No one knows its origin.” Your father had chuckled. “All we know is that the world would probably be a much sadder place without them.”

From that day, you’d had a very up and down relationship with your clock. There were times when you just couldn’t stand it. You read books about worlds that didn’t have soulmate clocks and it upset you that the mystery of falling in love wasn’t an option to you. Through high school, you kept your covered at all times. You’d hoped that one day, you’d be surprised. By the time you got to college though, you’d given up on that. Watching many of your friends meet their soulmates and begin their happily ever afters made you eager for your own. Of course, being out of college with a still ticking clock had been a bit of a discouragement. You still checked your clock though. Every single morning.

“(Y/L/N). Can you come to my office?”

You looked up at where your boss was giving you an eager smile. Quickly, you made your way in and shut the door behind you.

“What’s going on Andi?”

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit has an opening.” She handed you what looked like a printed email.

“The unit Seaver came from?”

“One in the same.”

“Why are you telling me?” You set the paper down, not bothering to read it. You liked your position in Domestic Trafficking. Nothing was more exciting than taking down a trafficking ring that thought they were smarter than the FBI.

“I think you should consider transferring.”

What?

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not!” She chuckled. “I think that with your Psychology degree and your experience here, you’d make quite the asset to their team. It would give your career a nice boost, plus you’d get a well deserved raise that I can’t provide here.”

“I’ll think about it.” You moved to leave. “Is that all?”

“No.” She tried to hand you the email again. “You have an interview with Unit Chief Emily Prentiss next month at FBI Headquarters in Quantico next month.”

-- Present Day --

You rolled out of bed, blinking slowly to adjust to the light streaming into your apartment.

You focused on the clock next to your bed, the numbers slowly coming into focus. 7:43 AM.

“Crap!”

You shot up out of bed, instantly alert. After months of interviewing and relocating, you were supposed to start at the BAU today and of course you were running late. You didn’t have time to find a full outfit in all of the chaos of your unpacked apartment so you decided to just shove on the first pair of pants you could find and a blazer over the long sleeve you’d worn to bed. Grabbing a banana, you squished your feet into some shoes and was out the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” You rushed into Agent Prentiss’ office just twenty minutes later, silently blessing yourself for getting a place so close to work.

“It’s fine,” She laughed. “You weren’t supposed to be here until nine!”

“Oh thank god.” You slumped back into one of the chairs in her office.

“I’m glad you’re here early though. You can come with us on this new case.” You followed her to the conference room, where the rest of the team was waiting.

“We will do introductions later. Garcia, why don’t you go ahead and get started and we’ll fill in Reid on the jet.”

“I’m coming!”

Everyone turned towards the distant voice. A second later, a mess of red fabric and wild curls ran into the room.

“Stupid train was--”

He was cut off when his eyes met your and a loud, shrill beeping began. There was a sharp pain on your wrist, but all you could feel was the sudden racing of your heart.

The room was silent as the beeping came to a stop. Your eyes never left his, even as your colleagues erupted into clapping and cheers.

“Alright everyone, settle down!” Emily stood and pat him on the back. “We’ll give you two a minute.”

It took a minute after the room had been cleared before you found your voice.

“I’m (Y/N).”

HIs face broke into a wide smile. “Spencer Reid.”

“Well,” You stood and offered him your hand. “It looks as though we’re soulmates.”

“Looks that way.” He shook your hand gently, holding onto you for a beat longer than customary. “Wish I’d paid attention to my clock this morning. I’d have dressed nicer.”

You laughed, chewing on your bottom lip. “We should probably call them back in so we can get to the case.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Neither of you moved though, silently taking in the moment. It was until the blonde from your team, Penelope if you remembered correctly, stepped back in.

“I don’t meant to interrupt, but we still have a case.”

“Come on in Garcia.” Spencer gestured towards the seat next to yours. “May I?”

“Of course!” You eagerly moved your bag so he could sit as everyone came back in.

“You guys are going to be so cute together!” Penelope gushed as she handed out the case files. “When you get back, I’m so going to throw a soulmate celebration party!”

“Slow down, Garcia.” Spencer laughed. “Where are we going?”

“Of course!” She launched into her presentation. You focused as much as you could on the case, but Spencer’s knee rested against yours under the table and you couldn’t help be distracted by it.

As everyone filed out to grab their stuff and head to the jet, Spencer grabbed your arm to keep you back.

“I know this probably isn’t the time, but would you like to get dinner with me sometime?”

His eyes were wide and you noticed the small flecks of gold among his chocolate brown irises. Instantly, you trusted him. You’d known him for a total of ten minutes and you just knew you could trust him with your life.

Smiling, you reached up to push his hair out of his face. “I’d like that.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer #spencer imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #emily prentiss #andi swann #penelope garcia

590 notes · View notes

mortyandcarlsbespokesalvage · 5 years ago

Text

Day 1 Sequence 0

So it is written,

It came to pass that the world wrought by men was ended. Planes of order and reason fell away to be formed anew, and those small in spirit were claimed by the Maelstrom.

Here is spoken the coming of the Arpage. Raw and primordial, its vastness eclipses mediocrity and neutrality. Only vibrancy and vitality endure within its swirling torrents.

The world was rent asunder. Like with like, polarities balanced. Dimensional lines blurred and physical law undone. Reality made fluid.

This Storm shapes our world.

Blessed are we who stand, here on the other side of time.

Our world washed clean, free from the sins of our fathers.

We are alive, we who stand.

Children of the Storm, stand for tomorrow.

-Prelude to historical account of the founding of the city of Artisan.

To the reader,

By virtue of your presence in this archive, it may be assumed that you are mildly to moderately to severely displaced from the time and/or place to which you are accustomed. To contextualize, it will be to your benefit to know that the following account begins here in the island city of Artisan, located upon the Emerald Basin, in the year 324 of the New Common Era. As it happens, it begins on a Tuesday.

