#but hardly know any decent way of phrasing ANY of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slaymitchabernathy · 2 months ago

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Enjoy The Show

Coriolanus Snow is less than happy as he walks through the arched entrance of the Capitol zoo.

He hasn’t visited the zoo in years, not since he was a small child who was easily entertained by the silliest of things such as odd looking animals.

Animals that are now all dead.

Once the war started, feeding animals was the last priority for most people, especially when they could hardly afford to feed themselves.

Still, he keeps his head held high as they make their way down the paved pathway, the crowd dispersing once they see him. He parts the crowd like the sea.

“Honestly, they couldn’t have picked a hotter day to do this,” his mother mutters behind him. Even though it’s the beginning of July and the weather is scorching, Coriolanus is still wearing the expected attire. Burgundy trousers, a white button up with a burgundy suit jacket over it. The complimentary rose is of course, pinned to his lapel.

His golden curls are on display, his black leather shoes shine brightly as the sun beats down on them.

He looks like a Snow.

“We can not control the weather darling,” his father reminds her, “once we get a good look at his Tribute, we can determine if there’s any point in spending a cent on her or if we can just sweep this entire thing under the rug.”

Coriolanus hopes it’s the latter. Prays for it in fact. He has been furious when he was assigned the female Tribute from District Twelve to mentor.

Twelve.

Not One or Two. You’d think being the President’s son would garner him a decent District but no, fucking Dean Highbottom was clearly out to get him, to taint his pristine reputation and this was a clear message about his true intentions.

Coriolanus hadn’t even bothered to stay for the Reaping itself. Not after he saw his parents leaving Heavensbee Hall, his father just as mad as he was.

“Casca has gone too far,” he had boomed once they returned home, “plaguing my son with some underfed runt girl. He should count himself lucky that I don’t personally see to the stripping of his title and all that he’s worth.”

Coriolanus has agreed with his father entirely. This was unfair, he wouldn’t even have a chance at his Tribute winning, not when the upper Districts always won, more so the boys than the girls.

But, he couldn’t act like a sore loser. Not before the Games had already begun. So, he decided he would put a spin on it, make this years Games the one to remember.

“I’ll show him what happens when you give a Snow a challenge father,” he had told him, “I’ll get her to the finish line, get everyone to root for her.”

His father had looked doubtful and Coriolanus couldn’t blame him one bit. Father had sighed and then nodded before giving him a stern look, “It won’t be about her son. No. It’ll be about you. She belongs to you. Make it about Coriolanus Snow, use her to win, to land on top.”

They had shared a knowing look before Coriolanus repeated the phrase that had been ingrained into him since birth.

“Snow lands on top.”

꧁ ꧂

Mother is right about one thing though, it’s dreadfully hot today. Coriolanus wishes he could forego the suit jacket but it would be a sign of weakness and showing weakness isn’t what won them the war.

He keeps his gaze forward as they push through the crowd. Well, as their security detail pushes through the crowd. Many people stop and watch, whispering to one another. Coriolanus has grown more than used to it. His classmates treat him normal for the most part although certain ones like Festus Creed and Livia Cardew love to tease him about his father’s job.

“She should be in the last cage darling,” mother says, “all the way in the back.”

It’s just his luck that his Tribute has been kept in the back, faraway from the crowds where no one will notice her or pay her any attention. How can he win this thing if no one knows she exists?

When they pass the cage that belongs to her District counterpart he can’t help but glance inside and swallow at the size of the boy. The male Tribute who has been assigned to Lysistrata Vickers is nearly as tall as Coriolanus. He’s got a mop of brown hair that swoops over his brow and his skin is tan. He’s got this wild look in his eyes that makes Coriolanus glad he wasn’t assigned this particular Tribute.

Not that any of the Tributes are decent human beings but being assigned a girl gives him certain advantages. The first being that all women are below men. He’ll be able to manipulate her easier, coach her, train her. Trying to convince a boy to give the Capitol a good show would be much more difficult but with a girl he can easily persuade her with his famous Snow charm.

He’s always been good with the ladies.

He slows his approach when he spots the small cage his Tribute has been assigned. It looks like it used to be a bird cage. He certainly never paid it any attention when he visited before the war. The bars are rusty and there are several small swings hanging from the ceiling for the birds to perch on.

There’s a rather large swing in the middle, most likely designed for several birds to sit on at once and perform a song or two. He thinks he can recall the zoo putting on little shows with the birds, training them to chirp little melodies for the visitors.

Instead of a bird he finds his Tribute sitting on the swing, her hands wrapped around the iron rods that hold it up.

Coriolanus is beginning to wish he stayed for the actual Reaping. At least he’d know what she looks like. He can only see her from behind and she has long blonde hair that falls to her waist. There’s a pink ribbon tied in the back but it’s a bit lopsided, like she hasn’t had the time or energy to fix it.

He can see that she’s wearing a pink dress, it’s short, and it looks like it’s made of tulle. It’s dirty but that’s no surprise. He walks around the cage and listens to her hum, she sounds quite good if he’s being honest. Much better than his own mother who only sings once she’s got enough alcohol in her system.

When he finally reaches the front of the cage he’s at a loss for words. She’s pretty. She’s very, very pretty.

She’s got a small face and it’s covered in freckles. Her skin is as tan as her male counterpart and she’s got the most startling eyes he’s ever seen. They look almost blue with a mix of gray if that’s even possible.

She looks as surprised to see him as he is to see her but she recovers smoothly and slowly stands up, dusting off her dress. It’s light pink and has two thick straps of tulle holding it up. She’s also wearing high heels which is a rather strange choice of footwear. If he knew there was a possibility of going into the arena, he’d be sure to come to the Realing dressed to fight.

She brushes her hair behind her ears and just as she goes to approach him, she shrinks back.

Coriolanus furrows his brow, confused as to why she’s hesitating but one look over his shoulder is more than enough to explain. His father.

She absolutely knows who Crassus Xanthos Snow is. President of Panem. The man who ended the war.

She’s probably had nightmares about him.

Coriolanus looks back at her, he has to look up since the cage is slightly elevated on a slab of cement but she doesn’t look too tall, even in heels. She looks skinny, not underfed but skinny. Her days in the zoo certainly won’t help with that though. She won’t last long in the arena is she’s starving.

“Let’s go,” his father calls, seeing no need to waste another moment on this girl.

Coriolanus can’t seem to tear his eyes off of her but he nods, slowly turning on his heel before finally looking away and starting at the back of his parents heads. “She won’t last a day,” his mother says with the shake of her head. His father grunts, “That’s if she makes it to the arena.”

Coriolanus feels a small frown tugging on his lips, the least he can do is make sure she gets to the arena. But that might mean actually helping her, feeding her, looking out for her. And he can’t do that.

Can he?

꧁ ꧂

“What did you think about your Tribute Snow?”

Coriolanus looks up from his notes to find Festus Creed looming over him with that sky grin he’s always wearing, “There wasn’t much to think about Festus,” he replies. There really wasn’t. Not when he couldn’t get her to talk or even get relatively close to her.

Festus leans against the desk in front of him, “Yeah, my Tribute is pretty promising. Her names Coral, you know, since she fishes, I guess it makes sense. But she says she’s good with a trident. But who the hell uses a trident?” Coriolanus furrows his brows, he hadn’t thought that other Tributes might have advantages due to the work they do on a regular basis. District Twelve was known for coal.

“I didn’t get to talk to my Tribute yet,” he admits and the surprised face on Festus says it all. “But you saw her didn’t you?” Coriolanus nods and tosses his pencil onto the desk, “I did. And then my father decided that no time or money shall be wasted on her. He doesn’t even think she’ll make it into the arena.”

Coriolanus hadn’t said anything to his parents since they got back from the zoo yesterday. He went straight to his room to try and devise some sort of plan but kept coming up short. It was hard when he knew nothing about her and he couldn’t rely on his father for help.

“Why don’t we go to the zoo today?” Festus asks, “I was gonna go visit Coral, maybe bring her something to eat.” Coriolanus had forgotten that he did in fact have free will and didn’t need his father’s permission for everything but still, he hesitated.

Festus caught onto it immediately and gave him a toothy grin, “It’s not like she can get to you through the bars Snow. I’ve seen your Tribute, you could snap her in half if you had to.”

Well, he has a point.

“Alright,” he decides, “we’ll stop by the zoo after school today.”

꧁ ꧂

After a rather unpleasant interaction with Dean Highbottom, Coriolanus and Festus took off for the zoo.

“I really can’t see what that guys problem is,” Festus says as they approach the familiar sight of the zoo, where the crowd is much smaller than it was yesterday, “I mean, if you hate kids then why work at the Academy?”

Coriolanus gives Festus a knowing look, “Because he’s dead set on making everyone around him miserable, including the students.”

Dean Highbottom might be the pettiest man alive and Coriolanus just knows that his Tribute assignment is living proof of that.

“Well, I’m gonna go find Coral. Good luck with your Tribute,” Festus calls before veering off to a different path. Coriolanus gives him a wave before shouldering his satchel and making his way to the back of the zoo.

He spots the boy from Twelve in his cage and he seems to be talking to someone. He’s grabbing the bars and his back is facing Coriolanus. This boy might just be a top contender for the Games considering his sheer size.

As Coriolanus gets closer, he realizes that the boy is talking to his Tribute. The girl is also standing in her cage, her fingers wrapped around the rusting bars. They’re not too far apart in their cages but both of them have to speak loudly to clearly communicate and Coriolanus only catches the last bit of their conversation.

“…keepin’ us out of the way.”

“Well, what did you expect Jessup? It’s not like we’re anything special.”

So his name is Jessup. An interesting name although Coriolanus is well aware of his name and its own difficulties. Jessup turns the second he senses Coriolanus and glares down at him from his cage. Coriolanus doesn’t take it to heart, mainly because he’s not the one locked in a cage that used to belong to a bear.

His focus is solely on his Tribute who’s watching his approach. She still looks pretty but she’s gotten a bit dirtier since yesterday. She watches as he slowly approaches until he’s right in front of her.

Neither of them seem to know what to say.

“I’m your mentor,” he finally says.

The girl tilts her head and looks across at Jessup before looking back down at Coriolanus, “My mentor?” She repeats and her voice is so heavenly. Like sweet honey rolling off the tongue. Coriolanus nods, “Yes. I’ve been assigned to mentor you through the Games.”

That seems to register something in her brain because she lets go of the rusted bars and walks away, “Well I’m afraid you won’t be much help. I won’t win.”

Coriolanus doesn’t think she’ll win either but she doesn’t need to know that. She needs to know that she has just as much of a chance as any other Tribute. He follows her around the cage to the front where he saw her yesterday, “You don’t know that,” he says, “you don’t know that you won’t win.”

The girl laughs and shakes her head, “Look, I’ve seen your arena. There’s no place to hide. I’m not gonna win, but thanks anyway.” Coriolanus feels somewhat defeated and he’s not even a player. How can she give up so easily? He’s going to have to turn to other tactics. He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a sandwich he’s wrapped in wax paper, the sound alerting her of something maybe worth her while, “Well, you might as well have something to eat,” he offers, holding it up to her.

The girl hesitates to step towards him but his father isn’t behind him like last time. All that stands between them are the iron bars of her bird cage. He pushes his hand through a bar, a risk since she could easily grab his arm and force it against the iron bar, breaking it.

But she doesn’t seem like the type to resort to violence, and she certainly doesn’t look too strong. She’s limber, not lean.

“Come on,” he says, nodding towards the sandwich, the sandwich he smuggled out of the dining hall like some damn fugitive. He can’t let all of his hard work go to waste. “You’ve got to be hungry by now. How long has it been since you last ate?”

The girls swallows, her eyes flitting to the sandwich then back to him, “Since the Reaping,” she finally says, her tone softer than it was before, less resentful and more reserved.

“Then you should definitely eat something. Please, take it, free of charge,” he insists, his arm beginning to grow tired.

The girl finally gives into her hunger and approaches him, crouching down to pluck the sandwich from his hand and their fingers brush up against one another and he feels a small shock roll through his body.

The girl begins unwrapping the sandwich, her nimble fingers working quickly on the wax paper.

