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nitewrighter · 2 years ago

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What Large Teeth You Have

Seeing the Genji and Mercy Knight and Dragon skins made me realize it's been a hot minute since I've last done a fairytale AU. Also WOW! This one turned out to be almost 10k words!! CW for animal death because this is pseudo-medieval land which means critters get eaten.

----

"I mean, of course you're a girl dragon! 'Cause, you're just reeking of feminine beauty."

--Source unknown

----

Genji frowned at the bounty board. Behind him, the tavern was quiet, dust motes hanging in the early afternoon light streaming through the windows. Come sunset it would be full of the usual boisterous bands of adventurers, their drunken boasts, and even more drunken brawls, and then their drunken tearing down of local bounties, so he preferred to come in before all that.

"Are you sure this is everything?" he glanced over his shoulder at the tavernkeeper, who was sleepily polishing a flagon.

"Eh?" the tavern keeper glanced up at him.

"Are these all of the available bounties posted?"

"If't ain't on th' board, 'tain't worth doin'," said the tavern keeper, returning his attention to the flagon.

"Really?" Genji yanked one flier off of the board, "'Kill the dreaded six headed possum that's taken over my rubbish heap?'" he yanked another flier off the board, "Find my prized goat with two extra nipples?"

"T'ain't on th' board, 'tain't worth doin'," the tavern keeper said again.

"Counting goat nipples is not a valorous deed," Genji said sullenly.

"Them's fully functioning nipples, from what I heard, they are," the tavernkeeper said, whipping his polishing cloth at Genji in admonition.

"Surely this can't be it!" said Genji.

"Genji, Genji, Genji," a voice tutted and Genji's shoulders slumped. He pivoted where he stood to see a figure with dark spiky hair and pointed ears in a blue tunic.

"...Lena..." he grunted.

"You know what your problem is?" Tracer strolled right next to him and took the fliers from both his hands, "You think an adventure is all... fanfare and bravery and blood and grand deeds, when really it's about the little things."

"...like goat nipples," he said flatly.

"Like answering the call!" said Tracer, stuffing the fliers into her own belt, "No matter how small! Letting the realm know you care about them!"

"If you want to find random animals for people who likely cannot tell their heads from their buttocks, by all means," Genji folded his arms, "My sword thirsts for glory."

"'My sword thirsts for glory,'" Tracer imitated his timbre with a mocking flail of her hands. "Welp. My coin purse thirsts for commission. So with that I'll be off."

"I bet the possum doesn't even have six heads!" Genji called after her. She just flailed an arm up in an 'I don't care' gesture of goodbye before heading out the door.

He leafed underneath the more recent ones, knowing that if those ones hadn't been taken, they were likely just as arbitrary as the goat and possum, and indeed, they were. Jobs that were little more than being hired muscle for petty disputes of dubious legality, jobs that seemed to amount to courier work with equally dubious legality, one that had definitely been written out by a child apparently dealing with some bullies, a dragon cult in the ashlands to the west, pest control for a local mill--

Wait, what was that last one?

Genji seized a flier off of the board with interest and read it.

By Order of Duke Engel of Sinteroth

Reward!

Adventurers of able body and sound mind needed to clear Castle Ziegler of the dreaded cultists of the Order of the Emerald Flame, and rescuing the Duke's ward, Lady Angela, from their clutches.

The adventurer successful in ending the threat of the dragon cultists is welcome to as much of the cultists' treasures as they can carry, as well as an official reward 500 Gold sovereigns, the ownership of a 20-acre plot of land, and the title of 'Baron.'

"What do you know about this one?" Genji held the flier up to the tavern keeper.

"Eh?" the tavern keeper bumbled over and squinted at the flier, "Ah, shite. Meant to take that one down."

"Take it down? Why?" Genji tilted his head.

"Word is, Engel died not long after the Lady Angela was kidnapped--nerves or heart or some such thing--and his heir, his nephew y'see, had no interest in giving away so much of his father's wealth for a ward who would only be a potential rival for his own succession. So there's no reward now--no gold or land or titles. Ye'd be headin' into whatever horrid black magic them cultists been cookin' up for nothin' but whatever fell trinkets they have scattered around, and a highborn orphan shrew--if'n she's still alive, that is. Which is doubtful."

"...so they just... let the cultists have that castle," Genji tilted his helmeted head.

"No one's fixin' to kick a hornet's nest--not without an offer of 500 gold and barony, that is."

"I have no desire for land, gold, or titles," said Genji (this was perhaps only 60% true), "I shall reclaim Castle Ziegler from the cultists, so the shadow of their dark magic no longer threatens the realm." With that, he dramatically rolled up the bounty flier and stuck it in his satchel.

"I mean, as long as the flier doesn't stay up--" the tavern keeper shrugged but Genji had already swept around into a heroic stride out the door.

"I go to seek my destiny!" he declared, "Wish me luck!"

"The flier did call for 'Sound mind' you know!" the tavern keeper called after him.

"Thank you!" said Genji, who hadn't heard him and definitely interpreted his yell as some variation of 'good luck.'

The tavern keeper just awkwardly waved after him. "Poor sod," he muttered under his breath.

----

The journey to the ashlands was long and arduous and more than once did Genji feel a bit foolish riding out so far for a quest he knew little about, save that there was no actual certain reward. Even his own promise to himself that he would at least have a good story to bring back home seemed dubious. But then again, he figured if all of Tracer's claims were to be believed, then this truly was adventure for its own sake. Storming castles, slaying dark mages, rescuing fair maidens, the parts were there, but doubt set in more and more the closer he got to the ashlands.

Days and nights he rode, deeper and deeper into the west. Traversing plains, clambering up and over mountains, fording rivers, sleeping under the stars or shivering in lean-tos. He was guided by the stars, by the wind, by the growing scent of smoke in the air. Any living soul he came across, he asked about everything they knew about Castle Ziegler, about the cult of the Emerald Flame, and about the Lady Angela.

"They're old wizards, I know that much," said an elderly tinker at a farming village where Genji spent the night in a barn. "Used to conduct their nasty rituals at the old stone circles in the hills. Don't rightly know if it was them what put them stones up, but I remember seeing their fires blazing on the hills on starless nights as a lad. Mothers wouldn't let their children out of the house after dark in those days. The taking of Castle Ziegler and the kidnapping of Lady Angela—that's the most any of us have heard of 'em in a while."

"Bloody charlatans giving a nasty name to all other magic users in the land, that's all they are," said a traveling wizard Genji shared the road with for a few leagues, "Did you know they're worshipping a mistranslation? They claim their dragon god Vernihiloth was banished to the infernal plane, but a proper translation and proper historical context indicates that Vernihiloth was slain. Not the first fools to worship a dead god, but they could at least be less of a nuisance about it." He caught himself. "Not that I would call the kidnapping of the dead Duke's ward a 'nuisance' mind you!"

"The Lady Angela?" A traveling merchant said, as he and Genji rode in the back of a wagon together (Genji offering his protection to the caravan in exchange for a ride to give his own horse a break, of course), "I've seen her a few times. Beautiful, but curious woman. Always asking me for new books. Dreadful, what happened to her."

"Her parents threw their lot in with the wrong lord," an old mercenary said as he and Genji hunched over bowls of rabbit and pease pottage, huddled under tarps as a miserable drizzle rained down a few nights later. "They were just a breadbasket for that uprising. Hardly raised swords, themselves, but were executed for treason all the same."

"She came to the Duke a sad and hollow creature," a bard explained at an inn a few days after that, "But quickly grew into a lady of surpassing beauty and intelligence. Still, her parentage would more or less doom her to the life of a spinster."

"We all knew old duke treasured her, but she had a soft spot for us smallfolk," said a shepherd in a field Genji was riding through, "She had a gift for the healing arts and would ride out to the villages to help set bones or mix medicines."

"I saw 'em grab her!" a boy of no older than 11 declared while Genji was having a farrier look at his horse in another village, "They killed her horse! And then she was kickin' and yellin' and I think she stabbed one only I dunno if I can say that since highborn ladies oughtn't be stabbin' people!! I ran to get grownups, but by the time I was able to get them to come, they were all gone..."

"The Old Duke did attempt to ransom her, and later sent the finest of his personal guard after her... neither attempt ended well." a weaver woman said, not looking up from Genji's trousers as she was darning them, "First they sent back the hands of the messenger, then they sent back his guards' heads. Most have kept well away from Castle Ziegler since then. Haven't heard any word from the village near it, either. The current duke would rather see the whole thing forgotten than even look."

"I shudder to think of what those cultists would want with her," said a traveling cleric, "Black magic like that---no one wants to say virgin sacrifice, but that might be a more merciful fate than other alternatives."

Genji did not question much on the Lady Angela after that. And as he rode further along, the fewer and further between the villages and travelers got. The problem with saying you're going to do something, and punctuate it with a phrase like 'I go to seek my destiny' is that the closer and closer you get to that destiny, the more you realize its ramifications. Genji became increasingly conscious of the fact that this was not a valorous story, if it would be anything, it would be bringing closure to a very sad story.

Still, the ashlands weren't nearly as bleak as their name suggested. Rather than bleak gray flatlands, Genji found himself in rolling, forested hills shaded by massive ash and maple trees, their seeds fluttering down like fairies in leaf-dappled light. For all its beauty, though, there was a distinct loneliness that seemed to hang in the air. Perhaps it was the ancientness of the trees, or perhaps it was the other features of the land. True to the tinker's words, some hilltops had been cleared of trees and were crowned with stone circles. They hardly seemed like structures that would have been erected by the cultist's predecessors, it seemed to Genji more likely that they would simply co-opt these ancient stones without any knowledge of their original spiritual purpose. It was in one of these stone hill circles that Castle Ziegler finally came into view. Here now, was a place that matched the name of 'ashlands.'

Perhaps before the cultists had moved in, it had been much like everything else here—tall, and lonely, and old, and lovely, maybe with a village clustered around it—but now it was a blackened craggy ruin, several of its towers collapsed, jutting itself up from a nearly acre-wide radius of scorched earth and the sharp black shards of what used to be trees. Genji's horse nickered nervously.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, old friend," said Genji, stroking the horse's neck (though he had largely made peace with the fact that there would be nothing gained regardless of what was ventured at this point.)

Genji walked, for some reason it felt wrong to ride in, as close as they were, until they reached the edge of the blackened earth, where the grass was brown and dead with what must have been a blast of instantly drying heat. Genji looked at the castle, surrounded by the charred remains of trees and buildings, then looked back at his horse.

"You need not go any further," he said, stroking the horse's muzzle, "I can take it from here."

The horse gave a low rumble of a nicker and a wary look at the castle as if to say, 'Good, because there's no way in hell I'm going in there,' and Genji gave him another pat on the neck before going forward. The ashen soil was soft beneath his feat, and tinged his boots black and gray and white, making his movement toward the castle completely silent.

Genji moved low, darting behind various burnt-out building frames and peeking out from behind them as he drew closer and closer to the castle. He scanned the castle's towers and ramparts for spies and archers and saw... nothing. He still kept his furtive approach, regardless, though feeling slightly more stupid doing it. Just because you couldn't see archers, didn't mean they weren't there. But for all his caution he still found himself at the blasted-open-from-the-inside remains of the main portcullis. He could hear the low sighs of the breeze bouncing around the interior of the ruined castle, and somewhere from deep within, a rumble. Genji swallowed hard and drew his sword.

"I go to seek my destiny," he said very softly to himself, stepping over the stones and twisted iron grate, into the shadows of the ruined castle. Ash and dust motes lingered in the air in massive shafts of light from the blasted-out parts of the ceiling overhead, and instantly something crunched beneath Genji's foot. He glanced down to see he had stepped through a blackened ribcage of a twisted human skeleton.

It was not the first human remains he had seen in his adventures, but he noticed something hanging around the skeleton's neck. He stooped and picked it up, brushing off some soot with his thumb. Miraculously it hadn't been melted down, but it appeared to be an amulet featuring a dragon's roaring face with startlingly bright green jewels for eyes, ringed in runes. He probably should have asked that wizard more about the whole 'worshipping a mistranslation' thing, but he was used to adventures where you sort of go off of 40% of what random strangers are saying. So all he did was go "Hm," before pocketing the amulet.

He gingerly stepped around a mess of blackened skeletons, and his eyes scanned the walls where the shadows of human shapes were outlined in what must have been a blast of smoke and soot. Somehow that made him shudder more than the actual skeletons on the ground. He had run into his share of magicians who had bitten off more than they could chew in his adventures as well, but something this widespread, something this indiscriminate, something this seemingly all-consuming and instant, made his blood run cold. In an ironic way he wished he was currently slashing his way through cultists and dodging out of the way of spells and crossbow bolts--that was something he could deal with, that was something he could recognize.

Deeper he went into the castle, glancing around at the positioning of the skeletons. They all seemed pointed toward the exit, in that same way the portcullis had seemed blasted outward. They had been fleeing something. He passed under a doorway leading to a large chamber where a massive stone staircase framed the room, but between and the staircase was a massive hole in the floor. Carefully, Genji edged toward the hole to peer down into its depths. He had a length of rope on his person, if he found something to anchor himself to, he might be able to--

The floor gave way beneath him. His free arm flailed out and gripped the edge of the chasm, leaving his legs dangling over the darkness below and his sword gleaming against the blackness. The rocks that had fallen beneath him were tumbling into the depths below and he heard them land far too far down with more cracks and rumbles. With a grunt he tossed his sword up onto what was hopefully more solid ground, and swung his body around to grip the edge with his sword hand.

He froze at the sound of a deep rumbling far below him. The sheer vulnerability he felt hanging there was enough to make his palms slick with sweat, but he steeled himself.

Just the stones settling, he told himself, hauling himself out of the chasm. A few more stones were collapsing in at the edge and he quickly picked up his sword and scrambled away from it. He was catching his breath as the continued cracks of the stones below once again gave way to the gentle moan of wind through the ruins. He was checking his sword for nicks on its edge from the throw, when the rumbling sound came again. And then there was another sound, that wasn't quite the moan of wind through the ruins, nor the rumble of settling stone, and Genji slowly, silently got to his feet. The sound came again, a warm sound, a living sound, but a sound that was unlike any animal he had ever heard before. His feet were already backing away from the chasm, his sword gripped in both hands. He briefly considered saying 'I go to seek my destiny' again to calm his nerves from whatever was in that pit, but at the same time, he knew for all their evil and cruelty, his flesh wasn't any more fireproof than the cultist skeletons that littered this place.

A massive green scaled limb suddenly jutted up and out of the chasm and slammed claws as big as Genji's forearm into the stones in front of him, sending up a spray of dust and stone and ash. A furious flood of regret rushed through Genji's mind. Forget destiny, all common sense told him, Fuck destiny. You are going to die here. Run. Run now. Run. Just run--

But Genji's legs were frozen in place as a vast shape hauled itself up out of the pit.

Genji was aware of dragons. At least in concept. To him they just seemed like something people tossed into a story to make it sound grander. He had understood that the Order of the Emerald Flame was a dragon cult, that is, a cult that worshipped a dragon. But staring up at it, at the golden lobster-plating of its stomach, of the glittering green-gold scales shifting over powerful legs and expansive, bat-like wings, of the furious eyes, like molten peridot, the ivory horns and rows of massive gleaming white dagger-sized fangs, backlit by glowing embers at the back of the creature's maw, this then when he realized this was the source of that instant, all-consuming blast that had scoured this castle and the lands around for nearly an acre. This was that fell shaper of the twisted skeletons that had tried to flee this place. This was that cruel painter of the human shapes blasted into the walls. Staring at this creature, all wings and scales and sinew and claws and fire, glaring down at him with those furious eyes before raising its jagged jaws skyward in an earsplitting cry, was when he realized: Oh. This is their god.

He stared up at the dragon and it stared down at him, its throat rumbling. Genji's eyes settled on a jagged collar of black iron around the dragon's neck, where a green gem that must have been the size of his own head gleamed at him like a third, cruel eye. Genji held his sword at the ready. Facing down cultists would have definitely been more preferable, and yet, all the same, this was what he had hoped for when he was scanning that stupid tavern board what seemed like another lifetime ago (It was like a week and a half). He steadied himself, rolling his fingers along his sword's hilt. I go to seek my dest---

The whack of the dragon's tail sent him flying, then bouncing along the floor, before finally slamming hard into a wall with a grunt. He practically peeled off the wall and flopped in a heap on the stone floor. He heard a short ting ting ting of metal bouncing away from him--too small to be his sword, and he knew he still had a death-grip on the hilt. There were stars in his vision from the impact as he glanced up to see the amulet he had picked up now rolling like an oversized coin before tilting and spinning onto its flat side with a faint, ringing rattle. He heard a growling, questioning noise from the dragon, and then a short huff of its nostrils. Genji hauled himself up to his elbows to see the dragon, a ways away from him (How far had that tail strike threw him?). The dragon's head was held in catlike alertness, and Genji saw a few feet in front of him was the amulet he had picked up earlier. It must have fallen out when he hit the wall. The dragon didn't seem to have the same furious contempt in its eyes, but rather an animalistic alarm, its attention completely fixed on the amulet. The gem on its collar was thrumming with a green glow. Genji wasn't sure what instinct drove him to scramble forward and seize the amulet once more before the dragon lunged forward for it, but he thanked the gods for the surge of adrenaline that let him push himself up to his feet and run away as fast as he possibly could. The dragon took in a breath and blasted fire at him.

