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mmkin · 7 months

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A Most Willing Queen (Hades x Persephone)

Chapter 2 is now up. Let us all rejoice. It can be found here on AO3 but also on this post under the cut. Enjoy and all feedback/reblogs are very appreciated.

Content Warning - teen safe. Mention of bullying/trauma but still pretty light mood overall.

o0o0o0o

Persephone had gotten pretty buzzed off the martini Hades gave her. Not drunk, but she worried that the nymphs or her mother might see it in her face. It was a nice buzz though, and made the music a bit more tolerable as her friend scolded her for wandering off.

“You know how your mother gets. If you want to wander off, at least take one of us with you!”

Persephone held back a sigh. Sometimes she did. And… well, sometimes she just wanted to be alone. Or to meet new people that her mother hadn’t picked for her.

Like Hades. She had to bite back a smile as she thought of his roguish grin. He wasn't the first person who'd looked at her with desire. But he was the first whose desire had drawn out a definite response from within. Cold as the Underworld was said to be, he looked like the type of person who'd be all too happy to keep her warm, especially since he had flames on his head. And his lips certainly had heated her, even if it'd just been the back of her hand.

His pick-up lines… yeah, they were cheesy, but he was trying, and at least he hadn't tried to impress her by being all boastful, or macho like a lot of men tended to be around attractive women. Plus, he'd listened to the feedback she gave him, which was more than could be said for some people.

She didn't know how she felt about him per se, but she could say that she found him interesting. And yes, attractive. Okay, okay, he was hot, Pun intended. She'd spend more time with him and see how things turned out. It certainly would be a refreshing break from her routine. Maybe there was something about the trope of good girls and bad guys…

o0o0o0o

One disadvantage of being a friend of the God of the Dead was that there was no easy way to reach him. The other gods often liked to mock Hades and his dead realm, but Persephone sometimes wondered if it was just because they didn’t understand or were afraid of the place. Even if gods weren’t mere mortal humans, there were still a few things beyond even mighty Zeus’s understanding.

Toss an overprotective mother and gossipy nymphs into that mix, and it left Persephone wanting Hades's company more than she would have thought. And yes, the nymphs weren't supposed to gossip, but what else were they supposed to do? There was only so much active tending that nature needed, especially with Demeter's power to nourish the earth. So when Mom was away in this land or that, blessing the harvests, Persephone inevitably picked up some juicy stories, whether the nymphs intended her to hear them or not.

Hades was quite lean pickings, though. Jokes and insults about him were plenty, but Persephone could not recall hearing many stories of substance. Hades didn't go on heroic journeys to prove his godhood, grant a boon to some city or tribe, or bring some great innovation to humans. Unlike so many of the other gods, Hades had no grand temples built in his honor. Service to the God of the Dead was a lonely occupation.

“You be a good girl," she heard her mother say. "Ares and Athena are fighting, and their soldiers are just tearing up my fields to feed themselves! You see why I don't like to bring you to Olympus too much. The squabbles of the gods spill over all too often!"

“Yeah, Mom. Don't worry. I have my weaving and gardening," Persephone said. As soon as her mother was gone, the younger goddess wanted to spin around the house and run outside. Not that she was happy about the destruction of her mother's sacred fields, but at least it meant she'd have some freedom for a while.

After quickly peeking around, Persephone slid out of the house, darting into the forest that hugged the north side of her mother's sanctuary. She used her powers to shield herself from the nymphs as she ventured further into the woods. It was quiet, but not completely – there was the singing of birds, the rustle of leaves, and her footsteps. Mom never could seem to understand why Persephone liked being alone sometimes. The Goth phase she went through as a teenager had vexed Demeter greatly, but Persephone had eventually tired of the look.

She hadn't quite let go of her love of some of the Goth aesthetic, though. Bright and cheery colors and fresh flowers certainly could liven up any space, but sometimes she wanted things a little darker. It was more soothing on the eyes, at least for her. Wasn't variety supposed to be the spice of life, after all?

It seemed that her mother was determined to keep her life as bland as possible.

“Damn, you look pretty mopey there. I hope it’s not because of me,” she heard a voice. She gasped and spun around, seeing Hades sitting in a small clearing between the trees, black smoke swirling under and around him as they held him aloft.

“Hades!” she said, her voice quiet, but she was unable to hold back a note of joy. “No, no. Just… my mom being a mom, I guess. Um, how are you?”

“Much better now that I’m with you,” he said with a grin. She smiled back at that. “Are you still interested in more pick-up lines?” he asked.

“Haha! Yes, please.”

“Then pull up a seat.”

She needed no further invitation and made herself comfortable near him. He looked particularly delighted to see her. Not that she hadn't seen it in others. She was the Goddess of Spring, she was supposed to bring joy to other people. But there was something more profound in the way that Hades looked at her as if he was drinking up her presence but trying to not be obvious about it.

“I put a lot of effort into picking the best lines for you. So, here we go…" He cleared his throat, swiping his hand over his head and squaring his shoulders before looking down at her. "If you were a chicken, you'd be impeccable."

She giggled at that.

“If you were words on a page, you would be fine print.”

“Wouldn’t that make me hard to read?” she asked with a teasing smile. The corners of his lips quirked up almost imperceptibly.

“Life without you is like a broken pencil… pointless.”

“You make a fine point.”

He leaned in, enjoying the banter. She felt her heart thud in her chest and almost didn’t hear his next line. “Did the sun come out, or did you just smile at me?”

“If I can bring a little light to your life, I’m glad for it.” This time, she was the one who leaned in, or rather up, as she lifted her chin, looking at him. A few thick wisps of dark smoke curled loosely around her legs and waist.

“I was wondering if you had an extra heart because I just had mine stolen."

“Pretty bold to accuse me of theft,” she shot back gently, her eyes twinkling. He grinned as he leaned down further, and the smoke around her intensified, now curling around her arms.

“I’m learning about dates in history. Want to be one of them?”

“I imagine I’d be a lot more interesting than all these other dates you mention.”

“I would bet my kingdom on it. Though I'm afraid that'd be insulting to someone like you because no one else wants the Underworld."

“You sell yourself short. And so do your brothers. The Underworld serves a valuable function in the world.”

Even though her mother didn’t like to talk about Hades, she did acknowledge the importance of keeping life and death in balance.

“You don’t need to try to upsell me on this, babe. No one else wants it. It’s a dumping place for dead souls. That’s what I rule over, a dead-end.”

She reached out to touch his hand. He looked surprised, but quickly relaxed and placed his other hand on top of hers. “It can’t be easy, being you. Your house is dreary and depressing and no one wants to visit it, and when you do leave it, your brothers and others make fun of you and give you a hard time and then slap the term ‘brotherly affection’ or ‘Oh, I’m just kidding, you’re too sensitive!’ on the bullying they do to you.”

He stared at her for a moment, and she saw something raw and vulnerable in him, an exposed nerve that she’d unwittingly touched in her sincere attempt to be kind to him.

“Jeez. I came up here to see you and hopefully put a bit of light in my day and yours, and things got serious, fast. Baaaaaabe." He blinked and that vulnerability was gone, like a candle being blown out.

“I’m sorry!” She pulled her hand away from him, looking at him with a stricken expression. “I didn’t- I wasn’t- Hey, wait. You’re the one who brought up the Underworld in the first place-”

He squared his shoulders again, and she recognized the macho act he tried to keep up with the other gods. Somewhere between being kind of a douche, and being smarmy. She had to nip this in the bud, fast.

She grabbed his wrist, and he blinked and focused on her. “You don’t need to do that. Don’t try to act like you don’t have emotions. At least, around me. I’m sorry if I said anything that hurt you, it really wasn’t my intention.”

He scoffed quietly, looking away as if it meant nothing to him, but she saw through his act even as he spoke. “You didn’t hurt me,” he said with an almost defiant edge to his voice.

She let it slide, but she maintained her grip on his wrist. “If you don’t like how serious things got, then why don’t we just go back to what we were doing before? The fun banter and all that? How about it… tall, dark, and handsome?”

“You think I’m handsome?” Hades asked skeptically.

“Believe it or not.” She stared at him evenly. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she smiled. “So… are we still on for that date?”

“Date? What date? Oh.” He blinked and grinned. “You name the place and time.”

She paused, feeling a bit of panic creep in. What if she set up something, and then Mom wanted her help with something, or wanted to spend time with her daughter? She blinked and looked up at Hades.

“Is something the matter?” he asked. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Oh Gaea, no! It’s my mom. She's strict about who I hang around with outside of the virgin goddesses or the nymphs. Kinda hard to jot down a date when you have a helicopter parent who monopolizes much of your schedule."

“No need to fret. You want this, and I want this, so we’ll make it happen, all right?” He looked down at the pale purple hand that was hooked around his wrist, and put his other hand on top of hers, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “The problem is, Demeter doesn’t have enough distractions, hm? So I’ll provide some.”

She could tell by his faint, devious grin that he had several things in mind already.

Some might see her behavior as teenage rebellion. But she’d gone past her teens a long time ago, regardless of how youthful she might look. Her mother might praise her for her maturity at times, but never for things that Persephone actually cared about.

“Thank you,” she said. He looked down at her with a wistful expression.

“It's been too long since anyone's thanked me for anything. I know I said it before, but you are a breath of fresh air. So I promise you a date you'll never forget, all right? Just let me take care of things, hmm?"

“Is there anything I should do?” Persephone asked. He lifted his hand, stroking his chin and staring off thoughtfully for a moment.

“Just bring your sweet self," Hades said with a slight purr to his voice. "If you want to pick something nice to wear, I know you'll rock the look, but as I'm sure you know, there are other things I enjoy about you." He punctuated this with a grin.

She laughed quietly and looked down shyly.

“Is that a blush I see?” Hades asked, and she could hear the curiosity and titillation in his voice. “Ohh.” His tone took on a softness she hadn’t imagined anyone was capable of, especially one such as Hades. “Am I making you blush?” he asked in that same soft tone that was having a much stronger effect on her than either of them could have imagined. She felt his finger under her chin, and she let him coax her face upwards.

“Persephone, you’re adorable. And believe me, I don’t mean that in the way you hear it from others. I mean, babe, this is so sweet you’re practically giving me diabetes here, but I mean that in the best way. If anyone’s going to make you blush like that, I’m glad it’s me. It puts a bit of warmth in my cold, dead heart.”

Her blush only deepened at that, and she found herself unable to break free of his gaze. His finger slid along her jaw, and she took in a slow, shuddering inhale.

If Persephone was aware that Hades was entertaining thoughts of kidnapping her, she would have had a hard time deciding if she wanted to stay or run. Without thinking, she reached up to touch his hand, feeling the warm flesh under the cool-toned skin.

Cold, dead heart. Yeah. After thousands of years ruling a place that no other god wanted and scorned by heaven and earth, no wonder Hades would describe himself like that. Her other hand reached out, and it was Hades's turn to become still, watching her and her actions. Her hand came to rest on his solar plexus, and she could feel the beat of his heart.

Well, his heart wasn’t quite dead. Nor was his flesh, if the warmth of his hand or lips were any indication. She drew her hand back.

“So. I’ll go home and pick something for the date, and you’ll come pick me up?” she asked. He blinked as if coming out of a trance before a slow smile came onto his lips.

“Count on it.”

o0o0o0o

Count on it. He’d said these words to her with a calm and collected expression, but inside, his heart was pounding, his pulse racing, his mouth dry. It was hard to not just pick her up and sweep her off, and coax her to put her hands on other parts of his body. He looked down at his hand and wrist. There was no visible discoloration on the skin, but Hades could almost imagine that he saw a soft glow where she had touched him.

The God of the Underworld was many centuries old, but right now he almost felt like a teenage boy, overwhelmed by the maelstrom of emotions that surged within as he watched her walk off. How easy it would be to reach out, extending his arm with smoke so that he could hook it around her and pull her back.

“No, no. You got this. Don’t blow this,” Hades whispered to himself. “She digs you. She thinks you’re funny and she wants to see you again. Patience, patience.”

I don’t want to be patient, damnit, Hades growled to himself. For too long he’d been lonely. For far too long he’d been relegated to life in the shadows. For far too fucking long he’d watched as others – god or mortal – made happy homes for themselves with loving and supportive partners who made even a shabby hovel seem like a mansion because of the warmth they provided.

For far too goddamn fucking long he ruled from a cold and lonely throne, hearing the wailing of human souls, going to an empty bed when he needed rest. No one to unload his sorrows upon, no one to laugh with, no one to offer him comfort on these long days and longer nights. Not that there were nights in the Underworld, but the point remained the same.

He sighed. Would Persephone even want to live in the Underworld with him?

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” he muttered to himself. He hadn’t even had a first date with her! Speaking of…

“Pain! Panic!" he growled, summoning his subordinates. He had a fair amount of demons and servants in the Underworld, but for some reason, he couldn't fathom, these two were near and dear to his heart, though no one – not even Pain or Panic themselves – would ever guess that. "I have some errands for you..."

#writing #strawberrycatbeans #villain gets the girl #fanfiction #hades #persephone #hades and persephone #hades x persephone #hades/persephone #disney's hades #disney hades

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thetowerr · 2 years

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WHEN&WHERE: 11:11pm, Some dive bar -ish pub that’s not One Man’s Trash because Boone doesn’t want to get jumped. WHO: Open to all!

He was in a pub, sipping on a brewski, scrolling through his phone becoming a victim to the void. This was how Boone Hannigan unwound after a day of hard work.

After a job was completed, the man often found himself too full of adrenaline just to go home. He needed something to take the edge off, a beer usually did the trick. If one didn’t then he tried a second. Then a third. Fourth. Fifth. So on and so forth. Sometimes, when he found himself in an establishment like this one, he’d be chatty. Despite the neck tattoo, Boone could be a friendly guy and strike up a conversation with anyone who’d bite. Sometimes, it was an old barfly, they’d shoot the shit and Boone would wonder if he was getting a glimpse into his future. Other times, it would be a pretty, little thing and Boone would wonder something similar.

However, tonight was not one of those nights.

Boone was not looking to make friends of any kind. All he wanted was to sit at the bar, drink his beers, like a couple thirst traps on Instagram, chain smoke half a pack and then go the fuck home.

Just as easy as Boone could make a friend, he could make an enemy. When the empty seat beside him was claimed with eager hands, when the stool squeaked as it was being dragged away, Boone’s head shifted towards them. He barely looked at the fellow patron, in fact, he didn’t at all. His eyes were still glued to his phone, his fingers double tapping the screen, and a heart appeared in between a pair of tits.

Even so, Boone couldn’t help but be an asshole.

“Yo,” he began, “You’re not gonna ask if its taken?”

#boone is the polite police now i guess #i dont know #lf.starter #tw: douche baggery

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thecreaturecodex · 2 years

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Arkan Sonney

Image © Traci Shepherd, accessed at Arcane Beasts and Critters here

[A Manx fairy creature, the arkan sonney was originally described as a white pig, but the name is used to refer to hedgehogs in the modern day, which is cute. It’s said to be good luck to see one, namely that you’ll always have a silver coin on hand if you do, which inspired their boon, bane and general connection to silver in the flavor text. I could see a 1st level module centered around finding one of these guys and convincing it to help the party fight a werewolf plaguing the community.]

Arkan Sonney CR ½ NG Fey This tiny creature appears to be a white hedgehog with butterfly wings and tiny hoofed digits. It flitters about playfully, its spines glinting with silver.

An arkan sonney is a benevolent fey creature with aspects of hedgehogs and pigs. They live in hedgerows and hills, and feed primarily on poisonous plants and venomous animals. A lack of toads, vipers and spiders may be the only sign of an arkan sonney’s presence, as they are shy of humans and try to remain hidden. They may allow themselves to be sought out by children or kind souls, and play games with them such as hide-and-seek.

The reason an arkan sonney is so nervous around humans has much to do with its ties to silver. Silver infuses their quills and drips from their saliva, and killing and burning an arkan sonney will yield fully half of its weight in silver. Most arkan sonneys are between ten and twenty pounds as an adult. This is something of killing a golden goose, however, as an arkan sonney can silver weapons while alive (useful for fighting lycanthropes and devils) and give a blessing of silver to those it favors.

Arkan Sonney Boons and Banes (CL 2nd, DC 12) An arkan sonney is a kind soul, and may reward a child or someone in poverty with a blessing of endless silver, on the condition that they keep it a secret and do good deeds. If someone tries to force them to give this blessing, they give their bane instead. Boon: You gain a single silver piece every day. This silver piece appears in a shoe, pocket, purse, or other item kept on your possession or nearby every midnight. This boon is permanent, unless the creature gains an evil alignment, in which case it ceases. Bane: One gold coin in your possession turns into a silver piece every day. This coin must be in your pocket, purse, or otherwise in your direct possession or immediate belongings, and the transformation occurs at midnight. This bane is permanent until removed.

Arkan Sonney CR ½ XP 200 NG Tiny fey Init +1; Senses low-light vision, Perception +4 Defense AC 14, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+2 size, +1 Dex, +1 natural) hp 7 (2d6) Fort +0, Ref +4, Will +3 DR 2/cold iron; Immune poison Defensive Abilities prickly Offense Speed 20 ft., fly 40 ft. (good) Melee bite +1 (1d2-4) Space 1 ft.; Reach 0 ft. Special Attacks silver coating Spell-like Abilities CL 2nd, concentration +3 3/day—dancing lights, daze (DC 11), detect poison 1/day—faerie fire, magic missile, vanish Statistics Str 3, Dex 13, Con 10, Int 11, Wis 10, Cha 12 Base Atk +1; CMB +0; CMD 6 (10 vs. trip) Feats Stealthy Skills Acrobatics +5 (-1 when jumping), Bluff +6, Diplomacy +6, Escape Artist +8, Fly +13, Knowledge (nature) +5, Perception +4, Stealth +15 Languages Common, Sylvan Ecology Environment cold and temperate hills Organization solitary, pair or array (3-6) Treasure special (see above) Special Abilities Prickles (Ex) A creature attempting to grapple, or successfully grappling, an arkan sonney takes 1 point of piercing damage a round. Silver Coating (Su) An arkan sonney’s natural weapons, including its prickles, overcome damage reduction as if they were silver, and deal an extra 1d6 points of damage to creatures with DR/silver. Three times a day as a standard action, an arkan sonney may touch a single melee weapon or twenty pieces of ammunition and allow them to overcome DR/silver for 1 hour.

