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ssoupcup · 1 year ago

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explaining in unnecessary detail; my current oc brainrot story

this is purely for my enjoyment only. i also haven't proofread this and some of this i came up with whilst writing so erm yeah. also if u do read this warning for mention of murder

HARPA - Historical Artefacts Recovery and Preservation Agency

A government department responsible for the research into past events and objects.

The general idea is that in this universe, time travel is possible. It is heavily monitored by the government, but also utilised.

This department is responsible for travelling back to time periods and either retrieving historical artefacts to bring them into the present day for analysis and conservation, or for observation of historical events to fill any gaps in knowledge.

The department is incredibly hard to become involved with due to how if anything goes wrong it can cause significant problems for the current day, and due to the risks involved which I will detail in a moment.

Sections within this department

-Time Travel

-Artefact and document conservation

-Researchers

-Management

-Tech

-Publication

-Library and archive services

-Emergency

Each section is involved within the process, although it is generally hoped that the emergency workers are not needed.

The process generally goes as such:

-A task is assigned by management or a specific request is put in, etc. This is passed on to the time travel department and the task is assigned to either an individual, or group, depending on which is better for the scenario.

-The time travel department then travels to the specific point in time to complete the work, whether that be retrieving an artefact, or observing an event or such.

-Once back in the present day, the artefact is immediately taken to conservation, and if the task was to observe, the worker immediately recounts the details to the researchers. Oftentimes for an observation based task, multiple people will be sent in order to ensure all possible pieces of information are gathered.

-The artefact/document is preserved and analysed by the conservation department, and the observational work is written up into an account whilst being matched to any other extant sources of the event or concept.

-This research or report is then further researched, discussed with other workers, academics, historians and such, and is then passed through to management. From here, any more needed information is gathered, then once that is collected or if nothing else is needed, the research is prepared for publication and the artefact is photographed or replicated, then stored away in archives in the building, before potentially being transported to other archives across the country, or to museums for storage and educational display.

Whew okay that is the general process. Now we gotta get into some of the very odd rules which are associated with this work. Once you get past the strict background checks, all the levels of high education, testing and such, and finally the interview, those working in the time section must stick to some oddly specific rules.

-Not a single thing other than the object for retrieval may be touched. This can even extend to being written up for accidentally kicking a stone or becoming involved in a conversation with someone whilst on the mission. This is largely due to the potential butterfly effect, as it is unknown how large of an impact these tiny events could have.

-You are not allowed to speak of the experience until it is all published. This is to prevent the spread of misinformation, misinterpretation, human bias and information becoming available to the public before it has been sorted through and heavily researched and checked.

-Nobody may work in this department for longer than one year.

This last rule is enforced due to a number of circumstances. Firstly, working within the time travel section has negative effects on the health long term, such as an increased mortality rate, higher exposure to radiation, and other illness. Additionally, it is also rumoured that it can have an effect on people mentally due to the other biological effects. This is not confirmed by anyone, especially not the managers and such, but the rumours cite something known as the 'coffee cup incident' - a rather euphemistic name for a supposed incident which occurred after an individual worked in the time travel department for too long. It is alleged that they experienced significant health issues, and became mentally disturbed as side effect of the time travelling, which ended in them grabbing a coffee cup in one of the offices after a task, and bashing another workers skull in with it, killing them.

This is simply a rumour of course. No evidence has ever been found which indicates such an incident happening. There are many reasons as to why the 1st floor office was closed from the 14th to the 29th of January, 2009, and rest assured murder was not one of them.

That being said, talk of this incident is not tolerated at HARPA, and all employees are expected to realise that this is in fact merely a rumour. Besides, if any mention of this came out to the public, it would cause a great many issues. They hardly appreciate the work done at the government division anyway, and if word of such an incident got out - well, it would only provide more reason for them to dislike the idea of it.

okay and now onto my bastard of an oc who works here lmao. but quickly in case the idea hasn't been conveyed properly by my rambling, this is basically a synopsis of everything.

There is a government division which deals with time travel. The idea is to fill in gaps of out knowledge of history in order to gain a better understanding of the past, for use of historians and other similar people. This is not generally appreciated by the general public for a number of reasons;

-the technology itself has been said to be unstable. it creates high amounts of radiation and with the known effects on physical health and rumoured effects on mental health, it is understandable as to why some may be fearful over the risks.

-to further this, whilst it has never been confirmed, supposedly anomalies in reality have been created. it is unclear as to what these anomalies entail, however a number of odd occurrences have been reported around the area since the division was created. these are generally brushed off by the organisation.

-general fears around time travel. the public fears that if the wrong person got a hold of the technology, they could use it with malicious intent and mess with timelines, events and such or attempt to rewrite history.

Despite these honestly very reasonable fears, a lot of cover ups are done, and a lot of attempts at alleviating fears are made. Why does the government allow this with all of these risks you may ask? Money. While this sector is expensive to run, it also generates a lot of income. Knowledge is a very valuable thing and they can generate a lot of income from sponsoring the research, renting out documents artefacts for display, replication or further study, and such. (yes ik there are logistical problems with this, i am going to come up with ways to make this work lmao.)

anyway back to my oc in this. i suppose all of the workers are my ocs but this particular one who would be the main character in it.

she is called vallie and works in the time travel department. and she has done for the past 3 years. this is somehow despite the rule of only one year. why is she doing this? money. it is INCREDIBLY lucrative. and unfortunately, she is very efficient at her job. she is able to get the artefacts retrieved very quickly, and all of her observational tasks rarely run into any issues and tend to cover all needed details. that and her rather favourable connections with management have allowed her to continue working, despite the possible health detriments. she is also a fucking ASSHOLE. she wasn't too bad whilst she was working in the library, but once she was promoted and allowed to work within time travel, she became ten times more insufferable, annoying and rude to everyone.

i do have a general idea of a story this would follow. it would end up being some mildly horrifying science fiction kind of stuff which of course ends in disaster. i do obviously need to develop it further but this is most of what i have come up with in the last week. some of the ideas i had for a while and i had the idea of the government sponsored time traveller oc for a while, but wahoo im finally developing it. anyway this was really in to write. im probably gonna develop this a bit more over time and just go a tiny little bit mental. who knows.

#oc story #original character #time travel #i literally love this story im so autistic about this #this did just start as an excuse to draw historical clothing and look where we ended up #follow ur dreams guys #you get autism if you do #what the actual fuck is wrong with me #anyway #haha lol

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redadm1ral-moved · 2 years ago

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Watered Elixir

Scribbled out a quick sickfic bc I’m sick (probably the coof, ugh) and I’m going lowkey nuts from it rn

Takes place in the Call of Honor universe, post-The Plagued Capital. Makarov and his newest lackey, Yelena (an OC from my beloved and lovely @solnishka1927) have fled Dunwall and are en route to Karnaca when plague breaks out on board their ship. Because Lady Luck has it out for him, Makarov falls ill himself.

For newcomers: COH is a crossover wherein Soap, Makarov, Yuri, and (perhaps :3) a few other COD characters are transported to the Dishonored universe after their canonical deaths. That’s all the background you really need for this fic; it’s just a oneshot (though I may incorporate this same plotline into the Maka-centric spinoff I’m planning in the future).

CW: Illness, mentions of death by illness, mentions of classism, Makarov being Makarov. Not beta’d, with minimal editing. About 1k words.

When Makarov wakes up one morning with shaking chills and white-hot pressure stabbing through his chest, the first thing he does is curse God for his misfortune.

The next is to thank him for the gift of foresight.

The rolling of the Serkonos-bound ship sends nausea spiking through his gut and up his throat, threatening to spill over into the ceramic pot clutched in his clammy hands. Yelena had been gracious enough to bring a clean one, though where she got it from, he couldn’t say. He hadn’t bothered to ask, in part because he didn’t want to know, though right now his primary concern is to stay alive and sane. The “staying alive” part of that objective seems to be going well so far; he’s managed to keep down at least half the food he eats so far, and the few vials of elixir they’d managed to smuggle aboard alleviates the worst of the symptoms. Hopefully it continues this way; to die a blood-weeping plague death in the dark, humid bowels of a 19th century emigrant ship would be a humiliating conclusion to this second chapter of life.

Makarov screws his eyes shut when the ship lurches and sends bile rushing up his throat. It’s close, but he chokes it down. His sweat-slick palms slip against the side of the pot, and he clutches it close like a lifeline. If this ships patient zero hadn’t died already, he’d track them down and crack their fucking skull open himself—

The creaking of the cabin door heralds Yelena’s return. Clean water sloshes in the thick glass jug she carries to the edge of the bed, where Makarov’s cup rests on the floor within his reach. He bites back an impatient quip as she kneels and fills his cup halfway with water, pausing only to better fit the scarf wrapped over her nose and mouth.

“Another one fell ill,” Yelena says, in Russian—or perhaps Tyvian, to be more precise. “A young lady in cabin class.”

Makarov says nothing. It had started in steerage; a teenage boy woke up one morning with shaking chills, and fever had claimed him three days later, long before the weeping could set in. They’d hoped his swift death put a premature end to the outbreak, but his sister and father fell ill the night after they’d slipped his scrawny gray body into the sea. The plague cut through steerage like a scythe through wheat, killing half of them while the crew struggled to contain the sickness. It spread to intermediate class not long after. Makarov’s certain he caught the plague from one of the maids; he’d only spoken to her for a minute, before she’d shown any symptoms, but a minute was all the disease needed to sink its claws into him. She’s dead now—not of plague, funnily enough, but because something in the elixir closed her throat. At least a brutal anaphylaxis death spared the miserable bitch the worst of the early stages of plague, the symptoms of which now torment Makarov.

Yelena pulls Makarov’s luggage from the compartment under the bunk bed and produces a vial of bright red elixir from its wrappings. He’s thankful he’d managed to convince her not to report their supply to the captain, as had been requested of them when they boarded; if they had, it would’ve been seized and rationed out to the rest of the crew and passengers like all the other elixir on board. Most of it is gone now, with the scarce remains given only to the afflicted with the best chances. Makarov’s supply is quite small—only five vials could fit in their luggage without risk of breakage or discovery—but hopefully it would be enough. It must be; he’s strong, fit, and had saved enough money to secure passage in intermediate class, but now that the plague’s spread to the important ones, the rich ones, they’ll be the ones prioritized in the rationing, age and strength be damned.

Yelena pours just enough elixir to fill the rest of the cup, then swiftly tucks it back into its hiding place. She swirls the cup once, twice, then sets it on the floor and slides it into Makarov’s reach. The hand he extends trembles, and the cup slips from his weak fingers when he attempts to lift it. The cup only drops an inch and lands upright, spilling no water, but the spike of fear it sends through him spurs a curse from his mouth.

Part of Makarov wants to bark at Yelena to go away. Not out of concern for her health (though she is sitting a bit too close to be safe), but because the open worry in her eyes makes him feel small. Helpless. He grits his teeth and grabs the cup again; this time he’s able to lift it, but the rim shakes against his lip and the watered elixir taunts him just beyond the reach of his tongue. The ship rocks, his joints scream in protest, and he can’t tip the cup further, for fear of wearing his drink instead of swallowing it.

Yelena scoots closer. The sharp look he shoots her doesn’t stop her from slipping her hand around the cup and angling it further for him; the watered elixir kisses his lips, and though the flavor is sharp and sour and wholly unpleasant, he drinks it down like the sweetest wine. Yelena lowers the cup to give Makarov a chance to breathe (or at least attempt to—one breath and he’s reduced to a coughing mess), then lets him drink the rest once he’s ready.

He closes his eyes when she lowers the cup for the final time, half-expecting to hear the trickle of water as Yelena pours him a pure serving—and flinches when the back of Yelena’s hand instead rests gently atop his sweat-beaded forehead.

“Your fever has gone up,” she says softly.

Makarov turns his head away.

“Don’t touch me.” His weak voice carries a dull edge.

“I’ll wet you a cloth,” she answers, as if Makarov had said something else entirely, or nothing at all. She steps away, and it’s a few minutes of rummaging and shuffling and soft muttering before Yelena returns and drapes a cool, damp cloth against Makarov’s forehead. The sensation rushes from his skull down to the tips of his toes, refreshing as a summer breeze, and it even alleviates some of the pounding pressure in his skull. A gentle hand brushes back his sweat-damp hair, an attempt to soothe him. It’s enough to unravel some of his tension, and as he sinks deeper into his pillows, he lips part as his face slackens. His hands come to rest at his sides, the ceramic pot now balanced freely in his lap.

“You should sleep,” Yelena murmurs.

Makarov tries another angle. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

“Maybe not,” says Yelena. But she lingers, her fingers still carding through his hair. It’s almost intimate, the way she touches him, like she knows he hasn’t been touched like this in years.

It has to work through a tight, aching chest and a ragged throat, but the sigh Makarov lets out is soft and deceptively smooth. He’d barely slept last night, and the combination of exhaustion and Yelena’s soothing touches tempts him into the embrace of sleep. He knows his current vulnerability will leave him mortified when (if) he wakes later, but damn it all, he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, he surrenders and allows himself the journey into gentle, temporary dark.

#vladimir makarov #yelena zyryanova #call of duty #dishonored #mw2 #mw3 #codmw #mwog #oneshot #fic #mywriting #au: call of honor

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - No Time Like the Past

While I wouldn’t call this the worst episode of the series, there are several others I dislike more, I would call this the most ill conceived story in the show.

All the other bad episodes have potential but are let down by poor presentation, boring predictability, or sloppy planning. This one however, is fundamentally flawed in it’s very basic premise and so ranks in the bottom of most fans lists. Even people who are far more forgiving of season three and than I am, and are hardcore New Dream stans, still dislike this episode. That’s how bad it is.

Summary: Rapunzel discovers Old Lady Crowley tossing out Cassandra's things. She is upset and demands that they be left alone. She then has Lance and Eugene help her save all of Cassandra's mementos and personal belongings, but she becomes saddened when Eugene reminds her that Cassandra turned her back on "her". Rapunzel takes a box of her things along with, unknowingly, a mysterious hourglass. As she examines it, she accidentally drops and smashes it and she and Pascal find themselves sent back into the past. They run into a teenage Eugene and Lance who keep calling Rapunzel "Sideburns". Rapunzel realizes that she and Pascal have inhabited the bodies of the Stabbington Brothers and decide to recruit the young thieves in getting the hourglass from the castle back.

Fun Fact! That Dummy is Rapunzel’s Doing

Minor nitpick here, but Cass had nothing to do with putting Eugene’s face on her sparring dummy. Rapunzel voluntarily did that back in Under Raps. Cas never requested it nor even expressed any joy over receiving said ‘gift’.

Basically the show is attributing one of Rapunzel’s mistakes/flaws to Cassandra in order to introduce a very nonsensical plot point later. So I need ya’ll to keep that in mind as we go along.

Lets Talk About the Episode’s Ordering

We don't have production codes for season three like we did for the previous two seasons. So we can’t know for sure what order everything was originally planned in, but I would argue that this episode should have came before Return of the King.

For starters this is a “bottle” episode; it takes place mostly in the past and the only present day characters who show up are Eugene, Raps, Lance, and Crowely. As such you could potentially slot this episode in anywhere before Cassandra’s Revenge. You can’t really do that with most of the other episodes so it could have been easily moved around when airing.

Therefore, I would argue that it should have been the first episode after Rapunzel’s Return for three key reasons.

It would have given Edmund time to travel to Corona and give Raps time to start up big building projects like fixing Old Corona. In fact she’s already approving building plans for the capitol city at the start of the episode. Which could even explain why she took so long getting to the castle repairs if she was taking care of the stuff that the Saporians messed up else where.

Rapunzel’s stance over wanting to keep Cassandra’s things makes more sense early on, both in universe and in a meta context. Raps would still have hope if Cass has only been gone for a month or two instead what would now be four or five months down the line. It also makes sense that Crowely wouldn’t wait around for that long. And from a meta standpoint, the audience would still be oblivious to what the heck Cass was up to and could theoretically side with Raps better; or at least empathize with her view point more, even while disagreeing with her.

Events in this episode better explains Eugene’s decisions in Return of the King and gives the audience more context for certain stuff.

So Why Is There a Random Magical Time Traveling Hourglass in the Storage Vault?

Slowly but surely the series has abandoned all pretense that there’s any logical world building in the show. Magical things just appear randomly now without any explanation whatsoever. Worse than that, things like the hourglass and map to the cursed tomb are treated as if they were always there, unlike the magical beings that they happened to run into in past seasons.

The problem with this is a lack of consistency. You can’t have sceptics like Eugene and Varian if magic is so common and wide spread that anyone can run into it at anytime. Not to mention it diminishes the specialness and importance of the sundrop and moonstone if powerful magical items can be so easily found and stirred, undermining important plot points and the tension surrounding them.

But most frustrating of all, is that this could have been easily fixed by just stating on screen at some point that magic attracts other magic. Meaning it’s only Rapunzel herself who routinely runs into these things and not just everybody and anybody.

None of This Stuff Holds Any Meaning

Show don’t tell!

At several points through out season three, both Raps and Cass morn over Cassandra’s left behind things. They tell us constantly that these objects hold significant meaning to them, but I, the viewer, have no damn clue as to why.

We were never shown on screen what was so special about these things other than the fact that it was junk Cass collected. There’s no story attacked to these assortment of objects nor any previous indication that Cassandra valued them beyond their usefulness. As such, any scenes involving her stuff fall emotionally flat.

Eugene is the One in the Right Here.

Eugene’s right.

Any well adjust and mature adult will tell you he’s right.

If someone doesn’t want a relationship with you, than that’s it. There is nothing you can do but to move on. It sucks, but its life. To ignore that is to ignore someone else’s boundaries and personal autonomy; while also devaluing yourself and you’re own needs.

In a competent show this would be a set up for Rapunzel to learn something about letting go and taking care of oneself emotionally.

But this isn’t a competent show.

But Lobster is for Poor Folk

Food history time!

Lobster, and shellfish in general, have been considered low class food for centuries. Especially around costal areas like Corona. It’s easy to attain, cheap, and not regulated like hunting was in much of Europe. In America, specifically, lobster was fed to prisoners and there’s historical accounts of riots being started over it.

Heck, less than forty years ago, no one lived on the coast but poor people. That’s why there’s historical communities of black people living on the southeastern islands in the US and why my father grew up in the swamps of Alabama during the 50s and 60s.

The gentrification of coastal property and seafood, like lobster, is a very recent phenomenon in human history, starting in the late 70s early 80s with the booming tourism industry and increasing globalization.

So while I understand that the joke here is meant to be reflective of our current understanding of lobster being a status symbol, in universe, it’s the equivalent of Eugene getting excited for chicken nuggets instead of his usual bowl of cereal because the story takes place before the 20th century.

This means that these kids are so poor that fucking mcdonald’s fast food would be considered a rare treat compared to the slop they usually eat. Yet again what is meant to be a lighthearted joke turns suddenly dark when you stop to think about it for all of two seconds all because the writers are so flippant about their world and characters.

This Wasn’t Planned Out, So the Timeline Doesn’t Add Up Anymore and Resources are Wasted

Remember the flashback in The Return of Strongbow?

Now I need you to remember that season three is two years later from season one and the movie. Eight years ago then, would be ten years ago now.

The Eugene and Lance in the bottom picture is suppose to be roughly the same age as the Eugene and Lance in the top picture; give or take a few months.

I know teenage boys can grow fast, but not that fast.

Eugene at 16 looks the same as he does at 26. All because the writers were too lazy to preplan things out ahead of time.

We should have seen the teen models with recasted voices back during that first flashback if they were going to tell this story later. Or the previous plot point should have been less than eight years ago.

In fact the first flashback no longer makes any sense being so many years ago given Eugene’s engagement and recent breakup with Stalyan, and the later reveal that he was working for the Baron during the original movie.

Sloppy planning like this not only makes for a confusing timeline but it also wastes limited resources. I like the new models, I like the actors cast for these younger roles, and I do like the concept of seeing more of Eugene’s past. But going through all of that trouble and money for what amounts to one throw away episode is mismanagement of the budget and work schedule.

Baby Varian Is the Episode’s Only Saving Grace

I know people are divided on the deign here. Some love it and some hate it, but that’s a personal taste thing. The actual scene itself is golden either way, because it’s such a funny eater egg. Fans on both sides made memes out of this for days. It’s legendary.

Personally I’m more in the ‘love it’ camp, though I can see the issues people have with the design. My main defense of it is more the fact that we got kid designs for the other OCs in the show and it’s only fair Varian got one as well. The fact that he’s in smaller versions of the S1 clothes doesn’t bother me anymore than when Lance ran around for two seasons in the same outfit, including when he was a kid.

So if I like it, then why am I talking about it a salt review?

Cause the most memorable part of an episode shouldn’t be a throw away gag!

People bring up baby Varian way more than they do about anything else in the episode, and no it’s not just because the character popular. It’s because most would like to forget what comes after this scene.

Where is Quirin, by the Way?

Why is your six year old son running around the big city unsupervised?

This wouldn’t get talk about as much it wasn’t for the fact that Quirin being neglectful in season one was a motivating factor in his conflict with Varian. A conflict that was suppose to be resolved back in Rapunzel’s Return but we the audience have yet to visually see any difference in behavior since then.

Quirin’s absence here in the past highlights his absence in the present day and reminds the audience aware that we’ve not been given a satisfying conclusion to one of the most important arcs in the series.

Lets Talk About Wasted Potential

Like I said, I like the idea of exploring Eugene’s past. But we should have gotten that back in season two when it was more relevant. Part of why this episode fails is because Eugene has reached the end of his original character development. He’s now on an identity crisis arc which has nothing to do with this episode.

But you know who still hasn’t finished developing? Rapunzel.

Rapunzel has lots to still learn and viewing her past through outside eyes could have turned this story into something really special. Especially with the ‘inhabiting another body’ plot point.

You have no end of options here,

Have Raps inhabit Cassandra’s body for a day and gain insight into what motivates her. It could have been either before or after they met, both offers up possibilities.

Have Raps inhabit Eugene’s body and experience what he had to deal with growing up and come to see his point of view. (This could have also worked with the Sabbingtons set up had the writers not been stupid.)

And my personal favorite, send her back to right after Queen for a Day and have her stuck in either Varian’s or Ruddiger’s bodies. Force her to see what she did to him and have her acknowledge she was wrong.

And those are just the most obvious choices, there’s other more out of left field things you can do that would still work with good writing. Like exploring Lady Caine’s past, inhabiting Arianna’s body and learning how to be a real queen, get dumped into actual young Gothel and lay out clues to the future Zhan Tiri plot, or possess one of the Brotherhood and experience the final days of the Dark Kingdom; the list just goes on and on and on.

But I Thought You Didn’t Put Kids in Jail Frederic?

Remember that Raps and Pascal are possessing the Stabbingtons who are still teenagers here. They can’t be much older than Varian.

This means that Varian isn’t some special case. Teens have received harsh and deadly punishments in the past for non-violent crimes like theft.

Also teens are called kids still by the majority of the cast. They’re aren’t considered adults with the same rights as someone in say their twenties, yet they can be punished the same as an adult would. Which is horrendous in any time period.

So in conclusion, Frederic is a fucking liar!

Tangled the Series can’t decide if it’s in the far past or a reflection of the modern day. As such it winds up supporting the worst of both worlds. Barbaric practices like hanging for minor crimes and prison slave labor are treated as the norm and never called out for the horrific things that they are; treated as a joke even, but we’re suppose to accept that this world also somehow views adolescence through the lens of late 20th century sensibilities even as it forces minors to go through such atrocities.

Like what are you trying to say show? What is your message on the transition of adolescence to adulthood regarding rights and responsibilities? And don’t tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ because this is suppose to be a coming of age show! That’s the entire premise of the series!

So How Old Are Stan and Pete Again?

I was always under the impression that Pete was a newbie guard, closer to Cass and Eugene’s age than say Cap or Frederic. That’s why he screws up so much because he’s inexperienced, why he seemed to be the closest thing to a equal colleague Cass had in the guard when she was also just starting out, and why I assumed those braided girls from the movie were his sisters.

I mean there was nothing on screen previously that would necessarily contradict this reveal, it just doesn’t feel right, that’s all. I guess he could be like 20 here and be 30 in the show. That would make him only a few years older than Eugene, but still doesn’t explain why he’s so useless a decade later.

I’m fine with Stan being here though. I always thought of him being the older of the two. In fact I headcannon Willow as his mysterious wife that he talked about back in Monty’s episode during season one. (She’s Stan and Pete’s beard, and they’re totally in a open poly relationship. That’s why they’re allowed to stay in the royal guard despite being so incompetent cause they’re technically Ferderic’s in-laws and Rapunzel’s uncles. Just no one ever talks about it cause it’s a minor sandal for a princess to marry lower class and Willow’s hardly ever there.)

And Why Does Xavier Have All Those Plot McGuffins?

I know we’ll never get an answer, but at this point Xavier’s exposition fairy powers border upon ridiculousness. It’s just lazy and a waste of character.

So How Does Time Travel Work In This?

There are three types of time travel stories in fiction.

First is the ‘Changeable Past, Changeable Future’. You see this in Back to the Future. What you do in the past will change the future, i.e. your present. You may or may not remember that you did it, but be warned you could change things too much and break stuff. Like erasing yourself from existence, or ruining your love life ect. The only way to fix it is to go back in time again and change stuff again. But beware of paradoxes or you may destroy the universe altogether.

The second is the ‘Alternate Timeline’, where changing things creates new realties and it’s a matter of finding the right reality again. The tv show Sliders is a great example of this. Each new timeline is a different dimension. What you do in one won’t effect your original point of origin, only that particular world. The challenge if often getting home again because the probable diverging timelines are infinite and the changes of getting back are a zillion to one.