Coriolanus takes this as a moment to study her up close, noting how smooth her legs are or the fact that her heels look quite uncomfortable. Her dress looks so soft, making her look quite elegant for a District girl. Coriolanus doesn’t even realize that he’s reaching out to touch her dress until they’re both frozen, staring at each other without a clue as to what they should say.

The girl finishes chewing and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “It’s my momma’s.”

Coriolanus blinks once, twice, pulling his hand back, “Sorry?”

The girl gestures to her dress, “This dress was my momma’s before she passed away. Feels like she’s wrappin’ her arms around me right now, keepin’ me together.”

Coriolanus has never heard such a clear District accent before. This girl has such a distinct twang in her voice and yet it feels like a warm drink after a long day, like she could sing him a lullaby to make all his worries melt away.

“What does your father do for work?” He asks, not wanting to get into the death of her mother. The war took many lives and he can only assume that her mother’s was one of them.

The girl gives him a wicked grin, like she knows something he doesn’t, “My daddy’s the Mayor of District Twelve.”

Coriolanus can’t stop his mouth from dropping.

He had assumed that she came from the nicer part of District Twelve, if that even exists, but to be the Mayor’s daughter adds a whole new level to this. Coriolanus can’t imagine what it would be like to draw your own daughter’s name out of the Reaping Bowl and then read it out loud for everyone to hear.

No wonder she looks so much better than the other Tributes. Her pretty dress and high heels are more than enough to proclaim her status to the world.

And yet here she is, locked away in a dirty bird cage within the Capitol zoo.

“Yep,” she says, taking another bite, “guess the odds weren’t exactly in my favor. But I guess someone’s gotta take one for the team of Mayor’s kids. Guess you saw how heartbroken he was on the television.”

Coriolanus scratches the back of his neck, it’s getting hot and he’s getting a bit personal with her now which can’t be a good sign. “I actually didn’t stay,” he admits, watching her eyes widen in surprise and maybe…betrayal?

“Why not?” She asks, tilting her head, “Didn’t feel like I was worth stickin’ around for?”

Well my father didn’t feel like you were worth sticking around for, he thinks to himself while shaking his head, “I had previous engagements that I had to attend to,” he smoothly lies, watching her raise her her eyebrows, “Did you now? I thought it was mandatory for everyone to watch the Reapin’ ceremony, but I guess I was wrong.”

Coriolanus shrugs, Reaping day can be dreadfully boring by the time they reach Twelve. “Well, when you’re the Presidents son…”

“They make exceptions,” she concludes, biting into the last bit of her sandwich, “well, thanks for stoppin’ by, I appreciate the sandwich. Maybe you’ll get luckier next year and get a better Tribute.”

A frown tugs on his lips because she’s not going to get to the arena with that attitude. He grabs onto the bar nearest to her face, leaning in a little bit, “I could help you,” he whispers even though no one is around to hear them, “help you in and out of the arena if you let me. I can get the people who live in the Capitol to fall in love with you if you want, make them do everything in their power to keep you alive in and out of the arena.”

There’s only so much that can be done for her once she’s in that arena but that’s on a need to know basis. And she doesn’t need to know.

The girl mulls over his proposal for a moment before shaking her head, “I can’t win, I’ve seen the other Tributes, they’re bigger and strong than me. I’m not even dressed for the arena,” she pulls at her tulle dress. She’s got a point.

“But you’re dressed for a show,” Coriolanus tells her, watching her face morph into one of confusion, “part of the Games is getting people to like you. Putting on a show. Do you have any talents? Anything that can capture peoples attention?”

The girl looks around the barren cage she’s trapped in and bites her lip, “Not at the given moment no,” she admits, “only got my charms to live by I suppose.”

She is very pretty but that can only get her so far.

Coriolanus looks her up and down for a second, trying to formulate a good strategy for them to get her to the arena at least.

The Games will be a different story.

“Can you sing? I heard you humming when I first saw you,” he recalls. It had been a short lived interaction but she sounded pretty good.

“Kind of,” she mumbles, brushing her hair behind her ears, “not much of a show bird though.”

Coriolanus points at the giant swing she was sitting on when they first saw each other, “But you can be a songbird right? If you start singing then I bet people will start listening. They’ll come over here and you’ll start to get attention. No one comes over to this part of the zoo.”

The girl rolls her eyes, “Yeah, I’ve noticed that. Jessup seems to be keen on scarin’ them off.”

Jessup seems to be a problem where Coriolanus is concerned.

He cranes his neck to look over at the bear cage and finds Jessup watching them, watching him more specifically. “Is he…are you two friends?” He asks carefully, not wanting to uncover some hidden romance if he can help it.

He doesn’t want to get too involved.

The girl laughs, a genuine laugh and it does something to his heartbeat, “Are you askin’ if he’s my boyfriend?”

Coriolanus holds his hands up in defense and rises back to his full height, “I’m just trying to get my story straight in case any reporters ask me any questions about you two.”

The girl looks over at Jessup, a small smile on her lips, “No, we’re just friends. An unfortunate pair the two of us but there’s nothin’ between us.”

Coriolanus nods, that’s all he needs to hear.

“Well, maybe try and convince him to let some people come over to you. I promise they won’t bite.”

A bittersweet smile grows on her face and she stands up too, “No, they’re not the ones in cages now are they?”

Coriolanus manages to look somewhat sympathetic, he does feel a little bit bad about her predicament being the Mayor’s daughter and all but it was probably long over due for someone like her to be sent to the arena.

“No, they’re not,” he agrees, “but they’re the ones you’ve got to impress if you want a better shot at winning,” he sticks his hand through the bars again, “do we have a deal?”

She contemplates it which slightly pisses him off because she should be jumping for joy at the chance he’s giving her. Sure she won’t win, but she’ll make him look better and that’s all that really matters at the end of the day.

She finally comes to a decision it seems and her small hand grabs his large one, giving it a firm shake, “You have yourself a deal Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus grins, “Mr. Snow?” He teases.

Most people in the Capitol simply address him by his first name, only public servants use a title such as that one. But one day, he’ll be President Snow.

A much better title in his opinion.

She shrugs and smiles sweetly at him, “Didn’t know if we were on a first name basis yet.” Coriolanus chuckles and reaches into his satchel, pulling out a small water bottle, “I’d say we’re partners now, so I’ll allow it.”

He hands her the water bottle and watches her down the entire thing within seconds, maybe she really hasn’t eaten since the Reaping.

“They don’t feed you in here?”

She shakes her head and pulls the bottle away with a gasp, screwing the cap back on, “Gave us somethin’ on the train ride here but the rats got to it before we could. I suppose they don’t really care what condition we enter the arena in.”

But they should, he thinks, if they wanted a real good show then the Capitol would do well to ensure all the Tributes were somewhat healthy.

“I’ll stop by with more food tomorrow,” he promises, “if people like you then they might give you some food as well.”

“Sounds great,” she says sarcastically, swaying on her feet a little bit. Sweat is shining on her face, she must be so hot, so tired and dehydrated. It makes him a little bit angry, she’s the Tribute of Coriolanus Snow and she’s wasting away in this bird cage.

He ought to make sure she’s well taken care of until the Games, to ensure people can see how wealthy the Snows are, how generous they are that they’d waste their time and their money on some lowly District girl.

“You should get some rest,” he suggests, “it’ll get cooler in the evening.” She nods, grabbing onto the bars again, “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow Coriolanus Snow.”

He grins, shaking his head at her teasing, “I’ll see you tomorrow…”

He still doesn’t know her name. He would if he stayed for the entire Reaping, but alas, here he is.

“Soarynn,” she finishes for him, “Soarynn Nightingale.”

Soarynn, what a pretty name for a pretty girl.

“Soarynn,” he tests it out, liking how it rolls off the tongue, “I’ll see you tomorrow Soarynn Nightingale.”

She gives him a small nod, “I’ll be here.”

She certainly will be. And Coriolanus finds himself enjoying that fact as he strolls out of the zoo, knowing that she’s going to be right where he left her.

Safe and sound.

In her bird cage. His songbird.

| Part 1. |

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apex-academy · 1 year ago

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Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#10)

I keep myself distracted long enough for a decently portioned lunch, then head back up the stairs.

“.......”

I leave the stairwell a floor early. No point rushing up and down more than I have to, and I do need to look up what a kuroko is. Don’t remember seeing dictionaries in the library, but there’s no reason it wouldn’t have any.

“They’d probably make good blunt instruments for Monochap’s purposes.”

Not that the murder up here needed any blunt instruments.

Let’s not think about that. Straight to the bookshelves.

With that mantra, I charge in, barely even registering the reading tables. Just enough to not knock into one.

“Dictionaries...”

I should probably know what general area they’d be in, but I never did memorize the standard sorting system. I scan the spines at eye level to get a feel instead—computer science here, looks like—then stop.

“.........”

I turn around.

Mahavir waves tentatively from where he stands by another shelf.

“...”

I can’t figure out whether to ask him what he’s doing here or just be glad he’s well enough to leave his room.

“Hi?” Sure, that’s a middle ground.

“Hello.”

“...”

“I was, er... seeing if anything caught my eye.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay...”

“You were looking for a dictionary?”

“How—”

“Oh. Right.” The whole “talking to myself when I think no one else is around” thing. Which is somehow the least concerning of my mental health things.

“I believe they were on a higher shelf...”

“...but I’m afraid that’s all I remember.”

“We both love our high shelves, I’m sure.”

“Ahah.”

I keep my chin tilted up as I browse the titles. Why is the text so small on half of these? Do they want you to grab things blindly just hoping for the best?

“So you’re feeling better, Mahavir?”

“A bit.”

“Of course, with the... semiquarantine?—precautions, I’ve no business being out and about for more than a few minutes. But that much seems worth trying, I believe.”

“Perhaps I can take something back to read after all. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Here? Hmm...”

For him, I guess something military? Not a genre I’ve felt like reading lately. Linguistics? Can’t say I have much interest in that, either.

I’m really friends with a guy I share no common interests with, huh. Funny how that happens.

Either way, I’m sure he doesn’t mind me taking a minute to think, so I continue browsing the high shelves. Books on law, education... Ironic.

Just as I cross to a few books on language, a screech and thud jolt me.

“Ma—”

I glimpse the soles of his shoes beneath the nearest desk before my attention switches to the person now entering.

“My, my. I thought I’d sensed a sinner nearby.”

I casually approach the chair that was thrown hastily out of Mahavir’s way and lean onto it.

“Tsunyasha. Wouldn’t expect you in the library.”

“Ah, because there’s nothing I’ve need to learn?”

Sure, that’s it.

“But surely you didn’t think you could hide from me here?”

I keep my gaze up, but I can practically feel Mahavir freezing under the desk. At least I can rest easy knowing he must have gone down intentionally, but it’s not enough to keep my palms from sweating. Feels like I’m the only wall fending off an incoming tsunami from an unprepared town. Not sure which of those is who here, either.

“Oh, I would never be so...” What’s a good Tsunyasha-style word for this one?

“...Not feeling up to phrasing it right now. Were you looking for me in particular?”

“Hardly. What reason could I possibly have to fixate upon a single worm?”

I’m sure there are plenty, but most of them involve divine punishment, and I’d rather not bring that up. I seem to be maintaining her attention, though. Not sure Mahavir’s ever getting a chance to sneak past her—he doesn’t have a sneaky bone in his body, anyway—but keeping her distracted can’t hurt.

“Hoping for multiple worms, then?”

“That would be even more senseless.”

“Perhaps a proper demon to battle could be engaging...”

I can just feel Mahavir tensing up further. I bite my tongue before I can hiss that she doesn’t mean him. Not like I can be certain about that, anyway.

“...but it’s not as if I can’t abide a bit of fallow time, hmm?”

“Quite a bit of that lately, isn’t it?”

She sighs dramatically. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you mortals, to feel your short, short years slipping through your fingers.”

“But I fail to pity sinners.”

“Still no interest in helping us get out of here, then?”

“Perhaps as a passing fancy, but no more.”

“Is a passing fancy enough to want to help me deduce who the young master is?”

“I’d only want you to answer a question.” Not gonna ask for any more than that from her. Even getting an answer is a tall order, really.

“I suppose I can at least hear the request. Go on, whelp.”

“Do you know anything about kurokos?”