#arkan sonney #manx folklore #fey #hedgehog #cute #pathfinder 1e #world tour

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felswritingfire · 3 years

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(Hades) Gods x Shade! Reader

No matter how much you try, mortality will always catch up to those who are not of gods. Even the most blinded of them learn this eventually. You take your death with grace, choosing to go and explore this new world as soon as Lord Hades permits you to go, impressed by how little you complain and demand. You are one of the brighter parts of his day (night?).

You drift along, catching certain snippets of other Shade’s conversations as you wander aimlessly. You notice a crack in the wall; deciding to muster up your courage, you slip through it to find yourself in the glowing green torches of Tartarus. With what little you have, you hold it close to your translucent body and push forward.

You’re quick to notice the large glowing ball with an oddly familiar symbol floating in the middle of it. You take your time circling it, feeling compelled to touch it. When you do, a beam of light comes slicing through the dreary air to reveal a mighty god who stares down at you at your shocked form...

Zues

Cause of Death: Lightning Strike

Zues is confused when he sees you. He’s even more confused when you start screaming at him, waving your hands about and threatening to fight him yourself.

“You fucker! You killed me!”

He raises a brow. “I think I’d remember if I killed you.” You flipped up your middle finger at him and his eyebrows drew into an angry v. “How rude! I am the God of Gods-”

“I don’t care!”

Zagreus had to high tail it to you before Zues tried to smite you (possibly a second time).

Suffice to say you hoped you’d never bump into that boon again. And you didn’t. No, the God of Gods and Lightning himself decided that he’d have to make a house call himself (Hades was not pleased when a bolt of lightning came crashing down and left a scorched black ring in the carpet).

He picks you out quickly and you try to zoom out of the lobby until he catches you by the back of your robe and then you’re swinging and yelling profanities at him. He’s kinda amused now instead of angry- you’re just so weak and tiny compared to him. It’s hysterical- ow! Did you just bite him?

After you and Zues finish your little “spitting match”- Hades kicks Zeus out and you're forced to hang out in Tartarus for a bit (“but I’m just a simple fisherfolk! I can’t fight anything!” You cry, Hades does not spare you a look as you're dragged out by Meg).

You think maybe that’s the end until you’re approached by a… a squirrel? You almost punt it when his voice spills out as he shoots into a long prattle about how much of a jerk Hades was and how he couldn’t handle someone as grandiose as him appearing before him. Threatened him as a god or something- you were busy trying to figure out how you were going to kill this guy and make sure he stayed dead.

Turns out, after the two of you chattered (argued) a bit about whether or not he actually killed you, Zeus had some neat stories about the gods.

While you were interested in his children’s and brothers’ and sisters’ stories, he was interested in your stories of the mundane. A simple fisherfolk? That was a word? You just fished and traded? Amazing! Tell him more!

After this particular interaction between the two of you, Zeus really ended liking you. Maybe a little too much, but, aw well, it wasn’t everyday a mortal soul had the balls to argue with him for something he doesn’t remember doing (he probably did. Probably. Most likely). He swore that he’d come and see you everyday as he sat on your shoulder as a squirrel, going on and on about how you should feel blessed to be praised by one such as he. You were about to throw him until a giant hand came out and grabbed him (seemed you drifted too close to Lord Hades’ desk), the hulking god flinging him out of a portal.

He continues to pop up and bother you and, to be honest, he’s kinda growing on you. Also, I’m gonna be frank and lay it out that, if he likes you enough, he’s probs gonna want to smash, especially if you lean more towards the feminine side (he’s fucking AWFUL). It’s up to you if you wanna indulge that or not, I don’t recommend it, but you can if you really want to.

We’re going with the option you don’t smash- he’ll be salty at you for a whole ass day before he comes back the one after that as a rat (Hades kept finding out his forms that he used to sneak in so it was an ever constant menagerie of appearances to keep up the disguise) and is like: “I thought you would miss me too much so I came back before you could even complain.”

Zag likes to watch the two of you interact because he finds it absolutely fascinating. It’s like watching… He doesn’t know what it’s like but he’s having a blast as you roast his uncle to bits. It really helps him out when he’s feeling a bit down after failing getting out one too many times.

When you first get Zeus an Ambrosia, he thinks it’s poison and then he gets all prideful because of course you would give him an offering, he was the strongest of all the gods! Him and him alone!

“Silly, mortal, you cannot poison me! I am a god.”

You squint your eyes at him before you huff and pull the bottle closer to you. “Fine, whatever, I’ll just give it to Zagreus- or better yet, Hades if you don’t want it.”

“No! No! I want it! Give it to me! It’s mine!”

During this time, he’s actually experiencing some purer emotions in life- he’s genuinely giddy that you got him the Ambrosia and asks how you got it. You hold up a makeshift fishing rod and grin at him, telling him you snatched it from some nasty shades before you wandered back down to Tartarus.

His gift to you is a little lightning pin that, when you're in danger, will send a nasty bolt of lightning down on your enemies. You wonder what good it’ll do since you’re dead already, but shrug and accept it, thinking that he looks years younger and friendler when his smile isn’t packed full of ego and pride.

Poseidon

Cause of Death: Drowning

Poseidon, Lord of the Oceans, Earthquakes, and many other things, is simply- how do you say? Amused? It’s the best way to describe it at least. Of course he was mostly surprised when he appeared expecting the Little Hades to be waiting for him just to meet a Little Shade in his place.

“Why, hello there, Little Shade! You wouldn’t happen to know where the Little Hades is, would you?”

You shake your head, he doesn’t miss the way you nervously play with your hands, drifting back as some of his droplets float close to you.

He laughs at your simple reply. “Shy one aren’t you?” He leans closer to you, squinting and running a hand through his beard while he hummed.

You fight the urge to take a step back, the smell of salt water making your stomach churn.

His eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep breath. He takes a moment before he opens his eyes again and a look of understanding flashes across his eyes. “You drowned. Didn’t you?”

You stare up at him, eyes round and glassy. You nod.

Before your conversation can go any further, Zagreus comes running through the window, surprised to see his Uncle talking to a Shade (you look so scared- he hopes that you aren’t being bullied). You’re quick to take your leave bowing to both and passing the boon to the Prince before you scurry away into the cover of the other Shades.

He hums to himself, a cryptid smile on his face as his eyes follow after you. Such a strange little thing you were- he wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

It takes a bit, but he does happen to see you again, by peaking through a fountain in a fountain room in the Underworld. He spies you trying to poke at the water that he happened to choose, but jumping back each time. You face scrunched up into one of pure frustration. He asks if you’re doing alright there, Little Shade? Causing you to flash out of existence for a moment before settling back down and looking into the pool with wide eyes. Posiedon almost busts a gut with how hard he’s laughing and you huff telling him that it wasn’t funny.

He says otherwise, but asks what you’re doing. When your face bursts into a large blush you mumble something that he doesn’t quite catch and he’s left with more questions than answers as you take the chance to phase out of the chamber when Zag walks in and steals his Uncle’s attention for a split second. He furrows his brow before asking his nephew about you, which Zag, surprisingly, supplies rather quickly, seeing as the two of you talk a lot: apparently you’re deathly afraid of water after you were thrown into the ocean by your supposed best friend. The memories of the waves crushing you deeper and deeper beneath them sticking with you even in death. So, you were trying to curb that phobia. Posiedon nods, letting the words sink in before he offers the Little Hades a thumbs up and says he’ll help with that.

The next time you see the god, he’s eager to call you over and explain that he’s figured out what you were doing last time and offers to let you mess with some of the drops of water that follow him wherever he goes. You stare at them, eyebrows furrowed and looking just as sick as a shade could look. Yet, you still nod your head and hold out a shaky hand. He smiles at you, praising you for your courage and flicks one towards you; it floats gently before it rests serenely on your palm, allowing you to feel the cool sensation of the droplet. You marvel at it, still shaking with an anxiety before you nod. He pulls it away, it shoots back to rest next to his head and you thank him for going out of his way to help you and ease your fears.

He remarks that you should fear the water out of respect: it’s unpredictable, terrifying in it’s own right- vast and, seemingly, never ending, what could possibly be more terrifying than the unknown, hm? He continues to say that you should also hold onto a bit of bravery at the very least, for untold treasures come from there for those who look.

After that conversation, Poseidon makes it a habit of having you hold onto his droplets of water, making them slightly bigger each time for you to get used to them.

By the time you’re able to touch them freely without experiencing crippling fear- the droplets are almost the size of you. Poseidon praises you the more you grow out of your fear.

You do eventually open up to him about how you died and he never tells you that he already knew. Just allows you to talk in a soft voice as you recall it. It’s a nice bonding experience for the both of you and Posideon decides that you’re his favorite Shade and he’ll treasure you for as long as you exist.

The first time you get him a bottle of Ambrosia, you come to him shivering and sopping wet. He’s confused and concerned as he hovers to you.

“What happened to you, Little Shade? Are you alright?”

It takes you a moment to be able to speak. “I- I found a bottle of Ambrosia. I thought-” you take a deep breath, holding out the bottle with both hands- “I thought you’d like it.”

It’s one of his prized possessions now, he takes little sips of it once in a while, but other than that it remains as one of his most precious memories. He’s very attached to you at this point and you’ll forever have his blessing. His gift to you, aside from the undying loyalty, is a shell necklace, if you ever need him- you only need to whisper his name to it and he’ll appear in an instant.

Athena

Cause of Death: Exhaustion

Athena had been prepared to meet with Zagreus- not a curious shade staring back up at her with all the relevance of one of her worshippers.

“What business do you have with me?”

She raises her brow at your gobsmacked expression, watching as you screw your face up before bowing. “Apologies, m’lady, I only happened to bump into your…” you look at where it glows, furrowing your eyebrow, “your orb?”

“Boon.”

You nod your head in understanding before bowing your head again. “Again, my sincerest apologies.”

Luckily, she didn’t smite you, instead asking the question of how you were even talking to her. Getting a shrug from you, you say that maybe it’s because you worshipped her (unofficially, you were never able to make it up to her shrine much to your disappointment) when you were alive- maybe a deeper bond is there compared to someone who had never prayed to her for her protection and guidance.

When she hears this, she’s very interested, pressing you to elaborate further when the Young Prince comes jogging out of the glowing window, waving to you. You slink away, passing the boon to him and bowing to her once again before you disappear into the mass of Shades that choose to wander their new home as well.

After the conversation, you had caught the Goddess’ attention, planting a desire in her to see you again. Even going as far as to write a letter to ask her uncle for a council with you after a week passed of her placing her boon in Tartarus so that maybe you would drift too close to it once again. But each time only the little prince would find them (which she was fine with, but it still left such an unflattering taste of defeat on her tongue each time it wasn’t you). She figured it would be a moot point to send the letter, but it was worth a try.

But she decided to place her boon down once more before she sent it out. Just to try. And this time it worked.

You were the one she saw and she was absolutely delighted- not that she showed it, choosing to keep her stoic and sharp expression. You greet her in a similar way before: awed before bowing your head to her. You continue to go on about how you're happy to see her again and, despite how little you had been buried with, you hoped that she would take this- a broken sword, despite the worn hilt and the deep scars the littered what was left of the flat of the balde; it was still polished (at least what was left of it)- as a proper offering to her for all she had done in your life- even if it truly wasn’t all her doings.

She takes the sword in her hand, holding it high, her eyes shining as she studies it: truly, it was a warrior’s blade. She watches as the history and memories flash in the smooth iron. She remarks that it is a remarkable offering, but she cannot accept it. It feels wrong taking a weapon of a warrior such as yourself.

You smile as her, shaking your head, urging her to take it, for you didn’t need that blade in this afterlife. You had already fought your battles, killing the man who you had been battling with and quelling the rage that had followed you since you were a child for revenge. Eventually, dying from the strain of the fight with a feeling of contentedness.

Athena raises her brow, remarking how that sounded more along the lines of Ares rather than her.

You nod, but say that you couldn’t help but desire her help for she was the goddess attached to your favorite animal. She had to fight the urge to laugh, a shaky smile slipping through as she nods at you. Such a silly thing you are. She decides that she’ll take the sword as a reminder of you, no matter where you should go now. She also decides that you were forming a rather soft cradle in her heart.

After this, she is quick to ask Zagreus about you every chance she gets- not that he minds too much, he tells her about how you’ve been helping him train and you’ve even told him about your life when you were alive (“a general, can you believe that? They’re so young!” Zagreus says as he shows her the new move you taught him). She’s only the slightest bit miffed at hearing that you and Achilles have begun to form a sweet friendship. She’s pleased to hear that his father has been trying to barter with you to get you into Elysium, though she’s a tad confused on the reason you refuse to.

She asks you about it one day and you say that it would take longer to see her and you would prefer to avoid that. It was the only time the goddess has ever had to fight down a blush.

When you get her a bottle of Ambrosia, she’s in pure awe at the huge bottle.

“How did you get one this big?”

You lean against the new sword you managed to get your hands on- something simple and obviously used- you offer her a lopsided grin. “Well, not just any Ambrosia would work, so I decided to try my luck with Lord Theseus and, The Great Bull, Asterius. Took me a couple of tries but I managed to beat them and snag it.”

Athena smiles warmly at it, telling you that she’ll treasure it and think of you every time she takes a drink of it. She realizes in that moment just how important you had become to her, never feeling this… soft for a mortal soul in her life. Her gift to you is a shield and a new sword: the shield bares her symbol of an owl while the sword was ornate with a divine glow. She promises that no matter what they’ll protect you and so will she, you only need to call out her name.

Aphrodite

Cause of Death: A Broken Heart

When the Goddess of Love first sees you- she thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous (of course not as gorgeous as her). The sad look in your eye and the slight frown that rests on your lips makes her almost fall in love right then and there.

“Hello, little one- do you know where the little godling is?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, Lady Aphrodite. I know not where he is.”

She raises her brows, a smile on her face. “How did you know I was Aphrodite, my dear?”

You look up at her, a sudden glint in your eyes has her yearning to see it once again. “No one else could be so breathtaking, my Lady.”

Oh. Oh, she likes you.

She chooses to chatter away with you- despite you mostly listening, adding little things here and there, she feels a strange sense of fullness, like she just ate a full and warm meal for the first time in a very long time, by the time Zagreus arrives. You bid your farewell and she can’t help but follow you with her gaze as your transparent form blends in with the other Shades.

Aphrodite is thrilled the next time she runs into you- or rather you run into her boon. She missed the melancholy look in your eyes, she also doesn’t miss the fact that you’ve come bearing gifts this time: an assortment of colorful flowers rests in your arms and you offer it to her. That glint coming and going like a shooting star as she accepts the offering, holding it up to her nose to take in their sweet scent. How sweet were you to hand her something so delicate.

She asks you where you got them and you remark that you made your way up to Elysium. She’s surprised to hear as such- you didn’t seem like the warrior type. You shake your head, your eyes sweeping low. You weren’t a warrior, far from it- a simple florist if anything. You just drifted until you made it up there and plucked some flowers to make bouquets. You mumble that maybe you’ll be more useful in death.

She tilts her head at the comment, beginning to ask until Zagreus is jogging up to the both of you and it was time for you to leave. She’s a tad annoyed, but reminds herself that the little godling didn’t know- simply trying to break out of this dreary place he calls home and see Olympus in all its glory. She’ll just ask next time.

You gave her another bouquet, this one more beautiful than the last, when she gets the chance to ask you her question. Your eyes pool with a mournful look as you gaze up at her, your hand resting over the place where your heart used to beat as you look to the ground. You explain that you were young when you were wed- just as you were young when you died. You were married off to someone you did not love- someone awful, vile, who beat you down daily just to build you back up so they could laugh when they toppled you over once again. You remark about how you could feel yourself dying little by little, your delicate heart bleeding as your want for life began to dwindle away. You grew sick and you would sit by the window day in and day out, staring out and wondering what your life could have been if you were married to someone you loved. A ghost of a smile blooms on your lips as you look up at her, that glint she oh-so loved twinkling in your eye as you say that you did not die in as much loneliness and pain as you could have; having been making a bouquet dedicated just to her love and sweetness: your Lady Aphrodite who you love, ever so much.

She’s shocked when she realizes the tears that drip down her cheeks, her hand coming to caress your cheek (really your head, she was hulking compared to your small form) with her fingertips. She comments that she would accept every bouquet you made and treasure each flower like it was the one you made for her with your last breaths in the living world.

After that interaction, she comes down a lot more, asking Zagreus if he could bring along her darling florist so that she could talk to you. He always obliges, loving to see the two of you chatter about (well, her chatter about, you usually just listened with a smile on your face as you used the flowers you had plucked into flower crowns for him and Lady Aphrodite). You two become a sort of comfort for him when he’s getting frustrated: seeing your usually melancholy demeanor light up as soon as the goddess appears and in turn the goddess becomes something less vain and more gentle as she speaks to you.

At some point, you’ll probably meet Ares himself- the two never that far from each other, also she adores you, so it only makes sense for you to meet him. He’s honestly a tad unimpressed when you first meet, but when he hears about the heart ache you faced he gains a sense of respect for you, remarking that love is a battle in and of itself and you fought valiantly to keep your ability to love freely (Aphrodite might convince you to have a threesome, I’m not gonna lie, she’s attracted to you on a deep level and she has her trysts with Ares- it’s perfect in her eyes. Though she won’t push you if you don’t desire it).

When you first get her Ambrosia, she’s flabbergasted before it turns into worry for how you got it and the potential danger you were in.