Third is the ‘Closed Time Loop’. No matter what you do nothing will change. The future is inevitable and whatever you do in the past was always meant to happen anyways. Gargoyles handles this really well. You can also have ‘fix points’ where certain important things are set in stone but small things can be changed like in several Doctor Who episodes. Braking a fix point breaks the universe once again, while paradoxes are often the solution rather than the threat.

So which type of time travel is Tangled dealing with here?

Scenes like the conversation regarding Pete’s and Stan’s mustache or the ones involving Eugene working on his smolder suggest a closed time loop. Yet the ending to this episode reveals a changed future. Further still the grandfather paradox revolving around the hourglass would make you think an alternate timeline yet, we’ve no indication that anything else changed other then Eugene’s opinions on Cass, and Raps shows no concern about getting back to her original point in time indicating that it actually isn’t another dimension.... so what is it then?

You don’t have to have a tightly plotted time travel story to have an entertaining piece of media. Endgame is riddled with plot holes and contradicts itself constantly, but what it lacks in coherent plot it makes for with fun characters, emotional story beats, and good pacing that manages to balance the action with the drama while hiding the cracks just enough that you don’t lose immersion.

Tangled however fails at even this because it gets the character beats so fundamentally wrong. Like you may dislike where the characters ended up in Endgame, but can’t say that those developments didn’t match the characters’ previous storylines and logical trajectory. Tony finally becomes the selfless hero by committing the ultimate sacrifice, Steve learns self care as a mirror to Tony’s arc as they were always parallels to each other, Bruce learns to accept himself, Thor processes his grief and lets go of the role he was assigned at birth but never truly fit into, and Nat becomes the leader she was destined to be rather than the sidekick.

What happens to the characters in this episode however makes no sense.

This is Another Missed Opportunity to Explore Eugene’s Past

The other problem behind the episode is that we don’t actually learn anything new. If you’re going to promise a story focusing on Eugene’s past then I expect to actually glean some new insights.

We still don’t know why he’s working with Baron or how he fell in/fell out with him, what his relationship with Stalyan is like, how he became so cynical; not just the general basics, like the orphanage, but that point in his life where decided that survival meant giving up his morals and ethics; where did he first learn his better ethics that he originally suppressed (cause it sure as heck wasn’t Rapunzel), and when did he and Lance become separated?

This are questions that series decides to raise by making allusions to them and building conflicts off of them but never wants to explain the details of where they originated from. It’s super frustrating and wholly unnecessary. If you didn’t think the story of Eugene’s past worth telling then why did up repeatedly bring it up Chris?

Why Are You Surprised by This Rapunzel?

Rapunzel you know Eugene’s past. You know what he used to be like. You were literally there in the movie and saw him being an ass before this. You didn’t start to like him until he dropped his guard down in the flooded cave back when you both where about to die.

You fell in love with him when he showed you his real self and he fell in love with you when you proved that you were accepting of that. You earned each others’ trust. This here; angrily yelling at him and judging him, when you’re already hiding who you really are from him both literally and figuratively, is a breaking of that trust.

Who the fuck are you any more, Rapunzel?

Cause you’re not the same character from the movie. You’re not even the same character from season one. But whoever hell you are now, it’s not an improvement I can tell ya that.

So How Did The Hourglass Go From the Treasury to the Basement Storage, and How Would Raps Know It Was There At This Point and Time?

I’m guessing the implication here is that Crowley put Cass’s stuff in the vault, but like why the fuck would she do that? We’re not talking about a family attic here, but the royal safe. The most heavily guarded room in the castle with the kingdom’s most priceless treasures and antiques. Nothing Cass owned was that valuable.

Rapunzel Is Full of Shit

Oh let me count the numerous ways in which this whole lecture is stupid.

Rapunzel left Varian behind. Rapunzel left Varian behind multiple times, including that time he was thrown in jail. She was not a good friend, and no, this is not a case of her learning from her past because not once has she ever admitted that she was wrong to do that. So this scene just makes Raps look like a hypocrite.

Eugene does not need to relrean a lesson on being a better a person. He did that during the movie and has progressed beyond that point. This ‘lesson’ is a waste of time and a misuse of the characters.

This reframes Rapunzel as being in the right during her argument with older Eugene at the beginning of the episode, even though she’s not. In fact this is such a counterintuitive plot point that it boggles the mind. Who structures a narrative this way? Why so blatantly point out how the main character is wrong if not to have her learn something? Why frame the story to make the person who’s personal conflict isn’t even the episode’s focus, into the one who needs to learn something? Especially if that something is already a lesson that they’ve learned on screen beforehand.

And why, oh good heavens why, would you teach children such a toxic message? Like on the surface it sounds like something you’d hear in a children's show, but the context of it is justifying harmful behavior where you selfishly ignore other people’s wishes and boundaries just to satisfy you’re own personal desires.

And finally, Eugene and Lance do not work as a parallel to Raps and Cass. Cassandra is an adult who left of own free will. Lance is a teenager who was arrested due to Rapunzel’s own actions. Eugene isn’t the one who is responsible here, its Rapunzel. Who also left them both behind in her carelessness. Secondly, Eugene’s decisions are spurned by years of trauma and a healthy fear of dying, while Rapunzel’s is wrapped up in her own need to always be right and to keep her immature and fanciful outlook of the world intact. As harsh as it seems, what Eugene did was based off a predetermine agreement and presumably Lance would have acted the same way or been pressured to act the same way by Eugene. In short, Eugene’s cynical world view as a teen is not the source of his disagreement with Rapunzel but an adult perspective back by common sense and a respect of others choices. It makes no sense for present day Eugene to ‘learn’ anything from this misadventure that he didn’t already know and for Rapunzel to not learn anything that would actually tie the parallel together.

Locking Another Teen Inside a Jail Cell With Another Adult as a Joke, Does Not Erase the Inappropriateness of Varian’s Story

The episode tries to add another joke about Shorty sneaking into the prison without the guard knowing, but that still doesn’t excuse the fact someone had to have tossed Lance in there with him on purpose. Otherwise Lance wouldn’t have assumed Shorty was a fellow prisoner if he or the guard that locked him up saw Shorty sneak in before then.

Furthermore Lance’s nonchalant response suggests this is not an out of the ordinary occurrence. Nor do any of the other guard comment upon the irregularly of teens being jailed with an adult. Now add in the fact that the show fails to clarify that previous ‘cellmate’ line from Rapunzel’s Return and now gives us more confirmation that Varian was underfed and malnourished for a year with that gruel joke and you have a horrifying picture.

Shorty might be non-threating, but that doesn’t mean Andrew, a known attempted murderer and manipulator, is too. Nor any other adult who previously was housed with a teen before then. This is still very much not okay and no amount of ‘jokes’ will suddenly make it right.

Raps, Who is an Adult, Just Physically Threatened Two Teenaged Boys and It’s Played as a Joke....

How many times do I have to say it? Humor does not fix bad writing. I’m not laughing when a heroine at age 20, threatens a couple of kids for merely annoying her. Especially when said heroine has a history of abusing children; because let me repeat once again, neglect is abuse!

This is a Lie

No you wont.

Rapunzel never tells Eugene what happens on screen. I suspect that if she ever did, they would no longer be together, because what she wound up doing here was a violation of trust and boundaries in the worst possible way.

And This is Now a Time Paradox

A Grandfather Paradox to be specific. How can Rapunzel be here in the past to break the hourglass if the hourglass that sent her here is broken?

In a competent series this would be the point of a future conflict and not the actual resolution. It’s not a closed time loop because of the paradox and the changes we’ll see in the future.

So either she’s in an alternate timeline/dimension and just doesn’t gives a shit; leaving the real Eugene, Lance, Cass, ect. to go on without her; or she’s just broke the universe and everything is slowly unraveling around her; galaxies are dying as she whines about being dumped, people in the future are being eased from existence, and God is cursing her name for ruining his creation, all the while she carries on oblivious to the destruction in her wake, as usual.

That’s it. Those are you’re only two options now. Is everyone from here on a fake copy or is Rapunzel the damned destroyer of worlds? You decide.

So This Confirms That the Stabbingtons are Indeed “Family”

Another reason why I place this before Return of the King; it explains why Eugene considers the Stabbingtons ‘family’. Though if it was Rapunzel he actually bonded with and not the real Sideburns, then how much of his feelings are real and how much of them were fabricated by her? How much agency did this episode steal from him?

So What Exactly Did We All Change?

Well the dummy no longer has Eugene’s face, but Cass’s painting of the three of them still has him ripped out of the photo, soo... Keeping in mind that Raps painted the dummy anyways and considering that Moonandra tries to kill him later on; I’m going to guess that Cass’s feelings weren’t actually altered. If anything their relationship might actually be worse now, cause Cassandra keeps acting like she’s never had friends and Eugene has taken up Rapunzel’s blind devotion.

All that development in season one is just, poof, gone. Also it’s quite possible that the first movie as well has now it has been erased from existence as Eugene got his needed character development eight years too early. How the hell that’s suppose to work, I don’t know.

Outside of the that we get no confirmation how anybody else was effected, even though a more brainwashed Eugene running around would undoubtedly have caused a butterfly effect. Don’t expect that to be explored anytime soon.

Though, it would explain why he’s suddenly such a doormat in season three, if this was the second episode as theorized.

No! This is the Wrong Lesson!!!

Let me explain narrative promises.

Everyone, on some basic fundamental level, understands how stories work. We hear them recounted to us over and over again from the day we're born to the day we die. It’s integral to how we communicate as human beings. Everyone knows innately how to tell a story even if that person couldn’t tell you how stories or structured or what certain literary terms mean, but they do it every day just through speaking. And while most audiences can’t always pin point what upsets them about a story they can for sure notice when things are off and not satisfying to experience.

Now that doesn’t mean that everyone can write an awarding winning novel, that study of a craft isn’t important, nor that every amateurish critique thrown at any given media is valid. But it does mean that people have come to expect certain storytelling practices and can pick up on narrative cues. We’ve familiarized ourselves with the language of film, novels, comics, ect, into order to comprehend what’s going on.

Rules of writing are just following that established language so that the audience can keep up. You can break these rules, sure, but unless you know what you’re doing and have a good narrative reason to do so, then you can easily lose you’re audience. And if you’re making money off said audience that’s something you want to avoid.

A narrative promise is a cue; a set up that lets the audience know that ‘hey this is important, pay attention to this cause it’ll come back into play later’. Now that the audience has been alerted to the plot point they expect fulfillment of the promise. If you break that promise, either through poor set up, lack of follow through, or by breaking an established convention of writing for no other reason then because you just wanted to, your audience is going to walk away unsatisfied.

The argument at the beginning of the episode was a narrative promise. It was a cue that set up the interpersonal conflict of the main character. For add context, I know that this is a coming of age story. Convention would dictate that the protagonist would resolve this conflict by learning they were wrong.

That’s not what happened here.

Convention was subverted. It wasn’t the protagonist who grew and change, it was the person they were in conflict with who did. And it wasn’t subverted because of any greater narrative reason, or future pay off, or even as effort to be shallowly ‘clever’; it was subverted because the author just didn’t want to hold the main character accountable for anything. Because said character has now become his avatar for his wish fulfillment fantasy and having the main character admit fault would be to admit fault in ones own self. Rapunzel doesn’t feel like Rapunzel this season because she’s just Chris in a wig.

The episode broke a narrative promise to the audience; both within the episode and in the greater premise of the story, because of ego.

I don’t claim this episode is bad just because of personal taste nor because I find it morally repulsive (even though both those things are true), I call it bad because it exhibits bad writing. Plain and simple.

Way To Undermine The Entire Point of the Original Movie, Show

Speaking of breaking narrative promises....

TTS is suppose to be a squeal to the original movie. It’s even in the title of the show; both of them. In one fell swoop, the series has managed to sabotage it’s very reason for existing, as it erases Eugene’s motivation and the inciting incident that kick started the film.

Way to fucking go.

To further twist the knife, it diminishes the duel protagonist of said film in order to prop up a series original character, who isn't even present in the episode itself.

I don’t mind Cassandra’s existence. I don’t even mind her being the new deuteragonist and one of the main villains; even though she wouldn’t have been my first pick to fulfill those roles given her lack of set up. But I do fucking mind it if she upstages other characters and/or derails their character arcs in the process.

This is the Death of New Dream

I was still in denial when this episode first aired. I honestly believed that this and The Return of the King was build up to a third “betrayal” where Eugene finally became fed up with Rapunzel’s bullshit and joined forces with Zhan Tiri. I thought the end of the series would have Rapunzel apologize to everyone she did wrong, Varian, Cass, and Eugene, in order to break ZT’s hold on them, and that true love’s kiss would reunite the sundrop and the moonstone and that would just tie everything together into a neat little bow and give us a truly daring character study of a Disney hero.

Oh dear merciful heavens, was I ever wrong.

How did we go from season one’s challenging and mature storyline, complete with Disney’s first real anti-villian, to this?!

What the hell happened!?

Rapunzel not only disrespects Eugene’s opinions, violates his privacy and trust as she manipulates him as a teen, and then brainwashes him to think like her (even if accidentally), but doesn’t even have good grace to tell him. She instead has the audacity to look all happy and self congratulatory because she got want she wanted. She, and the show at large, doesn’t care what evil thing she does to get the desired outcome Rapunzel wants.

Rapunzel in this show is a spoiled brat. And the image of her and her now lobotomized boyfriend staring dead eyed at a picture of the creator’s previous waifu OC with plastic smiles on their faces, sums up this series perfectly.

Conclusion

This isn’t even the worst episode of the series guys. I don’t know if it would even make it onto a bottom five list. That’s how much crap I have to wade through when it comes to this show. This is however the most damaging episode to the franchise as a whole.

Not even the most hardcore of New Dream fans want to acknowledge the existence of that final scene, and Rapunzel stans won’t defend her beyond, ’well she didn’t mean too, it’s the writing that’s bad.’ Yeah, the writing is bad, that’s why the character can’t and shouldn’t be defended, not here and not in other badly written episodes where she also does bad things and never makes up for it.

Anyways I’m finally caught up to where I left off, before the move, though sadly I don't think I’ll get this series done by the end of the month like I had originally hoped. But if you would like to help out I have a ko-fi you can drop a tip into if ya want.

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #Eugene #anti-rapunzel #anti-tangled

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years ago

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One of the Bad Ones

From a little thought of mine <3

Masterlist

Pairing: (platonic) female!oc & crosshair

TW: sad/depressing thoughts, a little bit of human experimentation, self-depreciation, PTSD

Word count: 1895

QUICK NOTE: this is a concept with my oc Dain and her (platonic) relationship with Crosshair. Dain is a chiss jedi who hates the republic. She was the TechnoUnion's test subject years before Echo got there. She was rescued by the Batch and Co. when they went to rescue Echo. If you want more details, let me know!

There were good days and bad days for Dain. This day would be one of the bad ones.

Hunter and Wrecker were getting some much-needed rest, recovering from the day before. Tech was messing with a small part of the hyperdrive in his bunk with Echo helping, not getting the rest they needed. That left Dain piloting through the ridiculous amount of traffic on Pasaana, their new mission destination, with Crosshair as her co-pilot. A content silence consumed the ship, only Tech’s fiddling with a blow torch, Hunter and Wrecker’s soft snores, and the clicking of controls filling the cramped space.

Dain was consumed whole by her usual track of mind. The horrors of Skako were always her first destination. It was hard not to think about it, she was there for years. She constantly had to rhyme off the different things she could see, focus on the light reflecting and refracting around the ship, squeeze her eyes shut and dive into the life forces of her crewmates to bring her back from the fluorescent-lit laboratories and chilling surgical tables. Her limbs disobeying her commands as her captures messed mercilessly with her eyes. She could feel the tiniest of needles embedded in her iris, the sorry excuse for a numbing agent being injected.

She could still feel the helplessness that she constantly felt every second she was conscious on Skako. The bacta tube she was confined in when the surgeons needed a break still haunted her. Her long hair frail and coarse flowing like a separate entity, her oxygen mask so tight around her face practically another body part. She felt like she was being slowly and carefully pulled back to it, she could feel the warmth of the liquid seeping up her calves and past her knees, almost above her waist.

“You okay?”

Those few words violently pulled her out of the tank she was sinking into.

She didn’t feel the little drops staining her cheeks. Of course she wouldn’t, she was too messed up to feel the things that made her organic. She saw a sparkling on her cheeks refracting the light of the speeders and pods held up in front of her.

Dain quickly wiped them away. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Simple question,” he said, his usual snark present.

“I am perfectly adequate; I don’t know where you’re getting your ideas from.”

“Your bullshit doesn’t fool me,” Crosshair sighed.

Dain whipped her head around to his dead serious face gazing out at the fully stopped highway. “I beg your pardon? I am not, as you say, bullshitting.”

“You’re suffering. You really think this act is convincing?”

She was perplexed.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He went back to prepping the ship from its parked mode to move a couple inches further.

Dain did her part in guiding the ship the few little inches. They stayed in silence for quite a while, Dain trying to stay afloat by following the train of speeders and pods zig and zagging across miles and miles towards the capital city. Crosshair had propped a tiny black book on his raised knee, sketching away like he always did when he had extra time.

“How could you tell?”

Cross continued with his pen. “Hm?”

“How could you tell?” Dain asked a little louder.

“Well crying doesn’t cover anything up,” he gestured with his pen to her newly wet cheeks.

She quickly went to work wiping them dry, the force drawing a deeper blue to her skin. She dropped her hands in her lap in defeat, her shoulders sagging. “I can’t control it.”

“Nothing special.”

“I misspoke. I can’t feel it.”

Crosshair seeded his sketching of the pods and speeders.

“I remember what lacrimal feels like, seeping from the tear ducts,” she continued. “But I just... I don’t function like that anymore.”

He didn’t know what to say. What do you say to such a horrific fact? What did they do to you?

“I, um, overshared. Apologies.”

“No,” he objected. “It’s, uh, fine.”

Dain sunk into her seat, pulling her knees up to her eyes instinctually. Making herself as small as possible eased a little itch in the back of her mind.

She was a leader before all of this, she didn’t want to shy away into a corner and fade away in her own shadow. She stood with purpose and commanded respect. She was a decorated soldier, higher in rank than most Jedi. She had a family who she loved and who loved her. She depended on the Wolffe Pack as much as they depended on her. She was one of them.

She held a burning passion against the Republic. She fought to someday end the war so she could help burn it down and build something better in its ashes. Something that didn’t negotiate living being's lives like they were poker chips to be tossed in a pot.

It was all gone. It disappeared. She only wanted to melt into the soil, maybe help the earth flourish with trees and wildlife beside a rushing river. She didn’t hold a passion for anything she used to. She wasn’t the leader she needed to be, she didn’t have a family, she didn’t have anything to fuel her anymore. She was empty and purposeless. Maybe I’m better off melting into the earth.

“Here.”

Crosshair tossed the little black book and the pen to Dain, landing in the space between the armrest and herself. Dain stared at it for a moment, unsure of what he was playing at.

She slowly unfurled herself, her feet setting on the floor without a sound and her nimble hands bringing the book and pen to her lap.

“You can’t stay in there forever, you know. It’ll drive you insane,” he started.

Dain’s shoulders deflated. “I know.”

“It’s impossible.”

She eyed him wearily. And I thought this was going to be a pep talk.

“You just have to escape long enough.”

She stayed silent and a small bit of intrigue nipped at her fingers.

“Try it,” he gestured to the open landscape in front of them.

Dain shimmied to the edge of her seat to prop the book to a blank page against the dash in a free spot of any controls.

“Any requests?” She asked without an ounce of cheek in her words, only what seemed to be defeat.

“Nothing you can remember.”

She looked around the desert in front of her. Only a city that looked like a birdbath all those miles and miles away and the pods and speeders backed up were to see. Nothing she could see really sparked interest in her, nothing ever did anymore.

Just as she was about to toss the book back, she found her subject. A little patch of orangey clouds against the scorching sun. The entire sky was filled with them, the light bouncing off every fluffy edge and casting long shadows, but this patch’s edges were sharply defined and outlined against the glowing of the sun. There was no double meaning, no metaphor she could attach to it. Nothing sad to see in the clouds, it just looked graceful and meaningless.

She scribbled away on a page, not having enough energy to criticize her chicken scratch. She remembered a piece of advice from someone she hadn’t thought about for what felt like decades. You always get caught up in what you think you’re seeing, not what’s actually in front of you. Exasperated laughter echoed in the aftermath.

She proceeded with that in mind, trying to stay out of her head and only taking what was in front of her to transfer messily onto the textured parchment.

Crosshair was the smallest bit surprised the broken woman in front of him kept sketching away for more than five minutes. He half expected her to toss it back and retreat into whatever hell her mind had become.

He didn’t believe it when Anakin told the rescue team on Skako that it was Force Marshel Dain Lec in the bacta tank, floating eerily like a dead specimen with a tight black shirt and shorts that gave away how much she looked like a dead, decaying skeleton.

She was basically a myth in the GAR. Force Marshel Lec was one of the most decorated soldiers in history; her battle plans and strategies were studied by captains, commanders, and generals. The Bad Batch admired her work, it was exactly their style of getting things done. But she only worked with Commander Wolffe and his battalion, she didn’t ever grace the rest of the GAR with her presence. The fact that she was one of the only Chiss serving the Republic only added to the mystery of Dain Lec.

But it wasn’t just her bat shit crazy plans and strategies that she was known for, her humanity and empathy were only dreamed of. The regs all had their fair share of generals who hated them for existing, some even had the unfortunate fate of serving under Krell, but the Wolffe pack only spread the word of her immense empathy and compassion. Ruthlessness and compassion never went hand in hand, but somehow the universe broke logic and made Force Marshel Lec.

Crosshair couldn’t put the myth to the face. Sitting beside him, still sketching away on the consul, was a shrivelled and washed-out woman who couldn’t feel her own tears. Granted, it had only been a few months of her being dumped on them along with Echo, and she hadn’t been in the thick of the action yet, only drawing up plans and flying the ship, but he couldn’t imagine what else an escaped science experiment could do.

“You underestimate my abilities a staggering amount, Crosshair,” Dain’s permanently shaky voice broke his thoughts and sent him into a panic.

His thoughts staggered. “You- you-”

“Force users can’t read other beings' thoughts, but I can most certainly piece together the ones that float by.”

Crosshair thought someone raised the temperature in the ship by 20 degrees.

“I... I...”

“I’ve made the best snipper in the GAR speechless,” a small smile spread across her lips. “It’s perfectly fine, no ill will befalls this situation. I’ve endured far worse than the judgement of others.”

He didn’t know what to say. Again. He felt embarrassed over anything, over the fact he’d stoop to such lows. Why was he like this? Why did he have to point out the worst in people who were already suffering enough? Was it some kind of ego thing? Was he that insecure?

Dain tossed the book and pen back to Cross, making him jump. She looked at him intently, trying to catch his gaze that was anywhere but on Dain.

“Cross.”

He sighed and met her foggy crimson eyes. It didn’t seem like a confrontation. She brought her knees up to her chest again and fidgeted with something in her lap. How could she be considered a leader? Stop it.

Her gaze turned to one of sympathy. Pity.

“You should consider your own advice, you really think this act is convincing?”

He scoffed and leaned back against the co-pilot's seat, turning his attention to the backed-up traffic.

She sighed deeply, like the weight of the world was getting heavier with each conversation they had. “I’m still here, even if everyone here doesn't want me to be.”

A/N: HELLOO PEOPLE!! It's been a while!! I haven't been writing a lot lately, that's not true, I've just been writing a long marvel fic and making new OCs that no one's interested in I'm sorry for that. If you want more of my bb Dain, please let me know! I'd love to share her with y'all!! Go drink some water, get a snack, take a break, you deserve it so much!! I'M SO SORRY IF THIS WAS OOC, I TRIED MY BEST OKAY

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #sw #bad batch #the clone wars #tcw #echo #tech #wrecker #hunter #crosshair #omega #original character #anakin skywalker

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aye-write · 4 years ago

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Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: If you’re interested in more information, exclusive updates, character art, and teasers for this fic, please consider following its sister tumblr @kildo-pokedex!

This was another chonker chapter at 4.5k that I didn’t anticipate being this long at all! The joys of plantsing, eh? I had hoped to reveal the starters this chapter, but that’s being bumped to next update. In the meantime, please enjoy the reveal of Brootser, and the partial reveals of Weldeon, Ampster and Coastrot!

*****

Chapter Three

Despite everything, night rolled over the Whispering Pine Croft.

After hours battling insomnia, Isla stole downstairs not long after the clock in the hallway chimed midnight. Goosepimples erupted on her skin, the air chilling her to the core. Clicking on the floor lamp, she cast her gaze around the living room. A rickety bookshelf took up most of one wall, covered in dust and trinkets. It didn’t take her long to strike gold.

The Etymological Dictionary of Old Kildonian, 1981 Edition.

Sitting at the old coffee table, she spread out her books and copies of the Old Kildonian script until there wasn’t an inch of space left. Then she opened the dictionary and started to read. She read, moving between dictionary and text, until her eyes strained in the dim light of the lamp, and the words on the page turned into incomprehensible squiggles. Just keep going, she told herself, as she marked off another decoded word. Just keep going. Just keep going. Just keep—

“Isla?”

Isla slammed the book shut. The noise seemed to echo forever in the quiet of the living room. The intruder snapped on the main light and Isla blinked foolishly as everything illuminated around her. It was Blair at the door, swaddled in an enormous red dressing gown and a pinched look on his face.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, pulling his dressing gown tighter. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

“I’m… I’m not doing anything,” Isla said, trying to collect the papers together, position her body over them, anything to hide them from sight.