…

The storm that bore down on the city in the early morning hours was a grand one. Swirling from the south, a ruinstorm great enough to make even the proud denizens of Southport close their shutters.Strong enough that the wary watchers of the great barrier wall set to seal off the innermost city, that the winds and rains might not tear the pretty faces from her towering edifices. Midnight patrols of city Sweepers huddled against the winds and rains as they walked the empty streets, securing as much as could be tied down to keep from becoming destructive flack from the force of the gales. The Artisan Streets were as empty, and the city as quiet, as ever it could manage.

Artisan is never silent however, even on the precipice of a storm to end the world. For if everything stopped every time the world ended, how would anything get done? And so it is that our story takes us below the quieted streets above, under the murmuring, lamp-lit undercity markets, and below the darkened catacombs where the city’s ancient gears lie still.

The city of Artisan was founded over three centuries ago, in the wake of the Great Cataclysm. The Founders were swept away from their old lives by the torrents of the great Maelstrom, and deposited on the shores of a vast junkyard island, with only an endless ocean horizon as far as their eyes could see. Artisan was discovered, not built. At least not by the Founders. Oh, of course it had been built by someone. But if anyone had some notion of who that someone was, then they had successfully held their tongue for a dozen odd generations hence.

The name Artisan itself was uncovered and not coined. City blocks beneath the vast trash heaps, each with bronze plaques set into the cracked concrete, declaring them to be Artisan 109-a, 303-s, or any of thousands of combinations. Ancient labels declaring the island to be Artisan, in regular sections of concentric rings, radiating out from the great citadel at the center. The city of Artisan is built upon ten thousand-thousand mysteries, and it did not take long for the Founders to rightly conclude that someone needed to make it their business to set to work solving them.

The Founders of Artisan inherited an uninhabited trash heap upon the waves. Then they recycled that heap into a metropolis. They pushed out the surface scrap to three huge Yards, and over the centuries continued to use their bounty of ancient refuse as a source of building materials and lost artifacts. Below the surface, each level less and less explored, wholly unknown save the fact that they were all filled with garbage and scrap from untold years of the place being used as a dumping ground by parties unknown. Over the centuries, different explorers and curious trashmen were commissioned by the municipal authority to work together to try to figure it all out. To map the vast underground space, and to uncover more and more of a seemingly inexhaustible supply of resources.These curious souls were formed together into the Non-integrated Offices of Interior Rediscovery (N.O.I.R.), an entity whose sole business is to sift through the refuse of untold ages, and try to make sense of …

… well, for all intents and purposes everything, about the world’s last city.

…

Dr Archibald Morphesus (never Archie) is but one of the latest in a long history of esteemed archaeologists of N.O.I.R. Curious to a fault, focused to the point of obsession. Morphesus has been captivated by his city since he was a boy and first noticed the tendency of the utility lines in his family’s apartment to quietly rearrange themselves when nobody was looking. To him the city is a living organism. A friend he has sought to know for the better part of a lifetime. In his 30 year career, the doctor has mapped more of the undercity, led more expeditions, uncovered more vaults of artifacts than any other archaeologist of N.O.I.R.

Dr Archibald Morphesus is respected by his students and colleagues, a quiet older man with a passion for his work, and a track record for being a determined explorer. Deep beneath the charted levels of the Undercity above, Morphesus stands before a massive vault door. The Vault, marked 213 in bold ancient script, is the latest in a lifetime of closed doors waiting to be opened. How many more doors remain, and how little time remains to open them? he wonders, always. There is so little time left, and there’s still so much to do.

“On my count: three, two, one and HEAVE.”

The Sweepers, hulking figures in their heavy armor, pull at the vault door. The Engineers stand ready with braces to hold it open and floodlights to illuminate the platform. This is all routine, an endeavor that’s been undertaken dozens of times, each time a deep shaft is located, since long before he became an archaeologist. Still, he watches with rapt attention.

Beyond the vault door will be a platform overlooking the shaft, a vast, bottomless canyon sprawling into the dark as far as can be seen. That is what’s been behind every door so far. But there will also be the rails. The beams above the platform, stretch out into the dark, over the abyss. Sturdy, solid ,evenly spaced, but for purposes unknown.

Morphesus has spent years theorizing, and he knows what he hopes to find. The door opens with a clang and the screech and groan of steel on steel. The Sweepers at the door pull it open wider, while the engineers rush to prop it, and behind them another row of Sweepers stand ready with their great glaive axes, braced for whatever horrors might be waiting on the platform. It is empty. The lights shine through the breach, bathing the platform in incandescent orange and shining through the dust motes into the darkness.

He sees it.

After thirty years he sees it at the end of the platform, hanging from the rails as he always imagined it would. A bulky metal train car, suspended over the bottomless chasm.

For Morphesus, the world fades away. His research team spills out onto the platform, setting up floodlights and tables, beginning the work of sifting through the refuse and searching for anything and everything that could tell them about what came before. All he sees is the tram.

It’s something out of a dream. Something he’s looked for, theorized about, for years. And here it is before him. Proof of a rail system running through the space between the titanic Pylons that support the city above, and perhaps the first concrete clue in centuries to the mystery of the city’s unknown architects. The doors to the tram are forced open, an easier task by far than the vault. A thin layer of dust covers its interior. Motes drift across the lamplight.

“After you, professor.” Zel Pathos, his research assistant, aims the light into the open carriage and gestures him forward. Zel has been with the professor long enough to guess what this find means to him. Morphesus steps forward with his heart in his throat.

And there, the first thing he sees is a map. There is a map on the wall of concentric circles woven together. There are numbers marked on it, spaced regularly along the circles. 208, 209, 210, 211, 212...

213.

There is so much. So much to look at, to examine, to find. He cannot move quickly enough. And yet. He takes a moment for himself. This is it. All his theories. His life’s work. The answers are here. Zel and the other researchers pour in gently, mindful of the professor. But they’re eager too. The sooner they get to work, the sooner they have answers.