She takes the bottle of gold liquid and the flowers that you had so carefully arranged. Her attention, though, is focused on the said bottle of Ambrosia. “My Darling Florist, how did you get this?” Before you can answer she shoots into a flurry of questions. “Are you alright? Did anything catch you? Hurt you? You don’t seem hurt. Oooh-�� she puffs her cheeks out, her gaze sharp- “why did you get me this? It’s dangerous!”

You wait for her to calm down. “I apologize for making you worry, but I simply snuck around and grabbed it from some witches- they didn’t even notice me. And I-” you tap your fingers together, a blush blooming across your face as you look away from the goddess and she decides that she craves seeing that expression on you again- “I thought that you deserved it. It’s a much better offering than my silly bouquets.”

Well, aside from the ‘silly bouquets’ comment (which she corrects you on very quickly), she’s absolutely flattered and it might be the final nail in the coffin that has her falling for you, the little shade in front of her. She decides that you hold a piece of her heart in your translucent hands, though she chooses to keep that information to herself.

Her gift to you is a hairpin that matches hers, though if you don’t have enough hair- she says, you can always pin it to your robe. It’s a blatant claim on her part, but it also helps ease the residual heartache that followed you into death. And, hopefully (a personal hope of her), each time you look at it, you’d fall deeper and deeper in love with her as well.

Artemis

Cause of Death: Arrow to the Heart

She’s confused when she sees you, quick to voice her confusion as well. Also depending on if you're more feminine or masculine (and I don’t mean woman or man, I just mean how you present yourself), she will treat you differently depending. So, for now, we’re gonna go with the more “feminine” option:

“Who’re you?”

You bow. “An honor to meet you, Lady Artemis, I seem to have bumped into that orb on accident. Wasn’t sure what it did and the curiosity got the better of me.”

She hums, she perks when she notices your bow. “You’re a hunter?”

You smile, holding it out to her. “Yes, indeed, my Lady- I prayed to you a lot.” You laughed, adding. “Hoped to join your hunters when I was young.”

She’s quite happy to hear that and begins to chatter along with you. For some reason feeling oddly at ease around you. It’s probably because you were a fellow hunter but she simply can’t help the way she grows an odd sort of… adoration? Something like that, she thinks- for you. She almost laments the fact when Zagreus comes to get the boon.

You nod to him, biding your farewell to the Goddess and passing the boon to the Prince. She doesn’t miss how Zagreus’ eyes shine as you walk away. She almost comments on it but bites her tongue, wanting to observe the prince and the dreamy look that drifts over his features, even as you disappear.

The next time the two of you meet, she asks if she can see you in action. You agree and search up ahead to find something to demonstrate your skills on. You’re quick to find a few Numbskulls. She watches as you take a deep breath, your eyes narrowing on your unassuming targets and your footsteps become silent as you skirt closer to them. You nock an arrow, never looking away. Her eyes gleam with thrumming adrenaline at the way the muscles in your arms tense as you draw the string back. The low groan of the wood barely above a whisper as you wait for them to line up. You hold your breath, releasing the arrow- it goes through all three of them, making them break into dust in a consecutive line, a harrowing scream being wretched from them as they fade from existence. You release the breath you were holding and stand, sending a smile to the young goddess whose eyes shine with stars.

She praises you for your amazing skill and sings of your prowess. You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you argued that you were but a simple bow folk in your living life. Nothing more, nothing less.

She begs to differ! That type of skill only belongs to those of her highest ranking huntresses! She continues to gush about you until Zag comes up and, once again, greets the both of you. That dreamy look coming over his face as he looks at you. She watches as you once again disappear into Tartarus, this time though, after you’re gone, she turns to her cousin and shoots into a tangent about why he had never told her about you before and where did you come from? She has to know!

He answers all of her questions to the best of his abilities but there are even some he doesn’t know about, for example: how you died.

Artemis accepts this and decides that she’ll just ask you the next time the two of you meet.

And, true to her word, she does. She asks you point blank and you can’t help but be slightly taken aback. You laugh softly, leaning on your bow as you begin to recount that you were traversing her forest, as you had done many times before, and noticed fresh foot prints of man. You decided that it would be a good idea to look and you found hunters trying to kill her Golden Stag. You had dove in as quickly as you could, shooting one- the arrow sailing in a clean arch through his wrist before he could let loose his arrow. But as you went to nock another arrow- a searing pain in your chest and heart. You looked down to see blood pooling around your robes, dying the olive green of your cloak a wine red. You remember the last thing you saw was the Golden Stag running away. You smiled telling her that you were happy he got away- you don’t know what you’d do if he had been captured despite your effort.

Artemis suddenly remembers that day: her stag rushing to her and urging her to follow him- he bounded through the forest, frantic and panicked. When they got to a clearing, she was quick to notice the blood and the drag marks of a body. Her stag pressed his nose to the ground sniffing at the pool of blood, his eyes watering and bulbous tears slid down his muzzle. It suddenly made sense. You were the one he was mourning for.

She couldn’t help but grab your hands, resting her forehead against the back of them; thanking you for protecting her stag when she couldn’t. You smile at her, bowing your head to her and thanking her for the countless hunts she went on with you. You pull your hands away from her and hold out your bow to her. She asks what you think you're doing in a watery voice and you say it’s an offering. You couldn’t give much when you were alive and you still can’t give much now, but, this bow- it shall treat her right.

She sniffles as she takes it, trying to hold in tears. She vows to treasure it for all of time as she admires the worn wood.

That day, the two of you became closer as comrades, she would actively come down to say hi to you (and encourage Zagreus to take the leap and court you after she learned of his growing affections for you). The two of you would talk about everything you could think of, explaining how your hunting styles differed or how you could set a trap easier. She had realized that she had never felt this carefree with anyone before. She felt like a child. It felt nice.

When you snag her a bottle of Ambrosia- she’s swaddled in a whirlwind of emotions.

“You… You got this for me?” She asks as she takes the bottle of golden liquid.

You nod, that gentle smiling spreading across your face. “Of course. You had helped me so many times- it is only fair, my Lady-”

“Artemis-” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles- “call me Artemis, my friend.”

She finds you to be a perfect friend- a breath of fresh air from home. She may not feel any romantic feelings towards you, but she still holds you in a dear place in her heart. Her gift to you is a new bow and quiver that will never run out of arrows. The bow is enchanted and you’ll never have to fear it breaking for it will protect you for as long as you exist- in this realm or another.

Ares

Cause of Death: Blood Loss

When Ares first sees you, he is… well- he’s impressed that you stumbled upon his boon, but at the same time… He’s a tad miffed? That you found it?

At the very least he’s condescending as all hell about it:

“What is this? A little lamb came to beg me for power? How foolish. No matter how hard you struggle you will never be much more than some little shade.”

“Ah, sorry, my Lord! Didn’t mean to bump into it!” You hold up the basket in your translucent arms, “I wanted to see if I could find some new ingredients to bake with! I do oh-so miss it, sir.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

He ends up allowing you to chatter on with him despite his obvious judgement on your, what he calls, “soft mortal hobby” until Zagreus comes to do his daily try of breaking out from the Underworld.

As he watches you drift away (after passing the boon and giving words of good luck to the Prince, who happily takes it), he kinda hopes to see you again

And see you again he does! He literally sees you the next day- night? Whatever, he’s never sure when he drops a boon in there- it’s damn dark-

He’s presented with a basket of treats and your gleeful greeting as you chatter that you found ingredients to make some Baklava and you thought that, maybe, he’d like to try it?

He smiles- cruel and sharp- and asks if you truly think that this is a fit offering for a god such as himself?

You shrug, saying he doesn’t have to eat it if he doesn’t want to

He laughs and takes it and you two are off chattering again: him regaling you with his war stories and you of the ingredients you had (somehow) found down here until Zag shows up, once again, the boon is passed to him (this time along with a slice of the delicious, warm Baklava. Which, he’s confused on what it is but he finds out very quickly that it’s his favorite treat).

The two of you talk a lot, which Ares is pleasantly surprised about, usually he’s the scorn of everyone- not that he cares, it causes conflict and he likes that. But you’re so calm and sweet that he just can’t get a rise out of you. Which, on one hand, pisses him off to no end, but, on the other, it’s such a nice change of pace for him. He’s used to the bloodshed and animosity of battlefields- the iron tinged air that follows after the warriors that traverse those fields. And yet, here you are: a shade that always has a treat for him when you run into him and the smell of warm sweetness wafting after you.

So when he learned exactly how you died- he was absolutely floored.

“How did you die, little baker?” He asked one day, fiddling with his knife, tilting it discreetly so that your reflection was in it.

“Oh!” You smiled sheepishly, glancing away from him and placing the bag of flour (how did you even get that? He’d have to ask you next) back into your basket. “Well- you see, I bled out.”

He raised his eyebrow, suddenly very interested. “How? You’re so…” he tilted his head and flipped his knife so that the blade pointed at him and the hilt pointed at you, he poked your arm with said hilt. “Soft.”

“Well…”

You explain that you had a little brother who had a nasty habit of getting into trouble- he was a good person, just made foolish choices- and this time, it had cost you your life. He had pissed off the wrong person and, well, when the man had attempted to grab your brother when the two of you were out walking the stalls on your break- you did the only thing you could think of: you fought.

Of course it went horribly, you’ve never been in a fight before then and, despite all the work you did with dough, it didn’t help much when the man pulled out a knife and dug it straight into your gut. But, you don’t mind too much- your brother’s alive and well and, from what you understand from asking Lord Hades, he had started to be more aware of himself and who he angered. Which made you super happy and proud of him!

Ares can’t help but feel some sort of pity for you. So much life to be taken so quickly and placed in- wait. Why weren’t you in Elysium?

You’re incredibly confused when Ares suddenly disappears (Aphrodite appearing in his place in the blink of an eye- she greets you happily and asks if you have any of Baklava to share today. You do not but you do have some Loukoumades if she wanted some. She did). You’re even more confused when the Underworld shakes and angry yelling fills the entirety of it for a solid ten minutes before all goes back to normal.

You tell Ares about it the next day and he simply hums. Keeping it to himself that he made a whole scene about you not being in Elysium by popping up and butting heads with Hades, of course he got kicked out. That still doesn’t stop him from sending angry letters that can span anywhere from one word letters (usually containing a curse word) to a 30 page essay on why you should be in Elysium instead of milling about in such unkempt places.

The first time you go out of your way to get him a bottle of Ambrosia is the day that both scares the shit out of him and makes him hate you for giving him mushy feelings.

You came to him in, almost literal, tatters: your greenish, transparent form ripped in places, the few wisps of you following after your torn form like they were tied to a string. You had held it up to him in a basket, a plate of Baklava sitting next to it, along with some other treats. “Lady Aphrodite mentioned that she wanted to try my Baklava, so I made her some! Though the Ambrosia is just for you, my Lord!”

He blinked at you, taking the basket in a delicate hold. He turned it this way and that, his chest feeling… warm? He wanted to grimace at the soft warmth that thrummed through his veins, yet it was replaced with a smile as he held up the gold liquid. “Thank you, little Baker.”

It was the first time he felt something so unexplainably soft: so gentle and warm as it settled somewhere between the bottom of his ribcage and the top of his stomach. He listened as you told him how you had gotten it: with Zagreus’ help (you even got to meet Lord Hermes! It was so amazing! He had scoffed at that) he led you to a room with Ambrosia as the prize and, despite the young prince’s worry, you managed to beat the monsters and collect it, mostly, by yourself.

Ares was so flattered, but he couldn’t help the way that your tattered form made him feel a sort of worry. He waved his hands through the wisps of your body before he snapped his fingers and a small blade appeared: a beautifully constructed blade that was an exact replica of his (albeit much, much smaller). He handed it to you, telling you that you should have a proper weapon if you’re going to go out of your way to fight in his name.

Dionysus

Cause of Death: Alcohol Poisoning

Dionysus, unlike many, is incredibly excited to see you sitting there. He adores mortal souls and can’t help but look at them each time Zag chooses his boons and he has the chance to glimpse at their souls (despite his tendency to let them go completely after they die- he can’t help but wonder about them once in a while).

“Why, hello there! What’s a little thing like you doing strolling up to my boon, hm?”

He can’t help but notice the way your eyes are a tad dull, but he writes that off as the dark of Tartarus since it’s gone as fast as he noticed it. You smile up at him, absolutely beaming at the God of drink and madness. “Hello, Lord Dionysus!”

“Oho, you could tell it was me? What gave it away?”

The two of you laugh, diving into a conversation. He offers you a cup of wine and is put off with how long it takes you to decline it. He almost thought you looked absolutely ravenous as you peered into the deep red liquid. He shrugs it off and continues to chatter with you until his favorite Zagman stumbles upon the two of you. He’s quick to say hi to you and even leans down to ask you… something. Dionysus misses it, but still watches the way you stiffly nod before you pass the boon to the prince and scurry off.

He’s tempted to ask about it, but decides that he should probably ask you himself instead of trying to pry. Mortals didn’t take well to people snooping around their private lives, which he could respect.

The next time he sees you though, he relaxes you into a sort of peaceful lull as he chats with you before he drops the question.

You stare blankly at him, that dark look in your eye coming back and making his skin crawl. You suddenly laugh it off waving your hands as you tell him that a god shouldn’t worry about a little ol’ shade like you.

He doesn’t push for an answer but the question still swirls in his mind, even as you toddle off after his Zagman pops up. He decides that he’ll actually ask the Prince this time around.

He asks him point blank and Zag, despite him being hesitant at first, decides to spill how you died. You had been the black sheep of your family, never truly fitting into the carefully set path that they wanted you to follow- so you found solace in drinking from a young age. It had taken the edge off of everything, Zagreus recounted you telling him. It filled you with a warmth you had been missing all your life and you couldn’t help but indulge more and more in it until it slowly became your own personal poison. Dionysus grimaced, for once feeling a sort of queasiness in the pit of his stomach as Zagreus continued on with your story. So, one day, you had drunk yourself into a deep stupor after an awful argument with your parents. But, this time, you never woke up. Instead you woke up floating in the river of blood- the River of Styx.

Dionysus had nodded after the Prince finished the story, playing with the goblet in his hand and swirling the red wine that resides in it. He offers a bitter smile to Zag and bids his farewell (of course leaving a boon of his choice with the lad) popping off back to Olympus.

The next time he runs into you, he asks if you’re feeling alright- if you want to talk. You blink at him, confused at first until realization dawns you. You bite your lip, looking down. He’s quick to assure you that you didn’t have to talk about anything- you two could just have a good time like always. You tell him that you’d like that, not yet ready to face your past. He nods, immediately telling you about an embarrassing story about Ares and how much of a lightweight he was which had you letting out an ugly snort along with your loud cackles.

The god begins to take it upon himself to have you smiling more and maybe remedy those dark clouds that appear in your eyes once in a while. He’s pretty observant despite being piss drunk half the time, it also helps that he’s very intune to your emotions for some odd reason, so he’s quick to pick up on when you feel down or your having something the equivalent to a relapse. He has you drink just a little bit from his goblet since it’s better than quitting cold turkey. And that little bit is always enough to quench your thirst and calm you down. You’ve been needing less and less of it as the days (nights?) pass by.

The first time you get Dionysus Ambrosia is the same day that he almost swears that he’ll marry you. He’s quick to grow emotional with the sheer fact that you went out of your way to get something so special for him, his face almost splitting with how wide of a smile he has on his face.

“You got this for me, man?” He says, holding up the bottle in his hand and inspecting it like it’s a precious jewel. “You know this stuff is hard to come by, super hard.”

You nod, the clouds far from your eyes now. “I had to thank you some way and punching a couple of Shades to get my hands on that was worth it.”

“You punched people for me?”

“Of course.”

He fights the urge to squeal and pops the top off, summoning another cup and pouring some in it. “Here’s to us!” He says as he hands you the cup.

He’s honestly never had so much fun just existing with one person. After that he’s never far from you, one usually not seen without the other around- even despite the Underworld not being Dionysus’ favorite place, he can’t help but be willing to venture down there to see you in person (he’s been trying to convince his wonderful Uncle Hades to let you come up with him to Olympus for a little bit- he’s even got his dad and (other) Uncle in on it. Hades officially hates all of them). His gift to you is a matching goblet that will supply you any beverage of your choice. It also has the double power to protect you from all that wishes to harm you, but you’ll learn that in due time. It’ll be more fun that way, Dionysus muses.

Hermes

Cause of Death: Falling

Usually, Heremes wouldn’t have taken the time of day to chatter mindlessly with a shade. But, it was a different story when that shade summoned him through bumping into his boon- now it’s just interesting!

“Eh? Who’re you? It’s kinda strange for a shade to be here and not my Cos, huh? Did something happen to him? You his stand in or something? That’d be kinda funny because you don’t seem like his stand in- not buff enough or something like that.”

You blink slowly taking in the words of his mile a minute speech as he continues to prattle on. You take a seat in front of the quick mouthed god, getting yourself comfortable as he flutters about and chatters. Not like you minded- he filled in the places where you couldn’t with steady conversation. You nod to some of the quips he makes, just to show you were still listening.

He decides then and there that he likes you a lot and that you should meet Charon. As soon as Zagreus pops up to collect the boon- he grabs the back of your robes and goes zooming off with you in tow. You wave to the panicked prince, allowing yourself to be dragged around. He continues to chatter on and on, only taking a break when he reaches the Boatman (who was not expecting a Shade to be accompanying the God of Messengers). He sets you down, tries to introduce you two to each other- realizes he doesn’t know your name, so you end up telling them your name- and then is quick to say goodbye, after he gives a scroll to Charon, and shoots off.

You end up staying with Charon after learning a bit more about the quiet boatman and Hermes is quite pleased when he realizes that he’d be seeing you around a lot more. He’s quick to flutter about you and chatter for a few quick seconds before zipping off. You wave at him.

The process repeats for a while before he finally takes a moment to really sit with you, Charon having gone to pick up more souls and lead them down the River of Styx. He chatters on aimlessly, asking little questions here and there before he decides to ask the million dollar question: “How did you die?”