I watch her face as carefully as I can, but aside from a blink, I don’t pick up the slightest tell. Was she taken aback for a second, or just succumbing to the normal human need to keep her eyes from drying out? We’ll never know.

“One of those pranceabout little roles you mortals are fond of, yes?”

“I can’t say I care to know more than that.”

“So... a stage thing?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Pathetic as all your other ways of entertaining yourselves, but nothing beyond my expectations.”

“I see. Thanks.”

Actual information from Tsunyasha? Who’d’ve thunk. Guess it’s a little easier when I’m not asking her about herself. Unless, of course, I am... But I’m trying not to jump to conclusions with that.

She nods. “I believe I’ll excuse you now.”

“From the conversation or the room?”

“Oh, I suppose you can stay in your feeble room of papers for now.”

“As much of a waste of your few moments on this earth it may be.”

With that, she spins silently on her heel and strides away, scarf-thing trailing in her wake. I stay poised, nails digging into the chair back, and let out a long breath. She doesn’t come back. Still, I check the hall before returning to the table and tugging the chair back out of the way.

“She’s gone.”

For a second I wonder if Mahavir’s fallen asleep under there, but then he groans and starts to shuffle backward. The carpet muffles his movements and voice both.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He crawls back a little further and stops.

“You, uh, need a hand?”

“If you could...”

Making a mental note to wash my hands thoroughly after this, I do my best to wrangle him back to a standing position. I’m sure his appetite hasn’t been great lately, but if he’s lost any weight, I sure can’t tell.

“Thank you... again.”

“Don’t mention it, again.”

I check the hall one more time before backtracking to the shelves. Don’t get much browsing done before my attention strays back to Mahavir. He stands in the same place, staring blankly at the open doorway.

“I know you’re not leaving your room much right now...”

“...but you’ll have to talk to her eventually, you know.”

“............”

“I’ll push it as far into the future as I can, but you have to prepare yourself. Won’t help anyone if you panic and...”

“...”

“...pass out, most likely.”

“Er...”

“Of course.”

He takes a deep breath.

“But what on earth could I possibly do?”

“...”

“You can always try apologizing. I know you’d mean it.”

“..............”

“Odds 10-to-1 she’ll maintain she has no idea what happened and consider it some kind of general sinner-type thing.”

“You’ve a point, I suppose.”

“But still, I...”

“..........”

“.......”

We’ve already gone through this can of worms—no sense trying to pry the lid off all over again. Especially not out here in the relative open.

“Something to think about. But like I said, I’ll try to stave it off—don’t worry too hard just yet.”

“For now, we should get back to your room. You’re not looking too steady.”

“.......”

He musters up the energy to sigh and nod. I scout things out ahead and manage to guide him back to the dorm without any collisions.

“Get some rest, okay?”

“Yes...”

Nothing left to say as he heads inside for another round of isolation.

“.......”

Well, that’s another fire put out for now. Maybe I can take a breather before I jump back into my young master investigations.

I made progress, anyway, right? No confirmation that Tsunyasha’s our kuroko, but she at least knows what it is.

Or would she have denied even that much, if she was trying to keep her talent a secret? Maybe if I can just find some way into her study hall...

”......”

But like I said. Breather first.

[BACK] [NEXT]

#apexplot #apex6 #fangan ronpa

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myristicisms · 1 year ago

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@cherrygunpowder | Rinoa Heartilly says;;

" You did everything you could. "

How much loss was he expected to take? Ever giving, ever caring, ever golden hearted as he was, when was it Zack's turn to have a moment of peace. Numerous men, wiped out in damn near the blink of an eye and he'd been helpless in stopping it, as was quickly becoming a trend within his life. What sort of commander came out unscathed yet couldn't keep those dearest to him safe? ( A pathetic one, you couldn't even save Angeal, why would you be able to protect anyone else? ) He knows the look upon his face is sour, far more bitter than that of an unripe Banora white and yet it hardly mattered much.

Nothing seemed to matter much anymore.

Not that being jaded was all too surprising, when a man rises to the top at such a young age, he sees far too much and Zack had been a victim of circumstance by definition; Once starry eyed and full of life, he'd made a name for himself with how quickly he'd risen to Second Class, fifteen and already participating in a long running war was already enough to severely traumatize anyone, and then his promotion to First happened and seemingly everything fell apart from there. The icy claws of reality sunk deeply within his chest, ripping apart his ribs and shredding into the ever beating and loving heart of the once bright eyed teenager. That was war though, the brutal truth of what growing up meant when one's goal was to become a hero. It was always the same story, the same song and dance but different feet tapping along to the disastrous rhythm of combat.

Sharing his tale with others was just the same, many always questioned the boisterous man, how he was able to maintain a large smile and stay so kind despite the ever present dread looming within his mind, and this raven haired woman was no different. He pours his heart out once again, eyebrows knit together and a pitiful attempt at masking his grief behind a half hearted smile while he recounts what's led him to this moment, hiding away outside of a decently populated bar while drinking some odd soda he'd impulse purchased simply because he'd been thirsty and diets be damned.

Usually, when finishing his tale, most would look upon him with pity and offer something akin to ‘ that's rough ’, and yet his new company was kinder in her phrasing. “ You did everything you could. ” And he finds himself devoid of knowing how to respond. Laughter would be inappropriate, especially with how it struck a chord deep within Zack's heart simply because it reminded him so much of his old mentor. It hurt in a way that left him feeling human, as though he were just a normal person once again and not a revered warrior created to maim and slaughter any who stood in his way.

Silence was always so terribly awkward.

“ I did, but... Will my best ever be enough? ” He finally manages, turquoise eyes unfocused as he collects his pooling thoughts in what may as well have been a broken bowl. “ It feels like the more I try, the harder I work to be better ; to be a hero, it means nothing in the wider picture. I did my best and it did nothing at all. ” And he knows he's being pessimistic, feels utterly hopeless for a minute simply because his guest hadn't struck conversation with him over his tragic past, she wasn't there to listen to him mope and yet she still allowed him to tell his tale for the umpteenth time.

“ I never caught your name, here I am making a therapist of you unprompted and I didn't even get your name, I'm sorry. ”

#muse;; zack fair #cherrygunpowder | rinoa heartilly #// i'm so sorry i'm not too familiar with non ff7 muses #// but i tried to keep things mostly neutral for an easier verse!!#// also im so sorry my first interaction with you is zack word vomiting and being sad

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otakusheep15 · 2 years ago

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Leviathan NSFW Alphabet

So glad to be getting back to this series after months of neglect. I genuinely missed writing these.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Levi tends to have a bit of a drop after sex. Some days are worse than others, but it’s not very fun regardless. He needs constant reassurance that he did well and that he made you feel good. Once his headspace is clear again, he returns the favor and takes care of you, getting you food, water, or whatever else you need. After, the two of you watch some anime (usually slice of life or romance) before falling asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On him, Levi really likes his tail. It’s versatile and basically acts as an extra limb, and he knows how to use it well. If you’re a monsterfucker, he can definitely play into those fantasies for you. On you, he likes your hands. Honestly, most of the reasons he likes them don’t even have to do with sex. Like, yeah, they’re good at jerking him off, obviously, but it’s so much more than that. He loves holding your hands, the way they fit so perfectly into his, or when you gently cup his face and whisper the softest of phrases for only him, making him instantly melt in both scenarios.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a bit more than average, but it’s nothing too major. It’s also thinner, but still has a bit of thickness. Levi prefers cumming into something, whether it be you, a condom, or even a sock or toy if he’s alone. He claims it’s to help with the mess, and it really is, but he also lowkey gets embarrassed seeing his own cum, so cumming into something helps get rid of some of that embarrassment.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Kinda basic, but he definitely steals your clothes. He hardly does, and he usually returns any stolen clothes after a day or so, but it happens. Most of the time it’s underwear, but he’s honestly happy with any clothes he sees you wearing often. Maybe you have a hoodie you wear during winter a lot, or maybe you have this one pair of pants you sleep in often. Whatever the case, he’s probably stolen it and jerked off to your scent on the clothes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Contrary to popular belief, Levi is quite experienced. He’s far from the most experienced brother, but he’s not the loser virgin otaku most tend to see him as. After all, he is pretty popular amongst demons, especially his fellow otaku, and it’s likely that he’s been hit on by multiple of his fans. There’s no way he doesn’t have at least some experience

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s really into the lotus position, especially when he’s topping. Levi likes having you on his lap during sex. It puts you in control of everything, making sure you’re comfortable. Plus, this is also a good position for cockwarming, especially when he’s gaming. He’ll forego the gaming chair, choosing instead to sit on the floor with you in his lap, warming his cock while he focuses on his game. And he’ll never say it outloud, but he loves it when you tease him, trying to get him distracted so he messes up.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s comfortable, meaning he’s okay with cracking a few jokes and being more relaxed. But other times, he gets shy and puts up a bit of a wall that you’ll have to break down. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help but get flustered and shaken up around you sometimes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Decently well groomed, but not by choice. Lucifer constantly yells at him about how he should take better care of his hygiene, and he gets in trouble if he doesn’t. So, for the most part, he maintains his pubes well enough. There’s a little happy trail, but it’s not super noticeable if you aren’t looking. His pubes are also a tad bit darker than the rest of his hair, but, again, it’s hard to notice.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Super awkward, but he tries his best. Especially when it comes to anniversaries or special days, Levi will try his best to be romantic, even if it does get him all flustered and shy. In a way, it’s really cute how hard he tries despite how easily flustered he is, but don’t mention it or else he will shut down.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jacks off fairly regularly when he has time. He’s usually too absorbed in the lasted game or anime to worry about masturbation, but he will when he’s bored or has nothing better to do. However, he does try to stop jacking off as much once y’all start getting together because he knows he can just come to you if he’s horny.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Pretty much everyone knows this by now, but he has a degradation kink for sure. Levi loves it when you degrade him for being a perverted otaku, especially while you’re riding him or jacking him off. However, these sessions are the ones where he’ll have the biggest sub drops after, so be careful. He also likes degrading you sometimes when he’s feeling more dominant, but that’s a pretty rare scenario.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His room. Levi is so self-conscious about doing it anywhere else, even your room. His room is his safe space, and he feels most comfortable there. However, he does have reoccuring fantasies about y’all doing it in the ocean, or any body of water really. Maybe one day he’ll work up the courage to actually bring it up.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally just you existing is enough for him. But seriously, if you cosplay, Levi will be on his knees in a second. The cosplay most likely doesn’t even matter because he’ll love it regardless. Also, his tail is very sensitive, so any contact there gets him going as well.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sex in public is a big turn off for him. He gets very shy when people are looking at him normally, so he’d hate to be in such a compromising position with people watching. This also applies to exhibitionism. Levi doesn’t mind being a voyeur himself, but he doesn’t want anyone watching him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Honestly, he’s surprisingly good at giving oral. Levi has an absurdly long tongue, even by demon standards, which is great for pleasing his partner. He’s also very desperate to please, so he’ll do whatever you want him to do. As for recieving, he struggles with it at first since it is a bit embarrassing, but he warms up very quickly after you give him head for the first time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood. For the most part, he prefers a slower pace as to not overwhelm himself or you too quickly. But, sometimes, he can get too caught up in his emotions and becomes very rough. This especially happens when he loses a game or is too late to purchase a limited piece of merchandise. You best believe he is taking all of that anger out on you, with your consent of course.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not the biggest fan of quickies, but not opposed to them either. If you’re in the mood for a quicky, he usually won’t deny you unless he’s super busy, but he’d never request them himself. Levi usually prefers to take his time and enjoy the moment with you, and quickies aren’t really made for that.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s down to experiment, but he does also have hard limits he refuses to budge on. Most of the time, he sees something in a hentai he’d like to try with you, but only after discussing it with you and setting proper boundaries. Currently, he only has hard boundaries when it comes to public sex and being watched, but he might find a few more as y’all experiment.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Surprisingly decent stamina. He can easily go a few rounds without a break, especially when he’s in water. If he pulled an all-nighter playing a game or watching an anime, his stamina decreases drastically, but when he’s had proper rest, Levi can go for at least a few rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns so many toys. Everything from basic vibrators and dildos to limited edition toys made for his favorite fandoms, Levi has it all. If you’ve ever wanted to experiment with a certain type of sex toy, it’s basically guaranteed that he’ll have it somewhere. And if he doesn’t have it, he’s more than happy to buy it for you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s kind of unintentionally a tease, but he swears it’s not on purpose. Sometimes he gets really shy in the middle of an intimate moment, and it can come off as teasing, but he’s just trying to keep himself from passing out. This especially happens when y’all first start getting intimate.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Very loud. Levi is a nervous talker, and this is very true in bed. It helps him calm down if he talks to himself about what’s happening around him, and it also helps him collect his thoughts. But besides that, he generally makes a lot of noise, especially when he’s in the more submissive role. Lots of moaning and whining, and it’s all very adorable.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Trans Levi! Trans Levi! Trans Levi! This has been a headcanon of mine since I began playing and I will continue to talk about it until I die. He is trans, his brothers helped him pay for surgeries, and he is post-op on everything. He’s also t4t because it makes him feel more comfortable.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Double dicks, obviously. Average length for a demon, slightly above average girth. He has a bit of chub due to sitting in his room and playing games all day, but he has a fairly high metabolism that keeps him from gaining too much weight. There are a couple of moles/beauty spots around his body, most noticeably near his hips and thighs. In his demon form, he has a bunch of purple and orange scales everywhere, and his dicks have this ombre fade starting with purple at the base and ending with blue at the tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High sex drive, but he rarely acts on it. Levi is definitely somewhere on the ace spectrum, so it’s rare that he finds someone worth having sex with. However, when he does find someone he feels sexually attracted to, he’s literally horny 24/7. In fact, even when he’s single, he’s still relatively horny. Levi enjoys masturbating, and it’s a good way for him to relieve stress. He just usually doesn’t sleep around too much.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rarely ever falls asleep after sex. He’s tired, but not exactly sleepy. Usually, he’ll just turn on some relaxing anime and watch that for a while. If you’re tired and want to sleep, he’ll gladly tuck you in first and keep his show on a low volume so you can rest, but don’t expect him to join you anytime soon.