There is too much here. The tram alone would validate the professor’s theory about the nature of the rails. The MAP by itself would be historic. No map of the original city has ever been found in the centuries since the discovery of Artisan by the city founders. Morphesus’ heart pounds in his chest. He feels about to burst. History is about to be re-written here.

Around him, the other researchers murmur to each other as they begin the excavation. A sudden rise in volume catches his attention. “There’s even a log book here! Hah! Listen to this:

‘Entry 509

Junction 212 is cleared. Proceeding to 213. Personal aside, this thing is too damn big. If 213 checks out, the Artisan will be clear for testing. Not that it shouldn’t check out. It was fine two weeks ago. And two weeks before that. It was probably fine when the last guy was looking at it. Are we ever going to test this thing? Are we going to get paid this month? Is anyone even reading these reports? What is the Gatekeeper even doing? And another thing-’ Professor? Oh gods, Professor!”

“Medic!” someone calls.

Dr. Morphesus is seizing on the floor, his limbs jerking and shaking like a child’s wind up toy knocked on its’ side.

“Shit, get him off the train!” a Sweeper yells.

“Somebody time it!”

There is panic amongst the researchers - Dr. Morphesus had always had a frail constitution, but he’d never been sick before. Any sense of routine or order is lost as the Sweepers rush to secure him and get him off the tram. There’s no room to work in there.

“How long was that?”

“Is he breathing?”

“He’s struggling. It sounds like there’s something blocking his airways.”

“Get the intubation ready.”

“His pulse is thready.”

“Ready the potions and paddles, we may have to shock him.”

The words rush over each other and all other work comes to a stop. The news of Morphesus’ collapse spreads like fire among the archaeologists and a grim silence falls on them as they wait to see what happens next. And then...

“Holy hells, he’s got Verdigris.”

The quiet announcement falls like a bomb. Shock waves ripple through the assemblage, followed by tight fisted panic. There’s a gap in the circle of Sweepers tending to Morphesus, enough for some to see his chest. His open shirt reveals a wide rash of metallic scales, an undeniable indicator of Verdigris Syndrome.

“Sweet Dale, it looks like his entire respiratory system has been compromised.”

“How long has this gone untreated?”

“Somebody contact the Spire, we need to know everyone he’s been in contact with and set up a quarantine immediately!”

Morphesus hears the clamor around him through a haze. But he understands. His life has ended. His illness discovered. There will be no more doors to open. The sickness started small with Morphesus. Just a tiny rash that scaled and grew over the years with his doubt about being able to prove his theories. His body became slower, heavier. His breathing harder by degrees. It was easy to hide. Nobody noticed because he had always been sickly and colleagues just assumed that he was getting old. He never went to the doctor anyway. He kept to himself. He never had much of any kind of social life outside of work. He always politely, nervously declined any invitation. He was respected, looked up to, possibly even beloved by his team of grads and undergrads. Just a quiet older man with a passion for his work, and a track record for being a determined explorer in spite of being a socially inept weakling.

But not now. His work cannot end now, not when proof of his theories is in sight. Not when he lies mere feet away from the greatest discovery in a century. He feels his despair turning to resentment. He has lived with his sickness for years, never losing himself, never succumbing. Who among his colleagues had ever been infected? Whose business was it how he chose to spend his last years? Who said that the sickness, already a death sentence, had to mean the death of his dreams as well? His anger rises now. Fire burns in his eyes as he struggles against the Sweepers holding him down.

“Four Kings! How is he this strong?”

“It’s gotta be the sickness.”

“Yard 3 Precinct. Come in Yard 3, this is Squad 11, Muskrat. We are requesting immediate medivac and quarantine at Vault 213. I repeat this is Muskrat-”

“Hold him!”

Four Sweepers struggle to suppress the doctor’s frail frame.

Morphesus tries to speak, to tell them, to defend himself and his work. His students, they’ll understand. They must understand! But all that comes when he opens his mouth is the awful, distorted sound of screeching metal. All is lost. He screams. The sound is too big. It does not fit his body. It echoes endlessly into the dark.

And then the quiet. Stunned researchers and Sweepers stare without speaking. Morphesus lays on the platform, all the fight gone out of him. He just lays there and sobs. No one has to hold him down anymore.

They don’t notice it at first. Shock has numbed their senses, and the sound is still so faint. A distant clanking coming from the tunnel. Rhythmic, like footsteps shuffling. The Sweepers hear it first. They quickly move into position, ready with their axes and dragon fire. One of them breaks the silence, quietly repeating into the radio the need for a medical retrieval team.

The clanking of metal footsteps multiplies. One set. Two. More. But how many more? The tunnels and shaft are cavernous spaces, and the ringing steps echo and grow in the dark. It’s impossible to guess their number. Rearguard sweepers redirect the floodlights into the tunnel. There, a dull reflection coming closer. Another. Another.

All they can do is ready themselves for the fight and hope reinforcements arrive in time.

Through it all, the professor weeps.

Next chapter>

#arpage #children of the storm #artisan

2 notes · View notes

ryik-the-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Rumbelle fic: A Sitting Deal

A Sitting Deal 6/6

A03 Link

Rating: T+

Summary: With the threat of a rent increase being held over her head, Lacey E. French makes a deal with Mr. Gold to babysit his three-year-old son. Soon however the town troublemaker finds herself getting close to her landlord and son…which just can’t be good!

Note: for my Rumbelle Secret Santa recipient…@of-princes-and-savages, based off the prompt: Hey, who’s kid is this

Lacey began ripping off her clothes as soon as she entered her apartment, releasing a new curse as each item hit the floor.

“Mother everlasting son of a bitch!” she howled as she turned the shower to the hottest level, welcoming the burn.

She scrubbed her skin hard, taking deep breaths to ease away her wracking sobs.