It's really remarkable how the immediate fear of imminent, flaming death makes your own disappointment in yourself seem very muted. As he sprinted and dipped out of the way of deluge after deluge of roaring cascade of flames as the dragon leapt and lumbered and twisted after him, Genji was not thinking 'This isn't valorous at all, I won't be able to tell a story about this.' His line of thought was more along the lines of 'Please don't let there be more fire around this corner. Please don't let me be running into tail or jaws.' Every time the dragon's powerful clawed feet made contact with the stone floor, dust was shaken down from the ceiling and the vibration in the ground nearly made Genji stumble himself. He was in that wide-legged, mad dash where you seem inches from crashing and falling for all your desperation, yet somehow your own momentum seems to barely keep you upright. The dragon blasted fire again and Genji dodged in a roll out of its way. He raced around columns and the dragon seemingly turned on a dime to twist after him, jaws snapping. He desperately struck back against a swipe of its claws, but the claws on steel set it ringing in a way that warned the next strike would make his sword shatter. He leapt over a pile of rubble and huddled against the ground as fire blasted over his head and sent stones tumbling down around him. He even scrambleed up the half-ruined stairs circling the dragon's pit, and with a beat of its wings knocking against the walls and sending hot air and soot and dust everywhere, the dragon was right after him, its jaws snapping behind him. He pivoted on his heel and finally struck at the dragon's snout with his sword. It flinched back and snarled, perhaps not expecting this much fight from something that had been so desperately fleeing it before, but then Genji felt the air getting sucked around him--the dragon was drawing in a breath. He leapt out from the stairs and barely managed to slide down a ceiling column as the fire blasted after him.

His one advantage was that he was relatively small, agile, and capable of breaking the dragon's visual fix on him by virtue of his own erratic movements and hiding behind rubble and dodging over half-collapsed walls. He was an adventurer, he knew how to use his environment to his advantage, even if it wasn't exactly brave. Clever was better than brave, at a time like this. He heard the dragon's breath catching in his throat, that rumble shifting in the room behind him as the dragon's neck swayed this way and that, searching for him. He fled down a corridor to catch what little breath he could in an increasingly hot castle, but could hear the dragon lumbering toward the entryway and ruined portcullis to cut off his only known means of escape.

Genji wondered how long he could stay in this castle before all the heat bouncing off of the stones would cook him alive. He wondered how long he could keep his helmet on until his brain cooked. Maybe it already had, otherwise he wouldn't still be caught up in trying to slay a dragon. He fled down a half-ruined corridor that he prayed was too narrow for the dragon to scramble into, but he knew he couldn't stay long. Eventually the dragon would stop guarding the exit, seek him out, and in an area this cramped he wouldn't be able to dodge his way out of a blast of fire.

He hastily yanked the amulet from the interior of his brigantine and tried to squint at it in the faint lights of the ruins. Why would it be so important to the dragon? He knew of dragon hordes, but the dragon had been chasing him all over the castle and he found no piles of gold anywhere. His mind flashed back to one quest he and Tracer had shared, when they had to defeat a lich that had taken over some local catacombs by destroying its reliquary. Genji wasn't much of a magic scholar, but he knew the lich was just as erratically obsessed with its reliquary as this dragon seemed to be with the amulet. If this was a beast that was brought here by tearing some sort of veil, much as the lich had by keeping itself alive through magic, then perhaps it needed an anchor. Perhaps that skeleton close to the door (back when it had flesh) was trying to get to a safe distance so it could use the amulet to take control of the dragon.

He set the amulet on the stone floor and hovered the tip of his sword over it. Like a lot of things he had done to get to this point, he felt somewhat foolish. He wasn't sure what breaking the amulet, if it could be broken, would do. At this point what logic he was able to put together in a brain flooded with adrenaline and dread, was that the dragon wanted the amulet, and if it was the evil god of an evil cult, it probably should not get the amulet. Further, Genji reasoned, if he got killed here, it would probably very easily retrieve it from his corpse, so he decided, whatever the amulet was to the dragon, he should remove that possibility. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a long breath, trying to will strength, rather than desperation, to his muscles. Then he plunged the sword down.

When he and Tracer had destroyed the lich's reliquary, there was a sort of expected outburst of evil magic—a great howling of the countless souls the lich had sacrificed to keep himself alive, a horrible upward whirling of black and violet spirals of smoke-like energy that smelled of foul death that he and Tracer had covered their nose and mouth at for fear it was poisonous. He wasn't sure what he expected when the sword split the amulet, but the reaction was definitely bigger than that. There was a great surging of green flames, splashing up from the fissure in the amulet like a great fountain, and an otherworldly scream. There was a voice in his head, cruel, and crackling, and ancient. It wasn't speaking the common tongue, or any tongue that Genji knew, and yet it seemed to pierce understanding through his psyche like a pike.

YOU FOOL BOY, it snarled, WHAT HAVE YOU DO--

And all at once it seemed... sucked away. Suddenly pulled into a small, tight space where it shrunk into nonexistence. Genji winced, feeling a strange searing pain-that-wasn't-pain in his chest and across his sword arm. He opened one eye, then both, to see the amulet cracked in half, blackened and smoking on the ground. He then flinched to see the runes from the amulet now blazing along the blade of his sword, in green flames that faded to etchings in the steel, and green light spiraling along his sword arm. The very weight of it seemed different in his hand, now. The blade seemed to vibrate, not quite with that typical ringing impact of striking stone and metal, but with an otherworldly hum. He was suddenly overcome with the desire to sheathe the sword, and maybe to throw it in the nearest body of water and never see it again, but it was still his sword, and gods knew he wasn't about to be caught without his sword with a dragon about. He heard a distant, high roar of the dragon that almost seemed like a woman's shriek. So whatever the amulet was, it was affecting the dragon, somehow. Not knowing what he would find, he rushed toward the sound.

He found the dragon back in the main foyer of the castle, still blocking its exit as it has presumably planned, but it was thrashing and shrieking and flailing its head along its snake-like neck, still letting out that shriek-like roar. Genji's eyes flicked down to the hideous collar around the dragon's neck, now crackling with green bolts of electricity or something. The dragon continued thrashing around like it was being attacked by insects, until it fixed its eyes on Genji, and suddenly all that desperation seemed to be laser-focused into pure rage, pure rage at him. It drew in a long, furious breath, stilled to a tense, quivering, shape, shaking like a too-taut bow, its tail lashed out behind it.

No more running, a voice that wasn't quite Genji's, nor that strange tongue sounded from his chest. He brought up his sword as the dragon exhaled all of its fire in a roar. Genji squeezed his eyes shut, expecting instant searing death--but instead he felt a rush of heat, and heard his sword singing with that strange vibration again.

The dragon's breath blazed against the blade of his sword, the green runes singing and glowing as the fire split around him like a flooding river around a stone. He glanced around at the fire roaring around both sides of him in awe, then looked back at the dragon, still unleashing that furious breath. He wasn't sure what compelled him to twist his grip on the sword so that the flat of the blade faced the dragon--and then the flame pouring toward him bent. He could hear whispering in that tongue that he knew and didn't knew as his eyes scanned down the runes on his blade. For all the brightness of flames and runes, he wondered if he would be blinded. The dragon shrieked with surprise as its own breath came pouring back at it.

The whisper of the runes turned to a roar in his head again, in the tongue he should not have been able to understand:

YOU WOULD SET SOUL AGAINST BODY!?

But Genji anchored his legs and then pushed forward, he watched with equal parts wonder and horror as the bright glow of the runes along his sword sent out a smoke-like light that spiraled around his sword arm. There was that pain-that-was-not-pain again as he got closer and closer to the dragon's throat. The dragon had ceased its breath and swiped out at him with its claws, and he easily struck the claws back with his sword, it gnashed out at him with its razor teeth and he ducked and rolled out of the way. Now, he thought, pouncing out of his roll. He leapt toward the dragon's throat, as it reared its head back to try and snap at him again. He had no doubt that with these cruel runes running up the edge for this blade would have no problem biting into that lobster plating of the neck, maybe even severing the head, but at the last second, his eyes flicked down to the crackling ugly iron collar and its cruel green jewel. He wasn't sure why he heard Tracer's voice in his head at that point. It's about the little things. He swung his sword and it hewed into the gem with a strange, unnatural sound, like ice forming and cracking on a lake. The crack on the gem spread and crumbled and suddenly, there was a massive blast of magic as the gem shattered.

Genji was sent tumbling back once again--not flying, but bouncing, and this time quickly being stopped by the friction of the multiple skeletons crumbling beneath him each time he made contact with the floor--blackened bones crunching against his brigantine. He only barely pushed himself up to his hands and knees to look up at the dragon, swaying and screaming, as the iron collar crumbled off of its neck, before it finally collapsed onto the stone floor, kicking up a shockwave of dust and ash in all directions that sprayed Genji and sent him sputtering. He stayed there on his hands and knees, watching the dragon. Was its form... smoking? Was that from being blasted with its own breath?

Keeping himself low and ready, Genji edged toward the fallen dragon warily, sword still in hand, weakly spurting off the odd green spark. The percolating stillness of the dragon's form, the settling of the dust and ash after all their scrambling and clashing of sword and claw and blasts of magic, seemed to summon the adrenaline-suppressed exhaustion back to Genji's muscles. His mouth and throat were horribly dry, but his curiosity at the sight before him still managed to keep his collapse from exhaustion at bay.

The giant form of the dragon was burning away, scales crackling off of it and being borne aloft on the heat of its own flames. Green sparks rippled off of Genji's own sword. Heat waves blurred the air around it, and then the flames rose higher, burned denser and brighter, seemingly shrinking down, hotter, and hotter, until there was a white-hot shape at its core--the dragon's heart? Genji flinched as a rush of hot air hit him. Where the dragon had previously laid, was a woman, naked and covered in soot and scratches. Dead?

Her side rose and fell with a rasping breath. He made out fair hair, strong shoulders, wide hips, all dusted with scratches and ash like she had been shoved down a burnt hill.

"...Lady Angela?" he said after a few long beats.

She coughed and flinched from where she was laying down on the tiles--or at least the remains of the tiles. The heat had cracked the stone like a dried up riverbed, or even turned it red in some spots in some kind of pre-molten state. He instinctively wanted to grab her and yank her off of the stone for fear it would hurt her, but it didn't seem exactly chivalrous to just grab a naked woman, nor did she seem to even notice the heat. She pushed herself up to a half-collapsed position, "That..." her eyes trailed around the room, trying to gauge her surroundings, "That is me." She said those words as if her name was something she had forgotten for a long time, and she was just now picking it up off the ground and dusting it off. Her voice was thick and raw. All those roars--had she been screaming? Crying for help?

"Do you remember what happened?" asked Genji, glancing over his shoulder slightly so she could hear him better, but now depending on the way his helmet cut off his peripheral vision to keep from looking at her.

"They--they tied me down to the altar...They were singing this horrible song...about how their god would return..." her hand went to a point between her breasts. Genji averted his eyes as hard as he could "I--I felt the knife go through me. I felt my blood running out, and it felt like fire--I thought--I was feeling myself die, but something happened. Something went wrong or, something changed--Everything was burning. Everything. I couldn't see anything because everything was flames and then, suddenly... I was... big."

"Big," Genji repeated.

"Everything is so much in that shape..." she pressed her fingers to her forehead, "There was a voice in my head pushing me down... down... And... and I tried to leave. I couldn't stay here, something was wrong with me, but I couldn't leave. There--there was something around my neck...?" she felt at her throat. Her eyes widened. She had pulled herself up to a hunched over kneeling position at this point, and seemed a bit more... covered. "There was someone--" she cradled her forehead in her hand again, and then her head slowly raised. "You--Who are you?"

Out of pure valiant hero reflex, Genji pivoted around and started (with what would have been punctuated with a flourishing bow) "I am Gen--" he realized she was still naked and immediately swung around again and muttered, "Genji of Overland."

"Come again?" said Lady Angela, "You're a bit hard to hear in that helmet--and facing away from me."

"I am Genji of---Look, can we just--?" Genji yanked off his helmet and let it drop to his feet with a clank, then started furiously undoing the buckles of his brigantine, "It's not knightly to continue this discussion when you are in such a state."

"State...?" Lady Angela squinted, then glanced down at herself. She seemed to consider her own nudity with a vague concern, like there was probably something she should be remembering but was very close to coming to the conclusion of 'If it was important I wouldn't have forgotten it.'

"I have a cloak in my horse's saddlebags," Genji had gotten the brigantine off at this point, and it was clear his intention was giving Lady Angela his tunic to cover herself with, but he had now realized that the tunic had become completely plastered to his torso with sweat, due to previously running from blasts of fire. Her fire. "But I can't ask you to walk out there naked. And I can't exactly leave you to get the horse so--" He peeled off the tunic with no small amount of effort and was desperately flapping it to dry some of the sweat and stink out when he heard crackling behind him.

He flinched a glance over his shoulder to see Lady Angela looking at her hands, which were both on fire.

"No!" he stumbled toward her but then stopped when she glanced at him with a perfectly calm albeit reasonably confused expression. The flames were consuming her entire forearms, but just as suddenly as they had come, they disappeared, like they had been blown out by a strong breeze. Where the flames had been, were now plates and scales and claws at her fingertips, her whole forearms looking almost like gauntlets. Genji watched as Lady Angela seemed to burst into flame at her breasts and hips all with the same curious but unhurt expression. He watched with the sort of 'I should not be watching this' embarrassment as anyone might have of seeing a stranger dressing or undressing, and yet the whole process was so removed from any semblance of dressing, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Hoooow are you doing that?" asked Genji as scales sprouted across her stomach.

"I don't know," she said, as the flames died away, leaving a scrappy coverage of plates and scales over her torso that... could pass for clothes? Armor? Unfortunately he knew it was, technically her flesh, and was a little scared and embarrassed to ask if those scales were going to be there forever. "But is this better?" Her legs and most of her upper arms were bare, but she had seen fit to give herself clawed feet and scaled calves, that Genji hoped he would be able to convince people were very interesting boots.

"...I don't know," said Genji, after a beat.

Angela seemed to regard her surroundings with a bit more clarity now. "The men who took me..." she said vaguely, as if trying to remember, "Are any...?"

"There were none when I arrived," said Genji, "I mean they were all..." he trailed off, "There was only you. Alive."

She stared at him, and then glanced back at her own clawed and scale-gauntleted hands. "It felt like a dream..." she murmured.

"What was so important about the amulet, do you remember?" asked Genji.

"What amulet?" asked Angela, with sincere blankness.

Genji's mouth opened for a few seconds, "It's... fine. We--I can figure it out later."

Angela studied him for a few seconds, but then seemed to startle with realization. "Duke Engel--I have to get back to my guardian! He's probably worried sick about---" she noticed the shift in Genji's expression and her brow crinkled.

"H-how long have I been like this?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"I don't know," Genji said softly, "But... I think we should get out of here."

----

The journey out of the Ashlands was... quiet. One would have ventured to say awkward. The horse was, for what it was worth, waiting for him and nonchalantly grazing only a few dozen yards into the trees. For all the horrifying noises that must have issued from the castle, either the horse was deaf, or had its own odd sense of loyalty. This loyalty towards Genji did not go as far as Genji's attempts at comforting the Lady Angela, however. He tried to offer to let her ride back, and the horse pulled as far away from her as it could, stamping the ground and flattening its ears and taking significant effort from Genji just to convince it that it was safe to walk with her.

"It's fine," Lady Angela said, "I... need to get used to two legs again."

And so they were off.

Genji was embarrassed, not just over the whole nudity and flesh-becoming-scales bit, but at the idea that for him this had been a quest for glory and now was... actively dealing with someone who had lost everything, with someone who would, for all they knew, never be the same again. It was practically sunset when they began their journey away from Ziegler castle, so it wasn't long before they had to make camp.

"I know you've been through a lot," said Genji, "But we don't have a lot of time before we lose the sunlight. So if you could gather firewood while I set up a snare, we might be able to--"

"Shh--" Angela's pupils turned to slits, she had a hand on his shoulder as she scanned the ash trees around them. She gave the air a short sniiff. "I'll find food." she said, as if entranced.

"What-?" Genji started but she suddenly took off in a sprint leaning so far forward she was practically horizontal. "Lady--!"

But she disappeared into the brush. Genji tried to convince himself that that had not been a tail lashing out of the bushes as the last thing he saw of her. He was left standing next to his horse. The horse grumbled and stamped the ground.

"Don't give me that," said Genji, picking up some sticks for firewood.

Nearly half an hour passed. Genji had barely gotten his tinder lit when he heard a distant, animalistic bellow. His stomach dropped as he wondered if she had taken the form of a dragon again, but that hadn't sounded like any noise she had made before.

"Angela?" he called out to the all-too-quickly darkening woods.

There was a feminine grunt and a rustle of branches and Genji turned on his heel to see Angela coming from a completely new direction. He would have thought to wonder how far she had run if he wasn't distracted by the massive stag she was carrying across her shoulders. Those slit pupils of hers had dilated like a cat's, either from the dimming light or from adrenaline.

"I got it!" she said, dropping the dead stag onto the ground. No visible gashes--but he soon realized she had broken its neck.

"G-good job," said Genji.