You blink slowly as him before murmuring that you fell from a very high place, you head cracking open on the rocks at the bottom and now here you are. He asks why you were messing about on a high place, as that seemed to be something most mortals avoided doing. You explained that there was a kitten stuck in an old root on the ledge and you couldn’t just leave her. So, you crawled onto the branch and put her back onto safe ground, but the root gave way and then you went tumbling to your doom.

Hermes is surprisingly quiet throughout the entire exchange until you reach the end and he says: “you’re a real bleeding heart under all that quiet, huh?” You nod solemnly and he laughs, pulling you into a side hug. How could something with such a fleeting life be so selfless with it? He squeezes you harder before he stands up and bids you farwell, shooting off once again. And, again, you wave as he goes.

He grows attached to you quickly afterwards, bringing you little things that might help make you more comfortable down in the Underworld. Of course Charon is there to keep you company which he’s happy about- and he voices that exact thought to the boatman, who just grumbles out a long: uuuuaagghhh as his reply. He pats his arm and says that he knew he’d get it.

When you manage to get your hands on a bottle of Ambrosia- he’s completely blind sided that he almost trips on his own feet. His face flushing a deep red as he takes the offered bottle.

“How’d- how’d you get this?” His speech is all jumbled and jumpy, though he tries to keep the giddy excitement bubbling in his stomach as bay.

“I saved up my coin,” you said, nodding to Charon who nods back. “And bought it from Charon. I would’ve fought for it, but I’m no warrior.”

A smile splits across his face and the wings on the side of his head flutter. He’s quick to scoop you up and hug you, floating up with you as he does.

Hermes is an absolute giddy mess with your offering, not sure if he should kiss you or simply remain holding you. He had a special place for you before but this just solidifies his adoration for you. His gift to you is a pair of boots with wings on the side of them- an exact replica of his (in your size! Somehow-). He promises that they’ll help you get anywhere you want quickly, also the two of you match! How cute is that?

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redorich · 4 years

Note

Eventually the Hermits get their hands on the one shulker box. They give it back a day later, filled with goodies as an apology for stealing, because they just needed it briefly so Doc could set up a shulker box duplicator.

(2/2) To expand on the shulker box ask I sent: It's cheating. They know it's cheating. They debate for a while over wether or not they should build it. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and dammit they need shulkers. Mules and Llamas can only get them so far.

---

(this takes place before the fic where puffy finds zedaph.)

---

The Hermits put up with mule highways and caravans of spitting llamas because they think they have no choice. At least one person complains about the lack of sophisticated storage transportation daily. Mumbo tries to create a system which will ferry items between bases, but it turns out to be more of a Rube Goldberg machine than anything, considering the items only travel at the speed of the water which carries them. Zedaph creates an actual Rube Goldberg machine for item transportation, but the only people who use it are himself and his neighbors, Impulse, False, and Tango. It’s more for prank transportation and snail mail anyway.

Things change when Stress, on a covert surface run, comes a bit too close to other humans on accident and catches sight of a blond man in a hoodie furtively checking his surroundings. Stress immediately does as she’s been trained, hiding herself behind tree cover and checking how long her invisibility potion will be in effect for. It says four minutes. As long as he leaves soon, she won’t have an issue.

The man surveys the muddy clearing with a keen eye, keeping watch for any evildoing interlopers. He places down an Ender chest, reaches his hands into it, then looks around once again to make sure no one’s there. Stress’s heart beats like a drum-- not the style of drums she usually plays, but rather the percussion of one of Xisuma’s favorite black metal bands. As the man’s gaze passes right over her, she feels the machine gun fire of her heart against her chest peak, breath catching in her throat.

He doesn’t see her. Quickly, he pulls something out of the Ender chest. A shulker box!

Stress’s breath stops for an entirely different reason. The things the Hermits could do with even one shulker box..! Item dupers are a thing, right? If anyone knows how to make an item duplication machine, it would be Doc. And a shulker box might be useful for an item duping machine!

She’s getting ahead of herself. Should she steal from this person? Can she steal from this person? Even disregarding the moral dilemma, the members of the Dream SMP are fighters through and through. She’s got the advantage of surprise because she’s invisible and this man doesn’t know she’s here, but how long will that last? Even if she manages to take it, what if the blond man (Punz, she thinks is his name) kills her and takes the shulker box back from her?

As Stress weighs the risks and the rewards, she knows she’s running out of time. Punz breaks the shulker box. Right as he’s about to put it back in his Ender chest, Stress, who can see the window of opportunity closing, springs into panicked action.

She sprints right past Punz, hoping with every fiber of her being that her invisibility potion will be enough to save her. Snatching the box right out of Punz’s hands, Stress takes off running. Punz shouts, swinging his sword wildly at the air. He’s so close that a few strands of hair, just barely the tips, get sheared off of Stress’s fluffy mane and become visible as they flutter to the ground.

Punz’s eyes narrow, tracking the potion particles that he can just barely see. Unfortunately for him, the invisible thief takes off into the mob-infested forest. He gives chase, but the thief gains on him every time he has to stop to fight a mob.

Stress knows she can’t outrun Punz. She’s not bad, but he’s really good. Stress absolutely cannot lead this man back to the canyon. Allowing the hostile mobs of the forest to buy her time by slowing Punz down, Stress looks around rapidly, searching for something, anything she can do to lose the hunter on her trail.

A lone cow catches her eye. Thinking fast, she bites her lip as she dumps her only water bucket out into a nearby pond where it won’t be noticed, then milks the cow. In the distance, a zombie groans as Punz takes it out. Stress hyperventilates, frantically digging at the ground beneath her feet with a silk touch shovel. Once she’s created a hole just barely big enough for her to hide in, she hops in and puts the grassy dirt she dug up just seconds ago above her head and immediately downs the milk, so that there won’t be any potion particles to track her by.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as she possibly can, she digs up the dirt beneath her feet in absolute darkness. Logically, Stress knows that Punz won’t be able to see the light from her torch, but she’s too terrified to think logically. What has she done?!

Her shovel stills as angry feet stomp above her. Dirt crumbles into her hair when Punz walks directly above her. Caustic mutters faintly reach her ears through the loamy earth, fading farther and farther away as Punz searches in vain for the invisible thief. Stress waits with bated breath for minutes on end, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane.

Tentatively, she digs up the diorite block below her with a pickaxe. A mob shifts aboveground and Stress, paralyzed with the paranoia that it might be Punz, spends another five minutes in immobile silence. Burying her face in her hands, she sucks in a breath and continues digging. Once she hits a decently low y-level, she digs forward, taking care to place all her blocks behind her exactly as they were before she mined them.

After a solid three hundred blocks, she begins to staircase back up. On one unfortunate swing of her pick, water floods into her staircase. She must be under a lake or a sea. She can make out some kelp, though, so hopefully that’ll be enough cover for her to go up and check her surroundings.

Stress takes a deep breath and plunges into the cold water. Swimming up, she catches sight of wood-- no way. There is no way she’s made it to the docks just outside of the canyon. Eagerly, she swims back down into her staircase for a breath of air and the chance to down an invisibility potion, then back up to the surface.

On the entire journey from the bottom of the sea to the elevator on the other side of the canyon, she expects someone to catch her, to notice the water she’s dripping on the ground, to somehow sense the guilt emanating off her in waves. It doesn’t happen. Stress makes it to the elevator and pushes the down button eagerly. Every foot the elevator descends down is another thousand pounds of weight off her shoulders. She’s exhausted, and so close to home base. If she can just make it into the Atrium, she’ll have succeeded.

The elevator dings, rousing Stress from her daydreaming. “I really am dead on my feet, ain’t I?” she murmurs to herself.

She makes her way into one of the village houses, avoiding the pressure plates and tripwires which she knows like the back of her hand by now. In the house, she presses a button, which opens a door which leads to a tunnel. Sagging in relief, Stress practically melts across the floor as she traverses the short tunnel and finally makes it into Atrium 1-- a large circular room with a rounded ceiling and plenty of light.

“Woah, Stress!” Ren exclaims, running to support her. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as exhausted as she feels. He’s been working round the clock at the tree farm to churn out enough wood to meet the demands of twenty-four Hermits.

“Stress?” Ren asks with concern in his eyes, gently shaking Stress’s shoulders.

She laughs, high-pitched and wild. She’s done it. She’s really gone and done it!

“I got a shulker box,” she breathes.

Ren gasps. “What?! No way, they’re not even a thing on this server!”

“Yes they are,” Stress sing-songs, “because I have one.”

She tosses him the cyan shulker box with a look of pride on her face. Ren looks at the box in his hands, then back up at Stress with wide eyes.

“We gotta go show Xisuma, my dude.”

---

The Hermits convene in the small meeting room in the residential district, then realize that the room is in fact small and twenty-four Hermits aren’t going to fit in it. Xisuma’s having a good day, so he decides to hold the meeting in Atrium 1.

There are many different opinions on the acquisition of the shulker box, which sits innocently in the center of the room. Some people like Wels believe that even if it’s a great boon, it was stolen and therefore the Hermits don’t have the right to use it. Things were different when they first arrived in the canyon; they stole small things in order to survive. A shulker is nice to have, but the Hermits won’t die without it. On the other hand, there are people who side with Grian, who believes that since the Hermits already have the shulker box, they might as well use it.

Doc rumbles a deep hm, indicating that he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or not. Finally, it seems that the side of him which wants to tell his fellow Hermits wins out.

“Have you guys considered shulker box duping?” he says. Immediately, there is a clamor of outcries, both for and against, as well as just plain disbelieving.

Tango speaks up: absolutely not. It’s cheating. False tentatively rebuts, though, that sometimes cheating is acceptable when it's for a good cause. After all, part of her season 7 base was dug out using TNT dupers. Mumbo awkwardly raises his hand and waits for someone to acknowledge him, which Grian does.

“Er… what if we give it back after we’re done with it?” Mumbo says. Tango still looks unhappy, but the idea seems to appease Wels.

“Friends,” Xisuma says softly. Everyone quiets down immediately. “Should we have a civil vote, or shall I decide?”

Immediately, everyone gets shamed into behaving. “We can vote,” Bdubs says. “Everyone in favor of not cheating?”

“Wait, what are our options?” Grian asks.

“Er,” Scar speaks up. “Keeping the box but not duping it, giving the box back, duping it then giving it back, or duping it and not giving the original back. Is that right?”

Bdubs nods. “Yeah! So, all in favor of keeping the one original box?” A few hands go up, maybe five or six.

“Giving the box back?” More hands go up.

“Duplicating the box, then giving it back?” Nearly a dozen hands go up.

“Well then,” Bdubs says, “I guess I don’t have to finish the options; dupe-and-return wins.”

Doc strides into the center of the room and mines up the shulker box before anyone can change their mind; Tango grumbles good-naturedly at having lost the vote. Meanwhile, while everyone discusses the vote, Joe ferries Xisuma off to his quarters.

“So who’s going to give the shulker box back when we’re done with it, my dudes?” Ren asks the room at large.

“I will,” Stress says immediately. “I stole it; it’s only right that I give it back.”

---

Two days later, Punz wakes up to a noise in his house. He reaches for a knife under his pillow; just because there is no one to be seen doesn’t mean that no one’s there, as Punz is well aware given the theft of his shulker box, which he is still smarting over.

He gets out of bed, treading softly. Right there, in the doorway, is the same shulker box he lost! He looks around. This has to be a trap. No one is around… Punz might as well spring this trap.

He opens the box. Nothing is missing. In fact, there are more items inside than there were when it was stolen from him! A totem of undying, four diamond blocks, two ingots of netherite, and a note which reads, Sorry I stole your box! I only needed to borrow it, but I felt bad so I left some extra goodies in. xoxo

“...Huh?” Punz says to himself. This is the weirdest prank ever.

He puts the box back into his Ender chest and resolves to think about it in the morning.

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years

Text

DRUNK CONFESSION

Pairing: Gladio x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.367

Warnings: none, fluff

Synopsis: After a night in Lestallum's nightlife, yn makes an unplanned confession.

Laughing and swaying, Yn bumped into Gladio as they were on their way back to the hotel 'Leville'. She giggled as she bounced back from his solid body. Gladio held her steady with his hands on her small shoulders before she would trip over, "You belong into your bed, sweetheart.", he chuckled, amused how yn tried to get a clearer mind by shaking her head.

"No... I'm fine...", she mumbled and looked up at the huge King's Shield. Suddenly, she stopped giggling. She stared into Gladio's eyes and into his face, taking in every inch as if she saw him for the very first time, "Why are you so damn beautiful.", yn said low, sounding more sober than minutes ago.

Shaken with surprise, Gladio raised his brows, "W-what?"

"You're beautiful. Sure, you're also sexy, tall, handsome, all this but also so god damn beautiful with your amber eyes, your soft brown hair, your perfect lips."

Insecurely, Gladio chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. It was one thing to be confident about oneself but it was something different if someone else was so straight forward mostly when it was yn who wasn't known for such outbreaks, "Come on, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying.", Gladio said laughing, trying to push yn softly into the right direction.

But she stopped and stemmed herself against his moves, "I'm serious, Gladio.", she slurred, "You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen. And then, you're also so nice and sweet and strong. You're the epitome of walking perfection."

"Thank you very much. We-"

"I understand why you're so successful with women. Although, if I think about it now, there were barely any new trophies by your side recently. Why's that? Why are you going out for drinks with me instead of having fun with some ladies?"

"Come, we bring you to bed."

"And my questions?", yn asked stubbornly.

"Here's the deal: if you go to bed now and you can still remember this weird conversation later, I will answer the questions. Alright?"

"Deal. And don't think you can escape me easily.", yn said serious, stumbling forward.

"Yeah, I fear I can't.", Gladio whispered concerned.

***

The next morning, yn sneaked out of her room she shared with Iris to go down the hallway in search of Gladio. The door of the boy's room was already open. Prompto sat on his bed with crossed legs and checked the pictures he had made the day before.

"Hey, Prompt. Where's Gladdy?"

"He said something about the panorama view spot. I guess he wants to see the meteor in the morning light. Would be a nice motive tho..."

"Thanks."

"Hey, uhm... Is everything alright between you and him?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?", Yn asked confused.

"Well...", Prompto said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Prompt, spit it out."

"He was unusually quiet as he came back. And I guess, he had barely slept considering the dark circles and the grumpy mood."

"Oh... I'll go and check on him."

***

As yn found Gladio, he leant against the handrail, supporting himself with his arms and letting his eyes wander over the view. Slowly, she approached him and for the first time, she wasn't sure how things were between them, "Good morning.", she said softly and watched how Gladio stiffened by the sound of her voice.

"Morning.", he answered low.

She stopped next to him, copying his posture while looking over the scene. The view was indeed incredible. As he stayed silent, she knew she had to start, "Prompt said you haven't slept. Was it because of my ... confession last night?", she asked softly and watched how Gladio pressed his jaw together while he kneaded his hands.

"You still remember that, huh?", he asked low, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah... I mean, I was the one who had said all these things and I... Even if I drink very, very much, I barely forget something. Boon and bane of me.", yn explained, "I also remember my questions about your ladies or rather ... the absence of ladies. I... Look, I want to apologize. I shouldn't have asked all these things about your private life."

"And all the other things? About my appearance?", Gladio asked, turning his head towards her but still not looking into yn's eyes.

"Sorry, big guy, I meant them. All of it. Maybe I wouldn't have blurted them out if I hadn't been drunk or... wouldn't have said them at all, but... I won't take them back. I really meant them. I guess, your ego can handle that because you're used to such compliments."

Gladio nodded but stayed silent.

"But like I said it's not me to judge whom you meet or not. So, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me.", Yn said and as he still stayed silent, she decided to leave him alone to give him some space and time.

"It's because of you.", Gladio said low.

"W-what?"

"That there aren't any 'ladies' around me.", Gladio said, copying her choice of words, "That's because of you. And no, no one called me beautiful before. At least, not as you did."

"Wait a sec! What do you mean with "it's because of me"? I haven't done anything!"

"You didn't have to. I developed feelings for you therefore, I already spend time with the lady I prefer the most."

"Gladio, I... I had no idea."

"And that's how it should be. You shouldn't feel obliged and I didn't want to make it awkward between us."

"You mean awkward like right now?"

"Yeah... I mean, I would lie if I say I wouldn't feel flattered about your compliments but...you were drunk-"

"You know what they say: children and fools tell the truth.", yn said and closed up on Gladio who looked at the ground. Never before, she had seen this big guy so intimidated and insecure, "Gladio, I really meant every single word. And I... I could imagine more between us than just a friendship. I just never thought I would be your type."

Gladio shook his head and chuckled while he stepped forward, taking one of her hands in his, drawing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, "So, we both want more and neither of us said something?"

"I did say something yesterday! Maybe we should have gone out earlier...", yn considered thoughtfully while tapping her lips with her index finger.

Gladio cupped her face with his free hand, craning her head up to meet his eyes, "And maybe we should just kiss?"

"Better idea, big guy.", Yn said with a bright smile. She got on her tiptoes to reach his lips while Gladio bent down to kiss her softly. Quickly, the kiss became stronger and yn flung her arms around his neck while Gladio embraced her waist to bring her closer and to cherish the moment that increased his heartbeat...

"Yes! Finally! Ahhh!"

Startled by the sudden turmoil, Gladio and yn separated and turned over to the source of the noise. They saw Prompto, Noctis and Ignis lying tangled together on the ground with Iris on top of them who smiled from ear to ear triumphantly, "I almost thought you two would never come together. It took you two ages!"

"What to the biting Sabertusk is going on here?", Yn called out, chuckling and watching how her friends got slowly back on their feet.

While Noctis and the others tried to clean their clothes from the dust, Iris ran towards yn and embraced her strongly, "Finally! You two are perfect together.", the small bubbly girl said giggling.