Finally finished with this one! Sorry if there’s any inconsistencies with headcanons or writing style; I wrote a lot of this across the span of a few weeks, so some of it may not all line up perfectly. Also, a lot of this is me self-projecting since Levi is my favorite of the brothers and one of my highest kins, so sorry if any of this seems a bit too specific. Next up is Satan, and I’ll try to have his out before Christmas if possible. Thanks for reading!

#obey me #shall we date? obey me!#obey me leviathan #leviathan nsft #obey me nsft #nsft alphabet

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randoimago · 2 years ago

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Okay, picture this: Hifumi, Sae, Futaba & Kawakami from Persona 5 with a foreign S/O who, when they first meet, struggles to speak Japanese & hold a conversation (but still manages to do so). The girls decide to befriend them, and as their relationship progresses from friendly to romantic, S/O becomes so good at speaking Japanese that they're practically as fluent as a native speaker.

I'm really curious to see where & how you'd picture these girls meeting their S/O with this kind of scenario, as well as how you'd think the relationship would progress.

Foreign S/O Gradually Getting Better at Speaking Japanese

Fandom: Persona 5

Characters: Futaba Sakura, Hifumi Togo, Sadayo Kawakami, Sae Niijima

Type of Request: Headcanons

Notes: I kind of just assumed the S/O in this speaks English for these headcanons since it wasn’t specified. Hope that’s okay!!

Futaba

Sure she knows some English from online learning and such, but it’s easier for her to read than hear. So expect her to pull her phone out for some translation app or something to help you out.

New people still scare her a little so she’ll help you out then quickly leave. Except you two end up running into each other again and again and she just gives in to her fate.

As your Japanese skills grow, she’s relieved that she can use her app less considering the translations aren’t always the best.

Can’t help but let out exclamations each time she hears you correctly say a new phrase. Even if it’s a simple introduction. Your Japanese has gotten so good!

Hifumi

She does her best to help you with whatever questions you have, but there’s definitely some trouble on both ends since English isn’t one of her best subjects.

Is glad when you both get some kind of translation tools as it helps you both improve with the other language when you two talk and meet up more.

There’s some satisfaction from her when you’re able to speak to her without looking at whatever book or app to help. Just knowing how much you’re improving makes her happy, but also pushes her competitive button because now she has to get better at English too.

It just becomes a thing where you’re both doing your best to be the best at the other language and she’s glad she can speak to you in either one fluently.

Kawakami

Considering all the students she’s tutored on various subjects, she knows a good bit of English to help translate for you when you need it.

It’s definitely a very slow start, but she has a lot of patience with helping you. It helps that you’re cute too.

Is proud when you two are dating and you’re able to order for the two of you at restaurants and such.

Honestly can’t help but be amused by how awful you were at Japanese in the beginning and now you’ve pretty much got it down. Five gold stars from her!

Sae

Thankfully she knows a decent bit of English so she can hold a conversation with you at least. Just asking you about yourself and things like that.

It’s honestly a good way to learn new experiences as well as practice up on her own language skills.

Does notice when your skills do start getting better. It makes sense that you’d pick up on things more since you’re living in the country now. She even does her best to correct you at times to hopefully help you more.

Honestly very impressed with how much your Japanese has improved. There’s hardly any mistakes anymore and she’s not pointing out mistakes as often. She’s proud, S/O.

#explosiveramennoodles #persona 5 x reader #hifumi x reader #hifumi togo x reader #futaba sakura x reader #futaba x reader #kawakami x reader #sadayo kawakami x reader #sae niijima x reader #sae x reader

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years ago

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Dwarves Always Knock Thrice

Requested: Yes and no. @estethell challenged me to write a modern AU with Fíli and Kíli knocking at the reader’s door instead of Bilbo’s by mistake. I interpreted it as a ‘what if Fíli and Kíli end up in modern day Europe?’

Warnings: none so far, I wrote this with a fem!reader (sorry! I try to write more gender neutral in the future, I promise)

Summary: What if one day your favorite fictional characters knock on your door? A modern AU with a twist! (any similarities to what I would do in this case are purely coincidental 😏)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. There are hundreds of fics like this one. But none of them were written by me and my weird sense of humor 😆 Depending on the response I’ll turn this into a multichapter fic, if not this will stay a standalone oneshot.

Humming a rather cheerful tune, you pressed the button on top of the coffee machine and your morning fuel started dripping into your favorite cup. You waited patiently until the foam reached the edge and then you turned the machine off. With the cup held between your hands, you inhaled deeply. Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee for a perfect start of the day.

A few minutes ago your boyfriend had left to go to work, only to see him again by the end of next week. He was going on a citytrip with your group of friends for a few days, which had been planned ages ago. You were supposed to go with them, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any vacation days left. No, it was back to work for you instead.

Not that you minded. You loved your job, and you were lucky enough to be able to work from home when you wanted to. It didn’t actually feel like work that way. At least you had decent coffee, you didn’t have to dress up and you could take a break whenever you wanted. And now with your boyfriend gone for the week, you had no interruptions and lots of quiet evenings to look forward to. Cheers to that, you thought while you sipped at your coffee.

The dinner table became your makeshift workplace, coffee within reach. There were no video meetings scheduled today so you were wearing your favorite pair of black leggings and a long oversized knitted sweater, with fluffy socks on your feet to complete your comfy outfit.

You moved your computer mouse and your laptop sprung to life. James, your Sphynx cat, hopped on the table and pushed his head in your hand, demanding cuddles.

“Another day at the office, how dreadful,” you smiled, petting him behind his ear. James purred and started to bathe himself.

He was a Sphynx cat, so there was no fur. Nothing but flawless pink skin, soft to the touch. It almost felt like petting a warm peach. You chuckled at the comparison, and James stopped his grooming to look at you.

“Oh, I’m sorry your Majesty. I’ll let you to it.”

You booped his nose and got to work.

After a day of sifting through emails, processing data and editing documents and spreadsheets, you felt utterly exhausted. A phrase your boyfriend likes to throw at you on these moments suddenly came to mind, ‘How can you be so tired when you’ve done nothing but sit down on your ass all day?’ Always the charmer.

You stood up, raised your arms above your head and stretched, groaning in the process. You froze when your stretch session was interrupted by three knocks on your front door.

“Who still knocks these days?”

It was almost 6 pm, slowly turning dark outside and you’d let the shutters down about an hour ago. It was something you did as soon as the sun was setting. It was silly really, but it made you feel safe.

But now it prevented you from seeing who was at your door.

The neighbours from down the street wouldn’t come by for a visit, they were the kind of people that liked to keep to themselves. Your parents would call first, so… a polite burglar perhaps?

You couldn’t be too careful these days, especially now, when you were alone, so you went to your intercom first to see who was at the door.

The camera didn’t show anyone. You could see a part of your front yard, but that was it. Strange… You thought you could hear voices, so maybe there was someone at the door after all. Maybe someone had driven their car into the ditch. Wouldn’t be the first time. You lived in the countryside, with roads where only one car at a time could pass, with ditches on both sides. A challenge for city people, and the occasional daredevil usually had to be towed out of said ditch.

What’s life without a little risk, you thought, and made your way to the front door. You weren’t the one to turn away from people in need. It would probably get yourself killed one day, you were too kind and gullible and people tended to take advantage of that.

Another three knocks sounded, a little louder this time and you swung the door open.

“Finally!”

Your boyfriend rushed inside and shot up the stairs. When you looked to your driveway, you saw his car with the lights on, the motor still running. He was running late again. As usual.

After a few minutes he thundered down the stairs, his hiking boots in hand.

“Almost forgot these,” he said while lifting them. He kissed your cheek and ran off. You sighed. “See you next week, sweet. I’ll miss you.”

Sarcasm was your way to cope, to learn how to deal with the lack of love and care. Because who were you kidding? He wouldn't miss you.

You shuffled to your kitchen, in need of something hot. To drink, that is. And while the coffee machine filled your cup for the second time that day, you rubbed your face with your hands trying to think of how you had ended up in this situation in the first place…

“Just try and enjoy a week by yourself,” you whispered.

You were about to take a first sip when three knocks sounded for the third time.

“Seriously?”

When you opened the door, you couldn’t stop the massive eyeroll when you saw it was your boyfriend again.

“Hand me the reservation papers of the hotel, will you? I forgot them and I need the address for the gps,” he said.

“I sent it in an email to Tom, and I put the address in the gps system yesterday. Now go, you’re late enough as it is. Call me when you get there okay?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek again.

“Bye! Enjoy your week by yourself!” “I will, don’t worry,” you smiled.

Before you closed the door there was a bright white flash. You covered your ears on instinct, something you always did when there was a thunderstorm.

“That was very closeby,” your boyfriend gasped. “They didn’t say anything about a thunderstorm tonight.” “I’m not sure that was lightning… there was no thunder?” “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

And with those words your boyfriend left for the second time that night.

After closing the front door with a small heart, you tried to calm yourself. You were terrified of thunderstorms, and you really didn’t feel like going through one when you were on your own. Let’s just hope he was right and it was nothing, you thought.

Your coffee…! Taking a sip from the now lukewarm drink, you pondered if you would make it into an Irish or Italian one. Heaven knows you deserved it, right? With your coffee still in hand you made your way over to the liquor cabinet, only to be interrupted by yet another pair of knocks on the front door.

“I’m going to kill him,” you murmured while you walked into the hallway. “What could he have possibly forgotten this time?”

You swung the door open with a little too much force, but you couldn’t care less by that time. The small amount of patience you had left was already out of the window and you just wanted to enjoy your spiked coffee.

“What did you forg-?!”

Your voice got caught in your throat when your eyes fell on your visitors. Visitors. As in plural. Definitely not your boyfriend. You recognized them immediately, there was no doubt who they were but… it couldn’t be! This was simply impossible!

In your shock you forgot you were holding your cup of coffee and it slipped out of your hand. The cup completely shattered on the floor but you hardly noticed.

Because right in front of you, in the light of your porch light at your very own doorstep, stood Fíli and Kíli.

As in Fíli and Kíli, nephews to Thorin, King under the Mountain. As in Fíli and Kíli, characters from The Hobbit. Fictional characters. With a heavy emphasis on ‘fictional’. Made up by Tolkien.

So how the hell was it possible that they were standing in front of you, alive and well?