Her eyes flicked from him, down to the dead stag, back up to him. Her nostrils flared and she slowly ran a forked tongue over her lips as she looked back down at the dead animal that was entirely too big for two people."

"You know what? I'll butcher it," said Genji.

"R-right," she seemed to remember herself.

"If we keep the fire going all night we can smoke what we don't eat rations for the next few days," Genji went on.

"Mm-hm. Rations. Yes. Few... days. Yes." She had folded her arms tight across herself, and was itching at her scales

"...you want to eat it now, don't you?" Genji asked cautiously.

"Please," smoke billowed out of her mouth and nostrils, and her teeth had gone sharp in her mouth as she spoke.

"Well, obviously you caught it, so you should decide what to--"

He shrieked and hopped back as she blew a billow of flame onto the dead deer. Genji's horse whinnied with alarm and Genji had to calm it down. But out here in the night air, the fire wasn't nearly as hot as it had been in the castle, but it also seemed... only comfortably warm. Like a campfire itself. Instinctive control of the the temperature of her own flames? Then she walked around it, stuck her hands under it as it was still burning, flipped it, and blew fire on the other side.

"...so you can do that in human form--?" he started but she didn't seem to hear him as she threw herself onto the still-burning stag.

He couldn't look away as she clawed and bit into the animal on her hands and knees. Genji's horse nickered with disturbance as she tore away burning hide to reveal sweet-smelling smoky venison, and dug in, tearing with teeth and claws. It was horrifying, it was animalistic, it was savage, and it was a lot more erotic than he wished he was recognizing it as. She made sounds like she was eating the most exquisite delicacies in the finest halls. She was almost moaning in ecstasy, blood and juices running down her chin as she yanked out a whole leg bone, blew a short flame on it for good measure, then snapped it in two and sucked out the marrow of one jagged end. "Mmh!--" She paused only to catch her breath, wiping at her chin with her scaly wrist, before she seemed to remember he was there. "Oh--" she looked down at what was now a burnt and ravaged wreck of what was once a stag. "Let me just---" she tore off a steak-sized rag of the meat of its leg round with her claws. and held out the other half of the bone she had sucked marrow out of to him. "Here."

He took both gingerly. "...thanks." he said, kind of wishing he had at least pulled his knife out to cut the meat into more manageable bites.

She was looking at him expectantly. He sheepishly lowered himself to a cross-legged position across from her so he was at her level, the burnt stag between them. He took a bite of the venison round and was... honestly impressed that it had been cooked to perfect rareness. She seemed to note his position and assume a more human sitting position, still reaching forward and grabbing random bones out of the stag, breathing a short flame on them, then snapping them and sucking the marrow out. They both ate quietly. Those first few bites seemed to remind Genji's body of its hunger, and soon he was drawing his knife and cutting out more little filets of venison to eat for himself. Angela was eating far more than him and faster, though it was clear she was more mindful of his eating as well--clearly a little embarrassed that this was her first meal with another person in what must have been a long time. Finally, both flopped back from the smoking remains of the stag with a sigh, staring up at the stars framed by ash tree branches. Genji's comparatively pithy little campfire crackled gently.

"...you know, you're a pretty good cook," said Genji, breaking the silence.

She just snorted with amusement. "I--I didn't even think about it. It just...felt like the thing to do. And the fire came so easily. The fire came because I was hungry. The only thing that made me realize it wasn't normal was... you shrieked like a little girl."

"I won't deny it. Maybe the fear makes it taste better," said Genji.

A soft chuckle escaped her. Another long pause passed between them.

"I can't go back to Sinteroth," Lady Angela said softly, "Not--not like this. I'm not a fool..." she trailed off.

"Do you... think there might be a way to reverse what's been done to you?" asked Genji.

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him, those pupils turning to slits again. "Do you think that's what must be done?"

"I don't know," Genji was starting to feel like he said that a lot to her, "When I started this journey, you were an idea. Maybe a beautiful maid in a tower to be returned home, or... nothing but a necklace I could bring back to your people to give them closure." He made a snarling sound. "Gods dammit, Tracer was right."

"What's a Tracer?"

"Valor and bravery is about small things," he said, sitting up, "Or... at least it's not just one big thing you can just knock out and not have to worry about."

She was looking at him, perplexed.

"Never mind," he said, quietly, "I mean... I set out on this quest to win glory for myself. But now there's actually someone who needs my help--or maybe you don't need my help---and it's all messy and--" his hand went to the hilt of his sword, "Something's... changed me."

An amused 'hmph' issued from her.

"Well, obviously not as much as it's changed you--" Genji started.

"I understand," she said. She looked at her own clawed fingers against the stars above. "I like this body, and it frightens me that I like this body."

"I... like your body too," said Genji, "I mean--" He cut himself off. He was trying to be encouraging and signal that his previous suggestion about reversing her state was completely up to her, but immediately realized that was terrible phrasing for it. She just chuckled again.

"It feels as though its only been truly mine for a few hours... and it was so awful for the time before... when I was trapped. But now it's mine and I can't stand the idea of giving it up." Those slitted pupils widened again as she lowered her hand and stared at the stars. "Trapped in that castle, this body longed for the sky, and now so do I. But it's terrifying. I know... the moment I'm flying, I'll never want to be human again."

"You don't... have to be?" said Genji. He had known a decent number of adventurers that lived with their own enchantments and curses--an arm that had been turned to stone and was kept mobile by gnomish steamworks and earthweaver runes, a donkey's head from a fae prank, men and women cursed to take the shape of animals by either daylight or night---a lot of them lived with it, a lot of them had more interesting stories for it, but also adventurers set out without a lot to lose to begin with. Being a lady who, from what he heard, had already lost so much, he could understand her mixed feelings on the matter. All the power of a dragon though...and one brought to this plane by black magic... this would be a pretty delicate matter.

"You're very adaptable," she said, a smile in her voice.

"I try to be," he shrugged. They both watched the stars a while longer.

"...I remember the amulet," Angela said slowly.

"What?"

"I really... don't know that much about it," she sat up and hugged her knees, "Only that one of them was holding it when the knife went into me. Part of the reason my head's so foggy is... I was sharing that body with--with something else. I don't hear the voice in my head any more but..." she squinted her eyes shut, "I can hear it from you--but not really. It's like it's muffled in another room."

Genji remembered the voice in his head: You would set soul against body.

If she was the body---

Genji's hand tightened around his sword hilt until his knuckles turned white.

"You hear it too, don't you?" said Lady Angela, "That's what you mean by something's changed you."

"Yes," Genji admitted.

"I'm sorry," said Lady Angela.

"I chose to go to Castle Ziegler. I'll live with my choices. Whatever's happening with my sword, I'll... figure it out."

"You're very brave," she said quietly.

"'Brave' and 'didn't think a lot of things through' aren't the same thing."

"They aren't mutually exclusive, either," She gave a short huff out of her nostrils again. "So... you said you came from Overland?"

----

It was a few days later in the Overland tavern. It was the evening, when most of the patrons were at least a pint in, and all the adventurers were boasting and telling stories and drunkenly ripping down bounties from the board.

"So," Tracer was holding up her massive stein of beer, surrounded by several tough and burly-looking adventurers with a redheaded tavern maid in her lap, "It turns out it wasn't a six headed possum--just a mama possum with five babies. Which they carry on their back. Felt kind of wrong to take the bounty money just to pop them all in a sack and drop 'em in the middle of the woods, but that's the job for ya!"

"You're so brave," the tavern maid tickled Tracer's chin.

"Oh I know," said Tracer, smugly.

A goat bleated next to her.

The bell hanging over the door rang and Tracer glanced over to see Genji holding the door open for a tall cloaked figure.

"Oi, Genji! You had us all scared there, love!" Tracer raised her stein to him, "Where have you been?"

"Oh--just... traveling around," Genji shrugged.

"I told 'em about the cultists," the tavern keeper offered from behind the bar, setting down two pints for both Genji and Angela, "Told 'em you were probably dead."

"So what were they like?" Tracer pushed, "Did your sword get its taste for glory sated?"

Genji vaguely gestured, "Well, it looks like whatever plans the cultists had... blew up in their faces. No trace of her ladyship, either, unfortunately. Maybe she ran away, or... maybe she met the same fate as them. I can't say for sure."

Angela shot him a knowing look from the periphery of her hood and he smiled beneath his own helmet.

"And...who's your friend?" said Tracer, watching as Angela walked over to the bounty board.

Angela pulled back her hood, and gave Tracer a smile. "Just another adventurer. You may call me Mercy." They had managed to get her a cheap tunic and trousers in one of the villages on the way here, and her bare hands appeared human, but she appeared to be wearing some fabulous clawed scale-armor boots.

"We um... met in the ashlands," said Genji, "Same quest. Same disappointment. You know how it is."

"The ashlands!" one of the adventurers suddenly exclaimed, "Did you two see the dragon?"

"The dragon?" Mercy and Genji repeated with faux-shock.

"A great green beast! There's been word from the west! Past few days it's been showing up, circling around in the sky, then it lands and by the time anyone gets to where it's landed, Fffft! Gone!"

Genji could feel his sword softly, moodily thrumming in its scabbard.

"It hasn't been razing villages, has it?" said Mercy, putting a hand over her heart with concern.

"Well... no."

"Stealing sheep?" Genji guessed.

"Er... not that I heard," said the adventurer.

"And it just disappears as soon as it lands?" Genji leaned against the bar.

"Well... yes."

"Sounds awfully convenient," Mercy walked up next to him and arched an eyebrow.

Tracer was looking at both of them skeptically, eyes narrowed.

"You're suuuure you didn't see anything out there?" she asked, looking between him and Mercy.

"Nothing but ash and bone," said Mercy with an unsettlingly level glance at Tracer and a wide, calm smile. She blinked and Tracer could have sworn she saw the slick slide of nictitating membranes. "I'm with Genji on the 'fell magic blowing up in their faces' theory, but if that dragon is real, well, it's probably best to stay out of her way."

"'Her' way?" said Tracer.

"'Its' way," Mercy corrected herself with a dismissive hand wave before glancing over at Genji, who was sipping his pint. "Do you know if they have venison, here?"

#gency #questwatch #dragoon mercy #royal guard genji #adventurer tracer #overwatch

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lovelywingsart · 2 years ago

Note

'Bite', 'Hammer', 'Drink' for the fanfiction WIP ask game?

I had to dig through over 70+ WIPs to find these my dude- And one of them is from a smut story. Actually all 3 would be smut, but I'll keep those other ones to myself for now. So fair warning on that.\! I do have other ideas I haven't gotten a chance to write down that would definitely include these, but for now, this is what I have so far!

And yes, I'll do all three!

And no, I don't know when these will be finished.

Have fun!

*Under cut because LONG*

Word: Hammer

Takes place about a year or so after the Miranda fight in the Survival AU-

"You would think they would freeze up there near the water..." she commented, looking up as Heisenberg walked by and bumped her shoulder, nearly tossing the hammer to the side.

"Did we HAVE to leave him with her?" He grumbled, instantly making his way to the door that lead to the workshop. She followed.

"Hey, you said yourself Donna wasn't that bad..." she chuckled, returning the shoulder bump. He rolled his eyes, casually holding the door for her to follow through.

"It's not Donna, it's those... goddamn DOLLS..." he said. "Creepy pieces of... What if he has nightmares??"

Emelia rolled her eye.

"Karl, do you recall what he assisted with only a year ago? I promise you dolls aren't worse than those bloody Soldats." She replied, turning to face him once they entered the workshop and the door was closed. She nearly laughed at the disbelieving expression on his face. "He will be fine, Heisenberg. She offered, and he was excited to see 'Aunt Donna'. You should be happy we're alone for the first time in years."

Word: Drink

A random placement in the normal timeline, for a smut story that MIGHT break a few people for a very specific reason other than them being drunk off their asses... Twitter knows. uwu -

He only paused for a moment, suddenly leaning over to grab one of the bottles. She watched his muscles trembled slightly as he stared at the bottle for a moment, his other hand mindlessly rubbing her thigh. She couldn't help but squirm in a drunken, aroused haze, only to reach out for the bottle, herself. He hummed slightly before handing it to her, leaning down and kissing along her chest as she propped herself up with one wavering elbow. He let out a low chuckle as she drank from the bottle itself, taking a few gulps before falling back once more with a cough.

Despite the lightheadedness, she could still feel the warmth of the whiskey flood through her chest, the feeling bringing more redness to her cheeks as Heisenberg took the bottle from her. He started to drink, downing the rest of the dark liquid quickly before slumping forward slightly, letting the bottle fall to the floor with a clatter as it was pushed over the edge.

Neither reacted to the sound, instead focusing on each other with wavering vision as he leaned forward fully into her arms that had since reached for him. His lips met hers instantly, the residual taste of the alcohol still fresh between the both of them.

Word: Bite

Another Survival AU one, which... Well, you'll see!~

"Ethan told me what you all did." He started, nodding back to the window where she could see the man glance at her as he was patched up. "I only need to know if you're just as fucking insane as she was, or if you're trustworthy enough to stay here."

"You mean if we're 'docile' enough for you to let us live." She corrected with a frown. She watched the corner of his mouth twitch, lifting her chin again. "If we weren't 'docile', I assure you we would have attacked your little 'party' here by now... I assume you're aware of our... 'abilities'. Especially Heisenberg."

"I'm well aware."

"Then you know he could crush that loud rubbish heap with the jerk of an arm." She was proud as she spoke, watching his face change just slightly as he glanced at Adalwulf.

"And him?"

She froze. Her taw tightened as the boy hid behind her more, but she managed to calm herself, forcing herself to bite her own tongue as to not put them in any more danger than they were already in just talking to him.

"He shares his fathers powers, if not more." She replied quietly. "He's as proficient with them as Karl, and they're far more potent. He was taught well."

#ask answered #answered ask #ask game #WIP ask game #fanfiction WIP #I'm not joking when I said 70+#the number is still growing #I have a REALLY bad habit of starting a chapter and then falling off if I can't think of anything

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themandylion · 3 years ago

Note

97 & 41 jaytim

Oh wow, this ended up long. /o\

97 (Time Travel) + 41 (First Kiss) + JayTim

He's boosting tires in the Bowery when the thugs find him. Crowd him up against a wall and threaten him with bodily harm for horning in on their territory, even though this part of the city is a free-for-all, with no one reigning supreme. There's three of them to his one, all of them full-grown men with bulging muscles and nasty tempers and Jason knows he's in his final moments, that there's no way he's escaping this. Still, that doesn't mean he's going to go down without a fight. He squares his shoulders, plants his feet, raises the tire iron in his hand, and—

Between one blink and the next, the back-most thug is on the ground, groaning and clutching his crotch. There's a blur of red, and then the next one's down on his knees, the crowbar he was gripping half a block away and the hand that was holding it pinned to the wall by a slim, sharp-edged disk.

Silver flashes through the night, and the final guy collapses in a heap, just sprawled out on the pavement like he's not even human anymore, just a pile of discard clothes over something lumpy and unmoving. Someone lands on his back, light and nimble and impossibly tall. "You okay there, kid?" the new person asks, crouching down so he's at Jason's level and smiling.

"…Batman?" He's only ever seen the Bat from a distance before, but he's heard about the cape and cowl, and this guy has both.

The guy shakes his head. "Nope, not him. I'm his partner, though."

"Robin wears green," Jason feels compelled to point out, because he's definitely seen Robin before, though always on the TV, when the Teen Titans are fighting really scary bad guys elsewhere in the world.

This time, a shadow seems to pass over the man's face, sad and unhappy. "I'm a different kind of Robin. Red Robin. I'm pretty new, it's not surprising you haven't heard of me." He leans back on his heels and glances around at the thugs, frowning. "I've got to tie these guys up and leave them somewhere the GCPD will find them. Do you think you can get home on your own?"

Jason gulps, staring up at him, at the way all that tight leather and spandex hugs his body. Gee whiz. "Yeah, I. I can take care of myself. Thanks!" He surges forward, practically smacking his mouth against Red Robin's cheek, before running off into the night. Maybe not headed home, but to as close as anything gets, these days.

---

Two weeks later, Batman catches him boosting tires on Crime Alley. A week later, he's going home with the man. Jason asks about Red Robin and gets a confused, clueless look, which is strange. With everything else happening, he forgets about the man in the black cowl with the silver staff, but he still finds himself drawn to that one particular shade of red.

---

He forgets until the memory is jarred out of the deepest depths years later on the other side of the multiverse, when he's bound to a chair and staring down the barrel of gun. A gun held by another Batman, a different Bruce. One who did all the things he thought he wanted his Bruce to do, only to end up a broken man as a result. Jason tries to explain himself and his presence, but it's hard to when he keeps seeing that suit in the case over this Batman's shoulder.

They reach an understanding, a kind of peace. Both of them, finally, for the first time in ages. This other Bruce offers him the suit, and Jason doesn't think twice before putting it on. He's traveled across the multiverse, seen places where dead people live again, where evil people are good and vice versa. It's not too far a stretch to believe that somehow, he's going become his own childhood hero.

When he finishes pulling on the last piece, Bruce looks on him with pride and announces, "Red Robin lives!"

"Red…?" Jason murmurs, more than a little startled. It's been so long, he'd nearly forgotten the name, but it fits, it makes sense. Finally, he's back on the right path, back to being someone the boy he once was could be proud of. Will be proud of, when their paths cross again, which he's sure they will.