While yn embraced Iris back, she saw an exchange of Gil between the boys. Noctis and Ignis gave a small amount of money to Prompto. Prompto, grinning from ear to ear, counted the money while Noctis stood there with crossed arms, "One more month and I would have won.", the prince muttered.

"Don't worry, your highness, next time, I will ask you for permission.", Yn said chuckling.

Gladio stepped forward, placing his hand on yn's shoulder, "Next time?", he asked with one raised brow but with a smirk on his lips.

Yn looked up, "Just kidding.", she said with a wink.

#gladiolus x reader #final fantasy gladiolus #episode gladiolus #ffxv gladio #gladiolus amiticia #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy #final fantasy imagines #fandoms #fandom love #writing #female reader

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solutions-problem · 3 years

Text

Death and Coffee

The smell of death, that permeating, vile stench. Overpowering all other smells in a room, establishing its place as THE awful sensation creeping down your nostrils. Thankfully, it was a smell most wouldn’t have to ever endure, save for those unlucky few. That powerful stench filled a room wherever he went, with a smell so terrible it even drowned out the sound of the people around him. Oh, and coffee, too.

Coffee was a different case. Another powerful smell, that was for sure, but, without that feeling of decay, it wasn’t nearly as overpowering. But, yet, somehow, it was able to drown out that unbearable odor with that blackened bitterness that the drink carried in smell and taste. That was why he drank so much of it, after all. Well, that and because he worked twenty four hour shifts. A graveyard shift never felt as home as it was with him.

But yet, even with that bitter scent trying its best to drown out the smell of rot, it didn’t remove the awful aura of death. It was hard to really do that when working a midnight to midnight shift. being a living corpse didn’t help either.

Break time was always so much more preferable to him than the daily grind of his job. Few would find it mundane, in fact, there was never a boring day working for these people. Some would argue it a boon, others, a curse. You never knew what to expect when working with those... Things. Not all of them meant him harm, and Jack knew that. He did his best to make the place accommodating to those who accepted the help. He even tried with that one guy, down the hall, to the left. Jack could even hear his rambling and raving from here.

Good fucking grief.

The people Jack worked under were no saints, really. Hardly gave a shit about their employees. And definitely not their subjects. hell, Jack was 90% sure he was the sole member of the Ethics Department. Perhaps his cushy condition came with the territory of not being as easily fired as the rest of the suits around the complex. Anyone else could just get tossed out, deconditioned, and they’d call it a day. Jack wasn’t so simple. Hard to brainwash a guy with no living brain tissue.

“Morning Dr. Kennedy.”

“Morning Frank.”

Jack hated being so formal with everyone. He usually refused to call someone by their surname, opting to go for either a first name, what he THOUGHT their first name was, or just some nickname he cobbled together on the spot. Nobody ever bothered correcting him, though. Never said why, but Jack always knew. When you work with monsters and demons every day, a walking corpse just feels like a disaster waiting to happen. like at any moment, he might snap and bite someone’s frontal lobe off.

Now zombies, that was a case file he’d like to be assigned to. Never got the whole eating brains schtick. Jack never felt the need to eat humans, so, he didn’t get why those freaks did. Let alone why they’d target the brain specifically. But he wasn’t getting put in the pathogen wing any time soon. Not after last time. Took them all weeks to decontaminate the break room. Hard for a dead guy to notice when he’s caught a deadly parasite when his body is incapable of showing symptoms of anything.

Thoughts of the weird abominations he worked with every day danced in Jack’s head as he walked the same grey corridors he did every day. He tried appealing to the enigmatic people in charge for a new coat of paint for the halls, make them feel less like a TV prison, but they really didn’t care. Nor did HR, frankly.

he really needed to focus. Today was a very big day. if he could pull it off, he’d be one step closer to finding his sister. Or maybe his brother, that’d be nice. Today was the day he had to show off his full rehabilitation of Bigfoot. Big guy wandered into a nuclear power plant a few years back, and that radiation didn’t do him any good. Jack had spent the good part of eight months trying to calm the poor ape down so he could treat his several mutations. Well, he was the resident cryptozoologist. And the resident cryptid, now that he thought about it.

He had to really wow the Board today, or else they’d sit on their asses for another year and a half before giving Jack the resources he needed to track his siblings. He couldn’t wait that long anymore, he had to make sure they were still okay. If he failed.. No, no, he wouldn’t screw it up. He even taught Bigfoot to read! He went the extra mile! It was all going to go smoothly! He could just feel it!

“Red Alert, Red Alert, Massive Breach in - Sector - V - Assigning - Strike Force - Alpha - Please Evacuate To - Bunker - 12 - Until Further Instructions Are Given”

Well. That certainly put a damper on his day. As that metallic and automated voice rang out, Jack knew it was a matter of moments until the sirens started too. Sector V was that lunatic scientist who fucked up his DNA to speed up “evolution” as he called it. That guy sucked. And as the red lights switched on, and that deafening cry burst over the loudspeakers, Jack sighed. Today was going to be a lot longer than he had hoped. Well, good thing he brought plenty of coffee.

#short story #oc #writing #original story #original character #the solution's problem

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indiemedley · 3 years

Text

Death And Coffee

Good fucking grief.

“Morning Dr. Kennedy.”

“Morning Frank.”

“Red Alert, Red Alert, Massive Breach in - Sector - V - Assigning - Strike Force - Alpha - Please Evacuate To - Bunker - 12 - Until Further Instructions Are Given”

#oc #writing #original story #original character #short story #indiemedley #jackson kennedy #and here it is!#first original short story in a hot minute!#hope y'all like jackson kennedy #and i would absolutely love for anyone to ask me questions about this story in my ask box

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x-birdsong-x · 2 years

Note

Pete and Boone with all of them? Boyfrens

1: Pete's both. If Chanel needed him, he was there. If Grace needs him, he's there. If Boone springs a surprise meeting on him, he's all for it. He'll try to sleep through the night if he can, but especially onwards from Hell Week, it is far from easy. Boone is more of the early bird in general, but he has no issue being up through the night. Only when Chad is around does he really sleep as much as he should. He springs meetings on Pete a few times, for multiple reasons.

2: Either way depending on the night. Boone vents to Pete a lot about his issues with Gigi and Hester mostly, occasionally about Zayday,, on a night like that Pete would be the big spoon. Most of the time otherwise, it’d be Boone. Pete has moments where he’ll rant/vent about “what Chanel did to him.” and Boone both uses that to his advantage if he feels necessary, and tries to comfort him about it, usually bringing up that they- and Grace- will be free of Chanel once she’s dead.

3: They're usually cuddled up whenever Boone ends up staying the night with Pete, so they never really fight over it, but Boone would hog the covers if he could.

4: It just doesn't happen. It's somewhat rare Boone will stay long after the nights he stays in general. He can't risk bringing Pete to the Dollar Scholars house, so he just has to make sure Chad and the others don't wonder about where he is and have a lie ready just in case they ask. And despite their meetings, Boone knows it's never long until Grace shows up. One or two nights he has accidentally overslept and stayed too long though, which resulted in him waking Pete up and rushing to leave.

5: Boone. Like Hester, usually revolving around Palmer. Pete is the only person aside from Hester he'll talk about it with, and he notices the way Pete's eyes flash whenever he mentions something particularly bad, the way he's so clearly biting his tongue. He enjoys that about him, the way he doesn't say much but it's still so easy to tell what he's thinking. It heightens Boone's confidence in him, heightens his confidence that he can trust Pete to go through with their plans.

6: Pete's both, only when he was around Chanel, only when he's around Grace, only when he's around Boone. Boone's just come whenever.

7: Pete, mostly. Things revolving around investigating with- or Grace herself, mostly. Boone will with things revolving around the murders, his own plans, and occasionally things to do with Chad.

8: Hell Week. (In Pete's case, +Random shirt he'll pull out of his closet because he refuses to sleep without one)

9: Pete would, if ever. They're rarely together long enough to do so, and a few of the nightly meetings Boone springs on Pete to discuss their plans end up with them sitting in Pete's car over Mcdonalds whilst doing so, at Boone's recommendation because he just wants a strawberry milkshake.

10: Both of them prefer sweet. Like Hester, Boone is a big sweet tooth, and Pete just doesn't like sour stuff.

11: Pete tells Grace his favorite movie is How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days, but he likes horror, mostly just the classics like Nightmare on Elm Street and things. Boone likes horror, he's quite picky though, doesn't have favorites.

12: They're roughly the same height I believe.

13: Neither of them is a coward by any means. Pitted against each other, it depends on the situation. If Pete gets a chance to take Boone by surprise and finds the right opening, he won't find it hard to win, but otherwise, Pete would be the one to give in mostly because of Boone's higher skill in fighting. Sparring is one of their favorite pastimes after death though, and Boone is the biggest reason for Pete's growing combat skills.

14: Boone is similar to Hester in the way he will pick them up, and if someone he doesn't like is close by, he'll drop the spider on them. If they're too far away and he decides it's not worth it, he'll release them without commotion. Pete will kill them usually.

15: Neither of them is scared of it but similar to almost everyone else, they grow more on edge. Pete especially when he's around Grace. Boone just keeps a closer eye on his surroundings when he's out in the dark.

16: Boone. It's something he shares with Hester, and like her, he tries to hide it. It stems from Palmer, mostly, and sometimes he swears he remembers parts of what it was like on Shady Lane, despite how very young he was at the time.

17: Pete goes to classes, but if he finds a chance, he'll handle his classes online. He'd rather stay in his dorm than be in a room full of people. Boone never goes to classes.

18: Both of them. Boone for the exact same reason as Hester, Pete because he just enjoys the company of an animal. He had a dog when he was a kid that he was extremely bonded with, and he’s wanted another pet since the dog passed, but never had the time, space, or felt like it was the right time to get one.

19: They don't really have nicknames for each other.

20: Neither of them is either, really.

21: Pete. No explanation needed.

22: Boone would if he could. Pete would definitely try to do something nice, but it wouldn't be as ambitious.

23: There isn't a "first date." But it was Boone who initiated their first-ever conversation. Pete had just had a rough shouting match with Chad and once the other Dickie's had left, Boone stayed behind and decided to get to know Chanel's stalker.

24: Both of them are both, really.

25: Neither. It's far too risky on both ends.

26: Boone tries to eat what Chad does, but he won't pass up something that the other Dickies much consider junk food. Pete will settle for whatever he has in his dorm, either or.

27: Boone spends a good while in there, Pete keeps them short if he can. Neither of them sings in there, but in general, both of them CAN sing.

28: Out of the two of them, Pete. In general, neither of them, really. Boone just can't latch onto a book.

29: Neither of them is good at cooking. Boone doesn't have to cook in the Dollar Scholars house, and Pete mostly has microwavable stuff in his dorm just for convenience's sake.

30: Boone, mostly. He'll never say it out loud, unlike Hester. Pete will enjoy it if he's with Grace or if he's with Boone, otherwise, he's not too fussed.

31: Out of the two, they're fairly equal. Pete gets more affectionate the more attached he gets, Grace being a good example, but Boone starts to see that the more meetings they have, he'll use it to his advantage if he feels like it. Boone has his moments though. He cares. He does.

32: In a way, both of them. In a way, neither of them. It really depends on the topic and time.

33: Neither of them would wear either. Neither of them finds any charm in it, nor would they risk it around campus.

34: Again, neither of them would wear either. Neither of them finds any charm in it, Boone finds it tacky, Pete finds it obnoxious, and nor would they risk it around campus.

35: Pete would if he could. Boone would try though. If they could, there would be a friendly competition silently formed between them each year to outdo each other.

36: Neither of them is active at all. Boone doesn't want to risk it, and Pete just isn't interested. He checks on Grace and Zayday's posts, peeks at Hester and Chanel's sometimes, but that's it.

37: I believe they're roughly the same height, and they're the same age.

38: Both of them, and at the same time neither of them. It depends on the person or what mood they're in. Pete will enjoy it if he's with Grace or if he's with Boone. Boone enjoys it in general if he'll settle enough to focus and relax.

39: Boone would. He'd give the prizes to Hester for her collection that she keeps solely to annoy Chanel.

40: Neither of them much likes handling kids. Pete is too busy investigating to take care of a kid, he'll sit them in front of the TV and leave them there. Boone is similar to Hester in how he handles it, but he'll play with them if he has to.

41: Both of them are good at holding back tears when it comes to things like that. Just like Hester, Boone will cry at movies focusing on animals, like Homeward Bound or Hachi, and Pete is the same. Neither of them really cries over any others.

42: Out of the two of them, Boone. He keeps his and Chad's room pretty tidy and he's very organized with his Devil suit and things. Pete is organized when it comes to investigating, his own Devil costume, and things that he knows Grace will want. Anything else, he's not messy, but he's not exceptionally tidy either.

43: If they could, it'd probably be both of them.

44: Neither of them is lazy at all. Boone is more active than Pete when it comes to working out, but otherwise, they're pretty equal.

45: Boone. Pete's never been drunk, and he doesn't plan to find out what it's like.

46: Boone, mostly. Pete tries to keep it short on purpose.

47: Boone. Pete hates long drink orders with every fiber of his being. All he hears is Chanel.

48: Both of them, in ways. Boone will lose things occasionally that aren't part of things he keeps tidy, Pete will lose some things occasionally that aren't part of things he keeps tidy.

49: Pete will drive because whenever they do leave campus for/during one of their nightly meetings, they're using his car. He's pretty protective over that car, doesn't let anyone else drive it.

50: Out of the two, Pete. Boone has his moments though. No explanation needed.

#DONE.#OTP asks

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onlyanidala · 3 years

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onlyanidala fic archive

These are fics with titles J-P.

A-D E-I R-T U-Z

searchable desktop version available here

more anidala fics can also be found in our fic tag!

the link for each fic can be found by clicking the title!

Title: just a bliss Author: stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary: A lightheaded Anakin Skywalker wakes up to the heavenly vision that is Padmé Amidala. Can you blame the man for wanting to kiss his wife on the spot? Well you can, when the whole thing is witnessed by a room full of senators caught in a hostage situation... and she'd really rather they had waited for later.

Title: just carry me home tonight Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: R Summary: "I – I didn't mean to, it's only that… Well, the Force, it lets me feel… What you feel, and I know this wasn't exactly what you imagined for your wedding night, so I…" His flesh hand rose to scratch his neck awkwardly, "I suppose I just wanted to make this special for you…"

Title: king of my heart Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: T Summary: Anakin Skywalker's holiday to the small country of Naboo takes an unexpected turn when he unknowingly foils an assassination attempt meant for Padmé Naberrie, the nation's Crown Princess. Saving a Princess is crazy enough. The only thing crazier... well, actually, there are a few things. Things Anakin is well on his way to experiencing.

Title: lights in the valley outshine the sun Author: elizabeth7 Status: complete Rating: G Summary: What would happen if Padme survived and Darth Vader finds out? Padme & Anakin Darth Vader.

Title: look into my eyes it’s where my demons hide Author: shelivesfree Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: T Summary: Each time he comes back to her, a little piece of him is missing... left out there, in the field, with his brothers. She can see it in the way he smiles and it doesn't reach his eyes. In the way he cries to himself when he thinks she's not awake. And all she can do is hold him.

Title: lost Author: pinkeastereggs Status: complete Rating: G Summary: “I feel lost." “Lost . . . what do you mean?” Padme couldn’t help but frown, searching for any signs on her husband’s face that could give her an insight to what he meant. But Anakin was just frowning to the side, seeming conflicted about something. He seemed distant, his eyes filled with an emotion that the young wife couldn’t begin to describe. How long had Anakin had this look in his eyes? Had she been oblivious to it before now or was this something new? Anakin and Padme have a heart-to-heart when he admits to feeling lost and frustrated with the Jedi Council. With truths about his relationship with Palpatine coming to light, Padme fights to talk some sense into her husband.

Title: madam president Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: R Summary: Between late nights and headaches and mountains of paperwork and fierce opposition from her political opponents, President Padmé Amidala already had enough on her plate. And then she just had to go and fall for one of her bodyguards, a relationship which would ruin her reputation and his career if anyone were to find out about it. Also, someone's trying to kill her.

Title: make the world a little colorful Author: estrangedlestrange Status: WIP Rating: G Summary: The morning after meeting her soulmate, Padmé woke up and saw color for the first time. In the midst of a political crisis, Padmé had just met a gungan, two Jedi, and a slave boy and his mother. She, like any rational young woman, assumed the padawan learner was her soulmate. Ten years later, after having accepted that she would never be with her soulmate, Padmé, reunited with both her supposed soulmate and the slave boy, she realized how wrong her assumptions were. The slave boy, Anakin, who had looked at her with wide hopeful eyes and asked if she was an angel, was her soulmate.

Title: the masterplan Author: stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary: In the midst of the endless galactic conflict, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala have made a shocking discovery that brings more questions than answers. And maybe, just maybe, an end to the never-ending war. Sequel to Give Me A Signal.

Title: mother knows best Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: M Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.... Shmi Skywalker Palpatine had ruled the Galactic Empire on behalf of her son, Anakin, since the death of his father. For his part, the next Emperor has been content to leave politics to his mother and engage only in military exercises. All that is about to change as Padmé Naberrie, former Queen of Naboo, comes seeking aid for her charity, Amidala's Crusade, and Anakin's long-dormant crush comes surging back. What should be a perfect match is opposed by a mother determined not to lose her son and convinced hers is the only way...

Title: no colors in our skin Author: JTHM_Michi Status: Abandoned Rating: T Summary: Anakin grew up knowing that his masters called him the wrong words. They all called him “girl” or “girl-child” and it was just another way for them to dehumanize him. He didn’t know that, of course, not in those words, but it was true enough. His mother was always very clear with him, from the first time he came to her and asked her if she knew which master had taken his “boy parts”, that just because his masters called him a girl didn’t make him one. a.k.a. the Transgender Anakin Skywalker Verse

Title: no heroes on the high seas Author: spellcleaver Status: complete Rating: T Summary: When Luke's aunt and uncle are executed by order of the Emperor's right hand, Lord Vader, he flees his home to search for his sister and the mother he never knew. But then Obi-Wan Kenobi stows away aboard the same ship, Vader gives chase, and Luke is dragged into a conflict that his family are at the very heart of. Gen.