“Really? You look like a student trying to panic revise a whole subject the night before an exam,” he chuckled, plopping himself in the seat opposite. “Come on. What’s up?”

Isla sighed. What was the point in lying? “I’m just trying to make some sense of these texts.”

Blair glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “At half two in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep. This presentation is doing my head in.” When Blair frowned, she added, “My supervisor asked me to update them with all the “progress” I’ve mad so far. Of course, I haven’t made any yet.”

“So, you’re trying to decode all these old books with…. an out-of-date Kildonian dictionary?”

“I found it in the bookcase. I thought it might help.”

“I’m pretty sure that book is older than me. Please don’t tell me you’re taking it word-by-word.”

“More or less.”

“You’ll be there months trying to sort all that lot.”

“I don’t have any other choice,” Isla’s voice cracked. “Everyone is hounding me. I can’t let this come undone. They’ll pull approval of my project and fail me if I don’t keep jumping through all their hoops.”

“Why is the legend of the Chessmen so important to you?”

Isla hesitated. It was an innocent enough question, but the thought of answering it felt like ripping her chest open and exposing the beating heart underneath. “Well...” she started, cringing at how stupid it all sounded in her head. “When I was little, I was kinda lonely. I didn’t have siblings. Or friends, really,”

Blair made a sympathetic noise.

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t that bothered by it,” Isla lied. “But because I didn’t have many friends, I naturally leant towards books instead. And I loved fiction, like adventure stories and that, but I felt so much more connected to things that were actually real.”

Blair nodded. “Understandable.”

“Anyway, one Christmas, I got this book. I think it was called Myths and Legends of the Pokemon World and it had all the origin stories of all the legendary Pokemon from like… every region in the world. God, I ate up every single story - how Arceus created the world, the theory that all Pokemon came from Mew in some way, how Groudon and Kyogre created the land and sea. I was absolutely hooked. Then, right at the end, there were a couple of small articles devoted to a place called Kildo.”

“Typical,” Blair muttered. “Always playing second fiddle to the big guns.”

“The book explained a little bit about the legend of the Chessmen. I was just… amazed at how these Pokemon brought humans these gifts of technology and arts and whatnot and how advanced the region was for its time. And then when I read what happened next, well… I just wanted to know why. Why did the Chessmen take away what they gave the humans? What happened to them after they became dormant? I was obsessed. When I was younger, I had this stupid dream that I would like… Oh, it sounds so cheesy now, but… like solve the mystery of what happened all those years ago.”

“It’s not cheesy, Isla. Dreams are never cheesy.”

Isla bit the inside of her cheek. “I know that. It’s just… well, this legend has been everything to me for years. I’m not bigheaded enough now to think someone like me could ever solve it. But I’d love to find something. Even if it’s just standing in the same place these Pokemon stood once, all those years ago. But now it feels like it’s slipping away from me. I won’t be able to do anything unless I get these texts translated.”

“They’re well-known texts, right? Haven’t they already been translated?”

“The only translations that exist are locked behind online paywalls,” Isla sighed. “Not exactly within my budget. The originals were family owned. I suppose you can’t blame them for wanting them kept safe.”

“Could the university not pay for you to access them?”

“Not my department. They already think the project isn’t worth the time. They’re usually into social changes, modern day life, that sort of thing. Mythology doesn’t get a look in. Even though I changed my project a bit – focusing more on how the mythology influences modern life, with the Chessmen more of like a case study – the department still don’t want much to do with it.”

“Well, that’s their loss. Your project sounds fascinating just from what I’ve seen of it.”

“This little bit you’ve seen might end up being all it ever amounts to. With Nana Morag in the hospital, my options for translations are limited, and these old texts are all I have to help me piece together where the Chessmen might be.”

Silence unfurled around them. Isla stared down at her lap, her legs shaking and her mouth dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever talked so much about herself and she found that she couldn’t quite bring herself to look Blair in the eye.

“I think I might know someone.”

Isla pricked her head up. “Really?” she said, hope throbbing in her chest.

“I have a friend who lives in Inverbrook. It’s not a huge city, but they do have a subsect of Tideburgh University there. He’s doing a Masters in Language and mentioned being involved with an elective on Old Kildonian. I can contact him for you. He might be able to help.”

Something surged through Isla like she’d just taken a shot of adrenaline. “Oh, Blair, thank you! That’s amazing!”

“No guarantees, of course!” he said, spreading his hands hastily. “He might not know enough of it to be a proper help. But he may be able to put you in touch with some other folks who can help, if that makes sense.”

“It does. A lot of sense. Thank you again.” Isla paused. “Where is Inverbrook?”

“Pretty much directly south of here. About forty odd miles or so. Following routes 29 through 26 pretty much leads you right there. Public transport is crap, though, so you’re better walking most of it. Shouldn’t take much more than a couple of days if you’re…”

He paused. Isla knew what he wanted to say. If you’re fit. Women like her weren’t supposed to be fit. And even though the thought of days of walking filled her with equal parts apprehension and dread, she forced a look of determination onto her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can handle it.”

Isla shared the news that she would be leaving in the morning as they sat down at the kitchen table. Kenneth and Skye stayed quiet, barely reacting to the news, but Rhona’s face crumpled.

“Oh, chick, are you sure?”

“I think it’s probably for the best,” Isla said. “I don’t want to be a burden, especially with you guys having your hands full with the croft and Nana Morag being ill. Having a guest is too much on top of everything. I really do appreciate everything you’ve all done, but I think it’s best that I head towards Inverbrook and start my research properly.”

A strange expression passed over Rhona’s face, one that Isla couldn’t make sense of. For several terrifying moments, she thought she’d offended her.

“You wouldn’t be a burden on us, Isla,” Rhona eventually said, her eyes brimming. “We’d happily have you here for as long as you want. It’s been lovely having you.”

Isla felt something in her heart buckle.

“We do understand that your studies have to come first. But… you said you wanted to go to Inverbrook?”

“Yes. Blair is going to put me in touch with a friend of his there that might be able to help me with some translations.”

“It might not be as easy as you think, chick. I’ve just been watching the local news. There was flooding down south. The river that goes through Route 27, which connects Port Glen to Inverbrook, burst its banks. The whole route is submerged. No-one can go through. It’s completely impassable.”

You wouldn’t have said the entire of Port Glen had only just recently been battered by a storm, Isla thought, as she set off down towards the harbour after a filling breakfast. The morning sky pinkened gently, like a mother’s embrace, and golden threads of sun drifted through soft, watercolour clouds. A cool wind kept the worst of the heat at bay as she walked. All in all, it was a fairly pleasant experience. Well, as pleasant an experience as walking would ever be.

It was Rhona that had suggested trying the ferry. She couldn’t be sure what passenger routes they ran from Port Glen, or if they only did international and goods shipments, but it was a better option than waiting the potential weeks for the Inverbrook route to be cleared or taking the (extremely) long way around the whole region.

Breathing heavily and sweating despite the brisk ocean breeze, Isla stopped to catch her breath as she arrived at the harbour. She cast her gaze around hopefully. It was quiet. Too quiet. Not a good sign in the least. Aside from the occasional sailor pacing the docks, and the sharp, cutting cry of seabirds, the place was still and silent.

The thought of asking someone to help sent panic crashing through her like waves in a storm, but there was no other choice. The best option rested with a nearby sailor, busily looping ropes and picking apart complicated knots. A Pokemon stood at his side. Squat, muscular, with short brown fur, flecked with white, and cut into a stout triangle pattern, it was another one that Isla didn’t recognise. Every now and again, the sailor tossed it a particularly difficult-looking knot of rope, which the Pokemon expertly shredded with sharp, curved claws.

“Brootser, the Pelting Pokemon. The evolved form of Brogue. With incredibly sharp claws and powerful jaws, Brootser are highly aggressive and territorial. Even against much stronger foes, it won’t back down easily,” her Pokedex chirruped.

Isla’s hand tightened around Soba’s Pokeball as she read more details. A Fighting type. A second evolution. Being a Furret, Soba wouldn’t stand much chance in a fair fight, much less an unfair one. While she did generally feel more comfortable approaching a fellow Pokemon owner, she probably could have stood to pick one with a less terrifying partner.

All the same, she approached the sailor, keeping herself primed like a coiled spring. “Excuse me? I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

The sailor had a strong, lined face, but he didn’t seem anywhere near as intimidating when he relaxed into a smile. “Sure,” he boomed. “What can I do for you?”

“Are there going to be any sailings from this port in the next few days? Anywhere that lands near Inverbrook?”

The Brootser, distracted from its work with the knots, pressed its wet nose against Isla’s hand. Isla let out an involuntary squeak.

“Brootser, stop that!” the sailor said firmly. “Sorry, miss. He’s obsessed with leather. Have you got leather in your handbag or anything? Your shoes? I swear, he can sniff it out within a mile. I have to keep him distracted at work otherwise he’d never leave people alone. Here, Brootser, go and do this for me.”

The sailor tossed a section of rope a few feet down the docks. The Brootser growled, a deep throaty rumble, before dropping to all fours and pursuing. Within moments, the rope was ripped to little more than fibres.

Isla searched for something to say. She eventually settled on, “He’s cute.”

“He’s a menace is what he is,” the sailor said, wiping his brow. “Anyway, you were asking about the ferries? Unfortunately, the passenger ferry was badly damaged in that storm two nights ago and won’t be running any routes for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Isla asked nervously.

“We’re waiting for some metal workers to come down from Hydrogate. They’re delayed because their Weldeon team were exhausted after a big job in the ironworks. Currently we’re looking at about a week.”

“A week?”

“I’m afraid so. If you go to reception and leave your details, they’ll be able to contact you as soon as we know when the sailings will be going ahead.”

“Aren’t there any other options?”

The sailor considered. “Not here. But if you’re set on sailing and you could get to Dewbrae Town, I think they’re still running sailings.”

“Where’s Dewbrae Town? Is it close?”

“It’s up past Aberdrip City, which is an hour’s drive north of here. Then you have to pass through Aberdrip Forest and that brings you out just at Dewbrae. Maybe a couple of days walking if you keep a steady pace,” he paused, and Isla felt his eyes rake her body. “Maybe a couple more. But, if you’re in a hurry, it’s better than waiting around here. Everything’s very up in the air at the moment.”

Isla thanked the sailor, trying to ignore the heavy feeling that came over her. Why was this so difficult? She’d encountered disaster at every turn so far and, in her darkest moments, she couldn’t deny wondering if it was even worth it to keep going. Nana Morag ill, no passage to Inverbrook through Route 27, no ferry from the Port Glen docks, now she had to go all the way to Dewbrae – wherever that was – on nothing more than a possibility?

But what could she do? What other options did she have?

Rhona would know what to do, Isla decided. She had a way of sorting things out, an uncanny level-headedness her own mother didn’t have. That’s what she’d do. She’d head back to the croft and take stock of the situation. She started walking, thoughts whirling through her head like the flapping of birds’ wings. Maybe there was another way to Inverbrook. They knew the region better than she ever would. Maybe they could—

“WIIIIING!”

Isla gasped and swore as her foot trod on something soft. With a gust of cold air, the offending thing burst upwards and pain erupted at the top of her head. Sharp, pointed talons dug into her scalp and she yelped in pain.

“Gull! Gull!” her assailant screeched; each squawk accompanied by a swift peck to the head.

Isla’s hands closed around her attacker’s soft wriggling body. With all her might, she tore it from her head and tossed it as far as she could manage. But the Pokemon swooped back into the air, seemingly unharmed, fixing Isla with a glare that sent a tremble down her spine.

“Gull! Wingull!” it shrieked.

Recognition dropped into Isla’s belly like a stone. It was a Kildonian Wingull. The same Kildonian Wingull that had attacked Rhona the day Isla got off the ferry. At least, it certainly looked like the same one – she could hardly call herself an expert on them – but it was roughly the same size and had the same high-pitched squawk. And didn’t the Pokedex say that Kildonian Wingull only attacked people who had food? Isla didn’t have a single crumb on her. So what other motive could it possibly have for attacking her?

Isla reached for the Pokeball at her waist, panicked fingers scrabbling for the catch. But the Wingull screeched again, diving into a tackle. The impact came low in her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs and leaving her doubled over. The second blow sent her off-balance and stumbling, eventually crashing to the ground where the pain came in sharp spikes. With a fury of feathers, the Pokemon ripped Isla’s bag away from her.

“Hey!” She wheezed. “There’s nothing in there for you!”

Her protests were rewarded with a face full of frigid water.

By the time Isla had sluiced the water from her face, the Wingull had unhooked the bag’s clasp and was digging around in her things. Hairbrush and deodorant were both ignored, the coin purse in the shape of a Quagsire got an inquisitive gnaw but ultimately left in favour of a pen, which lasted a whole thirty seconds until it splintered and was promptly spat back out.

Every inhale felt like she was being stabbed underneath the ribs, but she still forced herself to move. “Leave my things alone! There’s no food in there!”

Wingull had wriggled itself right into the bottom of the bag and had pulled out an old emergency kit that Isla had nearly forgotten about. Most of the items had already been used or dumped over the years she’d had it, leaving only a couple of travel sized Potions, a Repel Kit, and a Poke Doll, wrapped up in a worn-out bag. The Wingull squawked indignantly and decapitated the doll in one fell swoop. Then it turned back on the travel bag, scraping around and tearing at it with its beak.

Something dropped out. Isla’s heart plummeted to somewhere near her feet.

It was a Pokeball. An old Pokeball scratched and grimy with age. A Pokeball that Isla had all but forgotten about ever since she made the decision to train just Soba all those years ago. A Pokeball that was now right in the Kildonian Wingull’s line of sight.

She saw it happening before it actually did. The hungry Wingull viewed the Pokeball as nothing more than a shiny, tasty snack. It darted forward, opened its beak wide, and engulfed the old capsule. Isla prayed that the ten year old ball would turn out to be too old to work anymore, and the worst thing to happen would be the Wingull hacking it back up again. But the Pokeball made a shrill shiiing noise as it made contact with Wingull’s beak, and the Pokemon disappeared in a flash of blue light.

The Pokeball shook. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it was still.

And Isla had caught a Kildonian Wingull.

Isla told the story of her accidental Wingull capture to an appreciative audience when she got back from the docks. And then again over sandwiches at lunchtime. While Soba curled up in the corner next to the radiator, oblivious to this new teammate, Isla released Wingull for the nerve-wracking job of introductions and feeding time. Rhona’s eyebrows rose so high that they practically disappeared into her hairline, but she didn’t protest.

“I can’t believe it’s the same one,” Rhona said, eyeing her half-eaten sandwich she was planning on saving for later. “Most try their luck once and then move on.”

“I think it’s young,” Blair said, lifting its wing to get a better look. “Perhaps separated from its mum too early. Maybe it doesn’t know any better.”

“I didn’t mean to catch it,” Isla sighed. “I’d forgotten all about that old Pokeball. We were always told to carry an extra one or two, even if we never intended to catch Pokemon, like for emergencies and that.”

“It must have been starving if it thought a Pokeball was food. Or maybe just exceptionally stupid.”

“Jury’s out on that one,” Isla said, as the Wingull pecked at a Tauros shaped pepper shaker.

“Kildonian Wingull are incredibly food oriented,” Blair lifted his plate to avoid the Pokemon’s frantically flapping wings. “Most of the bird Pokemon around here are.”

“Why is that?”

“Competition. Because there’s so many, they all compete for the same natural resources. That’s part of why people think Wingull adapted for Kildo the way they did. They couldn’t compete for most of the natural food, so they evolved to take food from humans instead. Problem is, they end up thinking all food is fair game. Hey, watch it! No! That’s mine!”

Isla suppressed a chuckle as Wingull lunged for the crusts on Blair’s sandwiches. In the kerfuffle of squawking and feathers, Isla looked over at Skye, who hadn’t said a word through the entire of lunch. Her face was screwed up.

“Skye? Are you alright?” Isla asked.

Skye made an odd strangling noise, pushed herself back from the chair, and ran for the stairs, each one thudding under her feet. A moment later, a door slammed.

“Did I say something wrong?” Isla said, horrified.

“No, not at all,” Rhona said, rescuing a glass of juice that had been upended when Skye left the table. “She’s just a bit upset. We were supposed to be going up to meet Professor Spruce tomorrow to get her trainer’s license and first Pokemon. But because Nana Morag is in hospital, I have to be here in case something comes up on short notice, and I just can’t spare the time to take Skye up to Aberdrip City. She’ll only be delayed for a few days, but the poor lass was so looking forward to it. Especially when she’s had to wait so much longer than everyone else.”

“Why’s that?”

It was only after she asked the question that she considered it might have been rude. Or none of her business. Too late to save herself now, though. Rhona’s face tightened, her mouth puckering like she was sucking on a sour lemon.

“Sorry,” Isla looked down at the table. “I shouldn’t be nosy.”

The kitchen fell quiet. Rhona let out a deep, juddering exhale and sat back down, folding her hands into her lap, the kitchen suddenly feeling about ten degrees colder. Isla took a sip of water, her mouth and throat turning to chalk.

“Skye had childhood cancer.” The words didn’t even get a chance to settle before they were tumbling out again, like Rhona was trying to get them all out at once. Like they couldn’t hurt her as much that way. “She spent most of her childhood in hospital with leukaemia.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Once again Isla found herself cursing both her mother and herself for not bothering to find any of this information out beforehand.

Rhona shook her head. “It’s alright, chick. We don’t talk about it much. Besides, she’s been in remission for a year now. But she’s missed out on so much school and she gets tired so easily.”

There was nothing Isla could say that would be enough. She had to settle for, “I’m sorry to hear that…” and hope Rhona could somehow understand just how much she meant it.

“There was a time when she was being treated that she became very low and very depressed. It was frightening. I’ve never been so worried in all my life. We were scared she was just… giving up. Then, one day, they had some Pokemon trainers visit the hospital. A lot of children there would never be able to go out training. Some wouldn’t even… you know, live to see their next birthday.”

Rhona’s voice wavered. Blair put his hand over hers and squeezed. “Easy, Mum. Don’t go upsetting yourself now.”

“One of the trainers was assigned to Skye,” Rhona continued. “But she was so quiet and so withdrawn that we didn’t think the trainer could get through to her. The trainer had this Pokemon with her – Ampster, I think it was – and it was like a light turned on behind Skye’s eyes when she saw it. I saw glimpses of my daughter again. This trainer stayed with her for hours. Just talking. She’s wanted to be a Pokemon trainer ever since. And I hate that so many things keep getting in her way.”

Rhona sunk her head into her hands. Her shoulders quivered.

Isla felt terrible. No wonder Skye had been quiet during the whole of lunch. How stupid had she been? Skye was being kept from her dream of being a Pokemon trainer and she’d waltzed into their kitchen showing off a Pokemon she hadn’t even meant to catch? It made Isla’s toes curl just thinking about it.

“Could Skye not make the journey on her own?” she asked.

“No,” Rhona lifted her head again, looking pale even at the thought. “She’s not fit enough. We were going to rent a car and drive her, but…”

“Could I take her?”

The offer slipped past Isla’s lips before she knew what she was doing. Rhona looked at her in mild shock, her mouth slowly gaping open.

“I mean, I’ll be passing through Aberdrip anyway!” Isla continued. “One of the sailors said I could get the ferry from Dewbrae Town which is just past Aberdrip, right?. I could take her along with me.”

“Gosh, that’s very kind of you, chick. And I’m sure Skye would love it,” Rhona said, nervously glancing at the stairs. “But I’m not comfortable with her making the trip back on her own. Or even just the amount of walking she’d have to do.”

“I could go with them,” Blair said.

Rhona looked at her son like she’d only just remembered he existed. “What’s that, honey?”

“I could go with them,” he repeated. “We could put Skye on Coastrot. That’s my partner Pokemon,” he added for Isla’s benefit. “He’s strong enough to carry her and we can keep her nicely bundled up. Then once Isla heads off to Dewbrae, I can take Skye back.”

“I don’t know,” Rhona said. “We need you here too.”

“Mum, it’s a day. Maybe two, tops, if we let Skye rest overnight. You and Dad can manage that long, right? You could ask a couple of the lads from the market to pitch in if you really need to. I’m sure they’d work for a hot pie and some cash in hand. And you don’t need to worry about us. We won’t do anything silly. We’ll just get Skye her Pokemon, check in for the night, see Isla off to Dewbrae the next morning and head back ourselves. Easy-peasy!”

Rhona still didn’t look convinced. “It’s such a long way, though. She’s not been away overnight in such a long time.”

“It’s a few hours of travelling, Mum. You said it yourself, Skye’s already missed out on so much. It might not feel like much for us, but for Skye, it’s her whole life. One delay after the other. And with everything the way it is right now, what if there’s just more delays? More reasons not to take her? You have to let her.”

Rhona went very quiet, her face pale.

“I’ll look after her, Mum,” Blair said. “She needs this.”

“I know you will. And I know she does,” Rhona heaved a sigh. “She’s not my little baby anymore. She’s growing up.”

“I’d like to go.”

Everyone jumped at the voice that came in from the doorway. Rhona wiped her eyes. “Oh, Skye, honey, sorry. I didn’t hear you come down. Are you okay?”

“I think I can do it,” Skye ignored her mother’s question. Her voice was louder this time, but still hesitant, like she was testing out its limits. “I want to go get my Pokemon and I’d like Blair and Coastrot to take me. And Isla,” she added, and Isla felt a smile curve onto her face. “If that’s okay with you?”

Silence widened like a chasm between mother and daughter and for one horrible moment, Isla half-expected Rhona to turn away, to start shouting, to deny her flat out. But then tears spilled out of Rhona’s eyes and her whole face softened.

“Yes, honey,” Rhona said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Yes, that’ll be okay with me.”

As they hugged, Isla felt a stray tear prick at the corner of her eye. The emotion surprised her. Yes, it was touching to see a mother and daughter hug and reconcile, but something told her it went deeper. As she looked out at the dying sky, strewn with deepening orange and slicks of black, something unsettled itself in her heart.

Tomorrow she would be leaving Port Glen. Tomorrow she would leave behind a family unit where she felt accepted. Tomorrow she would start her journey to Inverbrook.

She didn’t know which one felt scarier.

#checkmate #pokemon oc fiction #pokemon fanfiction #fakemon #fakemon fanfiction #long post #fanfiction

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iwhumpyou · 5 years ago

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BTHB: All The Other Reindeer

Rose is requested, Origami Rose is filled. As a reminder, anyone can request any square, any OC, any universe!

@whumps-the-word This one was a bit tricky, which is why it took so long - I tried to get the sense of ‘otherness’ that the trope implied, but I don’t know if it worked.

(Taglist: @smileevenwhenyoudontfeellikeit for Raider!verse.)

This takes place after the events of the Good Cop/Bad Cop request fill (poor, poor Riya, never getting a moment to rest).

Masterlist. Raider.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The first thing Riya noticed was that the flowers on the ceiling weren’t moving. They drooped in place, withered and brown and the whole field looked dead.

She wondered how Killian knew what Lee’s bedroom looked like, but suppressed the thought immediately. His illusions were still pathetic, a pale imitation of reality.

She was surprised to see that the chains had been removed, though the illusion wouldn’t have lasted a second with them. She was just…disconcerted by the thought that Killian seriously believed that she would be so off-kilter by this latest illusion that she would stay in place.

She needed to get out before she found whatever creepy surprises he’d left for her.

She slowly pushed herself upright, unwilling to look around the room and find out how many details he’d gotten wrong – or right. It was slow going. The cuts had been bandaged, but her muscles were jittery and she was tired, like she hadn’t slept in days.

The door was open, and she hobbled out as silently as she could manage, grasping walls and furniture to stay upright. It certainly looked like Lee’s apartment, but Riya wasn’t checking too closely. Every familiar item sent a jolt of hope through her – hope she could ill-afford.

The apartment was silent and no one attempted to bar her way. She grabbed a cane from the side table to help her unsteady balance. The front door was where it was supposed to be and Riya hesitated, her fingers hovering over the doorknob.

It could be a trick. Killian could be on the other side of the door, laughing at her for falling for it. Crushing her brief, desperate hope into pieces to break her.

She swallowed and turned the knob. It opened out into stairs, and Riya followed them down and out, emerging out into the open air.

She didn’t dare look back. She needed to get as far from here as possible.

Killian’s illusions didn’t affect the mind, only the surroundings. And he didn’t have the power to affect a change on this level – the coarse brick under her fingers was real, the rain pouring from the skies was real, the uneven pavement under her stuttering footsteps was real as she kept walking.

She stifled a gasp as someone roughly shouldered past her, the movement flaring the aches of bruises and cuts, and she half-collapsed against a building, panting heavily. The skies were dark and grey and the light was fading fast. She didn’t know where she was – she couldn’t recognize the buildings around her, and they all had a run-down look. There were only a few people on the streets.

She hurt. She hurt everywhere – her muscles ached, cramping and sore, and every time she closed her eyes she could see Killian in front of her, electric baton in his hand, smiling as she writhed and choked and screamed.

She didn’t know where to go. She slumped further against the wall, tilting her head, and the warm drops spilling down her cheeks mingled with the rain.

She couldn’t go back to headquarters. All her friends and allies had been raiders, and she hadn’t told a soul that she’d shifted her support. The Council wanted her gone and her family wanted her dead. Killian was probably already searching for her, his power base growing by the day.

She couldn’t go back to Lee, couldn’t beg the Witch Chief to keep her safe. Lee had other problems to deal with, had a month of confusion and chaos to sort out, had alliances to rebuild and reassure after her brief stint of being powerless. Ekaterina hated her, and Tanner had the vampires to lead.