What was she going to do? She was falling hard for the Golds and it was the most unnatural feeling in the world. Lacey wasn’t supposed to fall prey to domesticity. She wasn’t supposed to rearrange her life for other people!

Yet the very idea of doing just that was possessing her. How bad would it be really? To be a friend and companion to a trifling landlord and his heart-stealing little boy?

She was being ridiculous, she thought. Gold says a few nice words and his kid learns her name and she melts? What the hell!

“This is so damn stupid!” Lacey groaned as she collapsed into her bed in nothing but a towel.

There had to be a way for her to wrap her head around all of this, to come up with a plan. She could just quit, but the idea of not seeing that curly-haired heartthrob every day was too painful to think of at the moment.

And Lacey E. French was no quitter, at least not anymore…

The shadow of the past sprang forth an idea for the confused barfly. It was a long-shot, and would probably end in a thorough smackdown, but it was the only shot she had.

With a truckload of hesitation, she called the one person who could help her sort through her most recent pile of wreckage.

“Hello?”

Lacey gulped at the familiar accent. “Belle?”

There was a brief pause and Lacey expected a tone dial to follow, but instead she heard a slight strangled noise.

“Oh my gosh Lacey!” Belle cried. “I…how are you?”

Lacey released a wet laugh, grateful for her twin’s invitation.

“Um, that’s complicated Belle. How about we start with you?”

“Okay,” Belle replied, sounding positively giddy.

Lacey listened somberly as Belle relayed her job as a grad assistant, her rough edged but soft-hearted fiancé, and of course wedding plans.

“I’m sending out wedding invintations later this week. Nick wanted me to have this grand wedding, but I know he hates big to-dos. I said I would be just fine going to the courthouse and then our favorite bar afterwards, but he said his colleagues would string him up over the physics department if he denied them this.”

Lacey chuckled. “I like this guy,”

“You’ll love him. He reminds me of you in a way.”

Lacey frowned. She certainly hoped the man holding her sister’s heart wasn’t a thing like her.

“Now,” Belle continued. “Let’s here about you. How’s old Storybrooke?”

Lacey scoffed. “Same as ever, though Granny added spaghetti to her menu for some reason.”

“Wow, it’s really come up,” Belle joked. “How about you? Will you be bringing a date to my wedding?”

Lacey blushed at the very idea of being serious enough with Gold that he would come to such an affair with her. Although she’d imagined him and Bae both would look just charming in a tux—

“Son of a bitch!”

“Lace?” Belle gasped.

Lacey groaned. “Belle, I’m in real shit here.”

She quickly relayed to her sister the weeks happenings, her deal with Gold, her time with Bae, and her strange uncertain feelings she didn’t know what to do with.

“Whoa.” Belle sighed on the line. “That’s…different.”

“It’s fucking stupid is what it is!” Lacey returned. “I don’t get it! I have one conversation with the guy and share some animal crackers with his kid and suddenly I’m a pig-tailed lamebrain!”

“Did you really put your hair in pigtails?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lacey barked. “Tell me what to do! What the fuck’s wrong with me?”

“Sounds like to me Lacey that you’re in love,” Belle teased. “Or more like falling in it.”

Lacey covered her mouth to keep from screaming, the words sounding more terrifying now that they were out in the open.

“I can’t do that Belle,” Lacey sobbed. “I can’t be…that!”

“What, happy?”

“In love, or whatever this shit is!” Lacey yelled. “I’m not right for them! I’ll drag them down with me! I’ll hurt Gold and Bae someway…I don’t want to do that!”

“Lacey calm down,” Belle soothed. “Please.”

Lacey took a moment to breathe, the light tint of static over the phone soothing her back into place.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Belle coached. “It’s okay to not be ready for this. But it’s not like you have to marry him.”

“Oh god!”

“Hush, let me finish. You don’t have to jump into something you’re not ready for. If Gold’s really as decent as you say he is, he’ll understand! Just talk to him. Let him know how you feel and that you want to take this slow.”

“But Belle…” Lacey cried, her heart pounding. “He deserves so much better than me. I pay my rent in change and my first job since high school has been a half-ass babysitter!”

“Well…maybe we can open you up a checking account, and babysitting is a damn good gig,” Belle encouraged. “And as for you not being good enough for them…”

Lacey held her breath at the long pause Belle took, wondering if she was about to hang up on her and leave her to stew in her own disaster.

“I know what you did for me,” Belle said at last. “I know you didn’t go to college so that I could.”

Lacey’s blood went cold. “The fuck how?” she hissed. She thought she had covered her tracks!

“You’re careless Lace,” Belle pointed out non-accusingly. “You set your acceptance letter on fire, but you didn’t stick around to see if it burned. I found a piece of it left, and I put two and two together.”

Lacey groaned. Classic Lacey move.

“And while we’re on the subject,” Belle voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

Lacey blinked. “For what? You did great, and you’re doing exactly what you wanted to.”

“But you didn’t,” Belle stressed. “I should have pushed you to go to school, to do what you wanted. We could have split the money and taken out loans to make up the difference. But I was so selfish, and I thought you just weren’t ready but when you never mentioned Mum’s trust, I figured it out.”

“You were never selfish Belle,” Lacey promised. “You’re kind of right, I wasn’t ready, not really. And you were always destined to do something with your life, to leave this place. You didn’t need to wait around for me to do the same.”

“I would have gladly waited,” Belle said. “But you can’t keep stalling. You deserve to be happy.”

Lacey closed her eyes, feeling a comforting numbness seep into her bones. For so long she had been holding herself back, and now she needed to take a leap.

“I’m scared,” Lacey laughed.

“That’s okay,” Belle consoled. “No matter what happens it will happen because you were in control. And if by some one in a million chance it doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”

Lacey nodded, wishing her sister were in front of her so that she could hold her.

“Thanks Belle,” Lacey said, the words coming deep from her heart.

“You got it sis,” Belle returned. “Now just what are we going to do?”