---

The other Batman dies.

---

They get back, finally done traveling across the multiverse, fleeing across Apokolips, running from plagues and maybes and might-have-beens. Donna and Rayner return to wherever they call home, and Jason... He thought he finally found himself when he put on the cowl and became Red Robin, but with everything that happened after that moment, all the contrition he gained has been too long stewing in a half-broken heart. He isn't sure who rescued him when he was a kid, but it wasn't him, and it wasn't the long-dead Jason of another world. Maybe it was no one at all, and he made it all up and convinced himself it was real.

He runs back to Gotham, strips off the cape and cowl, the bandoliers and leather. Throws it all in the trash and goes to knock some heads and blow off some steam, anything to escape from what the rest of the Justice League brought with them—a sob story and a broken, days-old body.

---

The suit disappears from the can where he threw it, and he thinks good riddance to bad rubbish, but the person who's wearing it now doesn't understand the significance, the legacy. Doesn't know what it symbolizes, a last chance at redemption, a final loss of innocence.

The new kid distracts him, muddies the water and still Jason doesn't see it, doesn't realize what's happening. Even when the kid takes the cowl, adds it to his green-free suit, he doesn't see it.

Jason's too busy fighting, too busy screaming, raging, being angry at himself and the world to realize how things are swirling tighter and tighter, closing in, twining together, weaving themselves in an intricate, impossible mesh that's new and old and always existing all at the same time. The three of them—him and Dick and the new kid—push and shove and fight and scream and grieve in their own ways, trying to figure out who they're going to be now, what the world is without Bruce.

He ignores overtures of friendship, leaves the kid broken and bleeding out and thinks nothing of it, still too busy hurting and too busy denying he hurts.

Thinks nothing of Robin back on the streets in red and green and black and yellow, a different boy, an actual child.

---

Bruce comes back, but he's just as stubborn as always, and Jason burned the last of his bridges while the old man was playing possum. There's nothing left for him to do but lurk in the shadows and grit his teeth and watch Drake bounce around the city in a costume that isn't his, telling himself he doesn't care, that it doesn't rub him the wrong way.

Doesn't actually realize what's happening until one day he's watching as Drake races across the city, ready to step in and stop him if he dares to cross into Red Hood's territory when suddenly—

There's no one. The roof's empty, not a soul in sight.

He swings over, investigates. There's a strange acrid smell in the air along with the faintest traces of sweat and exhaustion, but there's no clue to where he's gone, no hint. Minutes pass and the sky is getting darker as evening turns into night. Just when he's given up, Drake reappears, but still, unmoving. One hand grasping his staff while the other touches his cheek and he stares into nothing, dazed and unfocused.

His attention snaps up, and Jason is too startled to move, still standing there in the middle of the roof, the two of them locked in place.

"Holy fuck." He can't. This isn't—

He's tried to kill Drake multiple times over the years. They've barely had a conversation that hasn't ended with Jason drawing a knife or a gun, and more often than not he comes out on top. Leaves the guy knowing that he's alive at Jason's mercy.

But now he's standing there, finally grown into the Red Robin suit and name, filling it in all the right places, all the right ways, grasping a staff that Jason somehow failed to recognize until this exact moment.

"I never—" He never thought to make the connection, always assumed it had to be someone else, some one huge. Big enough to match the larger-than-life figure that dominated a half-forgotten memory.

"Huh." Red Robin collapses his staff, clips it his belt. "Random time blip? I didn't even realize."

Which would explain it. Of course he didn't realize—no way would he have helped that other, younger Jason if he'd known who it was. Why save a boy who's going to grow up to become a monster bent on destroying him over and over again. "Sorry," Jason says, startled, confused, unable to wrap his head around it all as he stumbles backwards, tries to do what he always does when he's confronted with too much, too fast—run.

Red Robin—Drake—tilts his head to the side and then does something completely unexpected. He shoves back the cowl and studies Jason with cool, clear eyes. "I have a feeling this has been a weird night for both of us. You could stick around. We could figure this out together."

So help him, Jason hesitates. "Time travel is pretty weird."

"I was thinking more being kissed by my childhood crush. But yeah, that too."

"Your… what?"

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I think it's time we finally talked. Maybe without the death threats this time?"

Gulping, Jason takes that hand in his.

It's not much, but. It's a start.

(The Fanfic Trope MASH-UP is still open for asks!)

#JayTim #time travel #Red Robin #ask meme #anonymous #themandylion writes #my fic #weirdly canon compliant in its own special way 🤔#trope mash up

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tenroseforeverandever · 4 years ago

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A Bottle of Bubbly

Characters: Ninth Doctor; Rose Tyler

Tags: Human AU; New Year’s; meet-cute; fluff; hurt/comfort;mentions of cheating; non-graphic mentions of war; drinking; strong language

Notes: Well, here I am again… fashionably late, as usual, an entry for the 31 Days of Ficmas. I wrote just two stories for Ficmas this year, and while I used multiple prompts for each, ironically, the Day 1 prompt, Snowed In, and the Day 31 prompt, New Beginnings, were the forces chiefly driving the muse for my first and second (last!) story, respectively.

The inspiration for this story was a random prompt I found online somewhere (I don’t even remember the exact wording…) The @doctorroseprompts prompt from the 31 Days of Ficmas, New Beginnings, was also inspiration for both main characters, although the words aren’t specifically stated in the text. But the spirit of them is strong and a guiding theme throughout the story. I also used the Ficmas prompts shopping and countdown, and the Winter Fic Bingo prompt night.

As always, my love and gratitude to my wonderful betas, @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci. Thank-you for making me better. I’m an eternal fiddler, so I fiddled with this since they saw it… but all mistakes are mine anyway!

Summary: Rose made directly for the liquor aisle, determined that what she really wanted to bring in the New Year was a bottle of bubbly. The shop was nearly deserted, except for the unlucky few employees who had drawn the short straw for the night’s graveyard shift, so she was shocked to find another customer in the liquor aisle, standing in front of the wine shelves, his hand around the neck of the very last bottle of sparkling wine.

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A Bottle of Bubbly

Rose Tyler staggered out into the night. The pub door swung shut behind her, silencing the raucous shouts and cheers and endless chatter. As she stood on the doorstep, the bubble of silence clung around her like a hug, before dissipating into the city, replaced by the steady rumble of traffic. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs and clear the spinning of her head.

She was alone.

New Years-fucking-Eve and she was alone. Not exactly how she had planned her evening to go, but she swore to herself, it was the last bloody time, Jimmy Stone, her cheating ex-boyfriend, would ever get another chance to ruin her life.

But Rose didn’t want to think about him right now. He was now officially part of her past and could rot in hell for all she cared. What she did want to think about was enjoying the rest of the night and bringing in the New Year properly plastered. She’d already made a decent start of it with a couple glasses of wine and a few shots. She supposed she could try out a few different spots (far away from Jimmy-the-Wanker), and do a regular old pub crawl, solo-style. Dressed to kill, she reckoned she’d never be without a drink in hand and would probably have no trouble finding a bloke to pull.

A car whizzed by, drunken twats hanging out the passenger windows, catcalling at her, spouting some shite about having her “seeing fireworks all night long.” She tugged her coat tighter around herself and sighed. On second thought, shagging complete strangers wasn’t really her thing. Maybe she could meet up with Mickey, instead, at the local near the Estate. With a little coaxing, he might take her home for a cheeky shag to bring in the New Year. It wouldn’t exactly be fireworks, but it would be safe and familiar. And she wouldn’t be alone. Mickey had never been able to say no to her.

But then – she sighed, and her shoulders sagged – she’d have to explain herself, answer all his nosy questions, admit things she’d rather keep to herself for now. Everyone would know, soon enough. No doubt the Estate would be rife with the gossip of her falling-out with Jimmy by daybreak. Besides, she’d be taking Mickey away from Trisha Delaney. That wasn’t fair, doing to Trisha exactly what had just been done to her.

“For fuck’s sake,” she snorted as she stumbled onto the pavement, her head woozy with drink, “I’m worried about hurting Trisha Delaney’s feelings. The stupid cow! Clearly, I’m thinkin’ too bloody hard about this. More to the point, I’m able to think too bloody hard about this. And I’m talking to myself… Blimey, I need another drink.”

Setting out on her quest for another pub (just for drinks, no pulling, she reminded herself), she tottered down the street, swaying precariously on her too-high heels, tugging down her too-short dress as the bitter wind bit through the too-sheer fabric of her tights. This was rubbish, hopping from pub to pub. All she really wanted was something strong to drink, her warm flat, and her telly. She’d be alone, but she’d be warm and, with any luck, thoroughly pissed long before midnight.

Decision made, she hopped on the nearest bus, and half an hour later, with the effects of her earlier drinks lamentably wearing off, she trotted into the 24-hour Tesco, close to the Estate. She made directly for the liquor aisle, determined that what she really wanted to bring in the New Year was a bottle of bubbly.

The shop was nearly deserted, except for the unlucky few employees who had drawn the short straw for the night’s graveyard shift, so she was shocked to find another customer in the liquor aisle, standing in front of the wine shelves, his hand around the neck of the very last bottle of sparkling wine.

“Oi! That’s my bottle, mate!”

The man turned to her, his brow knit quizzically above his aquiline nose. “Excuse me?” he challenged in a strong Manc accent.

“That’s my bottle,” she reiterated.

“No,” he placed the bottle into his shopping basket with a tight-lipped smile, “it’s not.” Without another word, he turned his back to her and walked away up the aisle with long strides.

“Fuck,” Rose muttered through gritted teeth and rushed after his receding form. “Oi, Mister! Mister!” She caught up with him just as he reached the end of the aisle and she tugged on the battered leather sleeve of his jacket.

He swung around, rolling his eyes at the sight of her. “Oh, it’s you again!”

“Yup, jus’ me. Hello! The owner of that bottle of fizz.” She sidled up to him and flashed him what she hoped was a winning smile. She even poked her tongue between her teeth. That always had blokes dribbling on their shirts.

Much to Rose’s disappointment, the man remained unmoved, stony-faced as ever. Then with a snort, he turned and walked away from her once more.

“Oi! Mister!” she yelped, scurrying to catch up to him again. “You can’t jus’ go swannin’ off like that…”

He didn’t even break his stride. “Yes, I can. ‘Ere I am. This is me, swannin’ off.” He gave the shopping basket a defiant little shake.

Rose knew she should just give it up at this point, go back to the liquor aisle and find something different to drink, but she was determined to have that wine. After having had her night ruined, she reckoned she deserved to have something special. “Hey, Mister! C’mon! You can’t just walk away. That’s not fair. Mister! Mist– Oooph!” She nearly crashed into him when he suddenly stopped in front of her.

He spun around and glared at her. “Seems fair enough to me. W’at isn’ fair is you not lettin’ me do my shoppin’ in peace. Now, scram!”

Rose held her ground, meeting his gaze. He was a striking figure, quite a bit older than she, dark and brooding, his features unconventionally handsome below his military haircut. She should have been intimidated, but instead she found herself getting lost in the blue of his eyes as they flashed down at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I could call security, ya know! Tell them you took it from me. So, it’s your choice. Hand it over, or I’ll start screamin’ for help.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to sound tough?”

“Sort of.”

He called her bluff, “Doesn’t work,” and started walking again, but this time she tripped along by his side. She wasn’t going to let him go, not while he still had that bottle.

“Mister… I need that wine! If you knew what I’ve been through tonight…”

“You need to leave me alone. Looks to me like you’ve ‘ad quite enough to drink already.”

“C’mon, Mister. Please.”

“No! An’ it’s Doctor.”

Rose quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You keep calling me ‘Mister’. If you’re so set on using honorifics, you’d better use the right one. I go by Doctor.”

“Doctor? Is that supposed to sound impressive?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“If you’re a doctor, how comes you’re shoppin’ at a 24-hour Tesco… in Peckham?”

“I live ‘ere. Jus’ ‘round the corner.” He stopped at the deli counter and tossed some packages of sandwich meats and some cheese into his basket.

“What? On the estate? You must be new. I haven’ seen you ‘round ‘ere before.”

“That’s ‘cause I jus’ moved in this afternoon, me, and I’m having this champagne (or whatever the hell it is) to celebrate.”

“Blimey, don’t think we’ve ever had a doctor livin’ on the estate, before.” Rose narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at him, curious. “W’at’s a doctor doin’ livin’ ‘ere anyway?”

He didn’t speak, just stared at her with eyes cold as ice, and his jaw set and tense, and Rose bit her lip, wishing she could take back her brazen words. It was none of her business why anyone might need council housing.

“Erm... Doctor, you’re gonna need some bread to go with that other stuff,” she ventured, attempting to make up for her thoughtlessness, “an’ some milk and tea, maybe some eggs. And a couple cans of beans. Ya can’t go wrong wi’ beans-on-toast.” She linked her arm with his and proceeded to lead him through the shop.

As Rose nattered away to him, he maintained a detached silence, except to offer bewildered grunts to her various queries about the items she heaped into his basket. Finally, as she placed a box of tea on top of the mound, he smirked down at her, and spoke: “I hope you’re not attempting to curry favour so I’ll give up the bubbly.”

“Never gave it a second thought,” she fibbed with a cheeky grin. Honestly, she just wanted to make it up to him for being rude, but she had hoped, maybe…

He pulled the bottle out of the basket to peer at it. “It’s proper British Fizz, you know.”

“Oooh, lovely! Somethin’ a bit posh. Don’t know w’at it’s doin’ here, in a Tesco on the flippin’ estate. Guess they reckoned people wouldn’t be thinkin’ about the cost so much when they’re bringin’ in the New Year.”

“Yeah, gonna cost me an arm and a leg, this is.”

“The price don’t matter to me. Not tonight. I’d be happy to take it off your hands if you’re having second thoughts…”

“Ahem… nope.” He placed it back into the shopping basket. “Worth every penny, this. I have plans for this fizz.”

“Yeah,” Rose muttered, rolling her eyes, “so did I.”

They headed toward the checkout each lost in their own thoughts. “So, what’s your story, then?” he asked after a few moments. “Tell me, what makes you so deserving of this posh beverage on New Year’s Eve?”

Rose shrugged, her problems seeming rather small and distant, now.

“C’mon then. You said earlier, you’d had a rough night of it. So?”

“You sure you wanna hear me rattle on? It’s pathetic, really.”

“I’ve been listenin’ to you rattle on non-stop for the las’ twenty minutes, anyway. So, I’m all ears… and no jokes about these silly things hangin’ off the side of me head.”

“I would never! ‘Sides, there’s nothin’ wrong wi’ them. They suit you.”

He looked unconvinced by her compliment. “Well… out with it then,” he insisted, changing the subject back to Rose as he began to load his groceries onto the checkout counter. “I’m waitin’ on this great tale of woe.”

“Alright, you asked for it.”

“Yes, I did!”

“Okay, so, earlier tonight, I found my tosser of a boyfriend (ex-boyfriend now, by the way, and good bloody riddance!) out back of the pub, gettin’ a leg-over with one of the servers. It was humiliatin’. And you better believe I told him what he could do with his bloody– Well anyway, I ended up slappin’ him (and fuck that felt good!) and walked out. Thought about goin’ to a few other pubs, but I decided I really just wanted to go home, watch the countdown on the New Year’s Eve Fireworks programme, an’ get hammered in peace. I s’pose I jus’ wanted the wine to make me feel a bit more… special.

“And that’s about it. See? Pathetic. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She wagged her finger at him.

“Oi, not pathetic at all, Miss, erm… Blimey, I don’t even know your name.”

“Since we’re neighbors now, I s’pose I should probably tell ya, yeah? It’s Rose… Rose Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m John Smith,” he returned.

“John Smith? That’s it? Pull the other one! John Smith?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Well, if you don’t like it, you can jus’–”

“Nah, nah, nah, it’s fine. It’s nice and, erm… straightforward.” Rose couldn’t help the smile that blossomed over her face at his sudden offence. “It’s jus’ I think from now on you’ll always be the Doctor to me.”

“Fine...” he huffed, shaking his head at her as he paid for his order and gathered his bags. “Anyroad, gettin’ back to your tale: it sounds to me like you’re well shot of that stupid ape boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend. And yeah, Jimmy’s a right arsehole. To be honest, I don’t really feel all that upset about it. Thought I’d be gutted, yeah? But all I can think is that it’s no great loss. Reckon it was a long time comin’; shoulda dumped him ages ago.”

They walked out the doors of the Tesco and headed in the direction of Powell Estate.

She shrugged, adding, “I’m mostly just pissed off that he ruined my plans for New Year’s.”

“Yeah, rightly so!”

They walked in slightly awkward silence for a short time before Rose braved asking the enigmatic Doctor more about himself. “So… you’re a medical doctor, then?”

“Yup. Was a doctor in the military for years. Resigned my commission ‘bout a year back. Figured I’d seen enough…”

Rose glanced up at him, frowning concern at the tenson etched on his face again. “What are your plans now?” she asked, hoping to take him out of whatever unspoken horrors lingered in his past.

“I’ve always planned to start my own practice, me. Thought I could open one right here on the Estate.”

“Blimey, mate, it’s a war zone here too, sometimes.”

He grunted. “All the more reason you need a doctor.”