No. Going back would put targets on their heads, and while Lee and Tanner could take care of themselves, it would undoubtedly make their lives more difficult. She couldn’t do that to them.

She knew the consequences when she had sent the letter. She knew them and accepted them. Riya breathed out slowly and struggled upright.

The rain seemed to weight her limbs, dragging her down even further as she limped forward. The cane helped immensely, but what she really needed was a knife.

She had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. At the very least, she could end it with her own hands.

It would keep her out of Killian’s hands forever. He could be inventive, when he wanted to be, and Riya knew she wasn’t far from breaking.

She lifted her head, staring at the darkness above her as raindrops skittered across her face. She had never been a fan of the rain – the cold, the damp, the mud. But it was fitting now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and deliberately didn’t think of who she was apologizing to.

She tilted her head back down and shuffled forward, one hand pressed against the wall as her legs grew weaker with every step. She didn’t know where she could get a knife – but a broken bottle might do just as well, she realized, stopping at the mouth of an alleyway. There was sure to be some in there.

She had barely taken a step inside when a figure called out, “Are you okay?” She ignored them – even exhausted and trembling, she was still stronger than a human and she didn’t care to be stopped – but then a crack of lightning flashed across the sky.

And off red eyes.

Shit. She took a half-second to be thankful that it wasn’t Tanner as the vampire approached. She was holding an umbrella and staring at her in bewilderment.

And then Riya’s sluggish thought processes remembered that nearly every supernatural creature in this city wanted her dead and she stumbled a step back. She couldn’t fight off a vampire.

“No, I’m not going to hurt you!” the vampire said, holding out her hands and approaching more cautiously, “Are you hurt? Can I help?”

Riya wanted to laugh at that. “No,” she said roughly. Unless they could restore her to the Council, give her back her job, and end Killian, nothing would help.

“You need to get out of the rain,” the vampire said, coming closer. Riya took another step back, and hit the brick wall. “You’re soaking wet. Aren’t you cold?”

No. She was numb. She’d been cold since she got trapped underneath a fallen warehouse and realized that no one would care if she died there.

“I can help,” the vampire said, even closer, extending the umbrella to cover them both, “I know somewhere where we can get out of the cold. They’ll help you, I promise.”

Riya weighed her options as exhaustion creeped ever closer – on one hand, she couldn’t fight the vampire off, even well-meaning as she was. On the other hand, looking wet and bedraggled was a pretty thin disguise. All it would take is one person to call Killian and she would end up right back where she left.

The choice was taken out of her hands as the vampire slowly reached out and gently grasped her wrist. “Come on,” she said, low and soothing, like she was talking to a stray animal, “Let’s get out of the rain.”

Riya let the vampire lead her through the streets, holding her up whenever she faltered. All she needed was one opportunity to break away.

But she was so tired. The vampire’s grip and the cane were the only things keeping her upright. If she tried to struggle free, she’d end up in a heap on the ground.

The vampire led her to what looked like an abandoned warehouse and Riya abruptly realized where they were, panic spiking. This was Sherwood. Raiders didn’t patrol here. The Witch Chief didn’t police here. This was the haven of outlaws and mercenaries, a no man’s land where all manner of supernatural creatures mingled.

They wouldn’t call Killian if they recognized her. No, they would sell her to the highest bidder.

Riya couldn’t break free of the vampire’s grasp before they passed through the doors – it certainly didn’t look abandoned now; it was an explosion of light and warmth and color, at sharp contrasts to the wet misery outside.

She tilted her head and let her wet hair swing forward to partially cover her face. She didn’t have a better disguise.

“Here,” the vampire smiled and unearthed a blanket from somewhere, and Riya used it to hide her face further, “I’ll see if I can find some hot food for you!” She pushed Riya onto an empty stool before disappearing into the crowd.

It was…not what she was expecting. Instead of drugs and alcohol and all manner of taboos being broken, it was warmth and food and community. All forms of the supernatural mingled and talked and laughed. It was nothing like what the Council had painted it as, nothing like the warnings they’d been given and the rumors that spread.

There was a bitter feeling in her stomach. The Council had been wrong to deny the rights of the different subsets of the supernatural – she knew that. But they were still – they – their knowledge –

Were they wrong about everything?

“Here, I brought you some food!” the vampire returned with a tray, and leading – that was a familiar face and one Riya was not prepared for.

Freya smiled at her and Riya huddled further in the blanket and didn’t meet the ex-raider’s eyes. “Are you human?” the vampire asked, “Or something else?”

“Something else,” Riya said roughly.

“And what flavor of something else, darling?” Freya said, amused, stepping closer.

Riya could pinpoint the exact moment she realized. Her face shuttered for a long moment, before amusement of a different kind crept over.

“Well, well, well,” Freya said, a dark edge in her tone. She reached up – and Riya instinctively flinched back – to yank the blanket off. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

The vampire was staring at her in confusion, but Freya’s words had caught the attention of the nearest people and Riya could see recognition begin to dawn on their faces.

She swallowed, frozen to the spot. There was nowhere to run. And even if there was, she couldn’t run.

“Dearest friends,” Freya said, louder this time, and the murmurs of conversations died out, “How honored are we. The head raider herself has come to visit our humble abode!”

Riya set her jaw in that moment of shocked silence, and met Freya’s hateful gaze as a low hiss began to spread.

“I am impressed,” Freya said, slowly clapping her hands, “I never thought you spineless cowards would ever dare to venture here.” Behind her, the vampire who’d found her was looking at her with a mixture of fear, fury, and betrayal.

Riya hadn’t asked for this either.

“I’m not the head raider,” Riya said, wincing when her voice came out hoarse and weak, instead of strong and confident. She met Freya’s gaze and did not waver. She hadn’t faltered in front of Killian, and she wouldn’t here.

“You’re not?” Freya looked at her with fake concern, “Oh, dear, did they demote you? Is that why you’re here? Looking to get some glory to claw your old position back?”

Riya shivered under the weight of a hundred furious glares.

“I’m not a raider anymore,” she managed – she hadn’t been to the official excommunication, but it was pretty obvious to infer, especially after four hired thugs had tracked her down and beaten her into the ground.

Freya laughed at that, long and hard. “You actually expect me to believe that?” she asked, incredulous, “You’re such a stickler for the rules that I wouldn’t be surprised if the Council handbook was permanently lodged up your ass.” Freya stalked closer and closer, until Riya had no choice but to get off the stool and force herself upright, facing the angry ex-raider. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

“I told you –” Riya started.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Freya snarled, cutting her off. She shifted forward and all Riya saw was a hand coming forward, an electric baton crackling, ready to send current surging through muscles that were spasming in aftershocks, as her body locked up in cramps and –

And the world was tilting around her and she was on the floor and her head hurt and there were faces all around her, peering down at her, and she was surrounded by enemies and nowhere was safe and –

And it was getting more and more difficult to breathe and her gasps were desperate and futile as the world began going dark.

~#~

Exhaustion.

#badthingshappenbingo #whump #all the other reindeer #raider #arc: illusion #suicidal thoughts #exhaustion #collapse #I am never going to give this girl a break #but is it my fault that she's so perfect to whump?#(yeah it probably is)#request fill #whumpfic

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chrisbbaegopayo · 5 years ago

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Hold Your Breath (Stray Kids: Stalker AU) ➻ Prologue

Genre: Thriller, Angst, Gore, Mystery, Suspense Characters: Stray Kids, OCs Word Count: 2.4k Warning: This story will contain elements of gore, on- and off-screen abuse, torture, mental illness, and stalking. It will feature themes that are not suitable for all ages, readers discretion is advised. Each chapter will have its own specific warning.

The story takes place in the main character's third year of university. The prologue will detail information before the story takes place.

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The day had gone completely how she expected—a roster of classes, school work, and downtime. Her mundane life, for lack of a better word, was ordinarily plain. When classes end, she would find herself in a deep pit of homework. When the weekends rolled by, and when all her school work had been done and filed, she would marathon her favourite movies on Netflix. Oftentimes, she would be in the company of her best friend, Jisung, and the two would tackle her long and seemingly endless list of need-to-watch television shows and films.

Her life was as ordinary as it could get, and she wouldn't have it any other way. The school year had started off without a hitch, and with her organized lifestyle, graduation didn't seem too far away nor impossible. Her first year at the university came as fast as passed, followed by her second year, which flew past her just as fast. She maintained her average all throughout her academic career and was an overall great student. She enjoyed her classes almost as much as her teachers appreciated her as a student.

However, what she didn’t account for was the introduction of random gifts that had found themselves in her locker that she rented, and although a kind gesture, the sender seemed quite persistent. She had never used any of the presents she was given and opened a couple before she left them inside her locker altogether. The first one arrived a year prior, during exams, at first, she thought it was her friends, but upon opening the presents, she quickly scratched that out considering how unrelated it was to her school life.

She also asked some classmates if they had seen the person who placed the presents in her locker, but no one had seen anything of the sort. After that, friends often teased her for it, all in good fun, of course. Supposed that she did laugh along with them, part of her felt a little unsettled by the entire ordeal. However, she chalked that up to mere paranoia and brushed it off.

Days had passed since she received her first present and for a long time, it had been radio silence. And then the week after that, she received another present. It seemed innocent enough, just lying there inside her locker, waiting for her to open it. She thought about it for a moment but decided against it. It would wait until she finished classes.

The present had been innocent enough like she had thought, and like the previous present that she had received, she made sure she never used it, preferring to keep it at the back of her locker. The present never harboured any malicious intent end it was just like any other present that people would receive, but the unsettling undertone of the presents bothered her nonetheless.

The presents just kept on coming every single week and she kept on having to open them and storing them in the back of her locker every week as it came. She never noticed a pattern in the present, until one day, one of the presents was accompanied by a letter.

It was the most unsettling letter she had ever received.

The content of the letter read as follows:

“You blew my mind ever since I laid my eyes on you. Some things need not be said, but I think it’s plainly obvious that I am very taken by you, your appearance, and your soul. But, as every gift I endowed you with goes unnoticed, untouched, and uncared for, it stands to reason that you don’t feel the same…

...but no matter, I’ll make you mine. But in the meantime, I’ll continue to shower you with gifts all the same, hopefully, you’ll come to love them as much as I love you.”

Every word seemed heavy in her mind, her heart pace quickened as she realized what she had been reading. It wasn’t just some regular letter from a secret admirer, this was written wÇith intent. She wasn’t sure whether the person who wrote this letter would act upon his words, but one thing was for sure, it wasn’t normal.

This guy wasn’t normal.

But at the same time, she didn’t need to invoke this guy’s ire just because of a hunch. Perhaps someone was pulling a prank on her, and decided to go with some really creepy prose. She wasn’t going to sit idly and let whatever happen just happen—that was how people die during creepy horror movies—she would be on alert, and at the same time, keep others from being involved in this. Plus, if her friends saw this, they would either report this or maybe tease her because, look, such bad prose. Who wrote this anyway? Someone obviously spent a little too long watching creepy stalker movies or something—although that would account to teasing the guy who wrote it, not really her—but regardless.

Hence.

She would put this at the back of her locker, like the rest of her gifts from him. She hoped that someone just randomly chose her as the victim of a bad prank and nothing more—trying to elicit a response from her. If it was, it was an elaborate one and hopefully, after this creepy letter, she would go about her normal life.

Little did she know that while she was a victim, this would be no prank, and the presents would just keep coming, as the letter suggested. Despite that, though, her life had been rather blissful, and the presents would only be limited to her school life. Everything else was still her sanctuary, and only she would know of the entire ordeal. She would still go about her every day seemingly unaffected by this new addition in her life because she didn’t know for certain whether it would develop into a problem she couldn’t handle.

Regardless, she never told anyone, not even her best friend. It’s her problem—no one else’s.

And true to the letter, the presents kept on coming, and coming, and coming. It bothered her and wore her down seeing her locked filled with presents every week. They weren’t cheap presents either, they looked like they might have cost the person a pretty dime or two—money that could have been spent on other things, not on her, knowing that she would never use them properly.

She decided to write her own little letter as a way to tackle the buildup of things she didn’t use. In which she told the sender to stop leaving her presents as it was a little too much—obviously, calling it a little seemed like an understatement as it was quite clear that the abundance of wrapped boxes because a major portion of what hogged up her space, leaving her with little room to maneuver through her own things previously-stored in there.

Hopefully, the person would get the message and let up the excessive gift-giving, and maybe even put an end to this entire silly ordeal—of course, only she would call it silly—she crossed her fingers and hoped for the best, as it really was the only thing she could do at this point.

She tore a page from her notebook and wrote, “whoever has been sending me gifts, please stop. While I appreciate the sentiment, it’s a little too much.”

She stared at the note she just wrote, and for a long time, wasn’t sure whether it would come off as strange or even rude. In the end, she contributed her anxiety to overthinking. She would leave the little note in her locker for next time the gift-bearer left something in her locker. She folded the note in half, and then in half again, and on the front-facing surface, she wrote, “to my anonymous gift-bearer.”

She felt a little silly about having to do this. It’s like she was asking for more interaction from the anonymous gift-bearer. However, what was done was done, and she wouldn’t twist herself into a mess thinking about it further. It was a step in the right direction, she hoped.

With that thought, she closed the door on her locker and then left. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a better day and she wouldn’t have to deal with a reply. Or more presents. Both would be great, together.

Her dubbed “anonymous gift-bearer” never got her note.

Her friends discovered her note the day after during one of their routine debriefing sessions in the mornings. The curiosity was almost immediate as she tried to stop her friends from taking it, but was unable to do so. There was a moment of silence and suspense after her friends glanced through the note, and she wanted to hide. The last thing she wanted to do was to make her problem everyone else’s problem.

Her friends looked up from the note, the concern deeply evident on their faces, and it wasn’t one of those superficial expressions—their deep disturbance embedded within the looks of concerns, to varying degrees spread across each other her friends’ faces. It was official, if she didn’t defuse the situation immediately, they would start some form of intervention. And she did not need an intervention at this point in time. She was never really that good with lying under pressure—she was worried that she would say the wrong things at the wrong time. If she knew what her friends were capable of, they’d hire bodyguards or something.

Okay, not that extreme. They would probably bug the door, put a hidden camera in there. But then again, none of them were ever tech-savvy enough to deal with this kind of thing.

That wasn’t the point here, obviously.

The bottom line was that she didn’t need her friends to become needlessly worried about something that might just turn out to be some stupid prank that some kid did for fun. Regardless, she’d rather deal with this situation herself than to involve her friends. And should this be some malicious intent—if that letter from the gift-bearer was any indication—it would put her friends in harm’s way.

There was no way she could do that.

“It’s nothing,” she began confidently, as she hoped that her voice would be strong enough to put any concern away.

“Don’t worry.”

That did little to dissuade their concern, and the wary stares only turned grimmer. This was not what she wanted.

“Really, really, I have it under control. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad prank.” She tried again, although this time, the confidence seemed to waver.

That response seemed to be the one to put her friends at ease, although the worrying stares did not part their ways with her friends’ faces. It was still there, although they seemed a little more satisfied with her answer this time. However, her relief was short-lived as the friend who stood in front of her spoke up, still clearly on edge.

“Look, I respect your need to do this by yourself,” her friend said, “and I get that you’re trying to only contain the mess, because honestly if I know one thing about you, it’s that you hate to cause trouble for other people. But this is a hell of a problem is you have to physically write a note to this creepy stalker of yours. Or secret admirer, if we’re using kid-friendly terms, and trust me, this doesn’t even feel like it would be…”

There were a few chuckles.

“What I’m trying to say here is: if this guy or whatever he or she is, has to be lulled to his or her senses through your writing a letter, or in this case, a note, then this is far beyond what you should be handling yourself. But if you want to do it this way, then fine, but don’t forget that we’re also here if you need us to deal with some really douchey guy who has a really bad taste,” she said. That got a few nods in agreement.

“I guess we could see how this turns out—we’ll play it by ear, this one,” she finished.

Another friend spoke up, curiosity fueled this one, “just curious, what else did this person send you?”

She froze up and tried to calm her nerves. She could not show her friends that threatening letter. That would send them over the edge. No, no, no, no, no.

“Nothing. Just presents,” she quickly replied. She was hopeful it did okay to satiate that curiosity. “Really. Just not school-related gifts, I mean, honestly.”

If her friends were put-off by her answer, they didn’t voice it. But it was darn evident on their faces. And she was thankful they didn’t pursue that path of questioning.

“Come on, let’s head home? Ice cream on the way home?” She asked, trying to lighten up the mood. Her friends agreed.

She sighed—one hurdle crossed, time for round two.

At the same time, she did little to really analyze the situation. Her kind nature only put more strain on herself as a result, and her eagerness to keep her own problems to herself only solidified her future interactions with her so-called gift-bearer. Though if she had told her friends, the situation might have gone very differently.

She might have just guaranteed that her path crossed with her secret admirer.

The seconds were ticking past like a bomb on a timer, and every second that passed by was like a second forward towards her very own undoing. She knew what it seemed like in the movies, she knew how it went, but yet, what would she have done differently to discourage her admirer?

Her words had already left a mark. The note was never delivered, and the gift-bearer never got the message. The note disappeared after a while, and while she assumed that the gift-bearer had taken it. Her assumptions were well-grounded, but she never got a reply, nor did the gifts seem any less frequent for the next few days. A bitter feeling welled up inside of her, and she thought it would be best to just ignore it altogether.

She didn’t even open the packages for the next few presents. She pretended not to see them and pretended that they don’t exist. It wasn’t like the school would be able to set up some hidden cameras that would catch the perpetrator red-handed. The school wasn’t rich by any means, and any attempts at reporting anything would end up being waved away—she knew this, and she figured that the gift-bearer knew that as well.

However, things seemed to have let up after a few months as the presents became less frequent. The semester came to an unsatisfying end, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief—if anything, she would be glad to know that the gift-sessions would come to an end, she hoped.

But it didn't, she would come to learn. It was the beginning of her descent to hell.

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Sorry for the long hiatus, I sorta just disappeared. However, this is the beginning of this fic—the one I wrote a premise to a long time ago (read: a year ago). Please stay tuned every week for updates!

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starfaring-princelotor · 6 years ago

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Second Sight

Summary: Voltron has returned.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Doctor Sherri belongs to @shanonigans-dewm

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

At this point in your life, death was a very close friend of yours. A close friend that reminded you of how precious time was, how precious being alive was, and that it should never be taken for granted. You’ve had guns in your face before. You’ve had several deadly weapons aimed between your eyes before. Yet, every single damn time, death was always creeping on your shoulder saying, “Don’t be afraid.”

Even now, with the Altean broadsword’s lethal tip hovering barely an inch over the bridge of your nose, that voice whispered, “Hello again, good doctor.”

You lost. It would’ve only been a matter of time, anyways. By human standards, you had formidable endurance. By Altean? Not so much. The captain of the trio was physically stronger than you, better trained than you in the Altean battle arts, so you knew you wouldn't last as long as him. Then again, this wasn't about victory or defeat. This was just to prove you weren't a spy, someone who could potential betray them.

His comrades stood off to the side, watching the entire fight without so much as a flinch. Acxa was at the other end of the field, opting to keep her distance should you die from a fatal blow. If that were to happen, she would need a quick escape. Except, the Altean...he did not strike you down. You were panting, clearly out of breath and stamina, but he only kept his weapon pointed threateningly at your defeated form laying on the ground.

He lowered his sword, signifying the end of the fight, then held a hand out for you to take, “You defend well for a human. I didn’t know Lotor was one to share Altean culture with others.”

“He isn’t. He saw how...inefficient I was on the field and we decided I needed proper training,” you gripped his hand and he hauled you up to your feet effortlessly, “In the end, he was right to do so.”

“Consider yourself lucky. Yet, I still find myself wondering...how did you come to know our esteemed leader? And, pray tell, where is he?”

You glanced at Acxa, “That is a long story. Who is second in charge of this facility?”

“I will introduce you to Medical Chief Officer Kylan shortly. But first,” the man sheathed his sword, yet kept his hand locked with your forearm, “Allow me to fix your wounds.”

Before you could pull away, he had closed his eyes in concentration as his entire hand began glowing a faint white color. You initially tried to pull out of his grip, but you felt the ache in your fingertips begin tingling into something more...pleasant. Then, it spread to your forearm, your shoulder, until your entire body lost all the tension that was created from the battle. Wide eyes stared in wonder at the magic before you, but you had to ask: was it truly magic? Or science? Or both?

“How did you do that?” you asked while examining your hand, noticing all the scratches were already gone. Sealed, like they weren't ever there in the first place.

“I transferred some of my quintessence to replenish your fatigue,“ he then motioned you to follow him, “...This...this is new to you?”

Now, that caught Acxa’s attention. The Altean removed his shield to reveal a bracelet of sorts, attached skin tight and made of a dull silver alloy. The white etchings began to fade, signifying the magic powering down at the wearer’s command. Then, that is when you noticed runes etched in the metal, runes very similar to Altean writing. There was so much you didn’t know, so many questions you had, and very little time to answer them all.

He led you through a maze of halls, passing many other Alteans who donned similar wear like his crew. To your surprise, you even saw Galra personnel mixed among them, conversing with the others rather...normally. It was a work environment that you did not imagine you would ever get a chance to witness, especially with the history between both species.

When he halted in front of a door, the Altean warrior scanned his hand on the pad, “Captain Ewan here. I have the two visitors from the Galra ship. They have news concerning Lotor.”

The door slid open and a tall, lithe Galra man stood before the group, eyes wide and fully surprised. Square chin, long appendages on his head tied back in a ponytail, and pupiless eyes. You noticed he held the same mouth as Zarkon, but lacked the darker hue of purple like others of his kind. His attention immediately zoned in on you and Acxa, the ex-general’s cautious gaze much more intense than yours.

She was conflicted. She was not blind to the tension between both races. She knew even her ancestors blamed King Alfor for the destruction of their home planet. There was not one side that knew the whole story and, perhaps, even that prejudice itself is what made her wary of the almost too peaceful environment she found herself in. Acxa didn’t know that Lotor not only saved Alteans from extinction, but also found a way to have Galra coexist with them, too.

They all acted like buddies. Like...a community. Acxa felt out of place, like she didn’t belong here after all the damage she grew up with about her own half-blooded self. Shouldn’t the Alteans be sneering at her mere existence? Shouldn’t the Galra be questioning which side of the Empire she was loyal to? Lotor may have taught her and the other generals to embrace their diversity, embrace their unique selves wholeheartedly, but this?

That inkling of doubt was still ingrained in her after all these years. That paranoia was never truly silenced.

“Come in, please. Take a seat, there is much to be discussed.” He walked around his desk, pouring three glasses of water then offering it you two, “I am Kylan, head medical officer of this hospital facility. I wish we could meet under better circumstances, and I apologize for my hastiness, but do understand that Lotor’s absence has left many of us here uneasy. It is not like him to cut communication for over a year.”

Has it really been a year? It felt so much longer than that.

You glanced at Acxa from the corner of your eye, “I will tell you everything, but first we have a patient in critical condition. Her leg has been amputated and the supplies on the ship are limited - ”

“Consider it done. Captain? Take Doctor Sherri with you.”

“I will accompany you,” Acxa spoke up, already following the group out of the room and leaving you alone with the Galra doctor.

She sent you a look of understanding, one that told you to remember the deal. Once her team was healed, was stable enough to run, they would leave you here by yourself. Alone without protection from Haggar’s reach or anyone else who would come searching for you. These were Lotor’s generals, not yours. When the door closed behind them, you gave your full attention back to Kylan.

His fingers were laced over his face, elbows perched on the table and eyes regarding you carefully, “This hospital is a private facility that Lotor himself ensured to be kept secret at all times. The only ones who knew about it are those who he would entrust on a deeply personal level. How you found us tells me that you knew Lotor...or you know someone who worked with him.”

“Hospital?” you repeated, “Did you say...hospital?”

“Yes. Were you informed of the work we do here?”

You shook your head no, “I - no. Doctor Kylan, are you aware of the partnership between Voltron and the Galra Empire?”

“Of course. Many Alteans here were unsure about the union, but ultimately, they agreed and saw this as a hopeful spark for the future. Everyone knows of the history of Voltron, the Defenders of the Universe. Hearing good news that the war has ended was...well, to put it bluntly, a huge damn relief.”

It was supposed to be a relief. A reminder of a more peaceful time to come. Your head tilted down slightly, eyes boring into the metal desk in uncertainty. This did not go by Kylan.

“Has...has something happened?” he inquired with a grave tone, “Last we heard, Lotor had successfully created the Sincline ships along with Allura.”

“What do you know of Allura?”

“The Princess? The entire Colony is eagerly awaiting to meet her once the war is over, once it’s safe enough to come out of hiding. An ancient Altean, still alive to this day. I can't even begin to tell you how thrilled they are to speak to such a historic figure - “

“Allura betrayed Lotor.”

That one sentence stopped Kylan in the middle of his speech.

“Voltron betrayed Lotor,” you continued, voice dripping with barely concealed hatred, “They attacked him and he - “

Taking a deep breath, you tried your damnedest to keep yourself level headed. What you saw and what you say will never hold up to defend Lotor. You needed more than that. You needed proof. Solid evidence. You needed Lotor and only Lotor.

Kylan observed you, observed the conflict that was still fresh in your mind, then asked something even he was hesitant to say, “Is Lotor...dead?”

“I don’t know.” You wished you could give him a better answer, “All I do know is that both Voltron and Lotor disappeared into the Rift and haven’t returned. One of the witnesses who last saw him was Acxa, the one who accompanied me here.”

A pregnant paused filled the room with only one question hanging in the air: What now?