Lacey licked her lip, thinking over her options. She’d never been good a planning, and it wasn’t until now that hesitation appeared in her dictionary.

Maybe things would work out if she winged it after all?

“I’ve gotta make a blue print,” Lacey said as she jumped up to find clothes.

“What?”

“Call you tomorrow bye!”

“Lacey wa—”

Lacey hung up on her beloved sister and prepared to meet her fate.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her? What the hell had he been thinking.

Gold had bathed and clothed Bae and taken him upstairs for a story before bed. The boy had longed fallen asleep in his lap, but Gold had yet to leave the rocking chair.

He’d been fearing the worst when he first hired Lacey. He kept closing the shop early just to check in on her and catch her in the act, but he had been woefully shocked to find that—while she had created chaos—it was less damaging than he had expected.

She actually bonded with Bae and did so in her own unique way. It made him proud of her in that moment, proud in his own decision to entrust his son to her.

But his admiration of Lacey French had begun long before they made their deal. Long before he’d even taken in Bae at that.

She hated him as a landlord like any other of his tenants, but she didn’t gripe or moan. She pushed through, even if he had a jar of pennies by the time he got her rent. She’d wink at him when they passed each other in the streets but never expanded on the low-key flirting. She held her self with the upmost confidence and could look men twice her size in the eye without hesitation.

Yet all this time she had been carrying a deep self-loathing. Why hadn’t he seen that she was so sad?

Because he was a cold-hearted bastard. It was a simple but true answer. He hadn’t really cared for anyone, and Milah’s abrupt departure had him wondering why he should try.

But Lacey had changed that somehow, pulled the withered remains out into the light to rejuvenate.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he felt for her, but if his want to kiss her early today was any indication, it was bordering on passion that her rushing out meant she did not want to receive.

Gold kissed Bae’s curls and carefully laid him in his bed. What kind of young woman wanted an old man with a kid? She was too young, too free to be tied down to such a commitment.

He decided as he took off his tie that he’d talk to her about it tomorrow. She’d probably feel uncomfortable and quit, but he’d swallow his hurt and pay her well before she left. He’d even offer to cash in a favor with a colleague from the nearest university to get her in so she could follow her dream.

He’d hate to see her go and lose the small spark of friendship they’d manage to create, but she deserved to take back the happiness she put on hold.

Maybe one day when she was done with her degree she’d teach him to play pool, or she’d come by his shop and just talk.

Or maybe he’d get use to being alone forever.

Just as he was undoing his belt, the doorbell wailed throughout the house. Gold held his breath, counting down and sighing deeply when his son did not begin hollering.

He grabbed his cane and swore to ram it down the throat of whoever was there. He had it poised to kill when he opened the door and found Lacey standing on his front step.

“Lacey,” he breathed, his heart picking up a beat. “It’s late what are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” she stated simply, pushing past him.

Gold swallowed and closed the door behind him. “What’s going on Lacey—”

“I like you,” she blurted out, only a second of hesitation following her proclamation. “And hell, I like your kid. I don’t know why and I don’t know what to do about it, but I don’t want to act like I don’t feel it.”

Gold watched her fidget and tried to figure out if he was dreaming or not.

“And…years from now when I’m playing dinosaurs with Bae and I tell him about his mom, I want him to know that she was a total idiot because the second he was in my arms it felt impossible to ever let him go.”

Gold blinked, her words filling his chest with a suffocating tightness.

“Look,” she said as she hastily wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, or what I really feel right now. Maybe I’m just being crazy or some shit but I…just wanted you to know how I felt so that we can get any bullshit that might happen over with.”

Gold stared at her for the longest time, his mouth slightly gaped.

“What!” Lacey cried. “So help me I will punch you in the ribs if you don’t—”

She watched him step closer—slow and careful as to not startle her. When there was only a gap between them, Lacey knew what he was about to do. He was hesitating, just like her. He was uncertain too, not wanting to push something that wasn’t ready to go forward. But he was awaiting her permission as well, and Lacey gave it to her by edging up on her toes and bringing her lips to him.

His were soft, the small bristled of unshaved hair rubbing comfortingly against her cheek. Her hand reached up to his shoulder, slowing rubbing it back and forth. The hand he placed around her waist was lighter, almost afraid.

When they pulled back Lacey was struck with just how brown his eyes were, and the faint scar on his lip that she hadn’t noticed before.

His eyes searched over her like he couldn’t believe what was happening. He had Lacey French in his arms and…she liked him. She actually like him!

“We need to be slow,” he husked.

“Yeah,” Lacey agreed with an excited gulp. “Figure this thing out,”

Gold nodded and for while they stayed comfortably in close proximity, catching whiffs of each other.

But Lacey French wasn’t one to stay still for long.

“Wanna have sex?”

Gold actively flinched, and Lacey waited rather patiently for his response.

“I…” he hesitated, trying to wrap his mind around the audacity that was Lacey French.

Finally, he just stopped thinking and took Lacey’s hand.

“Yes, I believe I do,”

Lacey smirked. “Great,” she began pulling him up the stairs. “Bedroom?”

“First door on your right.”

Lacey bit back an ecstatic smirk.

“Got it, gocha.”

Yes!

#rumbelle christmas in july #rumbelle christmas in july 2019 #rcij #rcij 2019 #of-princes-and-savages #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #golden lace #baelfire #lacey #lacey french #mr. gold #ryik's fics

11 notes · View notes

morningsound15 · 6 years ago

Note

Supercorp Lena is an alien too AU OR two doctors at the same hospital AU

Supercorp two doctors at the same hospital AU

beep boop beep this is late but here ya go.

1.)