The two Durin brothers were a bit taken aback so it seemed, because they too remained silent at first. After a few awkward seconds Kíli was the one who decided to speak up instead of his older brother. He was clutching his sword and quiver, just like he did in the movie.

“Kíli,” he began. He was side eyeing his brother who was still staring at you, and smacked Fíli’s chest when he didn’t respond. “What?” “Kíli,” Kíli repeated, pointing at himself and then at his brother who finally caught on. “And Fíli.” “At your service,” they both continued, bowing deeply.

“Y/N, at yours,” you responded without a second thought. Kíli’s face split into a wide smile.

“We’re looking for master Boggins!” “Yeah, I kind of expected you to say that,” you murmured, but they heard you. “Oh, so you’re a seer?” Kíli assumed excitedly. “No! No, I’m just… me. But there is no mister Baggins here,” you said, correcting Kíli. “Are we at the wrong house?” Fíli wondered. “I’m afraid so.” “Well… can you help us find him?” Kíli looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “I would but, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Both of their faces fell. They were so in character, if someone was pranking you, they did one hell of a job in finding these two actors. And their costumes were spot on, from the carvings on Kíli’s bow to the colour of Fíli’s fur coat. It was scaringly accurate… They looked so much like Dean and Aidan’s version, but not quite. You didn’t know why exactly, but you had the feeling they were real. They were Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís.

Fíli stared at you with a confused expression. “What do you mean, my lady?”

Oh. Now, if you weren’t already a little enamored by their looks, the title he just gave you would have. You weren’t exactly used to endearments.

Not that Fíli had meant as an endearment but you wouldn’t mind if they called you my lady for the rest of your life. It just made you grow a couple of inches.

“I’m probably going to regret this, but… come in.” You stepped aside so they could enter the hallway.

The heavy boots they were wearing made scratching sounds on your tile floor and your mind immediately went to your delicate wooden floors in the rest of your house.

You were going to sound extremely bossy and uptight but you had to think of your interior.

“Could you both maybe take off your boots?”

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

“If you want?” Fíli asked you.

“Please.”

You took the swords and quiver from Kíli so he had his hands free and placed them in a corner of your hallway. Fíli followed your example and added his own weapons to the pile.

“I trust you not to attack us when we’re unarmed,” he winked at you.

You smiled back at him, knowing all too well he still had some smaller knives hidden somewhere. For a moment the thought of reenacting the knife scene in Mirkwood crossed your mind, but you thought better of it. He wouldn’t find it as funny as you thought it was and you’d probably lose a finger or two if you tried to take a knife from him. It was best not to challenge him. Yet.

Once their boots were placed neatly next to their weapons, you motioned them to follow you into your living room. Your eyes drifted to the shards of your coffee mug and the spilled coffee, you needed to clean it up but it simply had to wait.

“I don’t really know how to begin explaining all this,” you said, while waving your arms around you, “but it might be a good idea if we sit down?”

You gestured towards the sitting area and both brothers took a seat on your couch.

It seemed like they didn’t know where to look first. Their eyes wandered to your tv, surround system, laptop, aquarium, …

Kíli whispered something in Fíli’s ear, to which the older brother shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want to drink anything?” you suggested. “I have water, milk, beer, …”

Their eyes lit up when you mentioned the beer, so you nodded your head.

“Beer it is, although I need to warn you. It’s Belgian beer, so it’s probably a lot stronger than what you guys are used to.”

You mentally facepalmed at your last sentence, why did you even mention that? They didn’t realize they were in a different universe, so mentioning your country would give them zero information.

“I think we can handle it just fine,” Kíli commented with a smirk. Fíli nodded in agreement. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

After another look at the dwarves on your couch, you disappeared into your kitchen. You fetched two beer glasses out of the dishwasher and two bottles of beer from your fridge, before you noticed how much your hands were shaking.

Okay, Y/N, you need to calm down first… Easy to say when you have two dwarves sitting in your living room. Dwarves! And your favorite dwarves too. How many times had you imagined this exact moment in your fantasies? In your dreams?

Of course! That was it…! You probably fell asleep at your laptop and you were dreaming. But then why did it feel so real?

Maybe someone was pranking you after all? Nah, that wasn’t likely. Nobody knew you were even in the Tolkien fandom. Let alone who your favorite characters were.

So it must be a dream... But if you were dreaming, they definitely would have been an exact copy of the movie Fíli and Kíli. As in, Dean and Aidan in costumes. The ones sitting on your couch looked slightly different, still handsome - Mahal, did they look handsome - but you would probably refer to them as discount Dean and Aidan.

Your small mental breakdown was interrupted when Kili started to scream.

“What is that?!”

Quickly snatching the bottles and glasses in both of your hands, you hurried back to the Durin princes.

When you entered your living room, you were met with quite the hilarious view. Tolkien had described Fíli and Kíli as fearless and courageous, but there was nothing courageous about their behaviour right now.Fíli was sitting with his legs pulled up and Kili half on Fili’s back, pointing at James who was trying to jump on Fili’s lap.

“That’s James, my cat.”

“That’s a cat?!” Kíli yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” you laughed, placing the glasses and bottles on the coffee table. “He’s a sphynx cat, he’s supposed to look like that. They don’t have fur.”

You called James and he immediately ran to you, so you could pick him up. He rubbed his head against your chin and started purring, happy to get some attention.

You crouched down before the two princes.

“Go ahead, pet him. You don’t have to be scared.” “We’re not scared,” Kíli protested, puffing out his chest. You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

They were wary at first, but eventually both brothers were petting James. Before you could stop him, James jumped out of your arms on Fíli’s lap and curled up against the fur of his coat.

Fíli froze and tried his best not to let it show that he wasn’t comfortable with this at all. Next to him, Kíli had the hardest time keeping a straight face, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his chuckles but his shoulders were already shaking with laughter.

You poured their beer and placed it in front of them.

“Like I said, it’s pretty strong so small sips. Do you want me to take James away?” Fíli shook his head. “I-it’s fine!”

You took a seat on your other couch and anxiously started to rub your thighs.

“So… like I said, I don’t really know how to explain this but I think I know what happened to you.” “Wait… did something happen to us? I don’t understand?” Kíli asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Oh, right. They didn’t realise they were in a different universe right now. Maybe you should take a different approach.

“Can you tell me what happened before you knocked on my door?”

Kíli took the two glasses and gave one to his brother before he took a gulp, humming appreciatively.

“I like this,” he said. “And to answer your question, we traveled to the Shire and knocked on the door with the mark. And here we are!” “But… my door doesn’t have a mark?”

It was Fíli’s turn to roll his eyes. “Kee, you’re not telling the whole story. But you’re right about this,” he smiled while raising his glass, taking another sip. “This is good stuff.”

You chuckled when you saw some foam sticking to his mustache. He raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?”

“I have enough beer in the fridge, you don’t have to save some for later,” you laughed, pointing at your own lip to get the message across.

Fíli quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The movement made James shift in his lap and the Dwarf went rigid again. You decided not to say anything about it, you figured maybe Fili didn’t like cats that much. Or just James.

“So what did Kíli leave out?” “Your door wasn’t the first one we knocked on. There was a round, green door in the Shire. And that one had the mark of Gandalf. He’s a wizard.”

You nodded. So far it went exactly like it should. Shire, green door, mark.

“But when we knocked on it, we found ourselves in a field all of a sudden. And your house was the only one around so we figured that was where we were supposed to be. Since Gandalf is a wizard, you never know what to expect.”

Okay, that was different. It almost sounded as if they went through a portal of some sort. Like a portkey? They touched the portkey and traveled to a different universe? But portkeys weren’t part of Middle Earth, that was Harry Potter. Did they have something similar?

“You’re not in Middle Earth anymore,” you said softly.

Both brothers stared at you with wide eyes, their beer long forgotten. Kíli looked at his older brother, and pulled at his sleeve.

“What does she mean by that?”

Fíli kept his eyes fixed on your face, searching your features to see if you were lying. If you were trying to prank them.

“It means that you traveled between different worlds. In my world, where you’re in right now, Middle Earth is fictional. A story. It doesn't exist. Just like my world doesn’t exist where you’re from.” “I don’t believe you,” Kíli said with a frown.

You had expected this. It’s not like you would’ve believed them if you were in their place.

“Look around,” you tried to explain, “you can see things you recognize. The furniture, me being a human, … But you can also see things that you don’t understand. They are from this world.”

“You said Middle Earth was a story to you?” Fíli asked you. “Yes. There are tales about Middle Earth, and Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, the race of Men, … Orcs, wargs, goblins,” you explained, careful not to mention anything about their storyline or the one with the One Ring. “But I’ve never thought it could be real.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, letting it all sink in.

“How… How do we get back to Middle Earth?” Fili wondered. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. But I’m going to help you find your way back. We’ll figure something out.”

You played with your fingers, a telltale sign you were nervous.

“And in the meantime you can stay here... With me.”

A/N: There you go... This is the setup for a possible new multichapter fic if people are interested in it. Just think of the two brothers in a modern day kitchen and bathroom, how the reader tries to cope with her fictional crush in her home and... how will they get back to Middle Earth? Would you be interested to read that? Let me know! And of course let me know what you thought of this story :)

A/N part 2: Sometimes tumblr switches paragraphs for no reason at all, if you notice this happened, send me a message! I’ll try and keep an eye on it myself, but some help is always appreciated.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @artsywaterlily @entishramblings @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @sxperncturalimpala67

#fili x reader #kili x reader #fili and kili #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #hobbit character in modern world #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit oneshot #fili #kili #durin princes

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ashfae · 3 years ago

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i request that u do go on at length about how most of the united kingdom of great britain and northern ireland does not understand chocolate chip cookies. u are welcome.

All right, you asked for it. I will preface by stating I have lived in the US for 23 years and Scotland for 19 years and as such my knowledge and opinions are not so much informed as very mixed up. (see also my spelling)

So. Biscuits and cookies.

The common statement is that in America it's a cookie and in the UK it's a biscuit. This is both true and misleading. Let us define our terms.

Generally speaking, cookies in America are about the size of your palm, usually soft and chewy rather than hard and crunchy. Some will even call them a bit cakelike. (Trivia: the word 'cookie' comes from the Dutch word 'koekje', or 'little cake'.) Sure, there are exceptions, especially if you're making them at home and have added too little flour or butter that's too soft or baked them so long that they've turned into charcoal briquettes. But the best type of cookie has a little bite to it (al dente, like pasta!) and then turns into softness on the inside. Also, they're inevitably sweet. They're best when fresh out of the oven and a smidgen gooey and if you take chocolate chip cookie dough and refrigerate it and then eat it it's divine. Cookies are a dessert.

The UK's biscuits are not cookies. They are smaller, easily half or a third the size of an American cookie. They are definitely crunchy. Also they are not necessarily sweet. It is difficult for me to describe the concept of the digestive biscuit because after almost two decades of living here I still find them to be these bizarre neither sweet nor savoury neutral things that seem pointless and pleasureless. Biscuits are lighter and less dense than cookies and not at all cakelike. They are not a dessert so much as a thing designed to be eaten alongside a hot drink, and also to be dunked into it. The hard crunchiness that at first seems a sad reminder of lost cookies from across the pond is actually very practical as it helps keep the biscuit from falling into your tea/coffee/hot chocolate and becoming a sad mess of soggy crumbs ruining your drink. They are not cookies but they are delightful in their way. They are usually not very satisfying without a hot drink to accompany them, though there are notable exceptions such as custard creams. (Also the chocolate caramel digestive, which transcends all natural laws of biscuits and digestives and has achieved a deliciousness I cannot properly explicate)

As a side note, hot drinks are not an affectation here but a necessity because everything you've ever heard about rainy cold weather in the UK is true and the cold moldy damp seeps into your bones in a way it just doesn't anywhere in the US and there's a reason we're all so religious about our hot drink of choice and getting regular access to it. I still don't like tea and expect the immigration authorities to discover this and kick me out of the country at any time.

So far, fair enough. For the most part the US and UK acknowledge each other's cookie/biscuit differences, and even regard them with affection. There is some overlap. You can find US style cookies in UK supermarkets, and they will be proper cookies, chewy and delicious and not really suitable for dunking. Best of both worlds, yes?