Title: nos cedamus amori Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: M Summary: Anakin is a gladiator and a slave. Padmé is the wife of the Roman emperor's heir. Circumstances should never even allow them to meet, let alone fall in love.

Title: of mutated worlds Author: gemma Status: WIP Rating: M Summary: Nobody saw the end of the world coming. It happened overnight, no warning, no escape. They came from the shadows, biting, paralysing, and killing little by little until they were the majority. One day, everything was normal and then, suddenly, Padme Amidala Naberrie woke up in hell.

Title: of options and comlinks Author: estrangedlestrange Status: complete Rating: G Summary: In that moment it seemed like there were only two options: help Master Windu arrest the Chancellor and secret Sith Lord or heed to Sheev Palpatine’s begging and turn against the Jedi. But then, in a split second, a third option revealed itself.

Title: order 66-S Author: disco shop girl Status: complete Rating: M Summary: The order was to exterminate all Jedi: Past, Present and Future. Captain Rex has a different plan. Order 66-S: to save General Skywalker.

Title: parent-teacher conference Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary: Anakin has to meet with the twins' second grade teacher after Leia punches a classmate in the face. But he hadn't counted on Ms. Amidala being quite so pretty.

Title: pas de deux Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: M Summary: When Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker meet at their mutual friends' house party, the sparks immediately fly, resulting in a one night stand that both of them want to be the start of something more. Except it turns out that Padmé works at the ballet company Anakin just took over. And Anakin is in the middle of a very heated divorce as he tries to gain custody of his daughter Leia. With pressure coming at them from their private and professional lives, making their fledgling relationship work will prove the biggest role of a lifetime.

Title: the path of the dark Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: T Summary: Vader triumphs. Padmé resists. Series:Three Paths Not Followed. Series: The Darker Path.

Title: perfect Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary: The war is over, Luke and Leia are five years old, and Anakin and Padmé finally have the peaceful life and big family they've always dreamed of. But their life is about to get a little less peaceful and their family a little bigger.

Title: perfect strangers Author: catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: R Summary: Anakin Skywalker meets a masked angel at a Halloween costume ball, and the two of them hook up for the best night of his life. But when the morning comes, she is nowhere to be found. Padmé Amidala forgot to get the name of a guy she hooked up with at Halloween before running out for work on November 1. A few weeks later, she realizes she's pregnant. Two perfect strangers, certain their paths are never going to cross again. Oops.

Title: pipe dream Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary: Padmé's new plumber is the most attractive human being she's ever laid eyes on, so naturally, she keeps faking plumbing emergencies so she can keep seeing him.

Title: pocket full of sand Author: philthestone Status: complete Rating: T Summary: “I’m Leia Skywalker,” she says, and there is something unfathomably life-changing about that little declaration. “We’re here to rescue you!” Luke remembers the circumstances of his mother's arrest with a frustrating amount of clarity. AU series where Anakin never falls, Padme is a spy in the senate, and the dynamic duo of Force Sensitive twins don't know they're related.

Title: purgatory Author: helent Status: complete Rating: T Summary: A newly dead Anakin Skywalker wakes in a new world - given the appearance of his 23 year-old self. However, the self-sacrifice that ended his life has also given Anakin an unexpected boon that he isn't sure he can accept. Worse, it comes with conditions that might just be impossible to meet. A moment of redemption is one thing, but a full reformation another entirely.

#anidala #star wars #sw #fic recs #sw fic recs #fanfic #fanfiction #onlyanidala fic recs #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #sw fanfic #sw fic

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imaginingsoftly · 4 years

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Baseball Trivia Pt. 2 - Josh Anderson

Type: Y/N insert shorts, strangers to enemies-ish to lovers, series

Requested: No

Warnings: standard swearing

There was no fucking way. Y/N stared at Thatcher as he talked, but the words he was saying weren’t computing. No fucking way was Josh Anderson on his way to Vancouver. It was like fate had heard her think that they would never meet again and laughed as she sent Josh in Y/N’s direction. “Earth to Y/N, where the fuck did you just go?” She snapped back to the present, shaking her head and smiling at the mountain of a man in front of her instead of responding. Thatcher gave her another weird look before continuing. “We’re gonna have the end-of-summer barbeque at my place after the last day of training camp, and I expect you to be there. Someone’s gotta help me man the grill.”

It was tradition. End-of-summer barbeques had become a thing beginning their sophomore year at BC, after the pair had become close during their freshman year. Almost eight years later it was still a yearly tradition, though now the barbeque was extended to the entirety of the training-camp team rather than just a few friends. “Took you long enough to pick a date,” Y/N retorted, slapping the bill of Thatcher’s baseball hat. “ I thought I was gonna have to have a barbeque all by myself.” Thatcher slapped the bill of her hat in response, and it turned into an all-out war. As an only child, Thatcher had become the closest thing she had to a brother, shenanigans included. It was refreshing to have someone to mess with who wouldn’t get upset when she roughhoused a little.

Even while trying not to let Thatcher and his professional athlete muscles overpower her much smaller frame Y/N found her mind wandering back to Josh. There was really no reason for her to be freaking out as much as she was. It was one hook up. There were no strings implied, no numbers exchanged, it’s not like she ghosted the guy, not really. Thatcher had never really expressed any distaste towards her dating other NHLers, but it was different when it came to his teammates. They were like his brothers, and were therefore her brothers by extension. In other words, off limits.

She really just needed to relax. He wasn’t even on the team when they got together. Everything would be fine. Josh was part of the family now, and she would follow his lead. If he wanted people to know they hooked up then fine, but if he wanted to act like a stranger that was even better. Thatcher was a little bit too protective of Y/N at times, and she religiously avoided getting into it with his teammates just to make sure she didn’t mess with team chemistry. Honestly, there was a chance Josh wouldn’t even remember her. It’s not like the guy had a glowing reputation anyway, and they had been drinking. It would be fine. Maybe if Y/N repeated it to herself often enough, she would start to believe it.

Y/N sighed heavily, giving in as Thatcher managed to wrestle her into a headlock. “Seriously, Y/N, are you okay?” Thatcher released his arm and turned her so they were facing each other. Crap. Here comes the interrogation. “You’ve been on another planet since we started talking. What gives?” She shrugged. There was no way she was going there right now.

“I guess I’m just tired, bro,” she said with a shrug, “conference play just started. I’ve got a lot on my plate.” Thatcher reached up to squeeze her shoulders, and Y/N struggled not to cringe at how easily he ate up her lie. It sucked to lie to him, but there was no way she was going to tell him about Josh, not without talking to Josh first. Her response seemed to placate Thatcher, and he gave up on that line of questioning after making Y/N promise to take care of herself.

Keeping things from Thatcher was tough; he was there for her after her boyfriend of three years broke up with her halfway through their junior year of college, he drove her down to UConn the summer after graduation so she could begin her first internship as a college grad, and he’d been the one to welcome her to Vancouver with open arms after the completion of said internship. He was there for every important part of her adult life, and now the one thing she hadn’t told him was going to bite her in the ass. The universe was out to get her.

Training camp would begin tomorrow, and in a couple of weeks Y/N would have to face Josh in the same backyard she was sitting in at the moment. There went any sleep she had planned to get before basketball was added to her workload.

---Josh POV--------------------------------------------------

“So there’s no one in your life? No girl at all? Not even a hookup?” The questions were getting annoying, to say the least. It wasn’t the guys’ fault; they just wanted to get to know him. The problem was that he shouldn’t be doing this. He was supposed to stay in Columbus, live his life there until he retired and then move back to Canada.

Josh shook his head. “No hookup. Although there was this one girl,” he said with a small smile, “she was something else. We talked for hours at the bar, and she knew so much about baseball and hockey history. We hooked up, and then she was gone when I woke up the next morning. No note, no number, nothing. And she was from out of town, so I couldn’t even try running into her at the same bar again.” All of the guys groaned sympathetically, and they finally let that line of questioning go. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about that girl in months. She had been fun to talk to, and tough enough to dish back everything Boone and Seth had thrown at her, but it wasn’t like he wanted to fucking marry the girl or anything. Mostly, it was the fact that she had left that stuck with him. He was always the one leaving. The girls usually tried to hang around, maybe try to get more than one night. It was an asshole thing to think, he knew that, but damn it sucked to be on the other end of it. He didn’t even know where she lived. In all of their time talking he only learned she worked at a university. He didn’t even know if it was in the States or Canada.

A tape ball connected with the side of his head, and Josh shot a glare at Bo from across the locker room. A middle finger almost followed, until he noticed video cameras catching the exchange. Josh waved at the intern behind the camera sheepishly. They would have had to cut that for their welcome back video if he hadn’t caught himself. Another tape ball came flying at his head, courtesy of Stecher, and Josh whipped that one back at his teammate with a grin. The guys were alright, even if some of them could be pretty childish. Even Hughes acted older than some of the guys, and he was the team baby. A body slumped down into the stall next to Josh’s, and he looked over to find Thatcher watching him. “‘Sup, Dems?”

Thatcher smiled up at Josh, a shock considering the choice words he’d thrown in Josh’s direction after a particularly nasty dangle he’d put past the goalie at the end of practice. “Barbeque at my place this afternoon.” Shit. He’d planned on exploring the city, maybe finding a hookup tonight. “Non-negotiable, everyone comes,” Thatcher interrupted, almost like he knew Josh was about to refuse. “It’s a tradition. One of my college friends and I get together and man the grill. We’ve been doing it for almost eight years now. Bring yourself and your booze of choice if it isn’t beer or wine.” Josh nodded. Your goalie says you come to some end-of-summer party, you go to the party. Don’t mess with a goalie’s traditions or superstitions. Thatcher stood, punching Josh’s shoulder. “Everybody starts showing up around 4. See you then.”

Thatcher made his way around the locker room repeating the same announcement, and it was met with shouts of excitement and reminiscing on barbecues of year’s past. Clearly it was a hit. Brock and Petey somehow roped Josh into riding to the party with them, promising that Josh would be happy he’d taken an Uber with them instead of driving himself. “The drinking is legendary,” Brock had promised, a solemn nod of agreement coming from both Petey and Stecher, who flanked Brock. Legendary parties were his thing. This would be even ground, and he could keep up. Bring on the drinking.

--Y/N POV----------------------------------------------------

Y/N woke up the day of the barbeque feeling sick as the Dropkick Murphys blasted on her alarm. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself it would be fine, running into the guy she had ghosted was going to suck. Hopefully he was as interested in revealing their hookup as she was, and it would never get mentioned again.

She groaned as her alarm continued to scream the lyrics to Rose Tattoo, reaching up to swipe the alarm off her phone. Thatcher was expecting her at his place before he left for camp in an hour with a list of groceries for him to pick up on the way home. The desserts Y/N had prepared the night before were sitting on the counter when she stumbled into the kitchen for coffee, mocking her with their chocolatey stare. It was going to be one of those days. She caved, shoving one of the cupcakes into her mouth with a groan. If she didn’t get a handle on herself before she made it to Thatcher’s he was going to get suspicious. The last time she acted this strangely some poor kid from the Comets almost got punched for flirting with her. The guys had good intentions, but sometimes they took the caveman shit too far.

With her coffee brewed and cupcake eaten, Y/N shuffled into the bathroom to get ready for the day. She washed her face and brushed her teeth on autopilot, debating if mascara were really necessary. The guys had seen her at her worst, and she didn’t really care what they thought about the sprinkling of acne on her jawline that just wouldn’t go away. It’s not like she was interested in any of those idiots. Well, any of the idiots that had been with the team before a couple of weeks ago, anyway.

A hat would be necessary, even if she was just going to be in Thatcher’s house until it was time to grill. Her nose would burn something awful if she didn’t wear something with a bit of protection, and the soccer games she was working that week would just add to the burn. Hat protection for sure. She slapped on an old BC Hockey hat, one she’d stolen from Thatcher, and looked into her closet with a sigh. The decision on what to wear took far too long. The guys loved to throw her in the pool, especially Brock when he got drunk, so her bathing suit needed to be reliable. The problem was that they also loved to take photos for their social media pages, and her most reliable swimsuits were also the least flattering. The black and white striped bikini was the most durable, but Y/N really wanted to wear the strappy midnight blue one-piece she’d gotten on a whim during a day trip to Seattle. Durability won out in the end, and the bikini was stuffed into her bag beside the pajamas that would inevitably find use when she didn’t want to go all the way home at the end of the night.

Y/N’s drive to Thatcher’s was relaxing. She lived in the middle of the city, fond of the ability to walk down the street to the grocery store or the bars, but Thatcher’s place was right outside the city, on a quiet sidestreet that better resembled a neighborhood in her hometown. She stopped at their favorite coffee shop on her way out of the city, picking up another coffee for her and a breakfast sandwich for Thatcher. It didn’t matter how many times the nutritionist told him to knock it off, Y/N knew he relied on those sandwiches to get him through morning skates. In no way was Thatcher a happy camper in the morning. His attitude rivaled even hers. Thatcher was waiting outside when she arrived, sitting on his front stoop like she had missed curfew or something.

“You’re late,” Thatcher called as she opened her door, “and you’re gonna make me late for camp if you don’t hurry it the fuck up.” Y/N raised her middle finger in response, leaning back into the car for the desserts. Thatcher appeared behind her to help carry things, and Y/N had to slap his hand away from the trays when he tried to reach for a cookie. If he ate one now, he’d eat them all by the time the actual party started. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. Y/N placed the breakfast sandwich on top of the tray of cookies Thatcher was carrying, and he leaned down quickly to kiss her cheek. “You’re the bomb, bro, my saviour.” Y/N rolled her eyes. He was so dramatic about his breakfast sandwiches.

Y/N finally managed to get Thatcher out the door and off to camp with a promise to get the backyard ready for that night, so long as he grabbed the necessary groceries on the way home. It was their agreement since they’d both settled in Vancouver; she brought dessert and got the house ready for guests, Thatcher bought all the food and alcohol. Everything was ready for the night, really, with the exception of the grill. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since she cleaned it last summer, so Y/N grabbed all of her cleaning supplies with a sigh. She needed a clean grill if they were going to make burgers tonight. That was non-negotiable.

---Josh POV--------------------------------------------------

Brock and Stecher were far too loud when they were tipsy. Petey was fine, if anything even more quiet than normal, but the other two were borderline obnoxious. The pregame had begun the moment everyone rolled up to Brock’s place, and Josh had to admit he hadn’t expected it. Pregaming a team party was a little weird, but hey, he was with a bunch of fellow hockey players. They didn’t always do things that made sense. Herding them into the Uber waiting on the street outside Petey’s apartment was no easy feat, and Josh felt himself sweating a little bit as the responsible one of the party. This never happened. He was always the one being herded.

The ride was long, as apparently Thatcher lived outside the city, and Brock kept Josh entertained with stories of barbecues past. “I think the worst, though, was that time Jake almost drowned.” Stecher started laughing, and Josh stared at him uncomfortably. A teammate almost drowning was funny? Brock must have caught his expression, because he hurriedly continued. “He wasn’t actually drowning, he was just so drunk that he sat in the shallow end and yelled for help. It came up to like his chest.” Stecher roared with laughter again, and Josh joined in a little bit. That must’ve been a sight.

Thatcher’s house was far too nice for a bachelor, a moderately large home that was built for a small family and not a single hockey player who basically lived on the road. It was homey-looking, covered in gray wooden shingles and boasting a wrap-around porch Josh envied. It was perfect for sitting with a small group of friends. He could only imagine the inside, if the outside was any indication. The landscaping and yard decorations gave away that Thatcher hadn’t decorated the place himself. The inside probably looked like a design catalogue vomited on it.

Cars lined the long driveway and the street in front of it, all Range Rovers and fancy sports cars guys who didn’t know how to spend their money splurged for. Josh caught himself as the wave of negative thoughts continually rolled over him. These were his teammates, not the enemy. Those thoughts weren’t helpful.

Josh was pulled out of his line of thinking by the stopping of the Uber, and he was the only one to thank the older guy driving as they all piled out of the car. Petey led the way into the house, though Stecher made his presence known with a shouted hello as he brought them through a hallway that indeed looked like a design catalogue and into a bright and airy kitchen. The cabinets were white, as were the countertops, though most of the walls were covered in some kind of dark teal tile.

Thatcher was slumped on a countertop, flicking the bill of the baseball cap on the girl in front of him. He laughed when she raised a middle finger at him, flicking the hat again. The girl mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a threat, in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. She reached up and smacked Thatcher’s hand when he went to flick her hat again, and Thatcher laughed harder as he swept three beers off the counter and walked back outside through the accordion doors to his left. The girl shook her head after him, though the moment was broken when Brock stumbled into the room behind Josh.

“Y/N!” Brock yelled enthusiastically. He threw his arms around the girl from behind, and the laugh she let out made Josh freeze. It couldn’t be. “Babe,” Brock continued, “you’ve gotta meet our new teammate. He’s your kind of player. Likes to hit things.” Brock began to turn the girl around by the arm still slung over her shoulders, and Josh almost shouted at him to stop. He knew that laugh, and the girl attached couldn’t be here. Their eyes met, and Josh saw the panic he felt reflected in her eyes.

He was so fucked.

#josh anderson imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #baseball trivia

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powerwordsleep · 4 years

Text

Sasuke Retsuden (Unofficial English Translation)

Here’s the next installment! Enjoy~

DISCLAIMER: This is not an official translation and was not made for profit or distribution. This translation was fan-made and done for purely enjoyment and translation practice purposes. I do not own the rights to NARUTO or any of the related materials.

Translation note: There was a section in here (Shikamaru’s letter) that was very difficult for me to translate. It’s supposed to be an excerpt from ancient texts, so the Japanese was written in a older style. I tried my best to get the meaning, but it was confusing for me as well. I believe that is intentional and that it’s supposed to be cryptic. Thanks for your understanding!