“Can’t argue wi’ that. We haven’t had a doctor ‘ere for years. The old one jus’ cleared off one day, no notice. He was just gone. His clinic is still there, though, between the chemist and the launderette. No one’s let it. Bet it’s a bargain!”

“You think?” He offered her a smug smile. “Already made arrangements, me.”

“But that’s brilliant!” Rose cheered, grabbing his arm and bouncing up and down. “When do you take possession?”

“Beginnin’ o’ next week,” he said as they strolled into the Powell Estate quad. “But it’ll be a bit before I can get everything set up properly. Plus, I have my flat to sort out. Boxes everywhere.”

“Don’t ya have some mates to help ya out?”

“Nope. There’s no one else. Jus’ me.” His words were blunt, his voice rough with emotion.

Rose watched his Adam’s apple bob heavily and grabbed onto his hand. “W’at happened? Doctor?”

He swallowed again and looked down at their joined hands.

Rose gripped a little tighter, but he wriggled his hand free of hers, leaving behind an aching emptiness deep in her heart. She ducked her head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. I jus’… Oh, never mind.”

The strained silence returned for another minute or so as they walked, then he sighed. “Rose, war changes a person. I came back a very different man. I had plans, me. Was goin’ to start a practice as soon as I resigned my commission. Even had a place all set to go in my hometown. But I couldn’t make a go of it. Too much baggage. I haven’t been able to keep a steady job, all this time. And I lost people, good people, because they couldn’t take any more of my shit. My mates, my fiancée. One way or another, they’re all gone, and I can’t say I blame ‘em. That’s who I am, now. I drive everyone away from me.”

Rose’s heart swelled with compassion. “There’s me…”

They paused as they approached the entranceway to Rose’s building, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at her and offering a guarded smile. “Yeah, you I can’t seem to get rid of.”

“I’m just too good.” She beamed at him, poking her tongue between her teeth again. This time, she noted, his eyes drifted to her mouth.

“No, you’re jus’ too drunk.”

“Uggghh,” she groaned, “I wish. I never got a bottle from the shop, after all.”

Grumbling deep in his throat, he dug in his shopping bag and extracted the bottle of sparkling wine. “There you go. Happy New Year. Take this and go home and celebrate your freedom from that twat. Now, go on, forget me, Rose Tyler.” He pressed the bottle into her hand and turned away, striding off toward the building opposite hers.

Rose watched him go, feeling rather lost. Numbly, she headed toward the staircase of her building, the bottle dangling from her fingers. She had her prize, but somehow it seemed a hollow victory.

She stopped and turned back. The Doctor was halfway across the quad, his figure illuminated by the dim sparkle of fairy lights strung from the balconies above. “Wait, Doctor,” she blurted. When he paused, she wasted no time rushing forward to meet him.

“Thought I told you to forget me,” he growled.

She was undeterred. “I’m not havin’ you sittin’ up in that empty flat by yourself.” Impulsively, she perched up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Come to mine. Mum won’t be home ‘til tomorrow anyway, and I think we both deserve this bottle of bubbly, wouldn’t ya say? Better with two, yeah.”

“Erm…” He gazed down at her, his gruffness replaced with a sad, gentle smile that teased at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not on the pull or anything,” she insisted… a little too forcefully. “Blimey!” she laughed, her cheeks burning. “I mean we jus’ met…”

He chuckled too. “And you were trying to steal my bubbly. You’re weren’t off to the best start, anyway, to be honest.”

“Oi!” She grabbed him by his sleeve and tugged him toward her building. “Wait! Hold on,” she paused a few seconds later, sniffing the air, “do you smell chips?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Morrison’s must still be open! I want chips!”

“Me too.”

“And since you brought the bottle, the chips are on me! You’re in for a treat! Best chips on the planet, Morrison’s, an’ they’re right here on the estate. C’mon!”

“All right! Chips it is! And if we’re still hungry later, you can’t go wrong wi’ beans-on-toast.” They both laughed as he held up his bag of shopping. Then he clasped Rose’s hand in his, the gesture warming her to the core. “Lead the way!”

As they walked towards the chippy, Rose leaned her head against John Smith’s shoulder and gave his hand a little squeeze. Her evening, which had started out quite wretched, had completely turned around, and was now looking more promising than she could ever have imagined. Despite his wine-hogging tendencies, she rather thought she was going to enjoy being the Doctor’s neighbor.

“You know what, Doctor,” she grinned up at him, “I bet we’re going to have a really great year!”

#doctorroseprompts #nine x rose #human au #31 days of ficmas #winterficbingo #meet cute #fluff #hurt/comfort #strong language #new year #drinking #cheating #non-graphic mentions of war #ficandchips #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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ezimin · 4 years ago

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I Almost Gave Up On This Anime

I really dislike leaving things unfinished, in fact this is the reason why, to date, I have only stopped watching one anime mid-series, because I didn’t enjoy it. (I have left other anime unfinished, but this is due to me forgetting to go back to it rather than anything else). For this month I watched the anime Steins;Gate, which was an anime of two parts. For me, I didn't enjoy the first part, as I found it quite boring, but then I really enjoyed season 2 and thought it was fantastic. Unfortunately though, I don’t think you can get away with only watching the good parts in Steins;Gate as it is a story based anime and so in order to understand the story in season 2, you have to have first watched season 1. I would however recommend it, as it really is an anime I enjoyed, even if it took some perseverance to begin with.

Steins;Gate is an anime about a couple of members of a science lab where they develop devices which they believe have the potential to significantly improve human life on earth. (In actual fact, these devices are a whole heap of rubbish, which have no potential to change any life - human or otherwise). During experimentation on a new device the three lab members discover that the device they have created has the ability to send e-mails back in time. In essence they have created a very basic time machine. During further experiments, lab members find that they can change the future and this leads to some good, some bad and some life threatening results.

Originally, when I was first recommended Steins;Gate, I thought it was an obscure cult classic. In this context, I am referring to a definition of a cult classic as something that did not have a very high audience at the beginning, but as time progresses the audience begins to grow. However, on the brief research I did for this post (I always like to do a little bit of research, just so I have it clear in my head what I am talking about and know things like names of directors and writers), I read that it actually wasn't particularly obscure. According to my research, Steins;Gate received both critical and popular acclaim when it was originally released in 2011. I was recommended it by a friend who was interested in the old, obscure anime and given that they had recommended other cult classics to me before, I naturally assumed that Steins;Gate was another of these.

One of the things I particularly enjoyed about Steins;Gate was the subject matter. Obviously for anime about time travel and time machines, it could have come across as being very physics heavy, however I don't think this was the case. I think the directing team on the anime managed to create an anime that was enjoyable to watch but also had enough physics detail to create a well grounded storyline.

Steins;Gate was an anime that I loved, but did not think that I would at the beginning, because it took me a while to get into. I made the initial mistake of thinking it as an obscure cult classic on the basis of who had recommended it, but I soon started to see the wider appeal of it. I liked the fact that you do not have to have a physics degree in order to understand the story line, but that it still went into a bit of depth in order for it to give the impression of being theoretically possible. I specifically like the way it focused on the ‘’Butterfly Effect’’ and how seemingly random events can be causally connected and how something seemingly innocent, can lead to drastic consequences.

#anime recommendation #steins;gate

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nomimits7 · 5 years ago

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Undecided Chapter 7

Title: Undecided Pt 7

Genre: Investigation, murder, masked behaviour.

Warnings: murder, psychotic behaviour, might be triggering. Description of a panic attack! In this part, there’s a lot of switching between scenes. I am sorry if it confuses you, but it's necessary!

Members: detective OT7 x Forensic scientist Reader

Note: Phrases are just add-ins to help with the storyline… If they confuse you, feel free to ask!

Summary: Moving overseas for a once in a lifetime job offer was one of the scariest things Y/N ever did. That was until she got stuck in a twisted investigation of random murders, all with one link but no leads. Closing in on the culprit(s) Y/N doesn’t realize the danger she’s getting into. With no family or friends, can Y/N dare to trust those seven closest to her with her life?

A/N: Enjoy!!

Chapter 6

•♡•

Manipulation: The skillful handling, controlling or using something or someone

•♡•

you did what you had to do to keep your parents safe.

“I do believe you owe us an explanation Y/N,” Jimin said as all seven boys stared at the phone. You knew there was no point in lying to them, besides its not like there’s anything they can do.

“I- You might want to sit down for this,” You said as you lowered your gaze o your hands.

Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, and Jin all took their previous seats as Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi all turned to you. You took a deep breath in an effort to try and calm your nerves. Slowly lifting your gaze to stare at something other than the seven pairs of eyes that were currently focussed on you.

“I was eighteen years old when I met a boy with the name Norman. He was part of my second year Genetics class. He was really nice to me and he had everything a girl wants. You know, a kind smile, bright eyes, and a very safe atmosphere. For some or other reason he took a liking to me and that made me blind to what he really was.

We started dating around two months in and it was going great. We did everything together and that only made me fall even deeper in love with him. Norman even made an effort to get to know Lusai and soon Lusai became his little brother. Sometimes, Norman even canceled plans with me to hang around Lusai. But I never really cared because Lusai was my best friend and I trusted him.

See I was never the relationship type because boys just never saw me that way, so I didn’t know how things are supposed to go so I missed the red flag that went up every time Norman canceled on me to ‘be with Lusai’. It never even crossed my mind to ask him what they did or why he always chose Lusai over me.” You began as seven emotionless faces stared at you.

“Okay, I’m guessing this Norman guy has something to do with whatever the hell is going on here?” Yoongi said. Nodding you lifted your gaze to the ceiling as you try to recall as much detail as possible.

“So that’s how things went for three months more before he changed. He became even more distant. Instead of just canceling he just didn’t bother to even show up. I grew tired of his games, so I decided to go to Lusai to see what they were up to. I can tell you this, I was not prepared to walk into a scene straight out of a porno. There were drugs on the kitchen counter, some still on the scale, there were about seven naked people scattered across the house. And guess where I found Lusai and Norman… Both men were in the master bedroom still busy unloading into some unknown chicks’ mouth and other places, I’m not really sure exactly who was connected were, I left to fast.

Lusai was the one who followed me, but I was long gone when he exited the house. Norman even had the audacity to call me that evening. He said he would kill my parents if I were to go to the police. Of course, I didn’t listen and two days after I alerted authorities, my par-“You said as your lower lip started to tremble, but before you could end your sentence Taehyungs phone rang again.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Taehyung said as he took out his phone.

“Kim?”

The entire room was a mix of emotions. No one really knew how to feel about what you were telling them. One thing was for certain, that phone call was the last thing anyone wanted.

•♡•

The human body has a few steps in the decomposition process. Death itself is fairly unknown. In general, the human body starts decomposing +/- 4 minutes after death. 24-72 hours after death the internal organs will decompose. 3-5 days after death the body will begin to swell due to gas being released from the internal bacteria. Blood will also leak from the mouth and nose. 8-10 days after death the body turns from a green color to red as the blood decomposes.

In theory, death sounds like something anyone can handle, but what the books fail to mention is the other factors that accompany death itself. The smell for one is indescribable. Many have tried to describe it, saying it smells like a heap of dead rats or some rubbish mixed with feces, but these descriptions fail to prepare anyone for the real-life smell of death.

The best way to describe the smell would be to compare it with vomit mixed with sour milk that has a dash of feces for effect, that was left out in the sun in a sealed container for a month. In short, you and almost all the boys had to take a moment before you could enter the scene you were called to.

Besides the smell from hell and the condition the body was in, the scene was fairly clean. Well, as clean as a hotel basement can be. The grandest hotel in the city, besides the one where you were staying in, to be exact. The most important question would be, how could the victim not have been found for so long? Hell, he must have been down there for a good couple of days.

The victim's identity and cause of death couldn’t be determined from what was left of him. That the victim was male was the only clue you had to who this human was. After poor Seokjin and Namjoon left with the body to start the examination of the victim, the rest of you got to work.

For some or other odd reasons, the conversation Hoseok and Jungkook had kept replaying in the back of your head. What did they mean by Seokjin’s scene and Namjoon’s scene? They couldn’t possibly be referring to this, could they?

As these questions went through your mind Taehyung came up to you.

“Y/N, we’re leaving in 20 minutes. When we get back, I want to hear the rest of that story, we all do. We want to help you and your parents, but we need the whole truth. The case can wait, family’s more important.” He said as his concerned eyes made contact with your wide ones. Nodding you made quick work on packing all the evidence and securing the boxes.

This conversation isn’t going to end well if they are who you suspect they are.

•♡•

Arriving back at the office, you all encountered a very pale Namjoon standing bend over the trash can with an even worse looking Seokjin coming from the bathroom. Being in the line of work they were, you were surprised, to say the least, that is until you look through the viewing glass into the autopsy room.

There on the table as expected was the newest victim to the case, cleaned and already cut open. But instead of decomposed organs, the victim's insides were filled with holes. The entire oesophagus and stomach had holes the size of golf balls in them. What made matters worse was the fact that the organs hadn’t decomposed normally like the rest of the organs. A crumbly white, waxy unknown substance was visible on the inside of the stomach.

“Are you guys okay?” Jungkook asked concerned.

“In all my years of doing autopsies, I have never encountered anything like this. We’re fine it’s just been a while since I’ve worked with someone so decomposed as this. Just, just give us another minute or two. Can one of you just make the AC colder to stop the decomposition? And up the vacuum for the smell? Please” Seokjin said as he took another look at the victim.

“What the actual fuck. This dude’s intestines look like cheese” Jimin said in disgust.

“So, I’m never eating cheese again. Thank you Jimin” You said turning around, making a b-line for the briefing room. The rest soon followed as a few more cheese comments were made, making your decision final to stay away from it for life.

“Okay, all cheesy business aside. What the hell happened to that man on your table?” Taehyung asked turning to Seokjin the moment he entered the room.

“Well, from what I know medically, those holes were probably made by some type of acid. But that’s as far as we got before we had to be excused. The smell is worse than I remember” Seokjin said as he and Namjoon took their designated seats.

“Okay, that doesn’t really help. Anyway Y/N, we need the rest of your story so we can solve one problem before we deal with the next.” Taehyung said as he sat down.

“Hang on. Why are you so anxious to hear the rest of my story? Besides I’ve got a few questions of my own for you.” You have no idea where this sudden burst of confidence came from or why you thought confronting them with your ridiculous imaginative story was a good idea, but the way the room suddenly went dead silent was a good indication that there would be no turning back now.

“Oh? Please do continue Y/N…” Namjoon’s cold voice came from across the room.

The coldness of his voice was the only warning you got to think before you continue, yet you decided to ignore it and continue with your own interrogation.

“Who killed Daniel?” You asked as you crossed your arms.

“What do you mean who killed Daniel? We’re still working on the case Y/N, we don’t know yet.” Yoongi said sitting forward in his seat.

“Who killed Daniel? Who killed Rachel? Mae-Mae? Yeri-lee? Linda? Mary-lee? And now the latest victim on that table? WHO KILLED WHO?” you ended up shouting.

Your little burst of courage did little to pull any reaction out of the boys. In fact, they just stared at you as if you were nothing but crazy.

“Y/N? Are you okay baby? You sound like you were accusing us of the murders we are trying to solve?” Jimin said smiling at you.

Shaking your head you refused to make eye contact with any of the boys. You know what your mind was telling you, even if your heart said the opposite. You KNOW the signs of a murderer.

“No, You guys have to be the killers. What else was Jungkook and Hoseok revering to when they said Namjoon’s scene was done before Jin’s scene?” you said as your voice became frantic. These words seem to catch their attention.

In one swift movement, your arms and legs are pinned down by two sets of arms as the rest of the boys surround you. Their eyes staring holes into your soul.

“Now, what evidence do you have exactly Y/N?” Hoseok asked as he took your chin in his hands, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes.

You see that was the problem. You have absolutely no idea where this sudden outburst of yours came from. You had no evidence, just suspicions and your gut was telling you, you were right. But without evidence, your case has no ground to stand on. So, instead of answering you decided to keep quiet.

“Y/N, don’t make me use my methods to get you to talk. I would hate for you to end up broken inside and out. Now, be a good girl and tell us what evidence you have to prove we committed these crimes” Hoseok continued as he tightened his hold on you.

“I- I don’t have any. I just know it was you!” You said as his grip tightened. You know for a fact that’s going to leave a bruise.

“Well, it seems like you have a problem then,” Seokjin said. All of the boys now having smirks on their faces as they gradually came closer to you.

•♡•

“LET GO OF ME~ AAAaahh” Opening your eyes, five very concerned boys were staring at you.

No, you were not in the briefing room pinned to the chair. No, you weren’t being tortured by the boys. No, you weren’t even at the office, you were in one of the SUVs. The car wasn’t moving but it also wasn’t in the hotel garage or at the scene.

“You successfully scared the living shit out of us Y/N,” Jungkook said from his position next to you, still holding his chest.

“Okay, clearly she’s just as confused as we are based on the ‘what the fuck just happened’ expression on her face,” Jimin said, a smile taking over.

All of the boys let out a light chuckle as they finally observed your facial expression. You were pale to the bone, as you stared in confusion at the boys in front of you. Did, did you just have another elicit dream? Was none of that actually real? What?

“So, Y/N. Are you going to let us in on the dream you had? It sounded terrifying” Taehyung asked as he turned to face you. You could only stare, not even registering that he has even spoken to you. Your mind was running at a mile a minute to try and figure out what is real and what is not.