“This is ill news,” he ran a clawed hand over his head, “Shit...Shit! This does not bode well.”

No, it certainly does not. The situation was stirring for a year now. Kylan was in charge of the facility until Lotor’s return. They discussed precautions should such a situation happen, but this was much more complicated than he imagined. Hearing that Allura, the Princess of Old Altea, had betrayed Lotor? Princess Allura, a piece of lost history many of the Alteans revered and wished to learn from, attacked their leader? Their savior? It will cause a shift among the masses. It will cause doubt. Shame. It will...it will cause anger.

Anger at her actions and disappointment in her ways. Peace first. That has always been the Altean way. Always.

“How did this happen?” Kylan pinched the bridge of his nose, “Tell me everything.”

“Everything...everything started with an Altean named Romelle.”

“Romelle, sister of Bandor?”

“Yes, how did you know?” you questioned with a tilt of your head, “Two members of the Blades of Marmora discovered Romelle on...her home planet?”

“The first colony. Where all the citizens have lived for thousands of years. If they were able to find it, then the people there are in critical danger.”

“It’s more than that, Doctor Kylan.” You sighed heavily, trying to get your thoughts organized in a way that would make sense to him, “There is...missing information. Something didn’t make sense and Voltron - Allura, she...“

Your mind was already deteriorating from running and planning your survival day by day. You were losing focus and you knew it. You were fraying at the seams, trying to recall what happened, but the details were blurring together. You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to temper that headache from forming.

Kylan was aware of the reason why Lotor kept the colony hidden. He was also aware why he did not immediately introduce the Princess to the Alteans. It all fell upon trust. Upon risk that he could not take. Not yet, Lotor had told him. It isn’t safe. Judging by the turn of events, he was right.

Kylan narrowed his eyes in thought before leaning against the desk, “Forgive me for being forward, but do you mind if I tap into your mind?”

“Tap into...you plan on interrogating me?”

“No, no, good doctor, no. Through our research, we have learned to harness the quintessence in our bodies to achieve many various goals. Healing the wounded, enhancing the lifespan of plants, and even share connections with those who are willing. Under no circumstance would we use this magic against the other’s choice,” he explained thoroughly, seeing the hesitance behind your eyes, “Tapping into people’s mind can show me memories, feelings, everything you wish to show. I swear to you, upon my honor as a doctor, I would not go any further than you feel comfortable to share.”

You were still unsure why they would even need this ability if not to take information without consent. Were they all...like Haggar, then? Able to manipulate minds and steal memories? You thought about Shiro and his frequent headaches. You thought...if Kylan was a doctor taught under Lotor’s lessons, what would he do? Would he wipe out your memories the second he got what he was searching for? Or would he trust you to stay by his side?

“Okay…” you agreed, leaning forward and putting your head up first, “Okay...make it quick.”

Kylan’s large hands rose and his index fingers touched the side of your temples. You trusted Lotor and, to an extent, he placed his trust in you. The Galra doctor will find out why, will find out how you worked with the Altean’s leader. And from what he sees, what he witnesses in your mind, then he will judge you as a character. An ally or a foe?

“This is not a drill. Operation Purge is a go.”

Your eyes widened at Kylan’s words announcing a command over the microphone. There wasn’t panic in his voice, no, more like determination. Foreboding determination at words he didn’t think he would ever have to say in his lifetime. He stood up quickly, chair sliding against the floor, then spoke once more.

“I repeat, this is not a drill.”

Your footsteps rushed to keep in pace with the doctor, but he was hurried and frantic. All around it was a madhouse, personnel rushing about and gathering as much material from their offices as they could. Even patients were being pushed on floating gurneys down to what you could only assume was the facility hangar.

“Doctor, what’s going on?” you asked, narrowly dodging another medical officer.

“I will explain when we get to the main computer system,” he answered before grabbing a nearby Galra, “Anapa, take the blueprints for the pods. We leave no trace of the technology we have here. Split the documents into five parts, one for each ship commander.”

“Right away, sir.”

“And destroy all evidence. Absolutely no pods are to be salvageable, do I make myself clear?”

You suddenly gripped the doctor’s elbow and turned him around forcefully, “No, I need that evidence to save Lotor!”

“This isn’t about Lotor,” Kylan shrugged his arm back, breaking your hold, “This is about his work. We can not risk anyone using the inventions we created here for evil.”

You didn’t like this. Everything you needed to prove Lotor’s innocence was right here, right at your fingertips, but Kylan was correct. This place, the people here, whatever they DID here, was Lotor’s work. He would’ve wanted it to be safely secured and away from evil’s clutches. Still, you had to remember this was a necessary precaution. This is why he always had a Plan B, even when he was no longer -

“We can not take the risk, doctor. If Lotor is alive, then he knows how to unite us again. He knows how to find us once more. But if he isn’t...Alteans must be protected and preserved. Our location has been compromised.”

Their first priority wasn’t finding Lotor. It was ensuring his work would continue. Ensuring his discoveries would be used for good, even if it had to be buried for now.

Kylan placed his hand on the scanner and, within a few seconds, the door slid open. Inside, there was a large holographic map of what looked to be of the facility itself. Little red dots indicated officers while white must be...patients? Regardless, the evacuation was happening at a faster rate than you expected.

The Galra doctor tapped the control monitor too fast for your eyes to read, “I didn’t expect Bandor’s death to lead such a horrible domino effect. And now with Romelle and the Blades of Marmora knowing our location? It not only put the hospital in danger, but the first colony, too.”

A giant red warning sign popped up on the screen reading only one question: Are you sure you wish to erase all data?

“That is where Captain Ewan will go. We have a small army trained for battle, but first the citizens must be relocated to a safer environment. Even...even if their identities have to be deleted.”

Kylan pressed “Yes” and instantly, a loading bar began indicating the purge. Thousands of faces, thousands of Altean’s information was being erased. Wiped out. Gone from the database and any who would potentially hack into it. Family, friends, now only a blip in the sands of time. History being destroyed. It left your soul uneasy to witness this necessary precaution.

The doctor glanced at you momentarily, “I realize this...this operation does very little to help you with Lotor. I apologize. I know your intentions are true, and I will aid you to the best of my ability once we leave, but the responsibility of reviving Altea’s culture and it’s people now falls upon my shoulders.”

And what a weight it would be, he thought. You watched the video surveillance, watched Galra ship after ship lift off. Acxa was no doubt gone already, taking her credibility as a witness to the crime with her. It felt like as soon you had a smidgen of evidence to finding Lotor, to proving him right or wrong, it was unfairly ripped from your grasp. Always pushed back to square one.

No. Not square one. You found the colony, the hospital. That was proof already to yourself about Lotor’s intentions.

“Come with me, doctor,” Kylan watched with a forlorn expression as all the lights and monitors began blinking off one by one, “We must leave quickly. To Yu’ruvat.”

You slumped into the sofa, exhausted and ready to collapse from the overwhelming turn of events. A thousand thoughts were going through your mind. Within the span of a day, the colony existed then disappeared from the universe in a blink. Eyes slowly closed as all the sounds around you began quieting down in your head. That is, until the clink of a cup drew your attention.

Drearily, you looked at Kylan just as he took a seat besides you. On the table was a cup of something warm, indicative by the steam rising from the drink. You slowly took it within your hands, simply holding it and soaking in the heat. When was the last time you had a drink? Or a meal? Shit.

“Thank you, doctor,” you peered into your drink, some sort of orange tonic.

He waved a hand, silently saying it was no hassle. “No, I should be thanking you for arriving as you did. Had you not, who knows what would have happened in due time. It’s still troubling that...two strangers were able to find the colony and the hospital. I only hope that Captain Ewan was able to evacuate them safely.”

You fell silent.

“Your...presence has also made us aware of Haggar’s intentions. She’s looking for the Emperor, yes. Desperately so, but I can’t help feel suspicious of her actions. With Lotor gone and the throne prime for taking, why did she not crown herself?” he took a small sip from his cup. “All the Galra who were under Zarkon’s rule know she was controlling him. Even so, there are commanders who respected her to an extent. The only reason she wouldn’t take it is because our customs would not allow it. No full-blooded Altean has ever ruled a Galra Empire before.”

Yes. Yes, you do recall Allura mentioning that the witch Haggar was an Altean. Ironic, that.

“Which leaves me to believe she is after Lotor to reign control again. But if he isn’t found, then she will reach out to another viable candidate. Until five years pass, the Empire is in limbo,” Kylan turned to face you, “Why did she let you go?”

“I told her what she wanted to hear. Whatever I needed to say for me to survive,” you paused, “My only goal is to find Emperor Lotor. You saw the accusations. You saw the mayhem that transpired afterwards. Bringing him back is pivotal to the future.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

“Yes,” you answered in a heartbeat, but it felt...like you were only telling half the truth.

The other half? You didn't want to expose to yourself quite yet. There was so much more to do, much more important things to solve, that you put your own self as a last priority. Kylan tapped into your mind. Surely he understood, the universe before discovering oneself. Responsibilities to peace among everything else.

“You’re not returning to Haggar if you don’t find him.”

“No. If he is dead, then I will be, too. It just depends on when I want to die,” you thumbed the lip of the cup, “And where. If it’s inevitable, I should at least have some control over my fate by running until the road ends.”

“And if he is alive? What will you do then?”

Now, you flicked your gaze at him from the corner of your eyes, “I...I would follow his lead.”

Kylan silently observed you as you spoke those words. Part of him believed you were suffering from something more than survivor’s guilt. That man he saw, Shiro? Was clearly someone close to you. And now he was gone. When he peered into your memories, he felt the painful isolation you experienced the past year. He felt the crumbling control over yourself when Lotor walked away down that hallway.

“Using quintessence to look into people’s minds was one of the first discoveries Lotor made. He had the help of a special species that could sense the emotions of a troubled individual, using this ability to soothe one’s feelings. Now, we harness this power to figure out exactly what haunts each person. Galra, Alteans, much of the older generation suffer from some form of trauma since the destruction of Daibazaal and Altea,” he informed with an almost pitiful look on his face.

The pity was aimed at you. You didn't like it. You were...ashamed by it, so you turned away from him. Shiro never looked at you with pity. Lotor never looked at you with pity. Maybe you felt uncomfortable about it because Kylan saw your private thoughts so vividly where no one else did. Where no one else could. The mind is an intimate place, but you gave it up to benefit yourself.

“It was the first step to healing the scars left behind by the history between the two races. Lotor always believed that a strong alliance started with the people. He united us and proved that we are better together.” Kylan watched you cup the drink closer, as if trying to keep yourself warmer in the chilly ship, “In olden days, royal Alteans were known as life givers. Not in our society. We are called life sharers. We share our troubles, our woes, our happiness, our grief, and even our souls.”

You fleetingly wondered why he was telling you this. Why he mentions the history that started the entire universe’s war. Or maybe...maybe he wasn’t talking about the universe. You were no therapist. You didn't train for repairing mental wounds. You thought you had a grasp on yourself, could take care of yourself when those dark days felt looming over you.

Bags under your eyes. The shine was dulled from your face. When was the last time you felt normal? Not happy, but just...at peace? Content? You felt cold, as if you were hibernating in a winter that has been staying for far too long.

“Our way of understanding science and magic as one are not limited to just Alteans and Galras. Every living being in the universe has quintessence in their bodies. They have the potential to unlock those abilities. All they need is the will power to learn it.”

He stood up as you kept your silence surrounding him. You were listening. You listened to Lotor. You would listen to Kylan. You know the offer he was extending to you, but the real question was whether or not this would help you in the long run. That’s how your mind worked. How could this not only help others, but also help you?

“Can you teach it to me, Kylan?”

If Lotor was dead, if you were to go into hiding, if Haggar were to find you, then you would go down fighting.

“Yes.”

Kylan was a good teacher. He understood that no two bodies were the same, no two species were completely similar, and he used that knowledge to train you. Whereas most of the Alteans had little difficulty harnessing the use of touch with their lessons, that sense of touch was strangely unusual for you. The doctor took this in account when he healed your wounds after each training session.

It was odd. A doctor who disliked touching. He was willing to bet Lotor thought the same thing when he first came across you.

The view of empty space and destroyed planets greeted you and the crew stationed at the helm. Months had passed now and, although you wore the same bracelet Kylan had, your progress with harnessing its powers was barely halfway complete. It was definitely draining on the soul, testing and pushing your limits on how much of your energy you could truly share as a human. To any doctor, this was the dream ability. The ability to heal responsibly. The ability to know your limits.

“There have been spikes of quintessence pockets popping up in this sector, captain. However, no physical sign of any life yet.”

“Good work, general. Keep searching. If my theory is correct, the wall is weak here. The Rift will open soon, so we need to get that gate ready,” Kylan explained, hope tinging in his voice.

“Are you sure about this?”

The man turned to you, also keeping your eyes on the horizon, “Yes. The Rift...it is like a river. Flowing with endless quintessence, teeming with life force itself. It isn't all that different than the natural environment of many planets. Give it time and a dam will burst through.”

That was what you and the team was relying on now. The river will push someone out. Voltron, Lotor. The pocket could only hold for so long. Would it overflow and leave a gaping hole in the universe? Yes. But right now, with no trans-reality comet and no miraculous mech at the galaxy’s aid, what could you do besides wait?

“The Ruvatians will create the sealant we need. Patience, doctor,” he saw the doubt flit over your eyes, “Whoever comes through that hole has to help us. If not, then our Plan B will succeed.”

“How? The Alteans who went to Oriande could not pass the test. They were not even able to breech past the White Lion,” you argued, “You need the secret knowledge of Ancient Altea to create something, anything, strong enough to pierce the Rift.”

“We don’t need it. We have all the knowledge here already.” Kylan crossed his arms, calculating in his words, “The magic we learned from quintessence is important. The science we use will help. We’re not trying to get into the Rift. We’re trying to close it. That’s what the cannon is for. To burn the raw quintessence long enough to close the rip.”

Close it until another way was found to harvest it safely. Now that the old gate was destroyed, it made sense. Never let a wound fester untreated. It was better to seal it for now. There were engineers working on a new gate, using the destroyed pieces to fix the puzzle backwards. The parts were scarce and resources? Even harder to come by. But this had to work.

Lotor’s plan to harvest quintessence safely failed. Voltron destroyed the only gate keeping the realities closed off from whatever monsters laid in the Rift. And now...now, original plans have changed.

“I respect Lotor’s wishes. I know of the vision he had in mind for the future and, as much as I would’ve celebrated such a path, we can’t have two problems on our hands. The Empire’s rogues reign free to wreck havoc. Imagine how much more death would come if this Rift stayed open.”

“Kylan,” you began, “What will happen to the Alteans? The Galra?”

He placed a thumb on his chin, deep in thought, “The Galra Empire relies on quintessence. In the natural state of life, everything will eventually die. My guess, doctor, is that the Empire will exhaust their reserves and move on to the next viable energy source. As for whether that is a better solution, only time will tell.”

“And the Alteans?”

You saw the way his jaw set firmly.

“They are already in hiding. I don’t think it would be safe for them anywhere else right now.”

So now, what were you to do? Where exactly did your loyalty lie? In the Galra Empire that Lotor worked so hard to control? Or to the Alteans that he desperately tried to save? And you thought to yourself then, how long would it take for you to remain dedicated to a crumbling Empire? Or a slowly extinct species?

“The gate is ready to launch,” he announced to pull you out of your thoughts, “Power up the main generator. Cetra, use the refined quintessence reserves to enhance the process.”

“Yes, sir.”

Someone, anyone, had to come out of that gate. You hope it would be Lotor. Even you knew that he has more command to save the universe. But Voltron? Voltron was nothing but a weapon. A weapon that gave people false hope for a safer future. Perhaps in a different reality, it would have worked. Perhaps in a different reality, you wouldn’t be stuck repeating history. Perhaps in a different reality, for once, someone else would clean up this mess.

In the distance, you could see the Rift gate begin to glow a vibrant ring of blue and white. You don’t know if you would consider it a blessing or stupid dumb luck that Lotor’s work with Allura actually paved a way for the engineers to rebuild the gate better than before. At the cost of what was sacrificed, you would think otherwise. You could feel the thick tension fill the air around the main deck as everyone, Kylan included, stared on with abated breath.

The door was open. A blinding light, shimmering specks of quintessence powdered the gate and there, floating completely unscathed, was Voltron.

Your stomach sank. The almighty Voltron was not everyone’s hero.

Despite your warning to Kylan, he reassured you that the defenses would hold should Voltron attack. Much to your surprise, no confrontation of any sort happened. It left you uneasy, to say the least, but the captain of the ship was not a fool. The warriors flanked the both of you, weapons set to stun if Kylan’s initial judgement was wrong about the Paladins. The hangar door opened and each of the towering lions stood proudly before the crew.

Outwardly, you looked tense, wired and ready to attack or flee. But inwardly, too many emotions collided in your chest. You had no idea where Shiro went. You had no idea if Keith captured him or not. And the rest of the Paladins? Your “allies?” Where were they? After a year, why did they turn their back on the universe? And more importantly, where was Lotor? Only one mech came through that gate.

It wasn't the one you desperately hoped for.

“Paladins!” Kylan bellowed, loud enough that his strong voice echoed the hangar walls, “Show yourselves!”

Yes, cowards, show yourselves. Each lion lowered their head and out came five figures, five figures significantly taller than the Paladins you remembered. Not a single one of them raised their bayards. It made you suspicious. These...there was something wrong. Off about them. Warning signs began ringing in your mind. That is, until the Black Paladin took a step forward ahead of the rest and slowly removed the helmet.

You glared vehemently at the figure, but that anger fizzled out into nothing when you spotted a drapery of silver hair.

Deep lavender skin.

Nebulous eyes staring widely at you.

And a familiar voice calling out your name in confusion.

To which you could only respond with a whisper of the man you were searching for all this time.

“...Lotor?”

#lotor x reader #haha suck my ring ding dong writers block #spacestories

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kitty-bandit · 5 years ago

Text

Just Friends

Rating: E Fandom: Original Setting Pairing: Orha x Akihiko (OCs owned by @kandasboi) Tags: Drama™; Romance; Dealing with an Ex; A/B/O Dynamics(ish); Heat Sex; Sex; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Anal Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Barebacking

I’m back again, and this time with a commission for @kandasboi! The request was for his OCs. If you want to read the other two fics I’ve written for him involving these OCs, you can find them here and here.

If you’d like to commission me, check out my commission info!

Keep walking. Don’t turn around—

Orha kept his gaze forward, looking straight ahead as he quickened his pace in the hope that Malakai would give up pursuit. He hunched his shoulders, holding his books tight to his chest and clenching his jaw as he speed-walked through campus. But that subtle hint, and his not-so-subtle body language, didn’t dissuade his ex from taking chase. Hurried footsteps echoed behind him and he heard Malakai call his name—louder this time—as he closed the distance between them. Finally, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him to a stop before he could cross the street.

“Didn’t you hear me? I was calling you for half a block.”

Out of breath, Orha turned and looked up at Malakai’s handsome face. He hated that he still thought of him as handsome, even after all the shit he had put him through. But it was hard not to see his beauty—that strong, muscled body and pretty face framed with the softest brown and gray ombre hair. He wished Malakai looked as ugly on the outside as he did inside, that the world would work like that sometimes. It would make it easier to see people for who they really were—before you gave them the chance to hurt you.

“What do you want?” Orha refused to meet his brown eyes, instead staring at the courtyard and watching a squirrel forage under a tree. His heart refused to calm itself, beating a mile a minute as he waited for Malakai to speak his peace.

Malakai rummaged through his messenger bag and pulled out a thickly bound book. “Here, I found this and I thought you’d like it.”

He shoved the book into Orha’s arms, leaving Orha scrambling to keep from dropping his other books in the process. Orha bit his lip to keep from snapping, but couldn’t stifle an exasperated sigh. After rearranging the books in his arms, he looked down at the one Malakai had given him. It was a history book, and one he’d wanted for a while. He hadn’t purchased it because of the price, though. And Malakai just...

Orha shook his head and met Malakai’s gaze. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. He had to be faking it—Malakai wasn’t that dumb. Orha had learned how manipulative he could be, and had paid the price for it. “I saw it in the bookstore yesterday. Are you saying you don’t want it?”

“No, I—” Orha sighed and looked back down at the book. “It’s expensive.”

“You know I can afford it.”

“That doesn’t matter—we’re not together. You shouldn’t buy me things anymore.”

Malakai shrugged, looking more at ease than he had the right to be—especially with Orha’s nerves knotted up like rope. “Consider it a gift from a friend, then.”

Orha let out a stunted laugh as he stared down at the book cover. Friends. Friends didn’t harass you or spread rumors about you or destroy your property just for fun. They weren’t friends and, as far as Orha was concerned, they never would be.

He still didn’t understand what Malakai was up to. Not even a month ago he was bullying Orha every time they encountered each other—on campus and off. But this change, the complete turn around, struck him as more than a little off. Malakai had been following Orha around, finding excuses to show up at places he knew he would be. He’d given Orha gifts. They were small at first, but the price and sizes grew exponentially. This book was the most expensive yet. Last time he’d priced it, it’d been almost $200. Way over his budget. And Malakai simply threw his money away to buy it for Orha? Something didn’t add up.

What the hell was Malakai planning? What angle was he working? What purpose did being nice to him serve? The more he approached him, the less Orha trusted him, but he was too scared to outright reject his advances. The last thing he wanted was for Malakai to bully him again. He’d already suffered enough from that.

“Fine,” Orha replied, tucking the book to his chest with the others. “Thanks, I guess.”

“So,” Malakai began, taking a step closer and pinching a lock of Orha’s hair between his fingers. “There’s a party tonight at my place. You should come.”

Too close. Orha flinched and pulled away—out of reach from Malakai’s greedy grasp. His stomach twisted in a sick knot. “Sorry, I’m busy tonight.” No way in hell would he be caught dead at Malakai’s house. He turned and headed back down the sidewalk.

His heart dropped in his stomach as heard footsteps behind him.

“Are you busy with something? Or should I say someone?” Malakai asked as he matched Orha’s pace.

“What are you talking about?” he asked back, jaw set tight as he clutched his books to his chest.

“You’ve been hanging around that guy a lot. Akihiko.”

Orha’s back stiffened and his pointed ears flicked backwards, flattening against his head. He shot a glare Malakai’s direction, bristling. “What’s it to you?” The words were harsher than he’d wanted, but he couldn’t help it. Akihiko was a sensitive subject, and Orha didn’t like hearing his name on Malakai’s tongue.

“Just curious.” Malakai watched Orha, unabashedly staring, while Orha quickened his pace. “Haven’t seen you with anyone else lately.”

It was too much—too much to handle all at once. “I gotta go.” He cut across the street, a few cars slamming their breaks and cursing him out as he dashed in front of them. But the shortcut worked and Malakai didn’t bother crossing traffic to follow after him. He sighed in relief, but the anxious energy still hummed along his skin like electricity. He wanted to go home and relax.

As he left campus and crossed into the residential area on the outskirts of the university, a buzzing in his pocket distracted him from his thoughts. Pulling out his phone, his dark blue eyes widened at the name on the screen—Akihiko.

His pace slowed as he unlocked the screen and read over the text.

Aki—Dinner tonight?

It was so casual, the way he asked; subtly comfortable in a way that Orha wished he could say was mutual. The realization struck him, that he had been spending more time with Akihiko than he’d thought, if he could message Orha so easily. It meant that Malakai had been right in his observations, as much as he despised that knowledge.

Still. Still. It didn’t mean anything. In spite of Orha’s original concerns, Akihiko was kind to him. Too kind, really. More kind that he deserved. Like a real boyfriend.

But they weren’t boyfriends. Not really. Or at least, they’d never labeled it. They simply spent time together—some of it platonic, some of it intimate. Whatever they had, it worked, and Orha didn’t dare disturb the balance they’d found in each other. If it was one thing he knew for sure, asking too much in a relationship doomed it to fail. For once, he’d like it to work out, if only for a little longer.

Orha typed back, fingers quick on the screen.

Orha—Pass tonight. Not feeling well.

Little dots popped up on the screen, and Orha waited for Akihiko’s message as he walked.

Aki—Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.

As much as dinner with Akihiko sounded great, Orha didn’t think he could handle it. Not tonight, at least. He’d been feeling strange all day and the run-in with Malakai knocked him off his feet. What he needed was a nap—a nice long nap so he could forget Malakai and Akihiko and his stupid, turbulent emotions. Besides, he needed rest. The last thing he wanted was to catch a cold because he was stressed.

Orha shoved the phone back into his pants and sighed. Tomorrow. He would worry about it all tomorrow. He just needed to get home tonight and rest.

As that thought entered his mind, he felt the plink of a raindrop on his cheek. Looking up, he watched the sky turn dark, clouds churning in the sky with ill intent. Another drop hit his face—and another and another.

“Shit,” he grumbled, picking up the pace. Only a few blocks remained until he was home, but before he could curse himself out for forgetting an umbrella, the sky opened up and the deluge hit.

Tucking his books close to his chest to protect them from the rain, Orha broke out into a sprint. As he ran, water collected into puddles on the sidewalk and splashed against his legs with each step. He couldn’t escape the rain—it permeated everything as it poured from the sky in violent sheets. With his heart pounding in his chest, he hurried down the street in hopes of keeping his books dry in the downpour. As he neared the end of the block, he spotted his house and darted to the door, fumbling with his keys to get indoors.

After bolting inside and slamming the door shut behind him, Orha sighed in relief. Water dripped down his face, soaking his dark hair and leaving drenched clothes stuck to wet skin. He set his books down on the coffee table in the living room. They weren’t as waterlogged as he’d feared—just a bit of wetness along the top edges. They would dry easy enough.