Prologue | Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The next day, Sasuke was punished for the first time.

The reason was that he hadn’t bothered to “make proper eye contact” during roll call. The guards took much joy in smashing their batons on his hips, his chest, and his back in turn. Of course, the strength of their punches were that of civilians, so to Sasuke it was nothing. Still, it hurt, and that made Sasuke angry. Unconsciously he let a “tch,” slip out, and the guards took that as him being disrespectful. The situation quickly devolved into a mess, and they slapped him across the face in their excess.

“What’s with those guys? Just yesterday they were scared shitless of you, and now all of sudden they act like they’re tough guys?” Jiji complained loudly during their work shift, not noticing the guards present behind him. He was hit in the stomach with their batons as a result.

Immediately after, Sasuke was beaten three times the amount of Jiji, for “not censoring Jiji’s words,” which made no sense.

Clearly, they were operating under the Director’s orders: go for Sasuke.

He hadn’t been chained up or thrown into solitary confinement, so he doesn’t think his being a shinobi from Konoha had been revealed. He shouldn’t be mixing so leisurely with the other prisoners, lest they interfere with this plan.

There were rarely shinobis within the prisoner population here, therefore he had tried to interfere with the all-important Menō. He was in good condition and felt that he should give Menō a taste of his Sharingan—that was probably the Director’s perception of Sasuke.

By the end of the day, Sasuke had been beaten by all eight of the patrols a number of times. He was late to his work shift, no matter how many times they called on him he didn’t reply, he was giving them dirty looks—any number of excuses. No matter how much he was hit, it didn’t do much damage to Sasuke, but it added up over time and pissed him off. When the day ended and the guards came around for their pre-bedtime patrol, they used the excuse of “your hair is too long,” like he was a student breaking school rules to beat him, and Sasuke thought it was about time to pay them back tenfold. If this infiltration wasn’t for Naruto, he would’ve broken one or two ribs already.

“Man, Sasuke, today was a disaster.”

“I wonder why the guards started targeting Sasuke suddenly.”

Both Penzira and Ganno felt bad for Sasuke. In the past it’s been common for the guards to pick on prisoners, though usually their targets were the timid and weak ones, the type who wouldn’t retaliate even when struck. Sasuke was the exact opposite of that.

"I don't care about this much," he said. Though he looked indifferent, his tone was overtly frustrated. "I'm just being stupid." His words came out in a rush.

“Did you do something to make the Director hold a grudge against you?”

“He just hates your existence, huh? Doesn’t like people who are smarter than him.”

“Ah, yeah, he’s the type to think too much of himself.”

It was time for lights out. No one ever knew when exactly the lights would go out, and they would not be turned back on for anything until the morning. Even when the man in the cell three doors over had a heart attack, they did not turn the lights on. Jiji and the others groped around blindly for their futons and slipped inside them. After a few minutes the sound of their breathing evened out as they fell into slumber. They were exhausted from the day’s work and had grown used to their daily schedule here in prison. Sasuke confirmed that they were all were asleep, then he pulled out one of the iron bars from the door and left the cell.

*************

Sasuke wore a strip of red cloth around his wrist as he walked the cells. It served as proof that he had permission to be out at this time of night. The guards provide one when a prisoner has to work after hours or when they have to go to the nurse’s office during their free time. If Sasuke was wearing this, he wouldn’t be considered as violating the rules and wouldn’t be attacked by Menō. In the daytime, it was a boon from the guards who swung around their batons.

As he disappeared down the freezing hallway, sobbing could be heard. It came from where a steel cleaning tool was placed against the wall. Sasuke could guess what was going on inside there, and yet he couldn’t just pass by. When he opened the door there was a thin man with curly hair, his limbs tied up with hempen rope, crammed inside.

The man stiffened and gasped when he saw Sasuke. The wrist tied up in front of his chest was dripping wet with saliva and had indents the shape of teeth on it. If he raised his voice, Menō would find him in the next instant, so he’d probably been biting his hand in an effort to stifle his cries.

“What are you doing here?”

“U-uh… on my way back from the bathroom I was caught by some of the old timers and... they locked me up in here…”

Bullying.

Sasuke cut the rope tied around the man’s wrist. If you kept such bloodthirsty guys locked up for days in an environment like this, they'd eventually go looking for someone to take out their stress on. Their typical targets were the weak guys. The ones without any friends to come help them. Or the ones who looked weak and like they were about to bite the dust.

“Do you have a red cloth?”

“No… it was taken…” Sasuke clicked his tongue and took off his cloth, thrusting it at the man. If this guy were to go out into the halls without the cloth, he would eventually be caught by Menō and eaten alive.

He felt true sympathy for the man as he watched his back disappear, running down the hallway. For Sasuke, this was merely a place he temporarily infiltrated. But for the man, this was his graveyard. At the rate construction was going, there was no telling when the telescope would be completed. He did not like seeing those who were weak and had a high probability of dying before construction finished.

Pat.

Behind him came the sound of hard nails hitting the floor.

A rush of air touched the back of his neck as claws raked down Sasuke’s spine, cutting him in two—but the illusion faded. Menō snorted and noticed Sasuke perched on the ceiling, and his long tail flew up at him.

Crash!

The tip of his tail shattered the ceiling. Sasuke landed on the ground, pieces of wood falling around him, and from a close distance he inspected Menō’s stomach. As expected there was no wound. He was certain he had cut him clean in the middle of his belly the night before.

“A miraculous recovery. Or were you replaced by another lizard?”

Menō gave no response and his nails lashed out at Sasuke. They cut through mere air as Sasuke had already dove beneath his body, and the momentum caused the lizard to fall forward. Sasuke kicked at his hard, scale-covered jaw and delivered two more kicks to his stomach.

As he wound up for a third strike, the tail came flying at him from the side. Sasuke stopped the attack with his right hand and pulled, causing Menō to lose balance and fall onto his back. Grasping his neck, Sasuke tried his Sharingan on Menō again. The result was the same—the genjutsu did not take.

Menō’s eyes narrowed, probably feeling humiliated to be looked down on like this. He twisted his body and stretched his neck out, trying to bite Sasuke’s head off his body. Sasuke flinched and dodged to the side, and the claws on Menō’s right foot scratched his cheek. The skin was torn through, and the drops of blood that slipped out melted when they made contact with the air.

Sasuke unsheathed his hidden sword, awaiting Menō’s next attack. Unexpectedly, however, Menō jumped away and fled.

What’s he planning?

He was deliberating on what kind of attack he could do from this mid-range distance, when all at once he was overwhelmed. His body staggered, and for a brief moment, his attention left Menō. By the time he realized this and came to, Menō had already appeared in front of him, fangs bared. Four claws flew at him from the side, grabbing at his hair. Sasuke threw himself to the side, managing to dodge the attack, but he was dizzy as he landed.

His body staggered a few steps, his vision shaking, and he desperately tried to focus. Menō jumped and attacked Sasuke, smashing his hand against the wall.

Ba-dum.

His heart slammed against his chest and his legs gave out on him. His chest burned.

The sharp claws of Menō shone bright through his white, cloudy haze of vision. Sasuke pulled out his sword with his other hand and sliced it in front of him. The floorboards collapsed and wooden debris fell down below. Menō immediately jumped down into the hole to follow after Sasuke. He landed one floor below and looked around, searching for him.

However, there were no traces of Sasuke to be found.

*************

Sasuke was breathing rapidly. He was practically leaning against the wall, slinking down the dark hallway. Although he had managed to lose Menō, the numbness in his body had spread. Menō’s claws scratching his cheek came to mind. That was probably when he had been poisoned, but he had never heard of any lizards being poisonous. Zansur had likely laced his claws with poison.

His body began to convulse in small fits. A tremendous chill crawled up Sasuke’s back like a tsunami, his vision going white. His skin was burning hot. Yet his back was cold, so cold, and he couldn’t stop shaking.

Sasuke gathered chakra into the palm of his hand and used a jutsu to create water, bringing it to his mouth to drink. However, before he could create an amount thicker than a sheet of paper, his fingers began to quiver, and soon he couldn’t summon his chakra at all. The water spilled out of his hands and down his chest.

His vision wavered. His ears rang painfully as if fireworks were going off inside his head. He was in a terrible state. He had enough tolerance built up to common poisons that even lethal amounts did not work on him. Was this a powerful enough substance that it could affect Sasuke, or some kind of rare poison exclusive to this region?

His breathing grew shallow and it felt as if his throat was closing up. Sasuke breathed out harshly, dragging his body along the wall, ignoring its condition. His chest was now making a terrible noise and his breath was obstructed. It seemed that he was hyperventilating and having a heart attack at the same time. He sipped at the remaining drops of water in his palm but it brought him no reprieve.

In the same moment he leaned against the wall and thought he would just wait for the symptoms to subside, he heard something. Sasuke froze as the sound of footsteps could be made out between the incessant ringing in his ears.

This is bad… someone’s coming.

If a hostile enemy crossed his path while he was in this condition, he would be done for. The footsteps were growing closer. Sasuke’s vision flickered and wavered, and he desperately tried to focus. His body was no longer cooperating. He had no choice but to use genjutsu on whoever came. He held his breath and waited for the approaching footsteps.

The footsteps hitting against the cobblestone hallway suddenly disappeared, and in the next moment, Sasuke felt someone appear behind him. His mind reacted, but his body did not. A hand reached out from behind and covered his eyes, hiding his Sharingan.

Softly.

Sasuke sucked in a breath. He recognized the feel of this hand.

No, you idiot, there’s no way she’s here.

Sasuke tried to turn around and look, but his body was weak. He fell back and was accepted into the warm embrace behind him.

“Relax, Sasuke.”

It was Sakura’s voice.

*************

Sasuke breathed lightly, lying on a bed in the nurse’s office. The ringing and terrible pounding in his ears seemed to have calmed down. He timidly tested out his body’s strength and was able to move his arms and legs normally.

“How are you feeling?” The curtain surrounding the bed on all four sides opened, and the face of his wife popped in.

“Hm.. relatively okay.” Moving slowly, Sasuke rose off the bed. It felt like he still needed to not move around too much and to do so slowly, but he would recover before long.

The more pressing issue at hand is how this happened to Sasuke in the first place.

“Based on your symptoms, this was probably a type of poison that acts on action potential. It inhibits your chakra pathways and causes depolarization in your networks, leading to overexcitement of the nervous system. I wonder if this is a substance native to this land that your body isn’t resistant to.”

Sakura rolled up the sleeve on his right arm. She wiped down the crook of his elbow with an alcoholic swap, said, “This will sting,” as if to a child and pierced his skin with a needle.

“...Sakura,” watching his own blood fill up the syringe, Sasuke suddenly asked, “Why are you here? What of Sarada?”

“Iruka-sensei is looking after her. I came to inform you of a change in your mission.”

“A change in my mission?”

Currently, Naruto and the Nine Tails were suffering from an illness of unknown cause. According to the Nine Tails, the Rokudō Sennin once had the same illness. He apparently recovered from it while in Redaku. How he recovered and what methods were used was unclear. To that end, first Kakashi had infiltrated the capital of Redaku in order to find clues.

However, it took several days to reach the outskirts of Redaku. Without contact from Kakashi, Naruto’s condition had worsened by the minute. Most of the relevant literature in Konoha was written in ancient languages, and even with a team of specialists assembled, deciphering the contents was slow going. Apparently the Rokudō Sennin had a long stay at the “Astronomy Research Institute” with someone called “Jean Tartar” but they had not yet been able to glean more information than that.

If things continued at this rate, it would become too late to save Naruto. Without needing to hear anything else, Sasuke had dropped everything and headed to the Tartar Astronomy Research Institute alone. He wanted to find additional clues related to the Rokudō Sennin’s illness. And then soon after Sasuke departed, Sakura had followed him and also headed from the research institute.

“On my way here I got a hawk from Shikamaru. In the literature that Kakashi-sensei found in the capital, there was a description of the Rokudō Sennin’s illness. Here’s a copy of the relevant passages.” On the folded paper were the familiar characters of Shikamaru’s handwriting.

The Rokudō Sennin, after contracting a strange illness and traveling around the country of Redaku, met an astronomer named Tartar. Though he underwent heavy treatment with Tartar, he did not get sick. That night, Tartar found a meteorite fall to the ground in the heavens. The Rokudō Sennin caught the meteorite in his right hand and split it in two. The sparkle of the meteorite spilled onto the Rokudō Sennin. Suddenly, the Rokudō Sennin had a long-standing illness.

The meteorite that fell from the heavens has the power to open chakra endlessly. Tartar named the substance “Polar Particles” and it is the source of his power. In addition, because there was conflict between people over his power, he hid half of the polar particles in “the sky descending to the ground” and the other half in “the start that travels without leaving”. In this world, the polar particles sleep lined and protected by the stars.

If the Rokudō Sennin is sick, and there is someone who wants his power, it will come to his land. A person who doesn’t know the whereabouts can use an astronomical illustration of the land of Redaku.

“If there’s someone with the same illness as the Rokudō Sennin, huh…” Sasuke whispered as he reread the last three lines.

The key to curing the illness were these “polar particles”. According to this literature, the Rokudō Sennin split the polar particles in two and hid half in “the sky descending to the ground” and the other half in “the star that travels without leaving”.

“The consensus between me and Shikamaru is that Naruto’s illness is a kind of chakra dysfunction caused by having a Jūbi in his body. And if this substance from the meteorite, what Tartar calls “polar particles,” has the power to cure the illness…”

“We have to get it.” Sasuke said quietly and Sakura nodded in response.

“So, the new mission is to search for this astronomical illustration and obtain the polar particles. First, we need to figure out what it is we’re searching for. A book, a picture, or perhaps something else entirely.”

“I accept this change in mission. But that’s not the reason you’re here.”

Sakura’s eyebrows wrinkled in dissatisfaction. “...Because I’m a shinobi. When necessary I leave the village.”

“It’s not worth the risk. Sending a message via hawk would’ve been fine.”

“I did, but the message wasn’t delivered. The hawk came back with the letter.”

“What?” This time it was Sasuke’s turn to frown. Such a thing might occur if it was a species of wild bird from somewhere random, but it was rare for this to happen to a hawk trained in the village from the time it was a chick.

“I’m not sure of the cause, but… I didn’t know how much time was left, so I decided to infiltrate this place as a doctor because I wanted to tell you this directly. And I can support you if I’m here.”

“That’s not necessary. Go back immediately. This place is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Sakura’s face grew serious. “Are you doubting me?”

“I don’t doubt your abilities. But I’m telling you that just having me here is enough. And… there’s something going on at this research institute. Dōjutsu is ineffective on both the Director and Menō.”

“Even more reason for me to be here. If you can’t solve a mission with your power alone, then you need a partner, don’t you?”

She had a point. When it came to battle prowess, there was no one stronger than Sasuke, other than the 7th Hokage himself, but this infiltration mission was closer to intelligence gathering. When you wanted to get information from someone who was resistant to dōjutsu, or when you wanted to get things done without hurting anyone or drawing attention—having friends was a great advantage in situations where you can’t get anything done by yourself.

“Also… the state of things here is terrible. People are collapsing from malnutrition and overexertion and no one thinks it’s a problem. I proposed an improvement plan to Direction Zansur, but no one listened to me. “No matter how many people die, you can quickly resuscitate them,” he said… the Director and the guards, they think of everyone like a workforce that can be replaced.”

“I said not to do anything dangerous. What will you do if you draw unwanted attention from the Director?”

“I’m a doctor. I’m obliged to look after the health of everyone here.” When it came to work, Sakura was resolute. It was Sasuke who gave in, letting out a sigh of resignation.

“...Okay. Do as you please. But don’t overdo it.”

“Of course.” Sakura smiled then looked back at her desk. “Alright then, for now I will send your blood sample to Konoha. And then, just in case, I’ll send a status update to Kakashi-sensei.”

“Aren’t hawks unable to contact people?”

“Look.” Sakura whistled, and then a small hawk flew into the center of the room. A red cloth, much like the ones prisoners wore when out after curfew, was tied around its neck. “I think the reason the hawks were returning to Konoha was because Menō was driving them away. It’s a strict rule to keep outsiders away. But with this cloth, they might not be considered intruders.”

Sasuke nodded in understanding. At that moment, someone knocked on the door. Consultation hours were already over. The two of them looked at each other, wondering what someone could want at this hour.

“Doc, you still awake?” came Jiji’s voice. His tone was softer than usual. Sakura nudged Sasuke’s shoulder to direct him back to the bed. The curtain closed around him, and he heard the sound of Jiji approaching.

“Hey, doc, are you here?” Realizing that his legs were visible from beneath the curtain, Sasuke raised them on top of the bed. At the same moment, Jiji’s silhouette appeared on the curtain.

“...Ah, hey, you’re here.”

“Jiji. What’s wrong? At this time of night.” Sakura pretended to be calm and listened.

“Look at this. I hurt myself yesterday during work. It hurt so much that I couldn’t sleep, so I got permission from the guards to come here.”

“Sit here. What is your prisoner number?”

“544.”

The sound of a pen scratching against paper, likely Sakura writing up a medical report for Jiji. A medical examination would probably take a while, so Sasuke made himself comfortable on the bed and prepared to wait until Jiji left.

“Doc, do you smoke? That’s the number one painkiller, you know.”

“That is not true. What kind of doctor’s office do you think this is?”

“If you gave me a smoke, I’d be able to do anything. You really don’t have any? It’s totally okay if you do smoke.”

“I’m going to disinfect you then prick you with a syringe.” Sakura grabbed Jiji’s arm and rolled up his sleeve past his elbow. Sasuke could not see them, but was able to make things out based on the shadows on the curtain. Listening to Jiji’s word and seeing the way he was acting, it was obvious that “he was hurting so much he couldn’t sleep” was just an excuse. In reality, Jiji came here with ulterior motives.