“Y/N? Hey, are you okay?” Hoseok asked, concern filling his voice. His hands reaching out to touch you, successfully making you flinch back and stare at him as if he just killed a baby puppy.

This was enough for Taehyung to give orders to Yoongi to get you home so they can have a look at you. He knew something was off and he was determined to know what. Pulling out his phone he quickly sends a message to Namjoon. If anyone would know what to do, it would be him.

•♡•

Pulling up to the hotel, you made a b-line for the elevator. You felt unsafe, your body going into complete autopilot as you frantically pushed the button to the office floor.

The boys could only watch as the elevator doors closed behind you. Having no idea what to do they reluctantly took the next elevator and prepared for a battle they knew was due to happen.

In your haste to get away from danger, you failed to realize the extent of your little show. One, the boys were beyond concerned and would probably do anything to calm you down. Two, being alone with your own thoughts right now wasn’t the best of ideas. And three, what are you going to do once these doors open?

Your mind was a mess. You didn’t know what was real and what was not, and that alone was enough to heighten your anxiety. Everything became too much as the ‘dream’ kept playing on repeat in your mind. You backed away into the corner of the elevator. Hands shooting up to your hair as a fresh wave of tears made their way down your cheeks. Your breath was shallow, your hands were shaking. Slowly you slid down the wall and curled up into a protective ball on the floor.

•♡•

There was an uncertain silence as the elevator made its way to the office. None of the boys knew what to make of what they had just witnessed. Hell, none of them even knew when you fell asleep. But that wasn’t the important part. The important part was what you had said while you were dreaming.

“Who killed Daniel? Who killed Rachel? Mae-Mae? Yeri-lee? Linda? Mary-lee? And now the latest victim on that table? WHO KILLED WHO?”

That sentence alone sounded like an accusation more than an analysis. Where you really accusing them of these murders? What evidence did you have against them? Did they slip up somewhere? If so, where?

“What just happened?” Hoseok asked. Panic evident in his voice.

“I have no idea, but it seems like our little Y/N has found something off about the cases and that must have led up to her conclusion that we are to blame. She’s not wrong, but how did she figure it out so fast?” Taehyung answered.

“We already know her secret past. So, we have ammunition if things go wrong. But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We can use this to get her on our side. You all saw those photos of Norman’s body, she could be a great allay. Even Namjoon said so.” Yoongi said from his corner in the confined space.

That seemed to relax everyone. They knew Yoongi was right. He’s always been calm and collected one out of them all. Besides, it was thanks to him that they all knew your secret in the first place. Poor Lusai never knew what hit him when Yoongi made the call. After a few words were exchanged between Lusai and Hoseok he sang like a canary. Yes, there was the problem with your parents being held hostage and all, but Yoongi had already taken care of that the very same day Lusai called you. Not that you needed to know that, not yet anyway.

All they had to do now was to calm you down. Namjoon had already told Taehyung over the phone that he would take care of you. Besides, the mind was something Namjoon was an expert in using.

A/N; Hope you liked it! I’m thinking of making the taglist permanent… thoughts?

Chapter 8

Also to the newcomers! If you want to be tagged just like this post! and make sure your blog is tag-able... Thank you for reading!!! Feel free to send me an ask if you have any theories/questions or if you just want to say hi!

Taglist: @loonyginger @hani-bun @sugashaye @alomarce @loisje123 @chim-possible @imfor-everdrivinginpuddles @exprimidordefresas @speakyourselfloveyourself @autumnboo126 @3amthoughtsvented @thetrxshbx @michiluvddr @purecelestialpower @ur-honey-child @dulce-whirlpool @moonlightnightingalesworld @loudfriendtacocookie @mysteriousanna @diorluvs @misseoulite @mina9235 @crajishie @undergroundqueens @hannahpostema @skay @mixerbeauty @adultingtomato @hauntedstatesmanmoneyknight @slutkoo @freeformdn @flowersinmypockets @kelwaters @cool-strawberry

#undecided nomimits #undecided #nomimits stuff #nomimits7 #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #bts #z investigators

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timeagainreviews · 5 years ago

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The Doctor Shows Great Praxeus

One of the more amusing aspects of being a Doctor Who fan is fantasising about one day travelling with the Doctor. I’ve heard grown-ass adults tell me that they have thought "I kinda want to get in shape, in case the Doctor ever comes." We’ve all asked ourselves which Doctor we would most want to travel with. The next question, of course, is- "Anywhere in time and space, where do you want to go?" Usually, my response is "the future." As a trans person, I don’t much fancy a visit to the past. But lately, even the future seems a grim place to be. Part of me wants to see the future because I want to see Star Trek in action, but part of me just wants to know if we survive.

When I heard that an episode in series twelve was going to tackle the subject of plastic pollution, my first reaction was "Autons?!" I also braced myself for a heaping dose of cringy edutainment. While it is a very clear and present danger that should be treated as such, I don’t expect Doctor Who to tackle the issue with much finesse. It’s no secret around these parts that I have questioned Doctor Who’s capacity for dealing with heavy subject matter. However, it would seem as though writer Pete McTighe has cracked the code- make it part of the story!

I’ve had Pete McTighe on my mind this week as he showed up on the "Behind the Sofa," segments in the new Seventh Doctor blu-ray boxset. (I’ve not forgotten that by the way, I do plan to cover one of the stories.) I knew McTighe was set to pen an episode this season, so I had been looking forward to that. If you’ll recall, I was a fan of his episode "Kerblam!" Some of my more anarchic friends wrote the entire episode off because the Doctor doesn’t dismantle the company at the end. So does Pete show better praxis with "Praxeus?" Let’s get into it!

The episode opens on several different locations- Peru, Madagascar, and space. We’re introduced to three groups of very different people. We’ve got Adam, an astronaut plummeting to earth in a capsule. We’ve got Gabriela and Jamila, a couple of travel bloggers forced to camp amongst rubbish. We have Jake, a cop on sabbatical who appears to be struggling with anger issues. And then we have Suki and Amaru, a couple of scientists working in a lab next to a beach where a survivor from a submarine accident is about to wash ashore.

I was concerned at that moment as I was worried they may have bitten off more than they can chew. So many new characters and settings all at once could easily become lost in the chaos. But the action is given focus by Jake learning that his husband Adam, the astronaut, has crashed. After a mysterious text from Adam, he heads to Hong Kong in search of his missing love. In a very short amount of time, there is a very strong sense of character development for Jake. This left me somewhat concerned as most of the companions have taken the backseat to secondary characters this year. It’s not been to the show’s detriment, as such, but it did leave me wondering if their solution to the problem of character development would be to ignore it completely. But here, that simply isn’t the case.

Tosin Cole is in particularly fine form as the Doctor’s man in Peru. We’ve seen each of the companions grow and take on traits of the Doctor, but Ryan shows a maturity and confidence we’ve not fully seen from him previously. When Gabriela wakes to find her friend Jamila missing, it’s Ryan that calms her. It’s Ryan who takes a sample of an infected bird. It’s Ryan that finds Jamila’s body, moments before she succumbs to a strange blight. Seeing him like this, he’s less like the boy we met on his bike, and more like a man. Even Gabriela was unable to deny just what a man he is. I’ll admit that I was just a touch envious of her getting to pat him down.

All the while, the Doctor has discovered the sailor from the submarine on the beach who suffers the same fate as Jamila. Some sort of infection seems to be taking over random people and the birds, causing skin abrasions and odd behaviour until ultimately exploding into a dry powder. It’s a grim way to die, and one of the better ones I’ve seen in Doctor Who in ages. Above the research facility, swarms of birds swoop in large groups, moving like a single organism.

Graham and Yaz intercept Jake in Hong Kong, where they find Adam, still in his spacesuit like this was the Impossible Astronaut. While unhooking him from what is clearly alien tech, they’re interrupted by gas-masked scientists with laser guns. In the scuffle, Yaz holds a piece of equipment hostage, which prompts her to believe that whatever it is, it’s valuable. Thanks to some badassery on Jake’s behalf, they manage to get Adam unhooked from the equipment and reconvene with the Doctor. However, Yaz decides to hang back along with Gabriela so they can nab that valuable device.

Now, I’d like to take a minute to talk about the way in which the Doctor and her companions are operating as a team. Not only are they keeping in touch with one another through cool little communication devices in their necks, but they’re also using the damn TARDIS! It is easily one of my biggest gripes about Doctor Who that they never use the TARDIS in interesting ways. Most writers seem content treating the TARDIS like a tram to get from point A to point B. I know that in a lot of ways the TARDIS could easily become an overpowered McGuffin, but that doesn’t mean you never use it for stuff. Allowing them to move about in the TARDIS to chase leads made a global story seem manageable.

Yaz and Gabriela’s little team-up was such a treat. Not only was I loving Gabriela as a character, but they finally gave Yaz some good stuff to do. McTighe isn’t just writing the ensemble of three companions well, he’s actually managed to build a small supporting cast of characters, each with their own individual arcs. On top of that, the Doctor’s dialogue was on point this week. Even the humour struck the right balance of eccentric and scatterbrained (or is that brainsed?) I’m not saying he’s my current favourite writer on the show, but I may start thinking that if he keeps this up.

Yaz and Gabriela locate the device, but as they’re retrieving it, one of the masked scientists shoots at them and uses a teleportation device to escape. I loved that Yaz was willing to see where the teleport led to, as it illustrates the Doctor’s influence on her companions once more. The Doctor has always banked on the benefit of the information gained from experience as opposed to wondering. If you can get captured, perhaps it will bring you right where you need to be. Following this logic, Yaz and Gabriela find themselves within what looked like a spaceship made of rubbish. Bits of rubber and plastic adorn the walls like the inside of the Skithra ship. And oh hey, there’s the submarine!

Back at Suki and Amaru’s lab, the birds are growing in number and getting restless. Amaru keeps watch while the Doctor and co. search for a cure for Adam who is also afflicted with this Praxeus pathogen. I loved that the Doctor delegated the task of dissecting a dead bird to Ryan. It was one more thing for her companions to do, which also made logical sense. While Graham has rather a lot less to do this time around, I was really pleased by his playing nurse for Adam. The subtle nod to his history with cancer got my heart stirring a bit. By the time Graham and Jake have their little heart to heart, I was already a big ball of emotions. This is Graham doing what he does best- giving granddad advice to a confused young man.

Now, I will admit, by this point in the episode, the plot began to confuse me. But this wasn’t the usual kind of confusion where "This doesn’t make sense because it’s dumb." It was more like "This doesn’t make sense because I’m dumb." There’s a lot going on, but if you paid attention, you will be able to make sense of things. Poor Amaru gets pecked to death in what has to be the shittest job as a lookout. It’s like sitting in place waiting to see if a brush fire will advance toward you. Meanwhile, Ryan has discovered the bird he found died with a belly full of plastic.

The Doctor deduces that the pathogen is attracted to plastic and found a feast within humans who are full of microplastics from the environment. It’s a grim outlook for the 2030s, but a sober one. And it’s a very relatable concept to imagine. How many times have you seen a bird hopping along and eating anything off the ground that looks like food? As I said, they managed to talk about plastic pollution by incorporating it into the story. As the information is important to understanding the plot, it doesn’t feel as though we’re being spoonfed information for the sake of information. We’re learning by peeling back the mystery of this episode, and it worked beautifully.

The Praxeus pathogen appears to be intelligent, which is both why it’s been so stubborn to eradicate, but also why the birds have been behaving so aggressively. If a person gets scratched by a bird, they become infected. This could also be why Jamila wandered off into the night. Just about this time, Yaz rings up to inform the Doctor where she is. We learn that the Hong Kong lab was transmitting data to two locations- somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and Madagascar. Knowing she’s been made, Suki reveals she’s not from Earth, but actually a scientist from a planet that was nearly wiped out by the Praxeus pathogen. However, it’s at this point that the birds have found their way into the lab forcing the TARDIS crew and their new friends to flee for the safety of the blue box.

The Doctor meets up with Yaz and Gabriela where they discover Yaz hasn’t actually discovered a new alien planet, but are actually deep within the Indian Ocean, the third location triangulated with Hong Kong and Madagascar. Suki’s ship has attracted a sort of vortex of junk and debris which also interferes with nearby tech like say submarines or orbiting space stations. They find the scientist they had been persuing only to discover they too were infected by the pathogen. When they removed the mask to show a face full of what looked like teeth, I yelled out "Tim Shaw!" It’s at this moment when they find Suki has teleported aboard this little garbage island.

Suki being a callous scientist willing to infect an entire planet to save her own was some mad scientist level villainy on par with the Rani. Is she the Rani? She’s the Rani, isn’t she? It’s never the Rani. As things turn out, Suki appears to also be infected, and before she can stop the Doctor from stopping her, she too succumbs to the pathogen, exploding into a powder. Adam, on the other hand, is fairing better as the Doctor’s search for a cure has yielded positive results.

The plan at this point is to allow Suki’s ship to autopilot into the atmosphere and distribute the cure across the earth, thus ridding it of this horrible blight. However, as everyone is escaping they fail to realise Jake has remained onboard. Seeing the autopilot is broken, Jake finds the perfect opportunity to show his love for his husband by sacrificing himself. However, the Doctor shows some Capaldi level TARDIS manoeuvring as she saves Jake last minute. This was a nice change in pace from series eleven which seemed to take great glee in introducing gay characters only to kill them off. The two lovebirds’ passionate kiss had my boyfriend and I saying "Awww!" and holding hands.

After last week’s wonderfully befuddling episode, I expected them to give us something tame. Episode six after a big midseason reveal seems like the perfect place to put your run of the mill filler episode. Instead, I found this to be one of the best episodes so far. The plotting and pacing were on point. The dialogue was superb and believable. Add to that some stellar performances from the entire cast, and you’ve got the makings of an instant classic. Even the side characters were lovable and interesting. Gabriela’s continuous disappointment that nobody recognises her from her vlog was an endearing bit of character work that had me saying words like "honourary companion." I know the TARDIS is a bit full, but I’d be way into more of her in some capacity.

It’s hard for me to say if I have many complaints about "Praxeus." As I said above, there were moments when the plot lost me a bit. After a brief look around the internet, I realise I’m not alone in this. Others found it a bit dense, but I am confident that over time that will subside. I did find the idea that they had to search three solar systems to find a planet as messed up as ours to be a bit heavy-handed. But that is sort of where we’re at as a planet. Writer Chuck Palahniuk once said something to the effect that the beaver wasn’t saved from the brink of extinction by freedom fighters chaining themselves to the last few beavers. It was the person who designed a more fashionable hat that didn’t require beaver skin. People stopped killing beavers to make hats, and the beaver survived. What I am getting at is that "Praxeus," doesn’t succeed by doomsaying, but rather through charm. By the end of the episode, I didn’t feel exhausted by information. Instead, I found myself feeling something far more constructive- thoughtful.

#doctor who #praxeus #Thirteenth Doctor #Jodie Whittaker #tosin cole #mandip gill #Bradley Walsh #Ryan Sinclair #Graham O'Brien #yaz #yasmine khan #pete mctighe #TARDIS #bbc #Time and Time Again

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faggghaggg · 5 years ago

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Ok, so while others are getting into the whole DT/GT situation, I'm still on the old bi rumours instead. So here I'll give a bit more detailed version of what I said before. Firstly though, I'm glad the bit about him being found in bed with someone else was posted. I'd known there had been something else that I couldn't remember, and that was it!

So, first off, the rumours of a potential boyfriend. This idea I remember coming up on multiple threads, and a couple I only found because people linked to others. It seems David was often seen around the clubs, often with friends, but people noticed that he was frequently seen with one guy in particular. Someone actually linked to a photo on one thread, not that I remember it clearly after all this time. It was just a snap taken after dark with a flash showing DT, this other guy, and a woman, arriving at or leaving some venue or other. People on these threads that spoke like they were familiar with the situation said that David would usually arrive with some woman or other, then they would generally either get little attention from him or they'd just go their own way. Instead he would typically spend most of his time with this other guy. Arms draped around each other, dancing together, etc. Apparently, going by posters, he was never bothered by people because they regarded him as a regular and it was just accepted that he and the other guy were together and so their privacy was respected. I think one person said they mentioned it to a worker and their response was pretty much just 'yep, they're often here together, no big deal'.

Ok, now for the other story. This only came from one poster but they were adamant about what they'd seen. It seems this person went to a club and was surprised to see DT there with some other people. They were positive it was him and actually put themselves in a spot where they could quietly observe. I don't remember how long they said they kept an eye on him, but it was for some time, not just a couple of minutes. They said the group was sitting in a corner or off to the side (I can't remember which) so that they had some privacy even though they were still in view. The poster said that David and another guy seemed to really be into each other. Typical 'couple' behaviour like being physically intimate, leaning in to each other to talk, touching, arms wrapped around each other, etc. The poster also said that they didn't just kiss at one point but were pretty much straight up making out. While some posters rubbished this person because they were a new poster, others absolutely believed them because it fit in with what they knew of DT so they weren't at all surprised.