Lena spends every free minute that she isn’t with her patients working tirelessly on developing new tech for her experimental surgical recovery treatments (the most promising of which just entered its preliminary trial stage last month), innovating new designs for medical devices, and trying to streamline her surgical procedures while increasing her success rates. She doesn’t have time for distractions, or deviations from her strict schedule. She doesn’t have time to waste on secondary concerns like relaxation, vacations, dating, making new friends, broadening her social circle, or making changes to her personal life. She can’t afford to let anything get in the way of her aggressive long-term career goals. Not when she’s worked so hard to prove that she’s more than just a pretty face, more than just a privileged trust-fund baby who has had everything in life handed to her, more than just what her last name implies. Not when she’s worked so hard to get to where she is.

It’s cold, and a little ruthless, sure. But it’s what she’s always done — it’s what she’s always had to do. And it’s always the way she’s felt; consistently, without fail.

At least, that used to be true. That’s how she used to feel.

Until she met Kara, that is.

2.)

Lena’s known about Kara Danvers ever since she first showed up at National City General Hospital. She’s the sort of person who’s hard not to notice.

Lena first hears of her from James.

“Have you met the new girl?” he asks her one morning in the break room, completely (and unnecessarily, as far as she’s concerned) distracting her from her reading.

Lena arches an eyebrow in his direction. “You mean the new doctor?” James rolls his eyes. “I haven’t had the pleasure, no.”

“Well, you should. As soon as possible. She is…” his eyes seem to focus on something far-off, and he sighs almost without noticing— “something else.”

“Hmm,” Lena hums rather disinterestedly, flipping through a new patient’s chart. “Is she especially beautiful, or especially annoying?”

James starts, his attention back on her at once. “What?”

“You only have that reaction towards women who you find particularly beautiful or particularly tedious. Which one is she?”

James scoffs, but his attempt at acting insulted is half-hearted at best. When Lena merely looks at him, not saying anything further, he huffs. “Fine. She’s beautiful. And she seems perfectly charming, for the record.”

Lena’s smile has teeth. “Don’t they all?”

“You haven’t even met her yet.”

“I don’t need to. She wasn’t hired in my department, therefore she’s of no concern to me.”

“She’s Alex Danvers’ sister.”

That makes her pause. Lena knows Doctor Danvers — she’d even go so far as to say she rather likes Doctor Danvers (which is not an accolade she commonly distributes, for the record). Danvers is smart and accomplished and professional and good at her job — all qualities Lena greatly admires in a person. She hadn’t been aware Doctor Danvers had a sister. She’s not sure why that news is so surprising to learn.

But, eventually, she shakes herself. “Inconsequential,” she finally decides, turning back to her chart.

“I don’t know, Lena. You might have to give this one a chance.”

She doesn’t bother to look up from her reading. “We’ll see.”

When she sees Winn later that day in the break room, staring off into space with a dreamy smile on his face, she sighs, and asks, “Doctor Danvers, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah,” he sighs happily, still staring unseeing out the door, as if longing after something which is no longer there. He seems to understand her question only a few seconds later, and shakes himself a little, drawing back to her. “Er…” he says carefully as he sits up at once, with a slight frown on his face, “the new one, I mean. Not… don’t tell Alex I was acting like that about her. Not that she isn’t pretty! Or, er— beautiful, it’s just…” He swallows thickly. “She’s just so scary.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor Schott,” she reassures him. “Your secret’s safe with me.” And that’s mostly down to the fact that Lena has never been in a position to share more than a few words with the elder Doctor Danvers, and in all such situations their interactions were kept purely professional, but that’s besides the point. As a general rule of thumb, she doesn’t engage in frivolous gossip or rumor-mongering. She considers it beneath her.

Besides, she has no desire to antagonize Doctor Danvers. Doctor Danvers is severe, and serious — something Lena rather admires. The fact that she knows 0 information about her (except, as of this morning, that apparently she has a younger sister) is how she likes her relationships with her colleagues to be: no-nonsense, professional, and completely surface-level.

The lone exception to that rule is her friendship with Sam. And James, she supposes, sort of fits the bill as well. And, now that she’s thinking about it, she does actually know a few key personal details about her favorite surgical assistant, Jess. But that’s neither here nor there. She’s been friends with Sam since university; the fact that they ended up at the same hospital was through no fault of Lena’s own, and it seemed only natural to continue their relationship rather than to go out of her way to burn a bridge she does not have any reason to burn. And she has a rather friendly relationship with James because they went on a few ill-advised dates when she first moved to town; but as soon as Lena realized they would be working together, she ended things, and they’ve been nothing but friendly since. But that’s only because it seemed the most decent thing to do at the time. And as for Jess, well… it’s a good idea for Lena to be able to actually trust those few other people she requires to assist her in effectively doing her job. Jess is one of the few surgical assistants at this hospital that Lena doesn’t actively want to strangle, so knowing her birthday is in March and that she has a nephew she loves to spoil is hardly outside the sphere of appropriate, professional behavior.

The point is, she doesn’t want to know more about the people she works with. As long as they are competent in their work and do not actively interfere with her research, she couldn’t care less what they spend their free time doing.

The sooner everyone gets over this strange obsession they all seem to have with the New Doctor Danvers, frankly, the better Lena’s life is going to be.

3.)

They don’t get the opportunity to speak for real until 3 months after Kara begins working at National City General. At a party, of all things (Lena never goes to parties) — hosted by Sam, which explains why Lena’s been dragged here and also why Kara’s been dragged here. Like something straight out of a Shakespearean plot: Lena is acting as emotional/romantic support for Sam, who is currently on a mission to date Doctor Danvers (the elder Doctor Danvers), which explains why she brought along her own emotional/romantic support in the form of her sister, Kara.

(They don’t find this out until much later, of course. But neither of them is particularly surprised to learn the information.)

They’re left alone together very quickly when their companions decide that their energy is best spent focused on the sole task at hand (essentially: trying to get the other into bed) and Kara and Lena are left to fend for themselves, standing awkwardly across from one another and not knowing quite what to say.

Kara makes the first move.

She sticks out her hand with a wry, nervous grin as her other hand reaches up to adjust her glasses. “Hi,” she says, like they haven’t just been standing here looking at each other for nearly 30 seconds, “it’s Lena, right? I’m Kara. I work in Peds.”