From the other side of the curtain, Jiji continued on about wanting painkillers and feeling feverish, while Sakura danced around this in stride and continued on with the medical treatment.

“Hey, you’re not like other people here.”

“What makes you say so?”

“Your name, and your hair color. This is the first time I’ve seen pink hair. It’s pretty.” Sasuke watched as Jiji’s hand reached out for Sakura’s hair, and unable to hold himself back, seized his wrist from behind and stopped him. Sakura made a face of resignation.

“...Huh?” Seeing his roommate suddenly appear, Jiji’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sasuke, you’re here? What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same. Why did you come here?”

“I came to get treatment for my injury. When I got hit it hurt. The bleeding stopped, but it still tingles.”

He’s lying.

“If the wound festers it’ll be painful, so drink this.” Sakura handed a small cup filled with green liquid to Jiji.

“What’s this?”

“A medicinal herb soup. It has good antibacterial properties.”

“Ugh, it smells horrible. If you want me to drink something that kills bacteria, alcohol is fine…”

“This is in answer to your earlier question, Jiji, but this doctor here is my wife.”

Jiji had just brought the cup up to his mouth to drink and started to cough it up. While wiping up the spilled soup, his eyes flicked back and forth between Sasuke and Sakura’s faces. “Really? You said wife, so that means you’re married to this doctor? Really? What? You—Sasuke, you’re married?”

“I never said I was single.”

“Yeah, but a guy like you? Probably single.”

What kind of prejudice is this…

“Eh, but why is your wife working as a doctor in this place?”

“I came to see Sasuke-kun.” Sakura lied. “Unlike a prison, there is no visitation system in place here. But I wanted to see Sasuke-kun no matter what, so I got hired as a doctor.”

“Huh, is that so.”

“Don’t be so surprised.” Sasuke turned his gaze to Jiji, who looked convinced.

“Why would I be surprised?” Jiji looked at Sasuke mysteriously. “It’s normal behavior. Married couples are always together.”

*************

“Jiji. Keep the fact that Sakura is my wife secret from the other prisoners.”

Departing from the doctor’s office, the two of them walked down a long corridor. Sasuke seized Jiji’s wrist in his. Wrapped around his wrist was a red cloth he had received from Sakura.

“I know. If people find out that she’s your family, she won’t be able to stay here… still, I can’t believe you’re actually married. You should say that kind of thing sooner.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“The subject was brought up, surely.” He interacted with his cellmates on a daily basis, so the subject was brought up more than once. Of course lovers and marriage was the topic of conversation a few times, but since he was undercover on an infiltration mission, he had always excused himself from the conversation.

“Jiji. You’re engaged to someone, aren’t you?”

At Sasuke’s words Jiji smirked in delight. “Yeah. Right now they’re working in Redaku’s capital. When that’s finished, we’re going to get married.”

Sasuke’s gaze fell to his feet. The carpet was dyed white from the bright moonlight shining through from the windows.

Married couples are always together.

Jiji’s words rang through his head. For Sasuke, someone who was often away from the village on long term missions, they were not words that came easily.

“Jiji. Do you think that married couples should be together?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” An immediate answer. “The doc, she came all the way here, to such a godforsaken place, because she wanted to be with you, right?”

“No… I don’t know. It’s because I’m usually away from home.”

“How long are you away from home for?”

“For long periods. There are times when I don’t return home for many years.”

“Really?!” Jiji’s voice was raised in shock. “Many years, at that point you can’t complain if your partner up and leaves, huh?”

“...Why would that happen?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

Sasuke turned to level Jiji with a serious look, but his cellmate met his gaze with an equally serious one, not backing down.

“It wasn’t a one-sided decision. Sakura is needed within our hometown, and I was requested to work outside the country, so there was nothing that could be done. That’s it. We exchange letters.”

“Yeah, but, even with that… don’t you think that when you’re gone, there are bad guys like me who will do unsavory things? In your country, do you wear rings?” Jiji continued staring at Sasuke, a worried look on his face. “Married couples should always be together.”

Sasuke really didn’t understand what Jiji was saying.

Sakura was family. No matter where they were, that wouldn’t change, he thought. He’d never heard anyone say that if you separated over a certain number of kilometers, you were no longer family. Even when he’d held a deep hatred for Itachi, he was still his older brother. To Sasuke, Sakura is family and his life partner. Even if they don’t share blood, even if they couldn’t see each other every day, that would never change.

That’s how Sasuke felt, but it was troublesome to translate that into language and explain it to Jiji, and it wasn’t in his nature to do so anyway. Instead he said, “I see,” and changed the subject.

“Have you heard anything about an ‘astronomical illustration’?”

“Astronomical illustration?” Jiji repeated and leaned over. “I don’t know. Based on the name it sounds like an astronomy resource of some kind? You should try asking Penzira.”

“Why should I ask him?”

Jiji blinked in surprise. “Um, because it’s Penzira. He’s in charge of the archives.”

#Sasuke Retsuden #NARUTO #SasuSaku #Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #Jiji #Meno

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justasparkwritings · 4 years

Text

River: Don’t It Make You Sad?

Previous: Till I Reach You

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Rating: PG 13

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Swearing! Cheating!

Listening: Cry Me a River - Justin Timberlake

Master List

Namjoon could’ve sworn it was you at the restaurant, flipping your hair off your shoulder, laughing heartily at the man across from you. The curve of your jaw, the rings on your fingers, the laugh. He was almost positive it was you, certain enough that he called you to see if you’d answer.

You answered, the woman at the table didn’t. He put his phone away and refocused on the people around him, their concerned glances not breaking through to him. His friends took notice of how he stared at the stranger, unsure what he was thinking about.

Namjoon repeated the mantra: I trust her. I trust her. I trust her.

He repeated the phrase throughout the night, as he stole obvious glances at your look a like. He couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut, this hint at insecurity, unfaithfulness. He’d never experienced it before, not once in your years together. But here he sat, drinking with his friends, repeating to himself that he trusted you.

He went home to you that night, making love to you in a hushed and hurried fashion, bruising your hips, sucking and biting your neck, inadvertently leaving marks so whomever was around you knew, you were his. He hated himself, the possessive jealousy he felt toward you. He’d never been this insecure. He didn’t know how to tell you, or how to talk about it with anyone. So, he kept it, locked inside himself.

BTS watched as what seemed like typical jealousy, turned into anxious paranoia.

A month later, Namjoon was mystified by the striking resemblance a woman stepping into a black sedan had with you. The rings, the dress looked like something in your closet, the laugh. The gnawing feeling in his stomach hadn’t subsided in the last four weeks, only grown. He called your name, once, twice… The woman didn’t bat an eye or turn around, just got into the car and drove off with a man that looked like the last guy, if Namjoon could remember what the other man had looked like.

“Namjoon, just ask her,” Yoongi suggested. After calling your name at the strange woman, Namjoon had followed his bandmates into the restaurant.

“I can’t ask her,” Namjoon said, eyeing his bandmate. They were adorned in fancy dress, sport coats and slacks, waiting patiently to be seated at the new it restaurant. The restaurant craved a boon, and BTS eating would give them the fame they needed to ensure they weren’t in the red, hemorrhaging money. No one needed another noodle place, but Seokjin was certain this place would be special. His brother, Seok-Jung, had eaten there the week previously and raved.

“Yes, you can. You ask and then you have the answer, no more of this, paranoid always looking over your shoulder, double checking she’s not stepping out,” Yoongi responded.

“What’s worse, being anxious about it, always wondering, not sleeping because of stress, being a really big pain in the ass, or asking and knowing?” Jin offered.

“Knowing is so much worse,” Jimin said. He adjusted his glasses and tossed his bangs.

“So much, but if your relationship is built on lies, then living in denial is equally as painful,” Yoongi added.

“Or, she could not be unfaithful and just love Namjoon like she always has,” Taehyung offered.

“Yeah, you could just be thinking about her so much that you’re seeing her everywhere,” Jimin said.

“Maybe,” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck, feeling unsure about the advice. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll just wait it out.”

“Suit yourself, but you need to take something so you can sleep because no one can cover the bags under your eyes,” Yoongi eyed Namjoon up and down, shaking his head. He was starting to look pathetic.

“Oh, be nice, he’s struggling,” Ho-Seok said draping an arm around his hyung’s shoulders.

“Why would she cheat? You’ve been together for a while, it doesn’t make sense,” Jungkook said. He tried to keep to himself when his hyungs discussed their personal lives, as the youngest he never had much to add, and they were always better suited at giving advice than he.

I trust her. I trust her. I trust her.

The familiar mantra had taken a permanent space in his head. Every thought was laced with the phrase. He trusts you. It became so common that he didn’t realize he was thinking it. They were right, you love him, why would you cheat? You were building a life together. Why would you throw it away? You spent so much time together, you came on tour, you were living together most of the time. Weren’t you happy?

Namjoon wasn’t sure if he felt gaslighted by his bandmates, or by you. All he knew was the gnawing feeling wasn’t subsiding but continuing to grow rampantly.

The third time he swore it was you in the club, dancing with some guy who looked like a cross between Namjoon and Seokjin, tall with shoulders, an upturned nose and pouty lips. He shook it from his head as he turned to order a drink. And then another.

Minutes passed like days, and soon Namjoon turned to see the man that was dancing with your look alike, to his left, flagging down the bartender.

“Looks like you’re having a good night,” Namjoon said.

“Oh yeah, she’s a freak,” He said wagging his eyebrows. Namjoon couldn’t tell if he recognized him, but hoped the alcohol was enough to mask him.

“You’ve been together long?” Namjoon asked.

“A few months, but she’s shacking up with some Idol, real hush hush, won’t say who he is,” The man smirked. If she was fucking around with him, the Idol couldn’t be worth much.

“Does she have a sister? I know someone who looks like her,” Namjoon offered, trying to find any inconspicuous questions he could ask to determine if it was you on the floor or not.

“No, Y/N, no sisters,” He said. He paid for his drinks and gave Namjoon a head nod before turning back into the crowd, back to you. It took every ounce of Namjoon’s strength not to go up to you, not to slam his drink down, not to make a scene. He took out his phone, and hastily texted you.

“We need to talk.”

Namjoon didn’t care what the implications of his text were. He trusts you… Trusted.

You arrived the next morning, two coffees in hand. As you rode the elevator to Namjoon’s apartment, you sipped slowly on your latte.

“Morning, babe,” You said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Namjoon was cold, lips not moving to mimic the gesture.

“Morning,” He replied.

“I got you coffee, you were up late last night,” You said, slipping off your shoes and tucking your sunglasses into your Chanel purse, a birthday present from Namjoon.

“The weirdest thing happened last night,” Namjoon started, sipping on his coffee.

“Do tell!” You said, smiling.

“I was at this club, in Itaewon, and I swore I saw you,” Namjoon said. He watched for a flinch, a crack, a movement in your face, anything.

“Why were you out? I thought you were staying in for game night,” You questioned.

“We decided to go out, can’t I change my mind?” His tone was more biting than he intended, and he watched your expression change.

“Of course you can,” You said, eyes narrowing.

“I could’ve sworn I saw you, in that black sequin dress you wore to New Years a year or two ago, dancing with some guy,” Namjoon’s voice was steady, his nerves absorbing the caffeine he was drinking, mixing with adrenaline, making him feel fucking invincible.

“Huh, they say everyone has a doppelganger, so maybe that’s who you saw.” You responded, tone matching Namjoon’s.

“Mm, that’s what I thought. It’s happened before, I’ve seen a woman out that looked like you with another guy.”

“But it hasn’t been me,”

“No, it hasn’t. I keep telling myself, trust her, Namjoon. Trust her.”

“I trust you,”

“I trust you,” Namjoon held your gaze.

“Why are we having this conversation if you trust me?”

You’d both dug your heels in. That was the problem with you and Namjoon, your birth charts aligned in so many of the right places, but your unrelenting stubbornness always offset them.

“The guys told me to just, ask you. They said that if it was nothing, you’d tell me. If it was something, wasn’t it better to know? Then, over the last few weeks, I’ve been racking my brain for why I feel this way,”

“What way?” You whispered.

“Like you’ve been gaslighting me,” Namjoon said.

“I haven’t been,”

“See, that!” He set his coffee down. “That’s it, making my feelings seem small or unwarranted.”

“Namjoon,”

“So I go out last night, think I’ll have a few drinks, maybe clear my head, come home and we’d figure it out.”

“So that’s what we’re doing?” You questioned, unsure where his tangent was taking you.

“But then, I spoke to the man dancing with you.”

You swallowed, cocking your head to the side, jaw setting as you watched your boyfriend take you down.

“And? Who was he with?” You said, forced calm resonating in your voice.

“At first, he didn’t say. He mentioned you’d been together long, eluded to some wild sex life, you know, standard drunk guy rambling.”

“Sounds like a charmer,” You scoffed.

“I asked if the woman he was dancing with had a sister, maybe yours was in town.”

“Mmm, and?”

“He said Y/N, no sisters,” Namjoon was towering over you, his height and moral superiority entangling with your indignation.

“My name is pretty common,” You said nodding, “You know at least two other people with it.”

“I trust you.” Namjoon’s voice was low, a register he didn’t use often.

“Then why are we having this conversation?” You countered.

“Because when I texted you last night, I was still in the club.” The shot had been fired.

“And?” Your resolve was intact.

“And I could see you, sipping on your drink, dancing with him. When I texted, you looked at your phone, then smiled and kissed him.”

“How do you know it wasn’t a coincidence?” You wondered, unwilling to concede.

“Your phone case,” His voice is measured, a sign that he’d practiced what he was going to accuse you of. It hung in the air. The second shot, fatal.

“Namjoon, listen,” You said.

“Months? You’ve been fucking him for months?” Namjoon’s nostrils flared, anger starting to get the best of him.

“I-

“Who is he? Where did you meet him? Is he just some guy you found off the –

“Namjoon, I know him from university,” You said, voice rising to meet the guilt and stress washing over you.

“And you’ve been sleeping with him for fucking months?” He yelled.

“We-

“You know what, save it. He already told me.”

“That’s not fair,” You snapped, temper flaring.

“You’ve been sleeping with some guy from university on the side when we’ve been together for years.”

“I-

“Did you think about me, at all?” Namjoon inquired. He didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer, or if he’d be better off never knowing.

“Joonie, please let me,” You were crying. He’d never yelled at you before. He’d never been this angry at you, not when you washed a dry clean only shirt, or forgot your anniversary, or spilt red wine at his parents’ house. He’d always forgiven you.

“You fuck around with this guy, you tell him you’re dating an Idol… Did you think he wouldn’t find out? Did you think he wouldn’t use you as leverage to get whatever he wants from me?”

“Joon,” You pleaded.

“Get out.” He demanded.

“Will you fucking let me talk?” You yelled, trying anything to get him to just give you a chance.

“No,” Namjoon stood, striding to the door. He opened it and waited impatiently for you to gather your things and leave.

“I’m so sorry,” You said, sobs crashing through you.

Namjoon slammed the door. There was no chance he would let you explain. No chance you had anything to say to him that would make any of this better. No chance he could forgive you for what you’d done, the danger and embarrassment you’d offered up to the karmic gods. He was fucked.

It was arranged through Namjoon’s assistant that you’d pick up your belongings from his apartment the following week. It’d taken Namjoon time to disseminate what belonged to you, what belonged to him, and what of your collective possessions he could part with. At the end of it, he had four boxes full, taped, labeled. He had tried to schedule a time for his assistant to get the boxes to you, but you became elusive, unwilling to cooperate with the separation of you and Namjoon. You had one demand, that Namjoon speak with you in person, then you would take your things and go. He refused… Then a week turned into two, which turned into three, and the members began complaining about the intrusion of the belongings, and their concern that Yoongi was going to burn them if Namjoon didn’t dispose of them immediately.

He caved. Jin said Namjoon could never stand up to you. In the years you’d been together, Namjoon had surely let you walk all over him. Pressuring him into vacation destinations that you preferred, forcing him to choose which holidays you spent with his family or yours, ensuring your favorite holidays were with your parents… Some were basic disagreements every couple had, but the spell you had on Namjoon made it hard for him to see if it was normal, or unhealthy. You had him wrapped around your finger since the first time he saw you, and he’d been loving you every day since then.

“You’ve got twenty minutes, then I’m calling security,” Namjoon said as he let you into the apartment. He led you to the kitchen where you took a seat at the counter, him standing across from you.

“I want to say that I’m sorry,” You started, eyes already full of tears. “I’m sorry I lied, and I’m sorry I was unfaithful.” Namjoon stood with his arms crossed. Nothing you were going to say was going to change the fact that you’d burned every bridge between you. “I broke your trust, and my actions are unforgivable. I’m sorry, but you hurt me too.”

Namjoon scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

“Please, enlighten me,” He said.

“You didn’t want to be around me. You were looking for problems in our relationship, trying to find any crack. We’ve been together for years and never once have we spoken about marriage. You’re always surrounded by other women. You-

“I don’t know how what I did or didn’t do has anything to do with you fucking some guy behind my back. This isn’t about me; this is about what you did.” Namjoon’s words were harsh, in your mind, designed to break you.

Namjoon watched as your tears began to fall, a sob breaking through. You quickly covered your face with your hands, snot collecting between your fingers.

Namjoon just stared, unmoving, as you ran out the clock. A timer on his phone went off, and he moved towards your boxes.

“Times up, take your shit,” Namjoon told the security guard tasked with moving your boxes to your car that he was done with you.

Moving slowly, you walked toward your stuff, and looked Namjoon in the eye.

“I’m really –

“Save it, bridges already burned.”

“Namjoon,”

“We were something, and you tossed it away,” Namjoon shook his head, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“I know,” You said, breaking eye contact.

“Doesn’t it make you sad?” Namjoon didn’t wait for your response. Instead he turned and moved to his room, slamming the door behind him. You were escorted out, boxes leading the way, access to the dorms, to Namjoon, dissolved.

Namjoon didn’t shed a single tear over you. But you? You’d cry a river over him.

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