As he spread them out on the table, his eyes landed on the history book Malakai had given him and his stomach clenched unpleasantly. He might have wanted the book, but he didn’t want it if it came from his ex. Maybe he could sell it online or something. It would be better than keeping it around and reminding him of what had been.

Unable to bear looking at the book any longer, Orha trudged to his bedroom, water dripping everywhere. He would clean up later, but for now, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. Stripping out of his sopping wet clothes, Orha dropped each item to the floor without care. Once he was down to his boxers, he slipped into bed and covered himself with the blankets. His skin was clammy and cold from the sudden shower, but the softness of his sheets and pillows drained the tension from his body. Even with wet hair, he felt better.

Before he could muse any longer on why he was so tired and drained, he drifted off to blissful unconsciousness.

xXxXxXx

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Orha’s nose twitched. He groaned pulling the blankets over his head to block the noise. He didn’t want to get up—not yet. His body ached and burned, as if he’d ran a marathon and all he wanted to do was keep sleeping.

Bam! Bam!

“Ugh.” Orha rolled to his back, eyes cracking open to stare up at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but the rain hadn’t stopped and it was dark.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

A frown spread over his lips, tugging at the corners, and this time, he let out an angry snarl. Who the hell was banging on his door? “Just go away,” he growled, too weak for whoever was at the door to hear. He still felt off—not quite right inside—and the constant pounding was giving him a headache. The noise continued, and Orha huffed. “Fine, asshole! I’m coming!” Throwing back the blankets, he ambled to his feet—and fell to the floor.

With a moan more wanton than pained, he squeezed his eyes shut and caught his breath. He was hard—so painfully hard. The damned knocking had been so annoying he’d completely missed it. But after failing to stand and nearly falling flat on his face, he realized what had been off all day.

Orha had started his heat.

“Shit. Fucking—ugh.” Cursing to himself as he crawled on the floor, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on in the hopes of hiding his massive erection. However, the fabric tented over the bulge, leaving his state even more obvious than before. He couldn’t hide it, or his other symptoms. With his fevered skin, blown pupils, and short breath, anyone would be able to see his state. Not to mention the smell…

The sudden and gnawing urge to jerk off over took him, but he shook his head and tried to focus. He had to get rid of whoever was on his porch first, then he could take to his...needs.

Stumbling through the house and growling under his breath, he stomped towards the front door in nothing but a flimsy pair of sweatpants. The knocking persisted. Orha yanked the door open and took a breath to shout at the person who had rudely jolted him out of his peaceful sleep—

Only to deflate completely as he recognized the handsome countenance staring wide-eyed at him. “Aki?” he asked, confusion heavy in his voice.

Akihiko looked like the proverbial deer in headlights. He stood there, one hand still raised to knock on the door and the other cupping a small plastic container to his side. “Oh—Sorry. Were you sleeping? I was starting to get worried because you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I—uh—” Orha felt his mouth go dry as he looked at Akihiko, his hair and clothes wet from the pouring rain. “I didn’t hear it.” His stomach clenched, a twang of hunger humming through his veins. He knew it was the heat talking, his brain addled with hormones, but in that moment, he’d never wanted Akihiko more.

Akihiko tensed as Orha watched him, and handed him the container. “You said you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some soup.” He took a long breath, and Orha knew he could smell the pheromones he gave off. There was no way to hide the scent, not now. “But I guess you’re not that kind of sick.”

“Yeah...” Orha swallowed thickly, heart hammering in his chest like a drum. He barely made out Akihiko’s words, as if cotton were shoved in his ears. His boxers were too tight, and he felt hot and sticky all over. He wanted them off. He wanted everything off of him right then, but he couldn’t stop staring at Akihiko.

Weakly, he grabbed the container, the warm plastic pleasant against his palms. He leaned in closer to Akihiko, swaying on his feet as he breathed in his scent. He smelled like the fresh rain that hadn’t stopped for hours and sandalwood. Heady, earthy. Masculine and strong. Just what Orha was craving. Just what he needed. “Thanks,” he said as an afterthought, moving closer still. Reaching out, he touched Akihiko’s hip, fingers tucking into the waistband of his pants.

Realizing the situation they were in, Akihiko took a step back, but didn’t push Orha away. “Uh, maybe I should go? You seem a bit out of it and—”

“No—” Orha tightened his grip and pulled Akihiko back towards him, practically dragging him into the house. “Stay, please? I want you to stay.”

A torn look crossed Akihiko’s face as he hesitated. Resting his hand against over Orha’s as it clung to his hip, he let out a shuddered breath. Orha’s scent had to have been strong by then, and the longer Akihiko lingered, the harder it would be to leave. Even in his heat haze, Orha could see the thoughts and emotions passing over his face, struggling to decide on the best course of action.

But Orha saw him crumble, and his heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. Akihiko raised his free hand to cup the side of his face. His palm felt so cool in comparison to his heated, flushed skin. “…Are you sure? You’re not just saying this because you’re in heat and—”

“I’m sure,” Orha interrupted, pulling him closer. “I don’t want to be alone tonight—I can’t.” Without further elaborations, he leaned in and captured Akihiko’s lips in an excited kiss, devouring his mouth with vigor.

Moaning into the kiss, Akihiko wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close. He tightened his grip on Orha as his tongue slipped into his mouth. It only lasted a few seconds, that hungry, mutual desire, before he released Orha’s lips. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stay,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against Orha’s as he spoke.

Orha whined, a noise he loathed to make at any other time. But it was his heat—he allowed himself to indulge in the… neediness of it all. Besides, he doubted Akihiko minded. If the stiffness pressing into Orha’s hip was any indication, Akihiko liked it a little too much.

Akihiko kicked the door shut behind him and kissed Orha again, one hand pressed against his jaw to tip his chin back, as if he were drinking down his kisses like a fine wine. Orha’s grip on the container of soup fumbled, but he curled it closer to his body to steady it. A sweet, desperate moan rumbled in his chest and he went limp in Akihiko’s arms.

“Aki, please,” Orha mumbled against his lips. He dug his fingers harder into the hem of Akihiko’s pants and rutted sloppily against his hip.

“Yes, yes—of course.” He grabbed the soup from Orha’s hand and set it on the coffee table, nearly knocking it over in the process. But it didn’t matter—not to either of them. All that mattered was getting to the bedroom as fast as possible. Everything else could wait.

They stumbled their way to the bedroom, tripping over each other’s feet while kissing and groping. Orha panted into Akihiko’s neck, his breath hot against his skin as he dug his nails into his back. As they reached the threshold, Akihiko lost his patience with their slow pace and picked Orha up—holding his thighs as he lifted him. Orha’s legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back. His head spun as Akihiko carried him and he buried his nose in his soft, white hair. Heats made him do strange things, but even with a clear head, he couldn’t get enough of Akihiko’s scent. He took a deep breath to pull the smell into his lungs, and tightened his grip.

His scent was divine, but before Orha could muse on that indulgence any longer, his back hit the mattress and forced him to expel the sweet smell. He didn’t have time to complain before Akihiko’s lips were on his once more, devouring his mouth like it was his last meal. Akihiko’s legs pressed between Orha’s, forcing them open to rut against his stiff erection.

“Nnnn...” Orha’s hips rocked up against Akihiko’s, adding to the delightful friction and pressure between them as he sucked on his lover’s lower lip. It was too hot, hotter than only a few minutes ago, and sweat beaded along his neck and back, perspiration dotting his skin in between the raised hairs. He shivered, not from the temperature, but from the friction between them. His cock was so hard now, he felt like he might burst from the pressure.

It was stupid to forget about his heat—Orha knew it. But he had little time to berate himself when Akihiko’s tongue was down his throat and his cock was nestled firmly against Orha’s own. He squirmed under the attention, desperate and hungry for more.

A rough thrust knocked Orha back, their lips parting with a gasp. Moaning, he tugged at Akihiko’s shirt, weakly grasping at the fabric as he attempted to pull it off. “Too hot, Aki,” he mumbled, squirming under Akihiko’s heavier body.

Sitting up, Akihiko raked a hand through his white hair, the messy strands tangling in his fingers. He gazed down at Orha with lust in his blue eyes, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Their eyes met for only a second, fire burning bright in them. Before Orha could speak again in the hope of hurrying him along, Akihiko grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off. Orha watched in awe as he revealed his chest, sweat already glistening against his skin in the dim light of the bedroom. It was a sight he’d seen numerous times before, but it never failed to send a jolt of desire deep in the pit of his stomach.

Akihiko’s fingers curled into the flimsy fabric of Orha’s sweatpants, tugging them and his underwear down his thighs in one quick motion. His stiff prick bounced against his stomach in anticipation and Orha moaned as Akihiko stripped him. Tossing his head back and forth against the pillows, he grabbed the loose sheets under him. The slightest contact against his cock was torture. The reddened head leaked precum like a faucet, dribbling over his stomach and smearing across his skin. He watched impatiently as his clothes were tossed to the floor and Akihiko rid himself of his own jeans.

He needed Akihiko. He needed him bad.

As if hearing the silent plea, Akihiko leaned in and kissed Orha again, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Without the frustrating barrier of clothing between them, Orha felt everything. Akihiko’s muscles flexing, the sweat sticking to his skin, the heavy heat between his legs as it dug into Orha’s stomach. Now that—that was what he wanted most, what his body craved.

Sliding a hand between them, Orha grabbed Akihiko’s cock. He growled low in the back of his throat, starving for the contact, and stroked him with greedy fingers as he rutted against his hip. The touch left Akihiko moaning in his mouth, hips arching into the contact, and Orha’s heart leapt in his throat. Akihiko was so sensitive to his touch... It made him want to please him more, to see what sweet noises he could pull from his rumbling chest. But before he put his plan to action, Akihiko broke their kiss.

“Nnnn, Aki...?” he groaned out, dizzy from the heated kisses and his body’s soaring temperature.

Akihiko didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed his way down Orha’s neck, each press of his lips leaving a heated trail on his skin. Orha panted as he stared up at the ceiling, squirming under the too-soft touch. “Aki—Aki, more… Please, more…” he begged, ears flattening against his head and tail flicking behind him as he struggled to find more friction between them.

Each nip and caress of his tongue on Orha’s skin left him writhing under Akihiko’s touch. He continued down his chest, stopping at Orha’s nipples and lovingly teasing them both with his lips and teeth. The gentle brush of his tongue over the hardened nubs sent shivers of desire up and down Orha’s spine. He couldn’t take much more of Akihiko’s teasing, not when he was this worked up.

Orha’s cock dripped precum between them, balls heavy and tight with need. As Akihiko ceased his torturous admiration of Orha’s nipples, he moved lower, kissing over his taut stomach. With one hand on his hip to keep Orha steady and the other planted on the mattress to keep himself upright, Akihiko settled between his legs, breath blowing across the red and sensitive skin of Orha’s dick.

“Aaa,” Orha whined, hips arching up in a desperate bid for contact. “Aki, please.”

“Hush,” Akihiko whispered, his voice hoarse and deep. But even as he chastised Orha’s enthusiasm, he smoothed his hand up his shaft, thumbing over the slit and smearing precum over his fingers. The touch did nothing to satiate the lust building in Orha’s guts, and he moaned like a wanton whore.

More. He wanted more.

Akihiko watched as Orha writhed under him, hands balled into fists and nails digging into the sheets underneath. He continued to rub at his stiff length, fingers slowly moving along the shaft and spreading precum across hardened flesh, all while ignoring his own growing arousal between his legs. Orha panted and whined, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes.

Smirking, Akihiko pressed his thumb over Orha’s leaking slit. “Be a good Kitten and I promise I’ll make you cum.”

Orha could do nothing but moan and tremble under the teasing touch.

Taking the lack of answer as submission, he leaned down and wrapped his lips around Orha’s cock. The wet heat of his mouth had Orha crying out, and he ripped a hand from the bedsheets, stuffing it in his mouth to keep the worst of his desperate noises from crawling out of his throat. Akihiko’s lips and tongue were talented things, as he’d learned in their dalliances over the past month or so.

Akihiko smoothed his lips over the shaft, dipping down until he buried his nose in the coarse hair at the base. Flattening his tongue along the underside, he hummed against the stiff flesh, gently sucking and bobbing his head. With his lips stretched around Orha’s needy girth, he grabbed his hips, keeping him pinned to the bed and unable to thrust up for more deliciously hot friction.

“Aki...Aki, please...” he begged, head tossing against the pillows. The heat grew low in his belly, like the tightening of a rubber band. Further and further it stretched, taut and tense. Orha’s breath came in hitched gasps as the feeling grew in his guts. He wouldn’t make it much longer, not with Akihiko working him over with his perfect tongue and perfect lips. Sweat prickled along his neck and forehead, and the sounds of his own stilted breaths were muffled as the tension in his body grew, blood pounding in his ears.

With a heady sigh, Akihiko pulled back, mouth sliding over Orha’s cock until only the tip remained snug between his lips. He flicked his tongue back and forth against the dripping slit, sucking the head like the sweetest lollipop.

Orha groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as his hips bucked—struggling for more contact, more heat. But Akihiko’s grip stayed strong, and he kept Orha pinned to the mattress.

“I’m gonna—Aki, I’m gonna—” Orha rambled, back arching off the bed as that tension in his belly pulled tighter, tighter, tighter—and snapped.

Orha came with a moan, fast and hard. It was almost painful as his body seized up in pleasure, tight and taut as he spilled himself down Akihiko’s willing throat. Cum and spit collected at the corners of his mouth as he eased Orha though his orgasm, cheeks flushed and lips nearly bruised for the effort. When Orha finished, spent dick twitching pathetically against his tongue, Akihiko finally let him free.

Orha panted, blue eyes transfixed on the ceiling as he struggled to breathe, to feel anything but the numbing pleasure tingling along every inch of skin. His head spun from the endorphins swimming in his veins, leaving him drowsy. But as the effects of his orgasm faded, his skin refused to cool down. He felt hotter than before and just as hungry—ready to swap skin once again. His cock twitched excitedly against his stomach, slowly growing hard. He hated his heat, hated how desperate and pathetic it made him. But, if nothing else, it was nice to share it with someone he could trust.

“That was good, Kitten.” Akihiko ran his hand along Orha’s jaw, fingertips brushing sweaty skin. He moved slowly, reaching for the nightstand where he knew Orha kept his more...intimate items. “Now, stay put and I’ll make you feel even better.”

“Yes,” Orha whispered, voice hoarse from moaning and panting. He struggled to swallow, throat parched and mouth dry, but did as Akihiko asked. Turning his head to the side, Orha watched him pull open the nightstand drawer and rifle through the contents.

Orha kept a few little playthings in that drawer, as well as necessities. Condoms and lubricant were a must, but he also needed things to keep him occupied when no one else was around to help him through his heats. Dildos and vibrators of various sizes were tucked away for when he needed something to scratch that itch deep inside him. It was never as nice as the warmth of another person, but it would do in a pinch.

He wondered for a long moment if Akihiko would grab one to use on him—just to torture him a little longer. There were even a few cock rings and other devices they could use to drive each other mad with want before coming down from this heat addled state. But before he could voice his question, Akihiko closed the drawer, only taking a small bottle of lubricant.

Orha’s excitement doubled as he watched Akihiko drizzle the lubricant over his fingers, the large digits glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. His breath caught in his throat, eyes following Akihiko’s movements as his fingers slipped down between his legs to open him with slow, purposeful prodding. He felt the pressure against his hole, slick and tight, then spread his legs wider with a low moan.

Grinning, Akihiko leaned down closer. He continued to work into Orha’s ass, the ring of muscle flexing around his finger as he slipped in deeper. As he reached knuckle-deep, he licked along the underside of Orha’s stirring cock, the sensitive flesh twitching with excitement.

One finger wasn’t enough to satiate Orha, but it was enough to remind him of what he really wanted—what he craved. “Please…” he begged, hips rocking under Akihiko. “More, please…”

“You’re needy tonight, Kitten,” Akihiko replied, licking at the head of his cock again. Orha might have already cum once, but his body was ready again—prick stiff and leaking precum without shame.

“Yes,” Orha whined, unable to deny it with how soft and pliant his body became under Akihiko’s touch. The heat had drawn out his needy side, the side of him that craved attention and soft touches and intimacy. He might have tried to deny it on any other day, but it was still a part of him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Akihiko hummed, breath blowing against Orha’s slick flesh. “I like it,” he mumbled, slipping a second finger into Orha’s ass.

“Aaa…” Orha’s back arched, toes curling as he was stretched wider. It still wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but he would take what he could get.

A laugh bubbled up in Akihiko’s throat. Without a word, he slipped Orha’s cock back into his mouth and sucked him down to the hilt. The wet heat of his lips and tongue combined with the pressure of his fingers up Orha’s ass was almost enough to have him cumming a second time. Luckily, his first orgasm had dulled his need just enough to keep him riding the pleasure longer.

Two fingers slid in and out of Orha’s body, dragging along his flesh and pulling hungry noises from his lips. Akihiko scissored his fingers in Orha, moving them back and forth and in and out with slow, methodical movements. He stretched and worked his way deeper, all while lavishing Orha’s cock with attention. It was almost too much for Orha to bear. Almost.

Just as he was on the cusp of cumming a second time, Akihiko pulled his fingers out. The empty feeling dragged a whine from Orha’s throat, quiet and desperate. He closed his eyes and twisted against the bedsheets, still hard and hungry for attention. Akihiko lavished Orha’s needy prick with one last teasing suck before letting it drop from between his lips.

Chest heaving, Orha forced his eyes open and watched Akihiko as he smoothed lubricant over his stiff cock. It was then that he remembered Akihiko hadn’t touched himself in the whole time they’d been in bed—not once. His cock was red and hard, more than Orha’s own. The thought sent a shot of guilt through his chest, guilt and desire to even things out between them.

Akihiko lined himself up against Orha’s puckered and slick entrance, grabbing his hips and pulling their bodies closer together. But before he could breach the ring of muscle, Orha sprang into action.

He grabbed Akihiko’s shoulders pushing him to the side and straddling his hips as he pinned him to the bed. Akihiko grunted in surprise, eyes wide as he stared up at Orha. He’d been so pliant and submissive earlier that Akihiko hadn’t expected the sudden change in energy between them.

“Orha?” he asked, one hand sliding up his bare stomach, tentative and gentle in its touch.

“Let me,” Orha mumbled, still dizzy and disoriented from his heat. Sweat dribbled down his neck as he shifted his position, grabbing Akihiko’s dick in one hand and steadying himself on the bed with the other. “I want to—” As he spoke, he sank down onto Akihiko’s slick cock, breath catching in his throat and a moan spilling past his lips. He sat down slowly, taking him all in until he bottomed out, ass flush against Akihiko’s hips.

The pressure and the heat—it was all so much. Too much. Orha felt the delicious tightness building in his abdomen as Akihiko’s cock stretched him wide. He wanted to ride him until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, until he was numb from the pleasure. But before he could move or voice his desires, Akihiko moaned and squeezed Orha’s hips, rutting up into him with a shallow thrust. Orha’s back stiffened as Akihiko’s cock brushed that sweet spot deep inside him. That tiny motion pushed him off the edge a second time. With a weak moan, he came again, painting his stomach white with hot seed. His hips rocked against Akihiko’s, riding out the pleasure until he finished. Panting and flushed, he looked down at Akihiko’s hungry eyes.

“God, that was so hot,” Akihiko mumbled, fingers squeezing Orha’s sides with a bruising insistence. He took a long, shuddering breath, eyes half-lidded, and smoothed his thumbs over Orha’s hips, as if to apologize for grabbing him too roughly. He slipped one hand across Orha’s stomach, humming to himself as he slid it through the mess he’d made. “Kitten, do you wanna rest? I can take over again if you—”

Orha didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. Gathering what strength he had left in his limp limbs, he forced himself upright. Without hesitation, he pulled his hips up and thrust himself back down, impaling himself on Akihiko’s cock. The rough thrust left them both groaning in pleasure, backs arched and muscles tight. But Orha didn’t stop with just one thrust. He went again and again and again, bouncing up and down on Akihiko’s hips with abandon.

“Aki. Aki. Aki.” He repeated his name like a mantra, body oversensitive and yet still wanting more. His cock was half-hard already, a third orgasm quickly budding in his abdomen. Orha had never had a heat this intense before—never. Every brush of Akihiko against him, inside and out, turned his guts to goo.

Growling in excitement, Akihiko rocked his hips upward, timing it with Orha’s own thrusts to dive deep inside him with each pass. They worked in tandem, quickly building up the friction between them. Orha whimpered with each thrust, his body sore and sensitive from the torturous teasing Akihiko had already put him through. Having his prostate slammed into over and over again only left him hungrier for another orgasm.

Leaning forward, Orha planted his hands on Akihiko’s shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he rocked himself harder onto his cock. The slight change of angle made it so each thrust hit Orha’s sweet spot head on. He gasped with each intrusion, but only rutted faster and faster against Akihiko. His spent and sore dick strained against their stomachs, rubbing raw between them.

Akihiko moaned, nails leaving half-circle marks on Orha’s thighs. “Shit, I’m—I’m close. Orha, I’m so close—” His eyes screwed shut, head tipped back in pleasure as he pumped his hips faster, filling Orha deeper and deeper with each pass.

“Yes, Aki, yes—” Orha’s thrusts grew frantic, grinding himself onto Akihiko’s stiff rod with fervor. Hearing his partner’s excited cries pushed him to continue, past the point of caring how sore his body was or how much it would hurt tomorrow. He wanted this—he needed it. The feeling of Akihiko deep inside him, the pressure of his body opening up to accommodate another, the tension in his muscles, the furious beating of his heart, the violent tremors running along his limbs. He needed all of it.

Then, as Orha worked himself harder than before, he felt Akihiko stiffen under his body and a rush of heat fill his backside. Akihiko groaned and came into Orha’s ass without warning. The heat and the wet squelching sound as cum slipped down to mess the backs of Orha’s thighs was enough to send him into his third completion of the night. As he rocked down one last time, he came again—a weak stream of white spurting across his abdomen and mingling with the crusted cum already painting his skin. When the tremors subsided, he collapsed against Akihiko’s chest and began purring.

Akihiko wrapped his arms around Orha, holding him close as their bodies slowly cooled in the damp air of the bedroom. “You okay?” he asked, voice low and winded.

“Mm,” Orha hummed, unable to keep his eyes open. Contented purrs rumbled in his chest as he snuggled up to Akihiko. Cum messed his stomach and inner thighs, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He couldn’t even be bothered to uncouple himself from Akihiko, his lover’s slowly softening cock still deep inside him.

Akihiko continued to rub his back, fingers lazily drawing circles along sweaty skin. When his breaths evened out, he shifted to the side and rolled Orha onto the bed. Orha groaned in protest, grabbing his arm before he could completely part from him.

“Don’t go,” Orha whispered, clinging to him as best he could for how exhausted he was.

Hesitating, Akihiko brushed a hand over Orha’s flushed forehead. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable on the bed than on me.”

Orha couldn’t argue the point, but his heat-addled mind still demanded the closeness. He relaxed against the bedding, but didn’t let go of Akihiko’s arm. “Don’t go,” he repeated, softer this time.

Akihiko smiled and stretched out next to Orha. He pulled the dirty blankets over their sweaty bodies and wrapped an arm around Orha once more. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

The warmth and closeness drew Orha in like a moth to a flame. Resting his head against Akihiko’s chest, he continued to purr like contented kitten. As he slowly succumbed to sleep, heat satiated for the moment, he hoped Akihiko would keep his promise.

END

#personal #kandasboi #kitty bandit writes fanfiction #/#//#lemon #commissions

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mercurysnitch · 6 years ago

Text

Future Management (Endings and Beginnings) - Though You’re Many Years Away Oneshot

Pairing: 90s!Roger Taylor x daughter!OC

Summary: Tallulah unexpectedly finds herself visiting Roger in the 90s. She’s never been there before.

Author’s note: So, as always Though You’re Many Years Away part 6 is taking me longer than I predicted. It will definitely be finished some time this week though. To tide you over until then, here’s a little oneshot I scribbled out about the one time Tallulah saw 90s Roger. It’s still set in the TYMYA universe, but it’s a bit different because it’s from Tallulah’s perspective rather than reader’s. I imagined her being in her early twenties here, btw. I have vague plans for a series of these oneshots once I finish the main story, so please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of this one! (Teenage Tallulah definitely got into shenanigans when she visited Roger in the 70s/80s...) I’m going to put the TYMYA taglist on this post so if you don’t want to be tagged in oneshots please just let me know.

I wrote quite a lot of this between midnight and 2am so please forgive any typos.

ETA Title from the Roger Taylor song, also known as You Won’t Need Nobody Else But Me. I think it fits really well and I wish I’d thought of it when I first wrote this.

Warnings: Mentions of illness, mentions of impending death, angst, it’s just really sad but with a little bit of fluff at the end

Tallulah came to on a couch. Glancing around, she realised her surroundings seemed oddly familiar. Was this a past version of Dad’s house? She sat up, groaning, and heard a gasp. “Tallulah? Is that you?” She turned around. “Dad?” He was perched on a barstool at his kitchen bench, the day's paper spread out behind him. Tallulah scrambled upright and dashed over to hug him. “Loolah,” he gushed, “it’s been so long, love.” “How long exactly?” She asked casually, stepping back from his embrace. “I don’t know” Roger mused. “Five years, six maybe? Not since the mid-80s anyway.” So this isn’t the 80s then. “It’s the 90s?” Tallulah queried him. He nodded. “Yep. 1991 actually.” Her heart sank. Oh no. Not that year. Any year but that one. Roger’s face quickly fell, and Tallulah realised her emotions at hearing the year must have shown on her own face. “You know about Freddie, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “I’ve always known” Tallulah replied. “Poor Freddie” she added sadly. “Yeah” Roger agreed. “So, what’s new with you?” he asked, suddenly perky.