And Lena knows that — of course she does — but it still doesn’t stop her from wanting to roll her eyes because of course this woman who practically radiates sunshine and rainbows would work in Pediatrics. She looks like the sort of woman who volunteers at animal shelters on the weekends, who goes out of her way to help little old ladies cross the street. She looks so wholesome, so good that she should probably be on the cover of some magazine somewhere. It makes Lena feels more than a little uncomfortable.

“Yes,” she says, shaking Kara’s hand firmly but withdrawing quickly, “I know who you are.”

Kara smiles, and if Lena’s not mistaken she almost looks a little relieved that Lena’s said something she can respond to neutrally. “And I mean, I know who you are, obviously. I just thought it might be nicer to officially introduce myself.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow. “Rumors travel fast, I see.”

“Rumors?” Kara frowns.

“That’s how you know who I am.” Because it’s obvious, to Lena. That’s how everyone knows who she is. After her brother was caught embezzling millions of dollars from their family hospital (and after he subsequently fled to some undisclosed foreign country, from which he has yet to emerge) the Luthor name — once so distinguished and influential in quite a few specific social spheres — had been almost completely blacklisted from all things related to the medical field. Everyone who was practicing medicine at the time heard about the scandal.

Lena is still dealing with the repercussions.

It’s not a question, really; more a statement of fact. Of course Kara knows who she is because of the scandal, because of the rumors that still follow her around (that she’s just like her brother, that she was secretly in on his scheme and just hadn’t been caught, that she’s secretly helping him evade detection by government officials). That’s how everyone knows her.

It’s not a question, not really, nut Kara is still quick to respond to it. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head very rapidly back-and-forth. “Oh, no! I… I read your paper on the, um… flexible micro-stapled surgical bandages you have in development?” Lena blinks, and hopes her shock is not evident on her face. Kara continues on like she doesn’t even notice the completely unexpected shift in Lena’s body language and attitude. “It’s super interesting stuff. I’d love to get my hands on a few, if you have any prototypes lying around. I’m always looking for ways to reduce my patients’ pain after operation.” She smiles, rather sheepishly, and Lena feels her heart rate pick up, unbidden. Even Sam doesn’t read her papers, and she’s Lena’s best friend in the entire world.

“Sorry,” Kara says when a few seconds tick by and Lena has yet to respond. She rubs at the back of her neck, “Sorry, I have a tendency to babble, sometimes. And I don’t mean to awkwardly fangirl around you. I just… I’ve been following your work for a while, and I think you’re really brilliant. That’s part of the reason why I wanted to practice here. Well… my sister’s here, which was the bigger reason, but also because… who wouldn’t jump at the chance to work with Lena Luthor, y’know?”

Lena doesn’t, in fact, know at all what Kara means.

She can’t help but be impossibly flattered either way. (She’s never pretended to be above vanity.)

It’s only when she arrives home, many happy hours later — after a bit too much wine and a breathless and blushing Kara scribbling her phone number on a spare sheet of scrap paper so that Lena can call to schedule an appointment to discuss how Kara’s research may intersect with her own — that Lena begins to realize she may be in more than a little trouble, here; more than she initially realized.

This is not in line with her plans at all.

4.)

Still, she somehow winds up calling her. And one meeting turns into two, and then two meetings turn into a meeting over morning coffee, which then turns into simply getting coffee, which then turns into lunches and occasional dinners and Lena having an open invitation to Kara’s weekly Game Night (in which she, much to Lena’s surprise, invites almost exclusively the people from work who Lena can semi-tolerate. As if she’s curated this event simply for Lena’s enjoyment).

And somehow, quite without meaning to (and quite against her better judgment), she becomes friends with Kara Danvers. Not work-friends (like Jess) or professionally-respectful-colleagues (like Alex), but full-on friends. Lena comes to expect Kara’s presence in her life more than Sam’s, even (which seems to work out well for all parties involved, since Sam’s attention more and more seems to be diverted by Kara’s sister). She spends more nights out than she has since college, more time drinking with the people she’s worked with for the past several years but never bothered getting to know, more time idly chit-chatting over meals rather than spending her time doing what she used to do (craming down any food she possibly could while reading/researching/writing/answering emails).

Bizarrely, she almost doesn’t mind. She barely even thinks about it, really; barely even registers any amount of anxiety or discomfort when she thinks about the work she’s missing (she really expected this whole situation to make her so much more anxious, knowing all the opportunities she’s missing to get ahead on her research or experiment with new designs).

That’s how she finds herself in the Pediatric Ward one day, late into the Fall, about four months after that fateful day she met Kara Danvers and seemingly simultaneously flipped her life on its head.

Lena doesn’t have much occasion to be down in this end of the hospital. Since children aren’t her specialty, she’s rarely called on to treat them, and since most everyone in the hospital understands her general discomfort when faced with anyone who cannot hold an intellectual conversation for an extended period of time, she’s rarely called on to even consult for other doctors in the Peds department. This doesn’t bother her, generally; she doesn’t dislike children, not by any stretch of the imagination, she just doesn’t particularly understand them, and she feels nothing but relief whenever she’s allowed to avoid embarrassing herself around them.

But she’s meant to be meeting Kara for lunch, and it’s now nearing 12:30 and Kara still hasn’t made an appearance. Lena only goes down to check on her, to make sure that Kara hasn’t gotten tied up in some impossible case or some extraordinarily-demanding patient. (She absolutely does not come down because she has this burning curiosity to see Kara in action — something she has not been able to do, not in the few months of their friendship. That is absolutely not the reason.)

So imagine her surprise when she enters the Pediatric Ward and is immediately confronted by one Kara Danvers, standing in front of a gaggle of screaming children, decked out head-to-toe in the most shockingly well-made superhero outfit Lena has ever seen.

She stops immediately, one hand on the door, and she has to blink a few times to make sure she isn’t seeing things.