Alas, there are a few catches.

First off, too often when you are offered a chocolate chip cookie, you are not given a cookie. You are given a chocolate chip biscuit. It will be small and hard and have teeny tiny chips and be okay if it's dipped into a hot drink but not really appealing otherwise. This is fine if it's what you expect but sad if what you wanted was a chocolate chip cookie. My theory is that the phrase "chocolate chip cookie" is so ubiquitous that even if in a biscuit assortment everything else is called a biscuit, the chocolate chip thing will be called a cookie despite manifestly not being one.

But second. Second is the difficulty of buying chocolate chips for baking with.

In the US when baking chocolate chip cookies, you get a bag, usually 12oz. My heart belongs to Tollhouse semisweet chips and I bring back several packs every time I'm in the US. These added to a recipe will make a roughly 40 cookies. A 12oz bag is heftyish, not at all hard to lift but awkward enough that you couldn't juggle it easily.

I can only guess that no one in the UK bakes more than six or seven chocolate chip biscuits at a time and no one at all bakes chocolate chip cookies, because for years all I could find were titchy little 100g bags of substandard milk chocolate chips, where the chips were as small and uninteresting as the bag they came in. TITCHY, I tell you. 100g = 3.5oz (roughly), so I'd need four of them to make a US style batch of chocolate chip cookies. There are better ones available now (thank you, Dr. Oekter) with much better chocolate plus the chip size is large enough that you can actually taste it, as opposed to it just ending up as a tiny smudge that once saw chocolate from a distance. The bags still tend to come in only 100g amounts. I've never bothered figuring out how to make a small enough batch of cookies that 100g of chips would be enough, there hardly seems any point. I think they're sold to be used as decorations more than chocolate chip cookie essential ingredients.

There are exceptions, of course, places that sell larger bags of chips for those of us passionately determined to bake chocolate chip cookies as opposed to biscuits (looking at you Lakeland, thanks). But on the whole chocolate chip cookies are not as big a thing in the UK as in the US, and most of the UK does not know what it's missing and thinks small hard chocolate chip biscuits or grocery store made preservative-laden cookies are sufficient, and have never had fresh baked melty chewy chocolate chip cookies with decent chips, and that seems a pity to me. I am amending this where I can, however. My most enthusiastic converts are my in-laws, and I have been known to pay for goods and services with chocolate chip cookies. Fortunately I have an excellent recipe (the Tollhouse one, but with some minor tinkering and a secret ingredient). They are delicious but dangerously addictive, which is excellent for my plan to convert those around me to their service and gradually turn the whole of the UK into my own chocolate chip cookie empire. All hail Ruth Graves Wakefield!

This concludes my babbling about chocolate chip cookies for today. Tune in next time when I'll reveal my other nefarious plan to force the UK to understand and accept pumpkin pie.

#in which I babble #don't say you didn't ask #chocolate chip cookies #damn I really want some now #chocolate caramel digestives are ineffable

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Something More (Taywhora) - pureCAMP

A/N - Hi Ortega, love you xx

Here’s a cheeky little girl band au in which A'Whora is sort of in love with her bandmate, Lawrence is sort of in love with her makeup artist, and Bimini has no idea what’s going on. Enjoy, bing bang bong <3

Death by a thousand cuts lingers on A’Whora’s mind. There seems to be a million ways to express how she’s feeling; the straw that broke the camel��s back, the final tipping point. The way that little things just build and build and build until their crushing weight is suddenly made noticeable to the poor fool trapped beneath them, already without any hope of survival.

Maybe she’s being dramatic, maybe poetic. Maybe that’s why she’s good at writing lyrics, why she scribbles them down in glittery notebooks that Lawrence makes fun of her for buying. They can hardly use what she writes in her free time, the need for fun, relatable and light-hearted lyrics far outweighing the demand for her emotional ramblings, but nevertheless she’s still alright at it.

More than anything, it’s the numbness that bothers her. This pain isn’t jarring, soul destroying, artistically tragic like she wishes it was. She mostly feels an ever-present nothing, with the occasional empty hole like a vacuum in her stomach that weighs on her late at night, alone in bed. The feeling is heavy and cold, but she can’t describe it any better than that. She’s tried, and the scrunched up paper and furiously crossed out words provide more than enough explanation as to how that endeavour went.

Is she ridiculous to be angry over wanting a little communication, knowing she herself hasn’t done it either? Is she hypocritical for internally begging Tayce to explain when she knows full well she’s not explained her side?

Whatever the answer, she’s an idiot for hooking up with her bandmate.

Sighing frustratedly, she throws her pencil across the room, likely to never be seen again, and shuts her notebook. The pencil flies through the air and hits the wall just as Lawrence enters, missing her head by mere centimetres. She reels backwards out of shock and then clings onto the doorframe, one hand on her heaving chest.

“Fuck me! You trying to kill me or something?” Lawrence demands, her expressions every bit as big and blown up as they are on stage.

A’Whora flops onto her bed as Lawrence sits on hers - they’re sharing the hotel room, Tayce and Bimini paired up across the hall.

“Not you, babes.” She rolls her eyes at herself, stretching her legs out as her head crashes into the pillow.

Lawrence snorts. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s far from fucking paradise and you know it, you nasty bitch.” A’Whora shoots back, relieved that neither of them are stupid enough to interpret any malice in the harsh way they speak to one another.

Truth be told, A’Whora and Tayce’s hooking up is probably the worst kept secret in all their band management. Tayce seems to think nobody knows, and she’s all the happier for it, but A’Whora knows for a fact that Lawrence, the entire style team and their management all know what’s going on - it’s really only Bimini, bless her, who’s in the dark about it. The second worst kept secret is Lawrence and their makeup artist, Ellie, but that’s the farthest from A’Whora’s mind currently.

“It used to be fun, you know what I mean, like? Like it’s just me and Tayce and we’re having a good time and everything, there’s no pressure for dating or nothing like that, ‘cause she weren’t ready for it.”

Lawrence blinks. “Am I supposed to be sensing a problem here, or?”

A’Whora groans. “Shut up, bitch, I’m trying to do a fucking monologue for you! Anyway, it’s just weird because I swear like I haven’t done anything and nothing’s changed at all but her texts are really friendly rather than like flirty now?”

“And you haven’t sent me off to Ellie’s room in a while so the two of you can fuck like rabbits.” Lawrence finishes, a sly grin on her face knowing that she’s just pissed A’Whora right off by interrupting the aforementioned monologue.

Crude as she is, she’s right - and A’Whora probably would’ve worded it in a way more disgusting manner herself. It’s a decent system that they’ve rigged up, honestly. Whenever Tayce texts, or A’Whora texts her, she sends Lawrence off to go find Ellie, makes up some lie about why their bandmate isn’t sleeping in their room tonight, and then they can spend some quality time together. It’s simple but efficient, hence its brilliance.

“Sorry babes. You know you can still go see her even if I’m not seeing Tayce?”

Lawrence snorts. “Nah, you’re fine. To be honest she’s fucked me right off recently so I’m not in the mood to see her.”

It’s horrible, but A’Whora’s secretly glad that she’s not the only one entangled in some kind of romantic or sexual turmoil. “Aw, what did she do?”

“None of your business, you nosy bitch!” Lawrence half-yells, but bizarrely, she’s still not mad. “You were ranting about your secret lover?”

“Fuck off,” She shoots back, “I was done, anyway. She’s just, like, reset. I don’t get it.”

She’s not strong enough to confide what she really thinks. It clouds her mind constantly, a small part of her brain daring her to just come out and say it in the malicious hope that she’ll find out how it feels to broadcast. Her stupid, selfish brain is worried that Tayce has met someone, someone she likes, someone she’d be willing to, or interested in, pursuing a romantic relationship with. Because romance has never been part of their deal, something they’d agreed on. Romance was off the table for Tayce because she wasn’t ready, and A’Whora was fine with that.

Maybe she was in the wrong for going along with the hook ups and flirting under false pretences. A’Whora had hoped, secretly, that over time, Tayce’s aversion to love and commitment might begin to soften, and surely the most natural, safe way to ease into it would be with someone who she already knew could have a fun flirty rapport with her, not to mention a metric fuckton of sexual chemistry?

Behind every flirty text held the secret hope that Tayce’s feelings would one day find the strength to break out. A’Whora hadn’t meant to get attached to her bandmate like she had, but there seemed to be fuck all she could do about it now.

“Well,” Lawrence announces, rolling onto her back and gesturing up in the air with her arms, “You’re fucked off, I’m fucked off, I say we go and get absolutely steamin’ and forget that we’ve ever felt a positive emotion towards someone who doesn’t give a fuck.”

A’Whora closes her eyes, heart sinking. “I’d actually love to, but we can’t just go the two of us, because then we’re leaving out the others. Bims’ll wanna come, and if Bims comes we have to invite Tayce and I literally don’t wanna see her because it’s so weird that I’ve been like, demoted to friend.”

“She removed the benefits,” Lawrence nods understandingly, “In many ways, we could compare her to the Tory government.”

“Could we fuck,” A’Whora laughs in spite of her own heavy misery. “You’re literally insane. Loz, what the fuck do I do about this?”

Lawrence shrugs. “I told you, my best solution is to go and get smashed! If we just drink here then we didn’t go out without anyone so we didn’t break any friend rules and they’re none the fucking wiser to our collective romance issues.”

The word romance makes A’Whora tense - it’s uncomfortable to think about it like that, almost embarrassing to dwell on her own feelings as having a romantic nature about them from a purely sexual relationship. Luckily for her, a sneaky or perhaps Freudian slip catches her attention and drags it away from her own issue, A’Whora bolting upright to stare at her friend.

“Lawrence Chaney. Did you just say collective romance issues? I thought you and Ellie were just fanny friends!”

Understandably, Lawrence is horrified at her turn of phrase, but A’Whora doesn’t miss the telltale reddening of her ears that suggests she’s said something she shouldn’t have. An eye-roll powerful enough to induce a tsunami follows Lawrence shifting herself up, glaring at A’Whora, and then scowling.

“First,” She replies, one finger wagging in front of her, “Never fucking say fanny friends ever again. Second…”

A’Whora gasps, already anticipating some gossip.

“You’re gonna get me a fucking gin if you’re gonna make me talk about this.”

More intelligent girls, or perhaps just less heartache-y ones, would know better than to get wasted in their hotel room the night before a show, but A’Whora and Lawrenced have never been the best at smart decisions. Ironically, it’s the deceptively smart bimbo Bimini who usually is able to reign them in, though she often chooses not to. Left to their own devices, there’s a lot of gin and a little bit of lemonade that seems to mysteriously disappear as tongues get looser and inhibitions get lowered. Before they even know what’s happening, both girls are sitting on the floor between their beds, legs stretched out before them, bemoaning their woeful, humiliating love lives.

It’s almost as if they think that if they don’t get it right now, they never will. To some extent, in A’Whora’s mind, that’s true, even when she knows, realistically, that she’s only in her mid-twenties and life goes on. But really, what is love if not an agony freezing you in time, a force that makes the past a mere blur and the future non-existent? Love is present and now, and if she misses her chance, who says there’ll be another?

(Almost everyone says there will. But A’Whora is drunk and her words are happy and her mind is sad.)

Luckily, Lawrence has been talking for long enough that A’Whora doesn’t have to spill all her thoughts into a drunken spiel that she knows wouldn’t make a lick of sense. She keeps swearing and avoiding the point, but somewhere in her long-winded ramble confessions start to unravel themselves, and a good scandal is enough to distract her for the time being.

“So I fuckin’ - aw fuck, hen, do me a favour and refill me?” Lawrence asks, A’Whora just passing her the bottle and gesturing for her to continue. “I fuckin’ asked her, y’know, are we just doing this or are we something more, like, fuckin’ stupid thing to ask honestly and I regretted it as soon as I did but then she answered and fuck me.”

She makes an effort to impersonate Ellie - a slightly higher pitched, slightly less intensely Scottish accent with something of a mockingly nervous whine to it as she repeats, “I’m keeping my options open. Fuckin’ options! I’ve no’ had anyone since her and I wouldny’ fuckin’ want to either and she’s fuckin’ got A, B, C or D all the fuckin’ above! It’s fucked.”