I just want to clarify that I wasn't on DataLounge before DT was in DW, but rather during that time. A lot of the discussion I read was older though. I actually don't usually care much about celebrity gossip, taking it all with a heaped spoon of salt. This was such an odd time though. I saw multiple times people discussing how old threads about him were disappearing, going off to look for some older post and it not being found. People took it as an effort by PR to clean up as they'd seen it before with other people. On top of this and what solidified this opinion, was the fact that new 'rumours' and articles were turning up about how DT was such a ladies man, shagging half the DW cast and other random women. It was thought that the whole shift in narrative was way to obvious to not be suspicious. There was one article in particular that was derided because it wa so embarrassingly over the top, talking about him like he was some kind of testosterone fuelled lothario. I remember people saying he should fire his PR, that if they were him they'd be in hiding due to embarrassment, or even wondering if someone was going overboard on purpose in an attempt to sabotage either him or the clean up effort. Like I said, it was a weird time.

Finally, in my recent searching I did find a post dated 06/29/2010 from someone who was apparently a DW crew member and used to post sometimes. They said that they knew David and that his relationships with his current and previous girlfriends were real, but that, and I quote,"But it's not like I know everything he does or thinks. He could easily be bi, I don't know, wouldn't be surprised, and I would never say 'oh no he's 100% straight'.".

I guess that the way I've seen him for years now is that he's 'straight' but not really the pussy hound some like to believe, and that there's no way in hell he hasn't had any homosexual encounters. Thus ends my essay! Jeez this was long. Sorry!

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ladymdc · 6 years ago

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Self Promo Meme

Rules: Post the first line of your last 10 published fics, then tag 10 people

I was tagged by @melaena & @a-shakespearean-in-paris (thank you lovelies). I am feeling strangely ... content with my writing lately, like I think I’m in a good headspace where I feel like it’s something I do just for me, just for fun, so with that in mind, here are the last 10 bits of randomness that make &/or made me happy recently.

1. Stay tuned on this Channel!! - Mystic Messenger (707 x MC; one-shot)

The kitchen was basically in the same state Olivia had left it in. Dirty but not dreadful. The sink was filled with dishes, but the surfaces were still clear, and it seemed as if all of the rubbish had made it into the bin while she was gone. Setting the takeout on the bar top, she regarded the clothes scattered in heaps around the large, open room with curiosity.

2. Thump. Thump. - Mystic Messenger (707 x OC; ongoing)

The convertible top was down, and the afternoon sun was really hitting them hard for early fall. As the light cycled back to red for the third time, Seven noticed he was gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He flexed his fingers a time or two. Then he pulled out his phone to call Chloe.

3. Blueshift - DAI (Cullen Rutherford x f!mage Trevelyan; ongoing)

For the last several hours, Evelyn and her team had been pouring over the most recent batch of data in a pathetic attempt at passing the time. Exhaustion had finally settled in, but honestly, that was a drastic improvement. There for a bit, the four of them were about to bypass hangry and enter something close to hunger fueled rage, but thanks to Rylen’s latest fling, the potential bloodbath had been averted.

4. Ghosts - Mystic Messenger (Saeran Choi|Ray x MC; complete)

Ray knelt at her feet, and his fingertips traced the shape of her leg. She didn’t know what exactly she had done to him until it was too late. It was not something that she looked back on with fondness. But this broken, abused man now belonged to her.

5. This was... - SDV (Elliott x f!Farmer; ongoing)

She arrived on the first day of spring with raven black hair and skin like alabaster. She wore a false cheery smile that only further conveyed the discontent she really felt.

6. Wandering in the Dark - DAI (Cullen Rutherford x f!mage Trevelyan; complete)

The Resistance was irretrievably over; everything that could have been done had been done. He had never thought they would succeed, only a fool would believe they could, but he had never thought he would live to see the day the last Theirin was wiped from the face of Thedas.

7. Volume 35 of “Pure Romance” - Mystic Messenger (707 x MC; one-shot)

Seven jolted awake. The sheets beside him were chilly but rumpled. There was the smell of something savory hanging in the air. He let his gaze touch on the few personal items scattered around the room, lingering on her coat draped over a nearby chair.

8. The girl who gave me a star! - Mystic Messenger (707 x MC; one-shot)

Saeyoung…

Wake up. It’s time to wake up from that sweet dream.

9. Show me the way out - Mystic Messenger (707 x MC; one-shot)

It had been eight days since Olivia last went for a run around the neighborhood. Earbuds in, music blasting. Her body thrummed with excess stress, and she wondered if Seven would concede to letting her go out to burn some of it off.

10. Tomorrow will be a better day... - Mystic Messenger (707 x MC; one-shot)

Until that moment, they had existed only as wisps of his thoughts. A dream. Something unattainable. But there they were.

I’ll tag: @laraslandlockedblues, @dismalzelenka, @ellstersmash, @gingerbreton, @thejeeperswife, @shannaraisles, @eeveevie, @laurelsofhighever, @amaranthine-daydream, & @skyholdherbalist (as always, feel free to ignore me)

#dragon age fanfiction #mystic messenger fanfic #my writing #I'm sort of all over the place lately #and I'm ok with that #writers unite #support your fellow writers #cullen rutherford #CullEv #mysme 707 #seven x mc #SaeyOlivia #mysme ray #SaElle #ray x mc #sdv fanfic #elliott x farmer

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yridenergyridenergy · 6 years ago

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A fight not to label myself as lazy... I was tagged by @weak-intention

Nickname: Anything that begins with a V...

Zodiac: Cancer

Height: 165cm

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor, according to the official quiz.

Last movie I saw: Bohemian Rhapsody, on the plane.

Last thing I googled: Well the Pottermore sorting quiz now.

Favorite musician: 京

Song stuck in my head: Rubbish Heap - Dir en grey (ikitai ikitai ikitai desho?)

Other blogs: On Instagram

Followers: 864

Following: 133

Do I get asks? Seldom

Amount of sleep: Regulated to essentially 6 hours now.

Lucky numbers: Unlucky hahah

Dream job: An actual crime investigator, but all things considered, the bad luck in my life has been compensated with a career that resembles that as much as possible so far.

What am I wearing: Honestly Kyo stole my style of today for that FORTY/INFINITUM promo picture hah.

Favorite food: Everything I can eat, I try to cherish.

Language: French, English, and then knowledge of Portuguese, Spanish, Arabic and Japanese

Can I play an instrument: Not yet

Favorite song: Dir en grey discography, and most of sukekiyo since anima and rare previous songs. All essentially on the same level of favouriteness.

Random fact: You could say that I have weird collections.

Describe yourself in aesthetic things: Eh, different?

tagging: @maru-vollmilchschokolade @the-boy-with-the-tiger-tattoo @the-wanderer76 @geralt-zrivii @shinyaandou666 @owly4all @psi-psina and if you are reading this, please consider that I am likewise interested to learn more about you.

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bloodthirstymerc · 7 years ago

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Bakery AU (aftermath)

Inspired by the amazing au that @chibinightowl has given us!

Confession time, I’ve read through your Bakery au at least three times(?) by now and I just love it to pieces. I thought of this idea probably when I finished it the second time and decided I wanted to write it as a kind of thanks for your work, so here it is, I hope you like it! :D

Tim shouldn’t feel too bad about this, because all things aside, it’s not completely his fault.

Jason’s just always eager to get a taste of Tim’s next project and Tim won’t say no. He had to admit that having Jason around when he’s trying out new things for his shop is a bonus because he always has another opinion on the taste of whatever he’s cooked up. Jason’s always praising his cakes and frosting though, so Tim isn’t sure if his opinion is as valid as it should be. Biased boyfriend opinion and all that. Sometimes he does give some pretty good ideas about certain flavour combinations, but for the most part, he’s just a happy participant in the judging of said flavours once Tim is done.

Tim’s found that after a particularly rough night on patrol Jason will usually show up either at the bakery the next day or Tim will find him already in his apartment when he gets home, eating something. Comfort food, Tim thinks, something sweet that reminds Jason of him to ease his mind and probably his body as he recovers from whatever hell he endured on the streets of Gotham. Tim can’t say he minds, because he really doesn’t. He always feels a little proud whenever Jason shows up at the bakery just to get himself one of his favourite flavoured cupcakes for a midday snack.

The only problem is that Jason seems to be showing up more often. On the one hand, it means Tim gets to see him a lot more, which is great. On the other hand, it means Jason will help himself to what he knows he’s allowed to have. Tim’s first thought is that maybe Jason’s just been having a rough month and that’s why he keeps showing up for sweets. Until Tim gets him naked and realises that he doesn’t have too many fresh wounds.

Then Tim thinks maybe Jason’s just always hungry whenever he shows up because he’s had a busy day. Until he notices other dishes in his house, take out or fast food rubbish that he knows isn’t his laying around and he figures that Jason’s been eating proper food too. It’s always weird to come home to find Jason’s made himself a meal, usually with food Tim didn’t have in his apartment.

At this point, Tim thinks Jason spends more time in his apartment than he does anywhere else, which is fine, Tim doesn’t mind. They’ve been dating for nearly seven months now if Jason was getting more comfortable showing up whenever he could that was okay with Tim.

The tipping point and main source of this problem seems to be the fact that Jason has been incrementing more left-over frosting when they have sex. Tim gets it, Jason clearly has a sweet tooth and loves the taste of his frosting, especially when Tim’s covered in it apparently. Tim’s not sure if he should be offended or proud that his frosting can get some noises from Jason that he hasn’t figured out how on his own yet. Probably proud, but part of him is also a little salty about it.

Needless to say, when Tim notices that Jason’s belly feels softer one day when he’s sat in Jason’s lap, being a little bit of a tease, he doesn’t say anything. And when he notices that the pants Jason usually wears when he stays over start to look tighter around his thighs and ass, he still doesn’t say anything (and also gets his hands on Jason as soon as he can).

Tim’s envious that despite the fact Jason’s clearly gained at least a bit of weight, his muscles are still defined as hell. Tim almost complains about it out loud when he’s got Jason shirtless and he can still see the perfect lines of his abs and even light lines of his hips even though he has more give to him. It’s a little frustrating, but if the only thing Jason’s changed is eating more cakes even if he’s still working out as much as Tim’s sure he does daily, of course that muscle isn’t going anywhere. Tim almost prefers the soft feel of Jason’s stomach under his hands compared to when it was flat and solid.

Apparently, Tim is the only one who apricates it.

Tim wasn’t expecting to come home to Jason cooking, but he should have, and he does. Jason’s started making a habit of trying to make meals for when Tim gets home from work if he’s going to be staying the night, and it’s probably the nicest thing in Tim’s opinion. He sighs softly as the smell of something that isn’t eight hundred pounds of sugar fills his apartment. He kicks off his shoes, leaving them in an unorganised heap at the door before he pads over into the kitchen. He slides up behind Jason, and carefully wraps his arms around Jason’s waist as he pushes himself up onto his toes, so he can rest his chin on Jason’s shoulder.

“Smells good.” Tim hums as he takes a look at what it was that Jason was cooking. A chicken noodle stir-fry and Tim quietly makes a small moaning noise of approval.

“Hopefully it’ll taste just as good. I had to improvise with some of the ingredients, forgot to check what spices you had.” Jason notes and Tim steps back and lets him turn to face him.

“Knowing your cooking, you could have left out half the ingredients and it’d still taste amazing.” Tim offers him a sideways smile as he tilts his head up toward Jason. Jason just hums and reaches up to swipe his thumb over the side of Tim’s jaw, pulling it back with a small amount of frosting on it. Tim had tried to clean up as best he could back at the shop, but he’s not at all surprised.

“Do you purposely do this to me?” Jason asks as he sucks on his thumb, making a small noise at the taste. Tim grins and steps back up to Jason, pushing himself up on his toes to press a light kiss to his lips.

“I promise it’s not intentional, as hard as that might be to believe.” Tim drops back and lets Jason get back to cooking. “Have I got enough time for a shower?”

“Yeah, you should be good.” Jason mumbles, his attention back on the pan in front of him.

“My showers are significantly shorter when you don’t join me.” Tim mentions as he slowly starts to back out of the kitchen.

“But less fun. And don’t tempt me, I will sacrifice this for you.” Jason looks back over his shoulder to flash Tim a smirk.

“As flattering as that is, I’d rather you didn’t.” Tim chuckles before he turns and makes a beeline to get a change of clothes for after his shower.

- - -

After dinner they end up on the couch, half watching whatever happens to be on TV and half keeping the conversation they’d been having while they ate. Tim’s sat with his legs over Jason’s lap, leaning into his side with his arm over his own thighs, meaning that he can press his hand into Jason’s belly. He’d hitched up Jason’s shirt enough that he could work his fingers under the material, just above the waistband of Jason’s pants and was drawing light and random patterns into Jason’s skin. And that’s how he’s been since they sat down to watch TV, but when their conversation comes to a standstill, Jason’s hand comes over Tim’s and to his surprise, moves it away. Tim turns his head to look up at Jason as he tugs his shirt down further than he even needs with a small frown on his face. Tim chews his bottom lip and lifts his hand to rest against Jason’s chest.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, obviously having somewhat of an idea. He doesn’t need to be a detective to figure that one out. Jason keeps his gaze averted and huffs out a little sigh as his hand clenches into a fist in his shirt where he’s still holding it down.

“Damian said I’m getting fat.” Jason grumbles. Tim has to fight back a laugh, which is hard when his mouth wants to twitch into a stupid grin. He chews the inside of his lip and clears his throat to try and stop it from happening.

“That’s ridiculous.” Tim mumbles and Jason looks at him with an unamused look.

“Don’t act like you haven’t noticed.” Jason huffs and Tim loses his internal battle as a smile spreads across his lips. He gives a half-hearted shrug and despite Jason’s efforts, gets his hand back under Jason’s shirt to press into his soft skin.

“I mean, you’ve just got a belly now, so what?” Tim bites his bottom lip as inconspicuously as he can. Jason raises an eyebrow at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, y’know, before you were just all flat muscle and now you’ve got the tiniest belly you probably could.” Tim shrugs.

“Fat.” Jason deadpans and Tim frowns.

“You’re not fat, Jason.” He argues.

“But that’s what it is, it’s fat.” Jason shrugs and drops his gaze again. Tim pauses for a moment, looking Jason over. He presses his hand a little harder into Jason’s belly as he shuffles closer into Jason, catching his attention.

“Is that a problem?” He asks, looking up at Jason with a curious stare. Jason licks his lips and gives a small shake of his head.

“…no.” He mumbles after a moment. Tim smirks and shifts the way that he’s sitting so that he can push himself up. He straddles Jason’s thighs and sits in his lap again, resting both of his hands against Jason’s belly once he’s pulled his shirt up again.

“Good, because I think it’s kind of sexy.” He hums, rubbing his thumbs in little circles against Jason’s skin.

“Yeah?” Jason asks and it’s almost relieving to see the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Clearly, there had been a part of Jason that hadn’t been fully okay with the thought that he’d gained some weight.

“I mean, it’s my fault it’s there.” Tim shrugs lightly again.

“Your frosting just tastes so good baby.” Jason offers, his hands coming to rest on Tim’s hips as he holds him in place. Tim’s smirk widens into a grin as he lifts his gaze from where his hands were on Jason’s body to his face.

“So, I’ve heard.”

“Hearing it a little more wouldn’t kill you.” Jason hums and Tim chuckles softly.

“No, it wouldn’t.” He leans in when Jason tilts his head up and meets him for a soft kiss. Jason hums into it, pulling back too soon for Tim’s liking as he clicks his tongue.

“It is a little annoying when I can’t always do up my jeans without a bit of a struggle.” Jason notes and Tim chuckles lightly and leans back into him to kiss him again. He slides his hands over the slight curve of Jason’s belly and frames it with his palms.

Anyone who didn’t know Jason as well as he or his family did wouldn’t even notice it, and so long as Jason was okay with it, Tim wasn’t going to let him get rid of it any time soon.

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 7 years ago

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I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Last Part)

So everyone was in support of the alternate ending. Between that and how much love this fic has received, I decided that I’ll post the alternate ending soon, as a big thank you to everyone who has supported the fic so far.

A loud pop and a bang echoed over the volcano, a tester, it was too light for it to be anything else. Emiru wriggled about in Azula’s arms as she made her way down a rather rickety path. His soft golden eyes and the shape of his facial features were so completely Fire Nation, so completely her. But he had the hair and the complexion of a Waterbender. He was only like his twin in terms of appearance. In personality they were as opposite as their parents. Emiru was much more timid but he had her cunning and that natural spark, the one that told her he was going to be a fearful force. That is if he chose to embrace his innate firebending skill. Shizuka was incredibly outgoing and rather hyper. She could bend fire but showed very little interest in it, something that resonated well with Sokka as she seemed to like his boomerang. She had his awful sense of humor too. Azula couldn’t tell who was less amused by it, she or Emiru who was often the first to hear her puns. Shizuka was content to dash off on her own, ever since the girl could walk, she hated being held. She shared that with her mother. But Emiru, at the age of five, still begged to be carried.

So she did. She carried the boy past houses in varying states of repair. Some were very nearly complete and others were just beginning. They were modest buildings but they had a rather welcoming air about them. One such house was missing a window or two, but in the mean time had a set of fluttering curtains to fill in the space. The air reeked of sulfur, but the pleasant aroma of fresh bread took the edge off. Still Emiru wrinkled his nose and jammed his fingers up it. That action she would place entirely on Sokka’s genetics. Shizuka who seemed entirely unfazed by the stench wandered a few feet in front of Sokka, peering down various alleyways with an innocent sort of curiosity. On one occasion she emerged with a broken bottle. “Shiny.” She held it out to Azula.