Roger and Tallulah just talked for a while, catching up on each other’s lives, like he used to with her mother. It was always fun chatting, but Tallulah could almost feel her Dad’s sadness, despite his attempts to hide it. She could see the weariness in his eyes, hear the tinge of worry in his voice. But he said nothing about it, so she didn’t bring it up. Eventually she glanced down at the newspaper, open on the bench. Suddenly she noticed the date. 20 November, 1991. Her heart sank again. Oh shit. It’s so close. She must have gone quiet because Roger was looking at her with alarm. “You alright, love?” he asked gently. “The date” Tallulah murmured. “What about the-” Roger cut himself off when it finally clicked. “Oh. It’s going to be soon, isn’t it?” He said softly. Tallulah just nodded. Roger’s heart sank almost into his boots. “Can you tell me when?” He asked hopefully. Tallulah shook her head. “No. Too risky. And even if I did you’d forget by tomorrow” she said matter-of-factly. “Sorry Dad” she added softly. “Don’t be,” he reassured her, “it’s not your fault.”

Suddenly Tallulah saw Roger's façade crack, just a little. She immediately wrapped her arms around him."What's up?" she murmured into his shoulder. 'It's just, it's all just shit" he sniffled. "Freddie's fading, and it's just awful." Roger paused. “And… I don’t know what’s going to happen after he… we haven’t talked about it, I don’t think anyone even wants to think about it, actually… but I can’t shake the feeling this might be it for us.” “Us?” Tallulah asked. “For Queen” Roger explained. “I don’t know how it can go on without Freddie, but somehow I can’t bear the thought of it dying now either.” He looked downcast. “After everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve done, this is how it’s going to end? It just seems wrong somehow.” Tallulah could see her father’s eyes boring into her own baby blues. In that moment, she knew exactly what he wanted to ask, and she knew what she was expected to say. But she didn’t. “Dad, just this once, I'm gonna break the rules.” she said softly. “Queen will live on after Freddie” she told Roger. “It might not look like it for a while, but it will. People will always love the music, you know. And Freddie. Even in my time people still love Freddie.” Roger stared at her wonderingly. “Thanks for telling me that, love” he said gently. They sat in silence for a while, Roger trying desperately to absorb the words he knew he would forget by the time he woke up tomorrow.

"You know, it’s always a bit weird when you show up, Loolah” Roger commented. “Why’s it weird?” Tallulah asked. “Aside from the obvious” she added hurriedly, grinning. “Well you’re here, with me, which is great" he explained. "But I never know when I'm gonna see you again, which is always a bit sad." He paused. "Actually, right now, I don't even know if I'm ever gonna see you again. I mean I never do, but it's been so long since last time, it just makes me wonder…" he mused sadly. Tallulah smiled gently up at him, as she decided to break the rules once more. "What?" Roger asked his daughter curiously. "You are going to see me again, and Mum" she told him. "But not for a long time" she added sadly. "And when you do, I'll still be little." Suddenly Roger smiled. "I'm gonna get to see you grow up?" he asked, evidently thrilled at the prospect. "Yes" Tallulah softly replied. Roger looked happier than she’d seen him all night. Suddenly Tallulah started at the odd tingly lightness that signalled her return to her own time was imminent. "Crap, I haven't had a trip this short since I was a kid" she exclaimed. Roger pulled her close, holding her tightly until he felt her leave. He returned to his paper with his heart lightened ever-so-slightly at the knowledge that his future, with his time-travelling wonder daughter, might just be alright after all.

As always, comment or reblog and let me know what you think!

Taglist: @wandering-at-midnight @fruityfreddie @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @theedwardscollection @bookish-oreo @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224 @closertothesunwhenimwithyou @florenceivy

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fic #queen imagines #queen fic #roger taylor #though you’re many years away

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bloodline-rpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, Cain! We have accepted your application for your OC, Monty Troya (FC Alex Wolff) Please create a new blog (not a sideblog) for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Along with your link, please let us know what lyric you’d like for us to use for Monty in his bio. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: cain or kabra

Age: 20

Preferred pronouns: they or he

Timezone: CST

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible):since ill be spending most of the day at university, i mostly will be active during weekends,with varying between nighttime & morning for the rest of the week.

CHARACTER DETAILS

Character’s Name: Mondago ‘Monty’ Troya

Desired FC: Alex Wolff

Character’s Age: 22

Character’s Species: Werewolf/Wolf familiar

Character’s Sexuality: Bisexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

The world of magic, witches, and wolves was never a secret to Mondago. He knew of the animal lurking beneath his skin by the time other children were learning to write their names. Elena, his mother, made sure of that. After the deaths of her husband and pack at the hands of hunters, she hid her broken little family in a small, nondescript town surrounded by woodlands and fields, marrying the local sweet, soft spoken mechanic once she was settled. There, before bed, she crooned stories for him of events she’d witnessed under the full moon, back when she still had a pack to run with. Mondago’s heart always leapt in excitement at the twists and turns of her tales, eyes round and sparkling with wonder as she recounted the past. His mind remained full of howling long after she’d kiss him goodnight, welcoming echoes of hunts and sharp teeth into his dreams.

Not once did Mondago resent the wolf he shared a body with, never worried beyond what he considered reasonable about the instincts coiled inside him like a viper, waiting to spring upon those who, unsuspecting, wandered too close to the pit. He took precautions before the shifts of course, as did Elena, but the picture his mother had so carefully painted of their heritage throughout his life made it so that, when the time came, he felt at peace with his transformations. For years he successfully balanced his humanity and innate wildness while still keeping his and his mother’s secret from neighbors and friends. It had its ups and downs, as most things do, but they were happy. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, the witch hunts ended life as he knew it.

Before the first full moon of that month, a hunter caught him by surprise walking the wooded outskirts of town alone. Mondago, for all his supernatural advantages, didn’t stand a chance against the heavier, more experienced fighter. The struggle ended with Mondago unconscious and taken away from his family and the place he called home. He awoke to a bitter taste in his tongue, still in a daze, sore, bound, helpless to do all but look up at the faces of his captors and wonder if they meant to be his executioners as well. Once he came to realize what had been done to him, Mondago wished they had.

The eccentric group of hunters didn’t bother to explain the specifics of their experiment, so Mondago never understood exactly how they did it. Only that it burned, that it hurt, and as he writhed on the floor of his prison, he felt his curse stir despite the moon’s absence.. Through the pain clouding his thoughts, a will that wasn’t his own pressed against his mind, grabbing the threads of his identity and twisting who he was into a complicated tangle of knots impossible to unravel. Then, almost passing out from agony greater than any he’d felt on transformations prior, the wolf took over him completely. Mondago became a passenger in his own body, an expectator watching behind the eyes of a beast.

They made a hound and butcher out of him. He tracked witches with them, chasing them out of their hiding places into the open as well as their grave. The burning never stopped. It ate away at his insides, from nose to tail, maddening him further into an animal mindset. One who would do anything to lessen its torment. For four years, Mondago burned and killed and burned and killed and burned and killed and once there was nothing left, his captors would lock him away until he was needed again

Had it not been for an accident, Mondago may have never gotten out. The hunters misjudged the strength of a coven they’d thought to be small and puny. Both sides suffered heavy casualties, but it ended when a mortally wounded witch took down the couple hunters remaining in a final burst of adrenaline fueled anger before Mondago finished her off. Now alone, Mondago slowly, slowly, put himself back together. He remembered his name, his mother, and every single horrible thing he had done. Try as he might, the pieces of his identity didn’t quite fit together the same anymore. Too much wolf still. As much as he longed for the comfort of home, Mondago couldn’t bear the thought of going back before he began to better resemble some of the person he used to be. He needed somewhere to recover from those years lost to bloodspill, somewhere he’d have the time to heal.

Mondago dragged himself to the Blacks manor after some consideration. The pack there accepted him only some questions he wasn’t willing to answer. Now he keeps his head bowed, nodding and smiling and desperately trying to ignore the constant burning inside of him.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

Mondago retains most of his original personality: pleasant to be around and usually looking for ways to be helpful where he can. Sometimes to the point where others may end up annoyed and think he’s trying too hard to be liked. He quickly forgive and hands out second, third, fourth chances to those he feels deserve it with no strings attached. Mondago never gets angry. He fears it. He’s certain the moment he lets loose and gives an inch to the anger it will take a mile and turn him monstrous again. Instead, he’s willing to put up with anything. Although the closer the month is to a full moon, the harder it is.The burning becomes almost unbearable, making the transformations more painful than ever and the wolf harder to control, so he restrains himself with his weight in chains in the deepest basement he’s able to find.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Mondago was an active (though terribly unwilling) participant in the witch persecutions, the shame of letting himself be used for something so horrible haunts him, Maybe he could meet the friends and families of those that died because of him. I would like for him to be able to be at peace again by building relationships that could help him deal with everything in a way that isn’t being more or less a complete doormat.

He’s uncertain about Celestina’s plan to bring all the covens under one roof, he knows well that there’s strength in numbers but he’s still aware of the vulnerability that comes with staying in groups instead of spreading out. They’re easier to hunt down if they’re all together.

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noecat · 6 years ago

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tumblr crushes challenge!

in which you post your own favorite blogs to spread positivity and get your amazing blogger-friends some more followers!

tagged by @kizunah (im lov u) n @hazelnatcoffee (ive not stopped sobbing since i saw u tag me aksdjf thank u sm <3) !! ✨✨✨

aksdjf normally i dont even do these but im takin th opportunity to scream abt how much i lov mariam so !! :D enjoy

ive tagged @kizunah, @hazelnatcoffee, @hinamie, @sftae, @geminest, @belovedsheith, @phoapostrophes, @gansaey, @hcseokie, @dotingdamen, @kattenprinsen and non-mutual but very admired @d-a-z-a-i and @novocaine-sea!! (also the ultimate tumblr crush otasucc whomst im not tagging bc im scared)

i will yell abt these ppl and how much i lov them under cut so as to avoid a 50 page long post :’D 💕

mariam @kizunah: iv no idea how u managed to go from ‘vaguely intimidating incredibly talented writer i look up to’ to ‘incredibly talented writer i look up to tht sends me memes at 3am and has made me fall in lov w two (2) soft pining bois’ so fast but.....u did tht......now our chat is th first thing i check when i wake up in th morning it’s the Start To My Day i hope u r happy..... follow mariam for solid pastel aesthetic and hauntingly beautiful writing tht will give u heartbreak by proxy !! 💕

grayson @hazelnatcoffee: i am tagging u Right Back bc,,,solid tumblr crush material,,,,on one hand i am rly honored u follow this mess, on the other hand im just !! u are such a talented writer !! and such a talented artist ??? ur ability to communicate sof sheith feels in both mediums to such devastating effect slays me 10/10 a Must Follow 💕

hina @hinamie: u kno how kurapika was like. ‘when im in this mode im a master of every single nen category’ ?? thts u. except thts u all th time. killer sense of humor and an incredible (understatement...) artist and so pretty i cld die and flawless taste in memes and th capacity to create OCs tht snatch my heart n soul n wig all in one (very basardous) move?? thts u!! how do u do that!! thank u sm for not judging me for thirsting after clowns n also ,,, a must-follow 4 anyone who likes quality 💕

pauline @sftae: i know you’re on hiatus now and thus unlikely to see this anytime soon,,,,,, but it wld feel Wrong to make any kind of crushes post without mentioning u, resident itachi lover, whomse made me laugh sm and gave me some of the probably Best conversations ive had on this site....im so sorry for stealing ur husband (it was Deserved) and i hope u are doing good out there off this hellsite (note how i didnt even mention the fact tht u are a creator yet bc i was too busy crying abt how much i lov talking to u but !! holy shit u also make Quality Content and im both crying and intimidated how is every mutual i have so talented at making things) 💕

nastya @geminest: bi russian solidarity & prettiest pinkest pastel blog in the universe?? a whole music Genius whomse is fluent in multiple languages?? im going 2 stop typing now bc i Know i wont b able to stop after just one paragraph so im sorry tht this is going to b so short but,,,,,,,,th most quality Soft Kpop blog n distinguished iu stan, thts u 💕

mei @belovedsheith: the sweetest most positive talented writer in th vld fandom?? u!! your blog is an oasis in the sea of drama and discourse that is tumblr generally, and i really admire the compassion you show everyone and your dedication to only giving love back even when people are undeservedly rude or condescending. it takes a lot of strength to do that and i just *clenches fist* rly adore your personality and humility (esp given how you’re scarily good with words and also ur theme....god tier) 💕

pho @phoapostrophes: aksdjf it’s really .... been a while .,,.. since we talked on a personal lvl, but!! anytime i see you on my dash i get rly excited because you always reblog the best things, the best memes and the best literary things and the funniest comics...,, your sense of humor is on point and i dont know where you manage to curate such Quality Content from but im rly living for it !! 💕

nicki @gansaey: thank u sm,,,,4 watering my crops,,,,feeding me tht good good trc food,,,,no lie i follow like maybe two (2) trc blogs n life is a whole struggle, and also!! i adore your aesthetic, and how it’s perfectly coherent from your theme to your posts...n also i love your avatar and your creations !! :’’D u have a rly rly strong sense of The Ae and tht glows in everything u put out 💕

mia @hcseokie: hello cowboy basard whats up it’s me n i ,,,, lov u,,,,,possibly th hottest prettiest person on this hellsite w an incredible personality 2 match,,,,you have a killer sense of humour and are a really sweet person to talk to, and i really really wish you all the best and brightest things in the universe!! a tumblr crushes post isnt complete without u :’’) 💕

eve @dotingdamen: we only talked like once which is an whole federal crime in my opinion askdjf but !! most treasured most quality yoi/captive prince/astrology mutual,,,, mostly i am very intimidated bc you look ethereal and also your writing like. im not even in those fandoms anymore but am i going to go and reread everything th moment i finish typing up this monster of a post?? u bet!! 💕

taavi @kattenprinsen: father i am very sorry for disappointing u w frightening regularity,,,,i still rmbr when u first followed me and i screamed bc tht was like the ultimate Senpai Noticed Me moment??? honestly tht senpai-noticed-me feeling never rly faded and tht makes u the perfect candidate for a tumblr crushes post :’’’) you could probably create an entire universe w words alone--and do--n ur Powerfully Aesthetic Aesthetic makes my kokoro go doki doki,, i hope i become more like u someday!! 💕

chris @d-a-z-a-i: kasjf the Very First blog i found after i one-shotted the entire bsd anime and was left crying over dazai,,, pretty much 90% of the best anime content i see on my dash is either reblogged from u or reblogged by u so thank u fr the food!! :’’D 💕

aja @novocaine-sea: u once left a comment on my shitty jjbek crackfic and thts probably the most accomplished ive ever felt in my life ever,,, like it might sound cheesy but it’s one of those little moments ill carry w me forever on my writing journey? being complimented by someone as talented as you really stuck w me;; tht said, im going to go binge read your entire hq/free! tag at soonest opportunity :’’’) the things you write are 1000% up my alley nd im so ready!! 💕

lia otasucc: an inspiring person on all levels; someone ive been following since the early (yoi) days and who has not once since then been anything less than the brightest light in the fandom. i dont even go here, but im very glad you exist and motivate everyone around you to be better people as well :’D words r hard and the way you flawlessly wield yours, be it in spicy memes or cutting sarcasm, is both terrifying and moving,,, we are all lucky to have u!! 💕

#god this took me so long my wrist actually hurts #i have so many. feelings #q.txt #this post is longer than half of the fics ive ever written rip

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subfunctions · 6 years ago

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Horizon Zero Dawn OC: Yara

Inspired by 1) my theory that at least one other subordinate function has probably found a human to buddy up with and 2) my theory that MINERVA will be the first subordinate function to emerge as an ally to Aloy.

Loosely inspired by these lines of “The Mountain Poem: Words Spoken in Contemplation” by Ibrahīm Ibn Khafāja, following the lines you can find in Metal Flower Mark II (F):

And through the night, that tongueless mountain uttered marvelous things: "How much more time in space? How long have I been the assassin's safehouse And sheltered hermits from the human race?"

But mostly just an exercise in character creation, as in: if I had the task of creating a character to be the human partner and counterpoint to a subordinate function, what would that character be like?

My other self-appointed parameters were to create someone who’s a bit of a foil to Aloy and Sylens both, so: someone who chose isolation rather than being subjected to it, and someone whose interest in knowledge is specialized rather than general, while maintaining a moral compass.

(face claim: Grace Mahary)

Name: Yara Gender: Female Tribe: Utaru Age: 23 at time of main game

Notable Physical Traits: Though Yara keeps prominent Utaru elements in her attire, her usual outfit is a practical mixture of Utaru and Banuk styles, something she’s put together to guard against the months of cold in the home she’s settled in. Due to contracting polio as a child, her right leg is stunted and partially paralyzed; she walks with a cane and wears an adjustable brace made of machine parts on her leg.

Personality: Intellectually minded and gifted, Yara’s great love is the sky and what lies behind it - the vast expanse of space beyond the planet, which she has dedicated her life to studying. She is endlessly curious about the greater workings of the universe and how her world fits into it, and with the eventual help of a Focus and later MINERVA, she’s made progress in uncovering a fraction of the universe’s secrets. Because of certain traumatic events in her life and a bloody history that she is not entirely proud of, she prefers to keep to herself and keep only MINERVA’s company, craving solitude and her studies. However, her Utaru roots are evident, not only in her love of the natural world but in a generosity of spirit, from which that bloody history sprung - an inability to sit there and do nothing in the face of the Red Raids and the losses her people suffered because of them.

Relationship With MINERVA: Yara found MINERVA in the wake of tragedy, and the subordinate function’s eagerness to help and learn endeared her to Yara and gave them a common ground. She feels as if she owes MINERVA for stabilizing her during such a turbulent time in her life and giving her something to live for - a renewed love for the universe and a friend she could relate to. MINERVA, similarly, was able to stabilize developmentally because of Yara’s friendship, finding companionship and purpose in Yara after she had no purpose left, as she is the only subordinate function whose job was completely finished.

Songs: Inner Space - Apex The Warpath - Conner Youngblood Cover Your Tracks - Young Galaxy

Bio:

Yara was born to the Northland clan of the Utaru in 3017, a clan composed of several extended families, Yara’s among them. In 3020, when she was three years old, a distant mountain exploded, its lingering cloud visible even as far as her clan’s riverside village in the northern part of Plainsong, once known as the Great Plains of western Nebraska. A few months later, in the winter, an illness known to the Utaru as the Strength Eater, and known to the Old Ones as polio, spread throughout the clans gathered together for the annual celebration of the harvest. Many survived its onslaught intact. However, some died, their breath stolen away by the Strength Eater, and a few were left permanently weakened afterwards.

Yara’s father was among those who died, and Yara herself was left with a paralyzed and stunted right leg. For the rest of her life, she would need a cane to walk, and Utaru ingenuity in redesigning machine parts into farming tools saw her outfitted with a brace as well. Over time, the complications of walking with a stunted leg would curve her spine and weaken her bones and muscles as well, and she was never able to participate in the labor-intensive work of farming to the same degree that others did. However, she had little interest in it. She had some talent in hunting with bow and arrow, a less central but still important part of sustaining the clan, but she often had little patience for it.

Her mother often called her a child of the earth with her eyes to the sky. While the Utaru revered the act of tending to the earth and drawing sustenance from it, Yara was more interested in the tableau high above – the stars and the moon in the nighttime, the sun in the daytime, and what it all meant. She could often be found sneaking away from chores during the day to observe the sky and sneaking away from the village at night to make amateur star charts.

The Utaru respected the Old Ones as forebears who lived on in the earth. Yara was interested in them for what they may have known about the answers she sought from the sky. Sometimes, relics of the Old Ones would be found in the ground, when soil was overturned and crops were harvested. These were always buried adjacent to the graves of the Utaru, out of respect for the dead. However, Yara had little such sense of propriety, and when one of her cousins found a still-active Focus during planting season, nine-year-old Yara snuck out at night to dig it up and secretly keep it.

The Focus showed her wonders and helped her to understand much – that the sun was also a star like the tiny pinpricks of the night, that the night sky was richer than she imagined and filled with things that she could not see with her eyes. The Focus couldn’t show the majority of them to her either, however, and though her star charts grew more sophisticated and digitally archived with its help, a vague sense of dissatisfaction grew, a desire to know more.

Meanwhile, both the exploding of the mountain and the sudden onset of illness during a time of celebration were seen as omens, a view that was further reinforced over the next decades as the machines grew hostile, as new machines began to appear, as the already unpredictable seasonal patterns of Plainsong became much more so, and as the Red Raids swept across the land.

In 3032, four years into the Red Raids, when the edges of Plainsong had already been attacked by the Carja and gifts of grain had not appeased the raiders, tragedy struck the Northland clan. A group of raiders hit the village in the middle of the night, killed some clan members, and took others. Among those killed was Yara’s mother, and among those taken were two of Yara’s cousins, and an aunt and uncle.

Fifteen-year-old Yara, however, was not there. As was habit, she’d snuck out of the village as night fell to work on her star charts and stargaze to her heart’s content. She was far enough away that she didn’t hear the attack, but she saw the fires that the raiders left in their wake and raced back far too slow and too late.

Wracked with grief and survivor’s guilt and bitterly angry, Yara realized that her Focus would give her an advantage that others didn’t have and tried to convince the leaders of the clan to pursue the raiders, whom she could easily track. However, the Utaru were peaceful and ill-suited for war, and the clan had lost many that night, both to death and to kidnap. No collective decision was made to go after their taken kin, and so no one wanted to go.

Furious, Yara struck out on her own. Her Focus helped her to track the raiders and find food and game and water along the way; however, her leg slowed her down, and she was only able to catch up with a group of raiders that had parted ways with those returning to the Sundom with their captives. The group was heading northwest towards the Cut when Yara caught up with them.

She was right; the Focus gave her an advantage that seemed almost supernatural without context, and she killed three Carja raiders before they even knew what hit them. However, Yara was a teenage girl with a bad leg, and the other raiders regrouped and turned the tide. Yara found herself fleeing their vengeance. She stumbled through a forested area sheltered by mountain ranges – once known as Medicine Bow National Forest – and she was only able to avoid the clutches of the raiders because of her Focus.

There, a strange signal drew her in – a tallneck wreathed in a deep blue-purple glow, circling a lake in front of the lone mountain jutting out of the center of the area, known to the Old Ones as Libby Lake and Sugarloaf Mountain. From it, a voice spoke, unlike anything Yara had ever heard. It was strangely formal, limited in vocabulary, and difficult to understand, but it seemed excited to encounter a human with a Focus.

Yara asked the voice for help, and it acquiesced. The tallneck broke its circuit and moved to a place where Yara could climb up. With her bad leg, she could only make it to the top of the machine’s back, but even that was high enough to avoid the eyes of approaching raiders.

However, Yara was still hungry for retribution, and though it might have been safer to wait silently and let the raiders pass, she rained down arrows from above, killing three more before what was left of them figured out where she was. The last few were no match for a colossal machine, and even as they sought to return fire, the tallneck itself stepped in, crushing most of them, and the last raider fell with Yara’s arrow in his neck.

Afterwards, Yara felt empty and drained and small. Though she was glad that some of the ruthless Carja were dead and could hurt no one else, the act of vengeance brought her no happiness. Her mother was still dead, and her other family members were well on their way to the Sundom, out of Yara’s reach now that she was exhausted and already so slow. Her childish thoughts of rescuing her still-living family members were gone, drowned in a horrible sadness.

However, the voice pulled her out of her miserable thoughts. It introduced itself as MINERVA, an artificial intelligence, and though MINERVA was secretive about where she came from and why she was there, it was apparent that she felt lonely and without purpose. She was eager to learn from Yara, as much as Yara was eager to learn from her.

But Yara’s missing family members still weighed on her mind, until MINERVA offered to help her find them. And so began a lasting partnership.

Yara learned that MINERVA could take control of machines, something called override, though machines that weren’t tallnecks would begin to break down and eventually stop working when she did. Yara and MINERVA trekked through the Longroam and past the Sacred Land, wearing out overridden machines and avoiding contact with humans. With MINERVA’s abilities, tracking was even easier, and they made their way into the Sundom, towards Meridian, where MINERVA said that she would be able to scan the city through their Spire, a powerful tool that was actually hers.

However, in the time that it took to reach Meridian undetected and disguised, it was too late. The rest of Yara’s taken family members had died in Sun-Ring days before she and MINERVA arrived, and the bodies of the Sun-Ring’s victims were burned, erasing even Yara’s hopes of burying them.

Despondent, Yara wondered what path to take from there. She considered vengeance, perhaps even against the highest of the Carja, but she was tired physically and emotionally, and though MINERVA’s abilities and existence were a marvel, they were only two people in a land not their own. She considered returning to Plainsong and to her clan, but she found herself with little desire to.

In the time that she and MINERVA had spent together, they’d learned a little about each other – as much as MINERVA was willing to disclose on her part, at least. Knowing that Yara loved the sky and the stars, MINERVA suggested a place for her to visit, a place that MINERVA had found not too long ago – something called an observatory, built by the Old Ones to study everything beyond the borders of the planet, one of the few still standing in the area.

Yara agreed, and as they left to make their way back the way they had come, they stumbled across two Banuk escaping Meridian. Yara did not make contact with them, but - seized by the desire to help - she and MINERVA shadowed them quietly. Yara killed three Carja in pursuit before the escaping Banuk were even aware of the danger, and MINERVA was able to keep machines off of their backs, all the way back up to the Longroam and beyond.