A’Whora gasps. “Bitch, you proper like her! You like Ellie!”

“Say that any louder and I’ll box your fuckin’ ears,” Lawrence threatens, only half kidding judging by the glare in her eyes. “Am I wrong to feel fuckin’ betrayed that I didn’t know she was seeing others as well as me?”

She snorts. “Loz, babes, I’m losing my mind at the very idea that Tayce has found someone, look who you’re talking to.”

Lawrence shrugs in agreement. “Makes me feel sick.”

There’s a pause. “Actually, that might be the gin.”

Another pause. “Oh, it’s the gin.”

She all but launches herself up and towards the bathroom, A’Whora instantly going into a flap. If Lawrence is sick on the carpet she’ll literally never forgive her, but she needs to help her friend, but fuck if she’s gonna stand there in the bathroom gagging at her. She decides, vaguely last minute, to run out into the corridor and grab some cold water from the machine, panicking and shouting her plan in the general direction of the bathroom before dashing outside. Embarrassing, but at twenty five years old A’Whora still can’t handle someone being sick.

A brief but unwelcome thought flits into her head - I’d help Tayce. She shakes it away, tells herself she wouldn’t, but a sad stupid part of her knows she could sit there and painfully gag her way through helping Tayce if she needed to, because she’s a spineless idiot who fell for her bandmate. There’s a flash of guilt for the fact that she wouldn’t do the same for Bims or Lawrence, but reasons that she has to draw the line somewhere.

The hotel has this awful chintzy carpet, a weird swirly print on a red base that reminds A’Whora of weird-smelling care homes and outdated grandma’s houses. Just looking at it makes her head spin uncomfortably - maybe she’s a little drunker than she thought. Perhaps she’ll get two cups of ice water instead, sober herself up a bit and all.

Then Tayce is standing in front of her all of a sudden and A’Whora has no idea how she’s got there.

(Did she… summon Tayce? Manifest her presence?)

“Girl, you alright? You look a state,” She greets, her accent charming enough to rid the words of their potential offense.

A’Whora vaguely points ahead of her, aware of how dumb she probably looks. “Goin… getting water for Loz. She’s absolutely pissed.”

Tayce laughs, baffled. “Babes, what are you playing at getting drunk the night before a show? Gotta make sure you shake off the hangovers before or else you’re done for!”

“Water fixes all.” A’Whora has no idea what to say. Why would she? She’s been lamenting this girl’s very existence for the past…. God knows how many hours, and now she’s here and she has to slip the besties facade back on except she’s a bit too drunk to remember how to do it properly. Sober A’Whora is going to cringe for days over this, she already knows.

Unsurprisingly, Tayce starts to follow her to grab the water, declaring “Well I’m coming with you, sounds like you’re gonna need someone sober to put you both in bed, you absolute lunatics.”

They’re just walking next to each other and yet A’Whora has never analysed her own way of walking so much in her life before this moment. Are her steps too large? Her arms swinging too much, or too little? Which foot comes next? Is Tayce thinking about how weirdly she’s moving? Should she be trying to keep pace with her or will that be even weirder and she’ll realise what a creep she’s been hooking up with all this time and fully decide against any possibility of something more between them?

They’re just walking. Just one foot and then the next.

Ahead of them, the water cooler glistens like a mirage in a desert, a tantalising goal signalling the end of their journey. A’Whora almost feels like she’s been trekking for hours next to Tayce, unsure of what to say, unsure of what her own act to keep up with is.

Naturally, she fumbles in her attempt to get a flimsy plastic cup from the stack, and then all come crashing down before she can even realise what’s happening. She turns to look at Tayce, the both of them momentarily stunned.

“Oh my god, you absolute beast!” Tayce screeches, her voice hushed for the sake of the late night but laughing all the same, clutching the cooler for balance. “We gotta pick all these up now!”

They do; A’Whora thinks about accidentally brushing her fingers over Tayce’s as they scramble to get everything, and then doesn’t. She thinks about abandoning the water and fumbling keys into locks until they fall into one another and forget everything else. She thinks about just blurting out the truth.

By the time all of the potential scenarios have flown dizzyingly through A’Whora’s drunk mind, she finds herself with two cups of water in her hands, Tayce with the same, leading her back to the hotel room and giggling as she instructs her not to spill a drop. A’Whora laughs, pretending like she’s not struggling to figure out how tightly she should be holding them.

Pretend is easy and she’s always been good at it. Pretending she’s a real rockstar with her Sing Star microphone and Playstation 2 in the living room. Pretending she’s not nervous the day before the biggest audition of her life. Pretending she’s a real musician in a band and not one of four girls shitting themselves backstage at the biggest arenas in the city. Pretending like Tayce might fall for her one day.

Once they get inside - it takes four swipes of A’Whora’s key and brief panic that she’s somehow got the wrong one - it’s clear that Lawrence is done with throwing her guts up and has settled herself in a chair, furiously typing on her phone.

“This room smells like a minibar, you hounds!” Tayce half admonishes, her grin entirely downplaying her words and making A’Whora’s heartbeat jump into overdrive. “Lawrence, what are you doing?”

“Communicating-my-feelings,” She answers through gritted teeth, each word punctuated with a particularly aggressive stab at her screen.

Out of curiosity, A’Whora peeks at the screen, and upon seeing a horrifically large wall of text typed out in the chat box with no end in sight, snatches the phone immediately. “Tayce! Hide it! She’s writing a fucking essay!”

Whether A’Whora’s drunk coordination is better than when she’s sober - hopefully not - or Tayce is just talented, she deftly catches the device and locks it.

Lawrence all but springs up, incensed. “Fuck off with that! Ellie needs to know- I’m fucking pissed!”

“Ellie?” Tayce pauses, looking down as if she’ll still see the message. “As in, makeup artist Ellie?”

“Who fuckin’ else?!” Lawrence lunges and misses.

“Knew it.” She’s adorably smug, so much so that A’Whora decides against telling her that literally everyone knows. Her perceived victory makes her face light up and she’s already so beautiful that ruining childlike glee like that should be considered blasphemous. It would be a sin to wipe that smile from her face using anything other than her lips.

She holds the phone up in the air above her head, unreachable. “Right. Well, Lawrence, you can have this back after you’ve drank this water here, brushed your teeth and got into bed, okay? I think that’s a fair deal.”

“Get fucked,” Lawrence responds, totally deadpan as she snatches the plastic cup, spilling half of it down her front and not noticing. “I will drink your magic water and then you will fuck off and I will tell Ellie that she’s a slimey wee bitch.”

Tayce laughs, unfazed. “On second thoughts, darling…” She tucks the phone into her bra and gives a little flourish. “Sort yourself out and I’ll get it back to you in the morning. I’m not having you abusing our lovely Ellie ‘cause you’ve had a lover’s tiff.”

Lawrence squints. “Fuckin’… A’Whora will get it for me. I’m sure you won’t mind feeling her up, eh hen? Though I bet your girlfriend might have something to say about it. OOP!”

A’Whora feels her face flushing, and the panic slams into her like a wave hitting the beach full force, washing over everything. At first she was glad Lawrence was drunker than her, hoping to make less of a fool of herself in front of Tayce and direct the attention onto their favourite Scottish menace, but Lawrence being drunker means Lawrence with an even looser tongue, and for someone who loves to crack a joke and make a cheeky observation at the most inopportune moment, A’Whora finds herself wishing she’s passed out snoring instead. Tayce just laughs and manages to mother hen her into the bathroom, where A’Whora spots her in the mirror, grumpily brushing her teeth like a petulant toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

“Tell you what, I could never have kids, this is bloody exhausting!” Tayce explains, her big bright smile distracting A’Whora, thankfully, from the bulge of Lawrence’s phone. At least, it’s easier to pretend, even mentally, that that’s why she keeps looking at her chest.

“God, I know!” She laughs back, faking it harder than ever and sipping her cup of water. She feels sobered up already, though she’s sure she’s probably not, all too aware of her red cheeks and Lawrence’s loose tongue and terrified something else will be said.

“I mean, what on earth was that? I don’t have a girlfriend, I can tell you that.” She chuckles as if the idea’s ridiculous. A’Whora wonders if she genuinely thinks that, if she doesn’t realise just how many beautiful men and women would fall down at her feet if she so much as paid them a glance.

Lawrence stumbles out; in the two minutes she’s been gone, she seems to have forgotten entirely about her phone, and she looks at the pair with lidded eyes. “Fuckin’ shattered, girls.”

Tayce beams at her. “Get your arse in bed, then!”

A’Whora finishes her water, and Lawrence is asleep in seconds. For good measure, they poke her a couple of times, but since she’s very clearly breathing and seems fine, they decide to stop tormenting her and to just let the poor girl sleep. Tayce sets down Lawrence’s phone on the nightstand next to her, making sure to plug in her charger so it won’t be dead when she wakes up, and the tiny act of thoughtfulness makes A’Whora’s heart swell in a manner she’s wholly embarrassed of.

As if she’s swooning at a girl charging her friend’s phone? It’s ridiculous and she knows it.

“Shall I walk you to your door?” She offers, holding her arm out. Tayce laughs and takes hold of her elbow, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Ooh, promenade!”

“You’ve been watching far too much Bridgerton, you have,” A’Whora teases her, jabbing her side as they make their way back down the empty corridor. “Do I have to start calling you My Lady or something, babes?”

Tayce swats her away. “In bed, maybe. Oh, I’ll happily be a Duke or a Duchess, I mean have you seen the pair of them? Bloody gorgeous!”

A’Whora’s chest seizes up at the casual mention of being in bed together. Is the stalemate over? Is Tayce about to explain why she’s suddenly frozen on her and decided she no longer wants to hook up? What the hell even is the reason if there’s no girlfriend? She’s just gone off A’Whora now?

“Oh my God. Tayce, I can’t do this.”

It’s out there. She can’t go back now, can’t reel it back in. She’s fucked.

Tayce stops mid-hallway and frowns, worried. “You alright? If you don’t feel well you can go back, you don’t have to walk me to my room.”

“No, not that,” A’Whora massages her temples, trying to encourage some kind of eloquent thought to help her out, trying to stimulate the part of her brain that writes lyrics, to no avail. “This, us, the weirdness, I can’t do it. I have to know what’s going on, I’m literally going spare over it.”

“I don’t- I don’t get what you mean.”

“Us!” A’Whora cries, then shushes herself, acutely aware of her volume and the people sleeping adjacent to their conversation. “You- you don’t text me the same, and we haven’t- in ages, and I just… Tayce, do you like me?”

Tayce frowns even deeper. “Of course I like you, Rory.”

“Do you proper like me? Do you like me like I like you?”

She feels like a child, enacting a schoolgirl crush with a scribbled note that asks them to tick a yes or no box drawn in pink felt tip, the kind fuzzy from little fingers pressing too hard. If anything, it’s worse than that; at least some prior planning went into those, and a clear question with a yes or no response indicating some kind of confidence. A’Whora has no idea what she’s doing, where she’s going, anything.

“Rory… do you-”

A’Whora cuts her off. “Lawrence thought you might have a girlfriend because I thought you might have one because I was ranting about us to her and how shit I feel that you’ve lost interest in me. We got drunk to ignore how shit we both feel and it didn’t work because she almost blabbed to Ells and now I’m here blabbing to you but I literally can’t help myself. I never can when I’m with you.”

It’s only when she’s finished that she realises Tayce’s expression is full of fear, and her heart sinks like a lead balloon.

“You told Lawrence about us?”

She swallows, guilt seeping in like cracks in a dam. “Tayce, I… We’re not the big secret you think we are. A lot of people know, or suspect. Is… Is that the issue?”

Tayce chews her lip, eyebrows furrowed. Every millisecond that she doesn’t speak is agony, each second another stab to A’Whora’s heart, tiny needles of time cutting into her as she waits and waits for the ugly truth. This is it, now, the swirling nausea in her stomach tells her, this is when it all ends. This is where you scare off the love of your life.

The… what? The fucking what? The who of her what?

Too late now.

“I haven’t lost interest in you. I don’t think that’s even possible. I’m like, obsessed with you.”

A’Whora freezes, expecting virtually anything but that. “You- what? But- huh?”