“Yes, very. Now put it down.”

“It’s pretty.” She frowned.

“It’s also dirty.” Azula countered, knowing very well that she was in for a bought of whining when the girl’s lower lip quivered.

“We can take it home and wash it off.” Sokka suggested.

“Sokka,” Azula hissed in his ear, “we don’t need a broken glass bottle.”

“I don’t know I think Shizu has a point, it’s pretty shiny.”

Azula sighed fixing him with a sturdy glare. “You’re not helping.”

Sokka took the bottle from their daughter as they made their way away from a stack of rubbish. A sizable heap of debris that ranged from battered shingles and broken glass to planks of wood and discarded flower pots. The pile was tilted rather dangerously and Azula made a point of quickening her pace, just in case. By this point her arms were growing tired under the strain of Emiru’s weight. The boy was growing quickly, a very early bloomer. Her tightened his arms around her neck with a babyish coo. The boy had a tendency to make random sounds upon growing bored. “When’re the fire works gonna start, mama?” He asked.

“When it gets dark.” She answered, petting his head.

“Why when it’s dark?”

“So you can see them better.”

“Why can you see them better.” Shizuka joined the interrogation.

“Because…” Azula trailed off. “That’s just how it works.”

“Good answer.” Sokka quipped.

“Do you have a better one?”

Azula had to admire the village’s yards. The past five years had treated them very well. They were flourishing in full and dotted with vibrant flowers. Some still retained a sprinkle of litter, but mostly they were well maintained. Again Azula found herself resonating with the place, the past five years had been rather kind to her as well. Save for an occasional lapse—one that usually involved an unexpected throwback to the trips she’d had so very long ago—she found herself in better condition than perhaps ever. On most days she was put together well her nails polished and filed to a point. Her makeup fixed to her content. And her hair…

She decided to cut it once more, partly to get Sokka to stop complaining that it was getting in his face, partly to get Shizuka to stop putting it in her mouth, and partly because she wanted a small change. It fell in such a way that it was longer in the front—reaching almost her shoulders—and hung shorter towards the back.

In the same way the Ash Pit still bore signs of abuse; pot-holes, graffiti, and spots of mildew. Azula still wore scars across her arms, legs, and belly. And in the same way the pot-holes were filled in and the graffiti was morphed into true art, Azula found her scars glorified by a sense of confidence in them and a generous web of tattoos; a blue dragon with black claws. The artist who’d done the tattoo had masterfully positioned its claws so that it gave the illusion that it had scratched the scars into her arms. And in a sense the blue dragon had.

She found herself walked by a particularly fragrant yard. One that teemed with flora of many genus. Firelilies burst open in a brilliant splay reminiscent of a sunset. Surrounding the firelilies was an army of ruby-red poppies. And near the back of the garden sun-daisies grew twelve feet tall showing off pristine white petals and centers the color of sunshine. There were many other flowers scattered about but the Fire Lord couldn’t even begin to name them. Vines licked the edges of the garden and crept up the side of the house the garden complimented. If she were being honest, she didn’t think that even the palace grasses were that green and lush.

Before Azula could stop her, Shizuka dashed into the garden and plucked herself a poppy. No sooner, and not unexpectedly the door to the house crashed open. “Who picks muh flowers!?”

Azula rolled her eyes, “here we go.” She sighed aloud.

“Mama Mozi ain’t say that nobody ken pick her flowers.”

“Sorry,” Sokka laughed nervously. “She’s only five.”

Mozi set her hands on her hips. “I ain’t know why you has such a thing fer muh garden.” She looked at Azula, “if it ain’t you steps on Mama Mozi grass, it yer kid steppin’ there. You lucky that Mama Mozi like kids.”

“Her name is Shizuka.” Azula introduced.

“And that’s Emiru.” Sokka motioned to the boy.

“Ken Mama Mozi hol’ ‘er?”

“She doesn’t like to be held. But Emiru does.” Azula replied. She was reluctant to hand her child over to anyone in the Ash Pit. But Mozi, she decided, had done her well. So she let her take Emiru in her arms.

“He remind me ov muh own boy. He remind me of Nao.” She snuggled Emiru against her a cheek, that Azula was surprised to see was decently washed. For a moment, Azula wondered where she had come up with the money to do so. She hadn’t seen the woman attend the trade fair that she and Zuko held for the Ash Pit residents. Such was one of the earliest projects they had established for renovating the place. “Mama Mozi has flowers fer sell. If ya wants ya ken take one.”

Shizuka’s eyes lit up and she wandered over to the stall, Mozi pointed to. She teetered over to it as Mozi placed Emiru back in Azula’s arms. The older woman smiled, apparently her wiggling tooth had finally fallen out. “He a good boy.

“Most of the time.” Azula agreed. Emiru nuzzled his cheek into the cook of her neck.

For a span of time Mama Mozi just stared at she and her family, mostly her eyes rested on Azula, only leaving her to watch Shizuka take Sokka’s hand. Mozi grinned again, that familiar broken-toothed smile. “Fer ‘while Mama Mozi thought she’d see ya dead. Mos’ folk who take the Tears don’t part wid ‘em. Mama Mozi glad you okay.” She patted Azula’s hand, leaving a spot of dirt behind.

Azula had forgotten that the last time she’d seen Mozi, it was in parting and she had still been very well into her addiction. “You need to wash your hands after you garden.” Azula noted, not particularly wanting to bring the tears up in front of Emiru and Shizuka.

“Mama Mozi ain’t got time fer that. Mama Mozi ain’t from the uppa ring.”

“If things keep going my way there won’t be much of a difference between here and the Capital.” Azula shrugged.

“Mama Mozi ain’t gun wash ‘er hans even if this place becomes like the Capital.” She vowed. “Whats ya doin’ back here anyway?”

Azula shrugged. “Just wanted to check in I suppose.” The truth is, she didn’t really know herself. Save for Mozi, she didn’t know anyone who still lived in the Ash Pit.

.oOo.

“What a weird lady.” Shizuka remarked as they walked away. “Who picks muh flowers!?” The girl mimicked.

The sun was relatively lower in the sky, Sokka had an abundance of mixed feelings and complaints about being in the Ash Pit after sundown, especially with their children by their side. Despite an wild slur of protests, Sokka had Shizuka in his arms. The girl was kicking and screaming until he handed her over to Azula and took Emiru. Shizuka knew better than to get fussy with Azula, lest she be confined to her room for a few days.

“Can we go home yet?” He asked.

“Stop worrying, Sokka. If I can survive this place at its worst, I can handle my own now. And I can protect the three of you.” She shrugged. As annoying as it was, he was glad she felt so secure. So unafraid. “Besides, Zu-Zu will be here soon.”

“Uncle Zu-Zu!” Shizuka cried happily. “He has funny stories.”

Sokka saw Azula roll her eyes, no doubt because most of Zuko’s funny stories involved rather embarrassing situations he and his sister had gotten into. He also had a habit of retelling some of the things Azula said while painfully intoxicated. On one occasion, Shizuka got Emiru to help her reenact such a story in front of the man Sokka had come to call, ‘boring lecture guy’. He remained an important councilmen and was even less amused by shenanigans happening during meetings than he was when they discussed the Yu Dao in times past. Sokka didn’t think he’d ever seen Azula look so flustered in front of so many people. Shizuka clearly had a talent. Sokka snickered to himself, he hadn’t expected her to be anything less than awkward about being a mother. It was one thing he seemed to be far more comfortable with that she. Fatherhood came rather naturally to him, he just imitated the qualities he admired the most in his own dad. He taught Emiru how to hunt, but Shizuka seemed to enjoy it more. He then taught Emiru to paint, this is where Shizuka stuck out her tongue and cooed, “bo-o-ring.” They loved his jokes and his stories about traveling the world with Aang. They loved tackling him on the floor and wrestling with him, mostly two against one.

At times Azula looked almost hurt. As though she were an outsider in her own family. At first it was true, that their children had gravitated more towards him. She meant well, but the Fire Lord was rather cold and stern with them in the beginning. Eventually Sokka ended up giving the a small push, he snatched Zuko (who grabbed Mai) and paid a visit to the Jasmine Dragon. With them an ocean away, the children only had their mother. According to Azula, they had nearly driven her insane again and their grandmother had to give her a hand.

It was only after Azula told Shizuka that she was allowed to firebend in the palace—after Sokka very specifically told her not to—that she declared that her mother was her favorite. She kicked Sokka in the shin and ran over to her mother, making a point of propelling herself there with a burst of fire. Wholly unhelpful, Azula supported this act of rebellion. Leaving Sokka open mouthed and Emiru to say, “it’s okay daddy, I still like you.”

All in all, he thought that his family was perfect. Particularly on the nights he would come home to find Azula asleep—after what was probably a very dull or stressful council meeting—with Shizuka curled up next to her and Emiru piled on top of her. He would tuck the three in and take to bed himself.

Even so he continued to have his low moments. There were times when he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like it the woman he tucked in was Suki and their unborn baby. He wondered what kind of mother she would have been and what it would have been like to live on Kyoshi Island rather than visiting Ember Island. He wondered what it would have been to show Suki the Water Tribe’s glowing sky curtains instead of letting Azula, Emi, and Shizu marvel at them. Often times Azula would sense it on him and just sit quietly with him. About three years in, Azula came to realize that there was nothing she could say to ease that kind of pain…that kind of loss and that the best thing to do would be just to sit next to him, with an arm over his shoulder or a hand trailing up and down his chest. She wasn’t Suki, but after a while he finally concluded that he didn’t need or want her to be. No, he was glad that he had Azula. Azula and her strange moods and her refined but somehow untamed personality. Azula and her odd way of expressing care. Azula and her seemingly complete understanding of his own quirks and sometimes violent tendencies. It was his biggest fear, his temper getting the best of him, and during times of stress it sometimes still did. So he was glad he had Azula, who refused to take any of his shit but was also empathized.

It took him longer than it should have to realize that he was indeed very happy with his place in life, satisfied with the way his path ended up unfolding. Even though he wandered blindly down the better portion of it, constantly taking turns that probably shouldn’t have been there at all.

That path had lead him back into the Ash Pit with a wife and two children where he was spreading a small picnic blanket and an assortment of pastries and fruits.

.oOo.

Azula let Shizuka steal the first fruit-tart. Evidently, Emiru wanted the same one. “If you guys keep fighting over it, I’ll give it to Sokka.” She threatened, not a fan of that particular flavor, herself. Just like that she had two perfect little angels who were content to split the tart in half. She was thankful that she retained her ability to make things that she wanted sound appealing to everyone else.

Sokka pouted. “I wanted that fruit tart.”

Azula rolled her eyes, “you’re such a child Sokka.” She watched another firework launch over the rim of the volcano, raining down a shower of gold and pink. In the light of the flash she could see a hoard of silhouettes descending the stairs to join them. Zuko, Mai, and TyLee in the front. Behind them she cold make out Aang’s bald head and Katara locked in his arm. Toph trailed behind with Chan, Ruon-Jian, and Boryuk. And behind them Yoona and Khoza walked arm and arm next to Yoko and Bo-Rem. Azula wondered when they switched love interests. Wire and a still very bashful Taeyul lingered towards the back of the group.

“You didn’t invite mother and uncle?” Azula noted.

“Iroh is serving tea to festival goers, and he recruited mother.” Zuko explained. “Here.” He handed her a rather large box.

Azula unwrapped it, to find what at first looked like an overlarge stone. “Gee, thanks, I’ve always wanted a large rock.”

“Me too!” Toph grinned.

In the burst of another firework she could see the object much clearer. It shimmered like a cluster of rubies entrapped in pure amber. “Where did you get this?” Azula asked.

“Aang and I took a trip back to a certain lost city that I’m not going to tell you anything else about.” Zuko replied. “I got one for myself too.”

Azula smirked to herself, picturing family vacations taking on the back of a dragon instead of a boat. Better yet, she imagined dropping them off at school on the dragon—a much better ride than a simple palanquin trip. She spread herself out on the picnic blanket and looked skyward. Another firework and then a second to follow climbed the sky, leaving a glittering trail. Shizuka crawled clumsily over the blanket, at times brining her hand down hard and accidently on Azula’s thigh or hip. Emiru covered his ears, complaining of the noise until Sokka scooped him up and explained the mechanics of fireworks.

Flashes of golds and oranges and blues and greens blended together after a few minutes and Azula found herself growing rather sleepy, listening to the endless chatter of her friends. Emiru, was already asleep in Sokka’s arms, it was far past his bed time. Shizuka, she could tell, was forcing herself to stay awake, trying to soak in every last minute of that rare occasion when she got to stay up far past the norm. Azula heaved herself upright and took hold of Shizuka, rocking the girl as she pointed out her favorite types of fireworks. In due time, Azula her sleeping like her brother.

“They’re so precious.” Sokka squealed. “Look at them.”

“I can’t.” Toph replied for Azula.

“Thanks for answering, Azula.” Sokka grumbled.

“Anytime, Sokka, my one true love.” Toph chuckled.

“You’re completely obnoxious.” Azula grumbled.

“Among other things.” Toph agreed.

“I’m surprised Shizuka stayed up so late!” TyLee remarked. “Last year she fell asleep before the first firework.”

“Share a drink with me?” Chan cut in with the offer.

Azula shrugged. It had been so long since her last one. She decided that she could and probably should trust herself. She couldn’t see herself going overboard with twins to carry home. She took the bottle and poured herself a glass. She clicked it with Chan’s, “to my engagement to Ruon-Jian.”

“We’re engaged?” He asked.

“Did I forget to tell you?” Chan questioned back.

Azula rolled her eyes, she had no clue how she’d gotten herself mixed up with that man. Apparently ‘idiot’ was her type. She set the glass down, bunched up a portion of the picnic blanket, and set Shizuka’s head upon it and left room for Sokka to do the same with Emiru. In what seemed like another lifetime entirely, Azula had peered up at the same skyline—seeing the majestic outline of the palace between bursts of fireworks—feeling like she belonged to neither place. The Capital towered over the rim of the volcanoes with just as much golden glory as ever and with just as much warm radiance. It casted not shadows, but light into the Ash Pit. By comparison to her home, the Ash Pit was still rather run-down, but a speckle of the Capital’s glamor was finally working its way down the volcano side. Like a hand reaching out, the Capital licked the sky with the fiery tongue of another firecracker. This one shimmered over the palace roof, as though they were trying to coax her back home. She liked to think that they were purposely aiming the fireworks high enough for her to see them still. That night she belonged to both the Ash Pit and the Capital and it was then a matter of picking where she wanted to spend her time. Somehow it felt right to spend it in the Pit where so much of her life had changed, where so much of herself had changed. In the place that made her realize that she need to help herself or no one else would…

No one but Sokka, who took to running his fingers through her hair and kissing her neck, sending a pleasant tingle throughout her body. The night had grown quiet, in the Ash Pit at least—she could still hear festival music from afar—save for an occasional, unprofessional firework from the village. She could hear Emiru snoring softly and Sokka’s hushed breathing as he held her close.

“Happy birthday.” He murmured when he grew tired of the silence. “I still love you.”

“I guess I still love you too.” She muttered, “I’m trying anyways.” She leaned back into him with a devious little smirk.

“I think that it’s working.”

“It might be.” She answered, trying to find a comfy position in his grasp. She finally found one, laying on her side with her ear against his chest.

She had been so scared to change. So afraid to become someone new and from where she sat, with a generous breeze and the sounds of distant celebration. And with the company she sat with, she had no idea where the fear had come from. Iroh and Zuko, she hated to admit, were right; a metamorphosis had been in dire need. She had certainly strayed very far from her old self, from that lost and hurt fourteen-year-old girl. And she was content to keep her distance. Content to be this newer version of her with slumbering twins and a Sokka that was likely just as new.

.oOo.

On the wall of the palace hung a series of portraits, old and new alike. One with a girl and a boy who looked so blank and so tormented with the hands of distant parents on their shoulders. The one next to it displayed a proud but scarred man with a stance of upmost dignity. And next to that hung an image of a very tousled woman, perched on a balcony with her hair cut short. Her face bore the pain of having been the girl in that first painting. Next to that was a warmer image, one that took place in the palace garden during the sunset hours, he could still see the pain in her eyes. And next to that was a beach scene, this picture was different from the others in that the woman was happy. And the last and newest portrait, that one was his favorite. It detailed the boy and girl from the first painting but they looped their arms over each other’s shoulders. The mother from the first portrait was a grandmother in this one, a boy and a girl played at their mother’s feet, giving viewers the sense that the painting hadn’t been posed at all. And on the other side of the girl was a Tribesman, grinning big—happy to be part of the portrait for once.

He couldn’t say he had helped her much. He couldn’t say that he had helped her at all. But he was proud of her. Iroh didn’t have much time left before he passed into the Spirit World, but he would hold out a little longer to let her know that he had nothing but respect and love for the woman she’d become and the person she helped Sokka become.

They were a family, controversial at the time, but a family. A genuine family with deep history that had taken so much time and effort. And so many tears to create. But that family, his family—newer members and older—was finally as it should have been. As it could have been if not so touched by the war. For the time all was right…

A finished piece.

#Sokkla #Azula #Sokka #Avatar #Aang #Zuko #Toph #Katara #Fanfiction

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