There, Yara realized what she could do. This area, she had learned from what she and MINERVA had overheard in the Sundom, was a common route for Carja seeking to reach the Banuk and Plainsong, a way to circumvent the fierce Nora and the Claim. And out here, without the protection of their land and their army, the Carja were vulnerable.

First, Yara let MINERVA take her to the observatory, a place once known as the Wyoming Infrared Observatory, atop a mountain a little southeast of where she’d met MINERVA, well southeast of the Cut, and north of the Longroam. It was dilapidated and crumbling, but MINERVA believed that with time and effort, enough of it could be restored to bring its system back online and make use of it. Yara asked if it was possible for MINERVA to monitor the Longroam and the area north and south of it as she had monitored Meridian through the Spire. It was possible, MINERVA told her, but only with the proper tools.

So began a years-long effort to restore the observatory and patrol the Longroam. Under MINERVA’s guidance, Yara learned quickly about programming and transmission, and it didn’t take long for her to set up a makeshift monitoring system throughout the area with MINERVA’s help and some recommissioned machine parts and tallneck apparatuses.

Yara was a little more hesitant about the observatory, feeling a deep survivor’s guilt about being far away stargazing when the Carja attacked, but with MINERVA’s insistence and coaxing, the observatory was eventually back up and running, as much as was possible. The night sky opened up for Yara as it never had before, and she was able to discover stars and deep sky objects revealed by infrared imaging and spectroscopy. Her star charts became a study of space, as much of it as she and MINERVA could understand on their own, from bits of data gathered from old sources.

For six years, until 3038, there were rumors about the Longroam and the surrounding area. Some said it was a machine that stalked any Carja who ventured near. Some said it was a spirit, some a person. But many raiders who set foot in that area were killed, either by arrow or strange machines, so much that the Longroam had a reputation for safe passage for anyone fleeing the Carja. Travelers and those who escaped the Sundom would often find themselves unknowingly shielded and watched over by vigilant eyes.

Yara and MINERVA together were known primarily as the Ghost of the Longroam, though some Carja called the mysterious entity who haunted the place the Devil or Shadow of the Longroam, and some from other tribes called it the Guardian or the Shield of the Longroam.

Yara, with MINERVA’s help, made sure that she was rarely seen, and no raider who came looking for the mysterious killer in the Longroam ever found her. She made little effort to reach out to anyone else in the meantime. She made only one trip back to Plainsong, to tell her clan that she was alive and that the others were dead. Although they entreated her to stay, she refused. She was content with MINERVA’s company, with the stars, with her makeshift home in her mountain observatory.

However, the Sundom changed. With the death of the old king and the ascension of the new, there was no longer a need to patrol the Longroam.

So Yara turned her attention wholly to her work with MINERVA, mapping the sky together. There they remained for the next two years, undisturbed, until MINERVA, more alarmed than Yara had ever seen her, registered an unauthorized use of the Spire – a call that was raising ancient machines. It was soon quieted, however, and though MINERVA had remained secretive about her origins over the years, she broke her silence for the first time – mentioning Project Zero Dawn and insisting on the urgency of finding its Alpha Prime, whose existence MINERVA had only just become aware of.

Though Yara was reluctant to leave the peace of her home, she trusted and loved MINERVA more than she loved their solitude, and she agreed to help MINERVA with a new task: tracking down whoever this Alpha Prime was.

#horizon zero dawn #just a fun exercise because i love creating characters but i haven't really done fandom OCs much #and after tfw i think i have a reasonable chance of being right about some sub-functions buddying up with humans #and i'm putting disabled woman vibes out into the world #hzd oc #mine

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oh-beyond · 8 years ago

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Healer AU - Part 1

A spin off from Baekhyun's fic ‘Saviour’

Doesn’t Chen in this picture lowkey look like Park Hyungsik?

Jongdae’s emotional and professional life hasn’t gone too well lately. He was dealing with depression and a potential career loss. Not even his closest friend Minseok knew about the stress Jongdae was under, being busy with his new love conquer.

Jongdae met Eunbyeol... but she was simply not for him.

Business AU/Fluff/Angst/Maybe more... I’ll see how it goes...

Warning: Mentions of abuse and mental illness.

A/N: So this part just presenting the side story, nothing will happen much, just so you get the idea of who this girl is, and why she will be influential in Chen’s life.

Chen x Eunbyeol OC

Masterlist

Saviour Masterpost

Saviour < Part 12 - Part 13 >

Part 2 >

Summary: Eunbyeol was Saehyo’s school friend, she needed a job and she took your place at the cafe. She wasn’t impressed with Saehyo’s relationship with the big boss Kim Minseok. In fact, she wasn’t impressed with any of the share holders. Not even their most regular customer. Kim Jongdae…

“I just don’t understand how you trust Minseok-ssi this much. Don’t give your all that fast Saehyo. it’s my humble opinion”

“Why are you so bitter? He’s done nothing to make me doubt him”

“I might sound too blunt, but why would a guy like Kim Minseok AKA filthy rich, gorgeous, healthy and young, date Lee Saehyo, the 19 year old university student, middle class, that works in his cafe?”

“I swear if you weren’t my friend...”

“I swear if I didn’t need the job...”

“Eunbyeol~~~ seriously, he is so sweet”

“Yeah... sweet was the word that I was missing in my description of Kim Minseok” added Eunbyeol smirking at her friend.

“Don’t be sarcastic!”

“Fuckboys. All of them. I can smell it from far away”

“Even Jongdae-ssi? Look at him he looks so kind”

“Yeah... just another high elite fuckboy. By the look of him... hmmm I’d say he doesn’t even get satisfied with any regular girl”

“How is so?” asked Saehyo naively and suddenly interested despite Eunbyeol’s lack of experience she tended to know people just by looking at them.

“He has that face, he looks like a spoiled little boy. Most probably likes older women. Yeah I see it”

At that moment Jongdae lifted his head from the documents he was reading, he caught Eunbyeol and Saehyo looking at him, making both girls wince in surprise. He found it weird.

“He saw us”

“Fuck! Now he’s gonna think that we like him or something”

“As if. Everyone knows Minseok owns your ass”

“Then you are fucked Eunbyeol”

Eunbyeol and Saehyo kept whispering at each other as they crouched in the floor.

“Hello?” said a voice at the counter.

Eunbyeol and Saehyo had to raise themselves meeting with Jongdae at the other side of the counter.

“Yes Jongdae-ssi!” said Saehyo casually washing away her embarrassment.

“I need another green tea please”

“Right away”

Jongdae went back to his table gazing Eunbyeol, mysteriously she found it amusing.

Unreadable.

Endaring.

Eunbyeol took the tea and some napkins, she cleared her throat placing the cup on Jongdae’s table. He didn’t lift his head and kept reading his documents.

“Wait!” he exclaimed before Eunbyeol went back.

“Yes?”

“Where is the sugar?”

“But Jongdae-ssi, this is your every day regular and you never have sugar with the tea”

“That’s my problem. What if I feel like having sugar with my tea today?”

“Sure Jongdae-ssi” said Eunbyeol bowing in apologetic manner going back to get him 2 sachets of sugar.

“You brought 2. I want 3″ he confirmed sharply.

“Sure Jongdae-ssi” said Eunbyeol getting a third one.

“It’s white sugar, I like brown sugar. Shouldn’t you ask to begin with?”

“My bad Jongdae-ssi” at this point Eunbyeol was ready to punch his face.

Nonetheless she came back with 3 sachets of brown sugar like he asked “anything else Jongdae-ssi?”

“Mmm, yes. I’d appreciate if you don’t look at me while I’m here. It’s not professional. You don't want me to complaint to Minseok-ssi about your poor customer service skills”

Eunbyeol bowed and apologised going back behind the counter.

“How did it go?”

“I want to kill him Saehyo, Kim Jongdae and I are not going to get along. Ever”

Meanwhile Jongdae tried questioning his own behaviour.

Fascinating.

Unexplainable.

Eunbyeol was just worried about her friend, even though she hated to admit that Minseok was being a gentleman with her, everyday that passed it showed he loved Saehyo. He took her home every night, and wasn’t afraid of PDA in the office, everybody knew Saehyo was the biggest share holder’s girlfriend, the one and only Kim Minseok. She was treated by all the employees already with the respect she deserved, also was the envy of every girl that worked there.

Eunbyeol was just the type to be afraid of men in general, being rich and powerful added to her fear.

She didn’t believe in love. She didn’t believe in men.

In none of them. Even the angelical looking Kim Jongdae. Even if he was the owner of the most eye pleasing lips she’s ever had the pleasure to see. Even when he smiled and made the world seem a better place.

He was just another man. Another obstacle. Another worry.

And a fuckboy.

She hated to admit to herself that she looked at him throughout the day. He almost never sat in his office again, he just stayed there studying some kind of documents looking worried. From time to time he smiled when the other share holders sat with him or when he answered his phone.

Or when he made brief accidental eye contact with her.

She didn’t understand why she was paying close attention to him, he was just another man. Another filthy arrogant rich mama’s boy that had zero responsibilities.

Arrogant bastard that all of a sudden wants sugar with his green tea. Three brown sugar sachets to be precise.

It was when ___ was with him that he’d be more cheerful. They seemed like friends apart from from anything. ___ was very nice and approachable, she also had the power to tame their most regular customer that was determined to not move from the cafe all day long.

“Good morning girls! How are you doing here? Man, I do miss the smell of fresh ground coffee”

“Good morning unni, I miss you” said Saehyo “will you get the regular?”

“Actually today I will be with Jongdae-ssi for just a few minutes, then I’m spending the day with you”

“Thanks unni!” exclaimed Saehyo all excited to finally learn from ___ the art of fine coffee. Minseok was going to be really happy about that.

“You mind taking my coffee to Jongdae-ssi’s table Eunbyeol? I will be right there”

Eunbyeol nodded taking ___’s coffee, Jongdae was as usual consumed in his paper work. She cleared her throat trying to say good morning, but Jongdae took his phone to make a phone call.

How rude.

But why would she care? Better, the less treatment the better.

As she placed the cup on the table, she noticed some sugar spilled around the documents, she moved the folder away and cleaned around to make the table presentable.

A business card fell on the floor. She bent down and went under the table to reach it.

Dr. Ah Seowon

No, it couldn’t be... Dr. Ah Seowon... Eunbyeol’s phycologist was called Ah Seowon. She didn’t think when she took the card in hand turning it around to read that it was indeed an appointment card.

Patient Kim Jongdae, Thursday 25th of October @ 4:30 pm.

Her hands started to shake, she got up from the floor with the card in hand meeting Jongdae’s eyes centimetres away from hers.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

“I-ah I just- it fell”

Jongdae snatched the card out of her hands, pushing her slightly in the process, his eyes filled with anger, his teeth clenched visible enough for her to notice, making her tremble.

He looked menacing and scary. Just like every man... they were all the same the minute you did something they didn’t like.

They were all monsters.

“How dare you little rat look in my things? You can kiss you job goodbye!”

His voice audible to the other employees that were seated at the cafe. ___ and Saehyo were surprised to see Jongdae’s aggressive reaction for a simple card.

“Unni, please help Eunbyeol”

___ run towards Jongdae “it’s alright Jongdae-ssi, she didn’t mean it, we saw her, she was just cleaning and the card fell”

“I want to cancel today’s meeting, I will call you later ___”

Jongdae gathered his papers and all the documents that were spread in the table, glaring at Eunbyeol one last time before taking his leave.

He felt exposed, and by who? That girl... the coffee girl, that insignificant insect.

That girl he wanted to see every morning, he’s never wanted to see any girl in any way other than naked in his bed... but Eunbyeol was different. He wanted to see her in every way, everyday... every minute.

Why?

Maybe because she didn’t fall for him, she didn’t try and seduce him like half of the employees. She didn’t care that he was rich. She had zero makeup on her, she was natural, she was simple, she was real.

She was just simply... different.

She attracted him. In a new way.

Jongdae felt good when he watched her work away, clean around him, serve drinks and cakes. He watched her from the corner of his eye. He watched how she took off her apron in her breaks. How sad he felt. Instantly feeling happy again when she was back after 15 minutes and 2 seconds.

Two seconds late...

Yes he did use the stopwatch sometimes to calculate how long would take her to be back. He sometimes waited for her at the elevator gate, pretending to be waiting for it to get down, just so he could meet her eyes briefly as she bowed at him. Maybe even brush his arm with hers.

And now he felt tiny and exposed.

He hated the feeling. What was this feeling? Was it something like what ___ felt for Baekhyun?

It was killing him not being able to put his finger on why he wanted to have Eunbyeol close. Just that. Have her close, next to him.

He wanted to hear her laugh, he wondered how it would sound. The idea in his head made him instantly draw a smile on his face, despite how deep in shit he was, he imagined it in his ear, and the thought made him happy.

And now he could kiss that thought goodbye because he just sacred her to death.

“Just fire her hyung” whined Jongdae.

“I am not firing my girl’s best friend. Besides you still didn’t tell me what she saw that made you this angry. Saehyo said it was a card. What was it? A picture of Kai’s mom naked?”

“Hyung~~~”

“Man, I don’t get it. Why are you acting so... not yourself? Tell me what’s up? Did you fuck her already? Is that it? Don’t fucking touch Eunbyeol dude, Saehyo is so protective of her! I don’t want to upset her after she took me back”

“Hyung! I did not lay a finger on her- you know what? Forget it”

Minseok knew his dear friend too well... this wasn’t his normal self.

He knew something was up.

But what?

“I don’t want to go to work again, I’ll figure out something”

“Eunbyeol don’t be so petty, you know businessmen, the secrecy and all that” said Saehyo patting on her back.

“I can’t face him again”

“What did you see that he was that upset?”

“Nothing, leave me alone now Saehyo, I don’t want to talk about it” said Eunbyeol taking her bag “I’m going home. See you tomorrow”

“We can take you” said Saehyo trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, as if you could. You know what will happen to me if at home they see someone is driving me. A male presence, even if it’s your boyfriend”

“How can you still be in that house Eunbyeol? When are you going to stand up for you-”

“Shut up Saehyo! Not everyone is as lucky as you. I told you a 1000 times, don’t intrude!” Eunbyeol’s voice got louder.

It was true. Eunbyeol envied Saehyo. The freedom... getting together with the guy she liked. She envied having something like that.

Minseok was just about to enter the cafe to take Saehyo home when he met Eunbyeol, tears already forming in her eyes. She simply bowed and sprinted her way to the elevator to leave.

“Hey baby! What’s with your friend? Is it because of what happened with Jongdae today?”

“It’s complicated oppa”

Eunbyeol lived with her stepfather, stepbrother and her mother. Her weak mother. The same mother that never stood up for her when her husband decided to control their lives. He wasn’t abusive as per say, in the contrary he was loving and took good care of Eunbyeol when she was younger. He simply was controlling and very conservative to a point of madness.

Eunbyeol wasn’t as lucky as Saehyo for sure, she didn’t have the privilege to go to college, not even go to a normal school. She was homeschooled since age 12, luckily she met Saehyo in primary school and they remained friends till this day.

However she wasn’t allowed to talk to her as much as she wanted, or to anyone for that matter, she wasn’t allowed to look pretty, she wasn’t allowed to do anything that normal girls did her age. She lived in a prison.

It was in her 17th birthday when her stepfather suggested to get engaged to his son Bumyong, he was 23 at the time, claiming that it was inappropriate to live under the same roof not really being blood-related, without defining their relationship. And that was her birthday present. Bumyong. She now was engaged. Falling in the same destiny as her mother’s.

One day she escaped from home, but who was she fooling? She knew she had to go back otherwise how would she survive? Where would she go? With no money, no education. She couldn’t even go to the police, she had no pretext, no one abused her, no one treated her bad, and being homeschooled wasn’t a crime. She went back. Bumyong broke her heart when he opened the door, he kissed her and assured her he would try to be a better person for her, he would go to the moon and back to make her happy.

But nothing ever made her happy, she felt empty.

Her only happy moment was walking to the park after the children went home. She loved the swing, it made her feel free, the couple of minutes she had to herself before she could feel Bumyong talking to her from behind, asking if he could join her, he didn’t understand that she needed space, to think, to maybe try and love him back.

Eunbyeol couldn’t really hate Bumyong either, he was loving, caring, but it wasn’t her choice, she never loved him, and now after 2 years there was still no love towards him, just affection. Like a brother she grew up with.

He didn’t understand that sometimes he felt like her prison guard, the man she shared bed with. She was too young to realise that it was wrong, she never wanted him, but his pleading eyes made her give in, consumed in the idea that one day she would love him.

But she never did.

From there Eunbyeol learned that men were nothing but a headache, unnecessary creatures that you need to live with.

Monsters if you made them upset.

Like Bumyong when she talked to the cashier more than he necessary, or if he knew that she sat next to a guy in the bus.

Bumyong was controlling and Eunbyeol couldn’t take it no more.

She was accompanied by Bumyong as per usual to by clothes for her interview. He didn’t want her to work but she threw the biggest tantrum denying him to touch her until he agreed. His father questioned his son’s authority, his manliness even, allowing Eunbyeol to work was an atrocity in his eyes. But Bumyong loved her. He agreed under certain conditions. Never to speak to any guy more than taking orders.

"I’m just going to pee real quick” said Bumyong “mmm, come with me and wait for me at the door”

“Oppa... at the door? Really? You know how many men get in and out all the time?”

“Alright... go back to the car”

“But it’s far, why can’t you just go pee? I’ll be standing right here, nothing will happen”

Bumyong looked right and left, he panicked when he realised how crowded the street really was. Full of shoppers and clothing stores. His heart thumped fast with the idea of anyone looking at Eunbyeol, but he had no other choice but to agree.

“Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone. People are bad”

“Yes oppa they are, go now” said Eunbyeol patting on his back.

He finally went to the public toilet almost running. Eunbyeol shook her head in disbelief, sometimes praising her patience.

She looked around and her eyes landed on a bright sign above a cosmetics store.

Dr. Ah Seowon.

Psychologist.

She took her phone and typed the number before Bumyong came back. She didn’t know why she wanted to share her situation with someone else.

She felt ready.

“Who were you going to call?” she heard Bumyong ask, luckily after saving the number.

“Ah I wanted to call you. What took you so long?”

This was just a couple days ago, so Dr. Seowon was just starting to get to know Eunbyeol, to get her out of her shell was not an easy task. She praised her however in taking the initiative in calling her, building a very interesting patience/doctor relationship. Almost like friends, also trying to convince her, to gather her strength and finally meet in person for a proper visit. But it was almost impossible with Bumyong in her back all the time.

Dr. Seowon wanted Eunbyeol to free herself...

Dr. Seowon... Kim Jongdae’s phycologist.

******

“We are short in milk Eunbyeol, please”

“Why me Saehyo? You go”

“I can’t. Minseok oppa asked me to stay, he needs me”

“Oh sure, he wants to get laid in his office”

“You are mean”

“I’m not going, I can’t carry 10 gallons of milk alone”

“Oh Jongdae-ssi, can I ask you a favour?” said Saehyo as Jongdae approached the counter.

“Sure, anything for my little sister” he replied smiling, avoiding looking at Eunbyeol.

“Can you help Eunbyeol? She needs a strong hand”

Jongdae looked at Eunbyeol puzzled.

“Can you go to the convenience store with her? I’m short in milk, and it’s heavy”

Jongdae nodded, exhaling in defeat “sure” he said almost whispering.

“Come on, go go” said Saehyo pushing Eunbyeol from behind the counter.

Eunbyeol removed her apron and took off her cap, letting her hair down taking Jongdae by surprise. He wasn’t supposed to feel what he just felt.

He wanted to touch her soft looking hair...

But why? Many girls had soft looking hair, he never cared about hair as long as he got in their pants. This wasn’t it... he wanted to run his fingers through her hair right there not caring about anyone.

He walked behind her, he felt his body heat raising. He didn’t even understand why he felt so flustered next to her.

They took the elevator, both trying to push the the button to the ground floor, both forefingers meeting in the way, touching...

Eunbyeol’s cheeks felt hot, she looked elsewhere as she heard Jongdae apologise for touching her finger. It was cute.

Why was he acting like that now? It wasn’t helping when her cheeks felt like burning, probably noticeable by now.

There was a convenience store right across the street. They crossed the street in silence and entered the store in silence.

She took a 5 gallons of milk bottle giving Jongdae a second one, again she brushed her fingers with his in the process. That moment she looked at him and that is when she couldn’t ignore the smile he gave her, making his naturally curled upwards lips accentuate to perfection.

How beautiful was this man?

When she involuntary returned the smile, he cleared his throat heading to the cashier to pay, leaving her in awe.

Jongdae insisted in paying for the milk, going back to the office. Leading her this time.

It was her turn to appreciate him as he walked in front of her. Her eyes stopping at his perfectly filled pants at the back. She found it in herself... the need to keep looking, didn’t feel guilty. She didn’t feel she was doing anything wrong.

She liked it.

It felt nice, the short walk made her forget all her sorrows momentarily.

As they headed back, and before stepping out of the elevator to their floor he stopped her “leave the milk at the cafe and go to my office”

“Ha?”

“Follow me to my office for a minute” he repeated.

Jongade left the bottle at the counter heading to his office, Eunbyeol followed doing the same.

“Saehyo, can you give me a break now? I need to do something”

“Sure girl go ahead”

You knocked the door to Jongdae’s office, he took you by surprise when he opened the door, he was just behind the door, you almost felt his body warmth, his breath.

“Yes Jongdae-ssi”

“About yesterday. I was nice enough not have you fired. Nonetheless I was rude. I apologise”

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t of read the card”

“I would like nothing to get out, I don’t need gossip at the office. Things are awful already the way they are, I don’t need more shit over my head”

“If it makes you feel better, I also see Dr. Seowon, that is why I was surprised. I would of thought that someone like you went to more sophisticated doctors"

“Doctors for rich people sell secrets, and Dr. Seowon won’t do that, she is very professional” he continued "if anything goes out-”

“Are you threatening me?” Eunbyeol’s tone sounded confident, but immediately her confidence vanished. She regretted her tone.

He was right in front of her, her eyes doubled in size, his finger forcing her chin upwards to look to him.

“How old are you little girl?”

“I-I am 19... like Saehyo”

“Hmmm, little girls aged 19 should know that is very impolite to talk like that with someone like me”

“Don’t-touch-me” Eunbyeol regained confidence when she saw his nasty side.

Jongdae was taken aback, this always worked, she was supposed to get the weak knees. Instead he was the one that got them.

She had power over him. A total new experience.

“I said I won’t say anything, now if you’ll excuse me” Eunbyeol proceeded and slammed the door behind her.

Jongdae gulped running his hands over his face, he loosened his tie leaning on the door.

This was the first time any girl has talked to him the way she did. He didn’t understand how he let it pass. Why didn’t he react. Jongdae was weak in front of her. The reason yet to be known.

He slapped his cheeks lightly before going out again, he was headed to the cafe but he saw Eunbyeol just right outside waiting for the elevator nervously tapping her foot on the floor. He went after her getting inside the elevator shoving the 2 employees out. “take the next one!”

“What are you doing!?”

“No one treats me like that little girl, if you aplogise now I might forgive you and not fire you”

“Fire me then! And don’t get that close” exclaimed Eunbyeol landing her hand on the emergency stop button on the elevator wall as she steeped backwards.

They both winced when the elevator stopped violently.

“Just fucking great!”

“It’s your fault”

“Don’t raise your voice at me little girl”

“Stop calling me little girl!”

“Move!” said Jongdae pressing the emergency alarm to call security.

“Are we stuck here?” she asked nervously.

Jongdae didn’t reply, just kept pressing the emergency button.

“Yes?”

“We are stuck in elevator 4 B, 7th floor”

“Alright, we will send someone, but it might take half an hour”

Eunbyeol panicked, she couldn’t be late for home, she faced the elevator wall thinking about Bumyong and her stepdad. Suddenly her whole body trembling, whispering nonsense to herself weeping in terror.

“Hey, hey are you alright?” he asked tapping her shoulder “it’s alright, I mean no biggie, they will come before you know it”

“I can’t- I can’t be late, he will be angry, I can’t” she repeated to herself.

He? Who was he? Who was the one who had this girl shaking?

Jongdae felt enraged and in need to protect you from whoever he was.

Chen took his phone out of his pocket and dialled Dr. Seowon’s phone number. It’s all he could think of.

“Alone in the elvator? And you say it’s the end of her shift?”

“Yes” replied Jongdae.

“Oh dear, Kim Jongdae-ssi, she cannot be seen with you, if her husband finds out she will be in trouble” said Dr. Seowon calmly “just try to calm her down”

Husband

“Husband? She is 19!” exclaimed Jongdae angrily making Eunbyeol more nervous that what she already was.

This time Jongdae caused her panic, he felt like shit, he didn’t want to ever be the reason of her distress.

He hanged the phone and as an impulse he turned her around forcing her on his chest. Her full frame was shaking and her hands soon found the lapels of his blazer to hold on to. Her nose touching his Adams apple.

He wanted to make her feel better, feel safe.

Her vulnerable body pressed against his, her tears wetting his neck. He wanted to protecter her from everything.

From he who she feared.

His arms wrapped around her pressing her closer to his chest.

It was so wrong. The feeling he had that moment. But also so right. The most righteous he’s ever felt.

He felt alive. He felt needed. He felt that he could help this girl. Din’t know how, but he did.

Why?

Because she mattered.

"I will protect you” he whispered on her ear “no one will touch you. Not even him. I promise”

She fainted on his arms.

_______________________

A/N: It will get intense.

Thanks for reading, feedback always welcomed ^_^

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