But no, her eyes are not playing a trick on her — that’s Kara, up there, with her hair uncharacteristically down and her glasses uncharacteristically off her face. Her outfit is a mix of royal blue and red and yellow, the top long-sleeved and laying tight across Kara’s torso, the bottom a red skirt that falls down to just above her knees. A pair of bright red boots (Good Lord, Lena thinks as she feels her heart stutter in her chest) lie snug around her calves. A red cape is attached to her shoulders, and it blows out behind her every time she turns or steps, like it has a mind of its own.

There’s a red-and-yellow “S” embossed on her chest. Lena wants to run her fingers over that letter, trail her fingertips along the stitching. She wants to know what that suit feels like under the pads of her fingers, wants to know what Kara might do if she were to grab her by the neck of it and pull her in and—

Kara has been picking her way across the room over the course of the last few minutes, waving to children and parents alike and hugging the little bodies that crush up against her legs, her stomach. She’s drifted right next to where Lena is standing, leaning against the wall and trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible so as to achieve the full, un-distracted effect of Kara Danvers In Action.

But she’s so close now, that Lena finds she can’t can’t help herself. She clears her throat, rather loudly. “Nice costume.”

“Lena!” Kara straightens at once. She clearly hadn’t noticed her before. “Hi! What are you… what are you doing here?”

“We were meant to get lunch. I was worried when you didn’t show.”

Kara groans and slaps her forehead. “Oh no, was that today? I’m so sorry. I forgot I double-booked.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Lena runs her eyes up and down Kara’s body, and tries very hard to hide the fact that she’s only just shy of openly-leering. “You look nice.”

“The kids don’t know it’s me,” Kara explains haltingly, looking a little flustered. “They can’t recognize me in this getup. So once a month I put it on and… come down here to entertain them.”

Lena has to laugh at that. “What, you take down your hair and take off your glasses and you’re suddenly a new person?”

Kara shrugs, but one side of her mouth is pulled higher than the other, and her cheeks seem a little pink. Lena almost can’t believe this woman is real. “It works in the movies.”

Just then, a little hand tugs on Kara’s cape (God, she’s wearing a cape. Lena might just swoon). At once, it’s like Kara becomes someone else. Her face sets and her eyes soften and she bends down at once, bringing herself face-to-face with a young girl — no more than 5 or 6 — who’s dressed in a set of pajamas and slippers, a small IV poking out of her hand.

“Hi, sweetie,” Kara says to her softly, and Lena feels her knees actually go weak at the kindness in her voice. “What can I do for you?”

The girl simply stares at Kara wide-eyed, sucking on her thumb frantically.

“Sorry,” the girl’s mother explains, “she just loves you. One of the nurses told her you can fly, and she can’t stop talking about it. But she’s a little shy.” She puts her hand on top of her daughter’s head. Kara doesn’t take her eyes off of the little girl, smiling that million-dollar smile the entire time. “Would you mind if I got a picture? It would really make her day.”

“Of course.” Kara immediately turns so that she’s kneeling next to the girl. She puts her arm around the girl’s shoulders, and she immediately beams. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Kara whispers conspiratorially.

“Lily,” the girl whispers back, and Kara’s smile gets impossibly wider.

“You’re a very brave girl, Lily. Just like a superhero.”

The girl’s eyes grow wide and glassy, and she beams at Kara. Lily’s mother takes a few pictures of them in various poses, before thanking Kara profusely and leading her daughter away by the hand. Kara waves at her the entire way down the hallway, before seeming to remember that Lena is standing there waiting for her.

Not that Lena minds, of course. She doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Kara pulls an apologetic face. “Sorry about all that.”

Lena shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. You’re quite the hero around here, aren’t you, Supergirl?”

Kara flushes. “I think you mean Superwoman.”

“I like ‘Supergirl’ more.”

“Why?”

Lena shrugs. She brings her hand up to twist one strand of Kara’s hair around her finger. She’s never seen it down before. It’s mesmerizing. “Fits more with the persona, I think.”

Kara laughs and crosses her arms over her chest, clutching her biceps tightly like she’s a little embarrassed for Lena to see her like this. God, her muscles. Does she live at the gym? “You know… the kids get a kick out of it,” she says, and Lena’s not sure if she’s purposefully ignoring the way Lena’s eyes are fixed on her shoulders, like she can’t pull them away, or if she legitimately doesn’t notice.

Knowing Kara, probably the latter.

Kara clears her throat, but she doesn’t back away from her, which is promising. “Um… I’m sorry about missing lunch. If you’ve still got some time…?” Lena nods. “Okay, great. Just let me get changed out of— just let me get changed. I can be ready in 10.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

5.)

“Would you like to get dinner?” Kara asks her one day, out of the blue, and it takes Lena far longer than it should for her to realize what, exactly, Kara is asking her.

At first, she simply smiles. “Sure. My shift ends at 8. Shall I invite Sam and James, too?”

“Oh, I…” Kara clears her throat and shifts on her feet. She’s wearing a pair of bright purple scrubs today, which Lena finds helplessly endearing. The fact that she’s shifting in front of Lena, clearly nervous, only adds to that feeling. “I was sort of hoping it could be just the two of us.”

Lena’s smile slips into a frown. “Is something wrong? Something you need to talk about?”

“No!” Kara is quick to reassure. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just… I meant it more as a, um, date… thing.”

“A… date-thing?”

“If you want?”

Lena has to bite her lip to stop herself from full-on beaming. “Yes,” she demures, her chin tilted down towards her chest, her heart beating so quickly in her chest it threatens to beat straight out of it, “I’d like that.”

Kara exhales, a tiny puff of air she seems unaware she was holding. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Kara,” Lena says with a laugh, “I’d like that very much.”

Send me an AU and I’ll give you 5 headcanons for it

#supercorp #fanfiction #headcanon #au game #hearticho #asks #long post

53 notes · View notes