“Yeah!” Tayce laughs nervously, unsure of how to react - they have that in common, at least. “I mean, girl, look at you, you’re gorgeous. I was getting freaked out by how much I, like, feel, so I just shut everything down and denied it all. I mean, I figured if I was freaking myself out, you must think I’m a right old weirdo. Have I got this all wrong?”

The ice melts. A’Whora can feel the shards shrinking, the wounds closing up, the warmth returning to her in a blossoming not unlike the flowers of spring, freshening the air and sweeping away her anxieties.

“I’ve never been so happy to call you an idiot in my life,” A’Whora tells her.

Tayce cocks an eyebrow. “You dirty liar, you love calling me an idiot,” She bites back, not leaving room for A’Whora to reply before kissing her right then and there, in the middle of a hotel corridor, leaning up against the wall for support. A million chemical reactions spark off all at once, a frenzy of activity rendering her incapable of doing anything but wrapping her arms around her bandmate, her best friend, her everything, and kissing her until she can’t breathe.

When they have to come up for air they do, all gasping and pink cheeks and dazed eyes. Every cell, every nerve, every neuron in A’Whora’s body is awake and alive, drawn towards Tayce like a magnetic pull. She can’t ignore it, and can’t think why she’d ever want to.

“Will you fucking stay still?”

“I haven’t moved an inch, hen, your shaky hands are not my problem.”

Ellie huffs, big pink earrings dangling from her ears swinging as she moves her head. They’re shaped like hearts, the word ‘doll’ in cursive across the middle in sparkling letters, and it’s adorably Ellie Diamond in every way possible. Even irritated, she’s oddly cute.

“Lawrence! I’m not trying to make you look ugly, stay still for me!” She pleads.

A’Whora watches from her chair, face already expertly done. She woke up pleasantly early, nestled happily in Tayce’s arms after everything. They’d decided to go back to A’Whora’s room, just in case Lawrence woke up and tried to send reams of abuse to Ellie, and ended up laying together cuddling until they fell asleep. No matter how sober A’Whora swore she was, Tayce just giggled and told her there was no chance of anything more than a cwtch, at least until the morning.

Thankfully, they’d kept Lawrence’s phone away from her, but there was nothing she could do but watch helplessly as Ellie and Lawrence engaged in a battle of attrition while doing makeup.

Lawrence rolls her eyes so hard A’Whora can practically feel it from across the room. “Not to worry hen, there’s more than one girl in the band, I’m sure you’ve got options on who can look pretty and who can’t.”

A’Whora winces at the low blow, and judging by Ellie’s expression, all pouty lips and big sad eyes, she’s hurt. More than anything, she wants to rush in and fix things for them, help them do the big talk and work it all out, but she knows it’s not really her business. They have to do this for themselves, so she sits quiet and prays that they will.

“Oh my god.” Ellie sets down her brushes and stares Lawrence in the face, awfully bold and completely unexpected. “Are you gonna hang this over me forever? I just - didn’t want you to think I was too forward! I’ve been regretting it all night, I regretted it as soon as I even said it! I can’t stand you being upset with me.”

Lawrence’s expression softens. “What?”

“You’re, like, the best person ever. I look up to you so much, I don’t think I could admire anyone more than I admire you. I really didn’t mean to upset you, I didn’t want to come on too strong.”

There’s a pause - A’Whora holds her breath, and notices that just across from her, Bimini is suddenly paying attention, her phone long since abandoned in her hand as she gapes at the two of them, dumbfounded.

Lawrence throws her arms around Ellie, squeezing her in an embrace that seems too tender to be looking at, the next best thing to a kiss when in the middle of painting someone’s face. Ellie squeezes back, her lips mouthing words that the other girls can neither hear nor try to. This is for them and them alone.

Tayce enters just as they break apart, throwing herself into the seat next to A’Whora and grinning. “Hiya, gorge, what’d I miss?”

She leans over and kisses A’Whora’s cheek.

Bimini’s eyes pop open. “You and- and then her and- what the fuck? Babes, I think we skipped a few chapters!”

“You just haven’t read the book,” A’Whora winks at her.

“Right, right,” Bims nods understandingly, ever one to just go with the flow. “And is the big lesbian orgy before the concert or after?”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #purecamp #taywhora #ellie x lawrence #tayce #a'whora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #uk2 #lesbian au #popstar au #something more

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yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

manners maketh women | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: kingsman!AU (loosely inspired lol), enemies to enemies basically (some sexual tension)

warnings: mentions of blood, enemies, dismantling the patriarchy

words: 2, 637

summary: kingsman or alternatively you trying to dismantle the patriarchy by pissing off your partner

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” Valentine spits at you with bloodied gums while he lays on the floor with all the will to live beaten out of him.

You’re much better off. Of course you were. You wouldn’t let someone as vile or unimportant as Valentine ruin your pantsuit because while you thought the establishment was exorbitant, it was still costly and made you look like a bad bitch.

“Says the one who planted chips into people’s head only to blow them up.” You roll your eyes, tossing your blazer over your shoulder as Merlin sighs at the scene behind you when you cock your head towards the pitiful soon-to-be prisoner.

“I thought we said no damage.”

You shrug.

“This is no damage. Couldn’t help that my hand slipped.” You return.

Merlin is about to retort but your teammate stomps out of the abandoned church with his eyes narrowed to your figure that retreats to the comfort of your car.

You almost forget that you weren’t on this mission alone until the presence of your partner appears by your side and you’ve worked with him long enough to know that he’s shooting daggers on the side of your forehead.

“We agreed to bring him back in one piece.” Jungkook snarls at you.

You see that he’s way worse off compared to you. But it could have alluded to the fact that he warded off the rest of the guards that ambushed the two of you when you first arrived. The priority was finding Valentine and making sure that he was captured and under your scrutiny, so you agreed to head off first while Jungkook did the dirty work.

“His limbs are still attached to his body, I don’t see how I didn’t uphold to the end of our agreement?” You stop in your tracks, causing Jungkook to skid in his steps as his chest makes contact with your back.

When you turn around, he’s absolutely furious but that only spurs on the wide grin that appears on your face.

“Valentine looks like he’s been through six wars and a botched plastic surgery attempt!” He hisses.

You roll your eyes, folding your arms across your chest as you take in Jungkook’s growing rage. He’s never been the level-headed one between the two of you but you were also the more infuriating one. You were fully aware of that and you were going to use it to your advantage. You didn’t beckon your way through the misogynistic Kingsman system to be bossed around by some stereotypical posh man who didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“And that’s what he deserved. I did what I had to do, Jeon.” You retort as venomously as he had.

Jungkook literally growls and you know you’ve annoyed him further because he was the typical Kingsman agent that attempted to uphold all the core values and paraded around the base with the manners maketh man phrase that he loved to milk. You, on the other hand, didn’t believe in that shit at all because you were not mannered and neither were you a man. Jungkook walked the ground like he had a stick up his ass half the time and you had no time to deal with his uptightness.

“We are on a mission, Lancelot. I go by Galahad.” He reminds you but you wave him off, turning around to head towards your car.

Jungkook grits his teeth as he sees Merlin drag a detained Valentine—who leaves a trail of blood in his path—to the van where he’d be brought back to the cells. He couldn’t believe that you had the audacity to go against direct orders from your superior like that! But at the same time, you’ve pulled things like this more than once and rubbed Jungkook the wrong way every time you’d brush off any lament that came from him.

He doesn’t think you were incapable of being a Kingsman agent, although it hasn’t always been that way. But he did believe that you should at least uphold the fundamental values that made Kingsman the reputable secret service it was.

“You act like Jeon is the worst of the names I call you.” You snort.

Jungkook wants to remind you that it’s not and he’s aware but he’s highly exhausted after fending off numerous men on his own while you got to catch the largest bait of the day, your pantsuit hardly creasing in the process.

“Would it kill you to follow orders?” Jungkook snaps.

The two of you reach the car and he snatches the keys from your palm before you can step into the driver’s seat. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture and look him up and down before your bored eyes rest upon his still pinched expression.

“If we get pulled over the police are going to think you’re a runaway.”

Jungkook scowls but enters the car anyway. You follow him shortly into the passenger seat as you immediately tug off the band that kept your hair in a ponytail as you ruffle your hair, slipping off the heels off your feet. You found it absurd that the agency demanded you wear heels onto a field mission purely because it was the Kingsman brand. It wasn’t like you couldn’t fight in them but obviously, it made you slightly slower than you’d like.

“You’re going to shut up and not say a single word during the ride back because I’ve had enough of that smart ass mouth of yours.” Jungkook snaps.

“It’s cute that you think I’m going to listen to you, Jeon.” You pat his thigh in consolation and he just curses under his breath.

Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to argue back because, for every remark he makes, he’s sure you have at least ten responses phrased in different ways to respond with.

“If you called me in for a staring contest then I’m afraid we have to reschedule. I’ve got a bottle of wine and some fried chicken waiting for me in my quarters.” You deadpan.

The man who sits in front of you is unnerved and you expect no less from the current Director of Kingsman. It also wasn’t the first time you’ve sat before him with the very same look marring his face. You know what the conversation is going to be about and he knows that you know.

“Agent Lancelot—”

You scoff when you lean forward, narrowing your eyes at your superior before he purses his lips at your gesture.

“How many times did I tell you to ditch the alias? It’s unnecessary especially since we’re in your office which is debatably the most vaulted place in all of the Kingsman quarters. It isn’t like Valentine is going to come crawling through the vents and demand for my birth certificate.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose because when he hired you after you—impressively—passed the most gruesome and intense interview process with a blink of your eye, he didn’t know what to expect when he took the risk of recruiting the first-ever woman Kingsman.

But now that it’s been years since you’ve made a name for yourself and all other keen women who were looking for the opportunity to train as an agent, he realised that you were not just a skilled agent but a sharp and impenetrable fortress that would never let anyone tell her what to do.

Which was frankly—inconvenient—given the nature of Kingsman work that often relied on partnership and collaboration. But those words weren’t in your dictionary and Namjoon can see the way you look bored before the conversation started as you sit in front of him with a blank expression on your face.

“It’s nice to see you, ______,” Namjoon says dryly, clasping his fists together before leaning forward on his elbows that your faces are closer.

“Are you going to call me out for disobeying orders and bringing back Valentine like butchered meat? If you want an apology then you know you’re not going to get it,” You say blankly before turning in the swivel chair; already halfway off before Namjoon stops you.

“Jungkook has been telling me that you’ve been harder to work with recently.” Namjoon points out.

You scoff.

“Of course he’ll say that. I’m the better agent in the partnership and it bruises his puny masculine ego. Tell him to shove it and deal with it because it’s going to get harder.”

Namjoon shoots you an unimpressed glare before he wills himself to maintain a decent amount of level-headedness as he reasons with you.

“The both of you are talented agents—” Namjoon says slowly and you know he’s only saying that to appease you and not break his neutrality when it came to agents so you roll your eyes at his attempt, “—and because the two of you are always going on the most important missions it’s imperative that you work together.”

“Namjoon.” You blink, “Jeon is the most infuriating individual I have been condemned to meet and I literally have no idea why you won’t just switch me out with—I don’t know—Jin or something. He isn’t as mouthy or pretentious as Jeon.”

Namjoon sighs.

“Firstly, why can’t you ever call him by his first name? And secondly—you know why I can’t do that. Jin is in-charge of international operations and we need you here on domestic land. You and Jungkook are the most qualified agents of the region and it is in my best interest, as well as the nations to have you two work together.”

You wave him off before you push yourself off the chair completely, offering a sloppy salute out to his direction and you see Namjoon’s shoulder deflate at your stubbornness. But before you’re even able to make your way out of the door, you see a face that makes you scowl.

“Talking shit about me behind my back, babe?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you.

You snort.

“If I wanted to talk shit about you, I’d do it to your face so I can watch your fragile ego shatter in front of my eyes. And—if you don’t want your balls detached from your body and served to you as a door gift then I suggest you never call me babe ever again.”

You’re about to push past him but his hand reaches for your shoulder and stops you with a tight grip as you snap your head to glare at him. You’re about to throw him off you, literally, but Jungkook is also skilled and he sees the telltale signs of your anger for him to defend himself against your attack.

When you pull his arm to lug his body over yours, he manages to lock your grip and bring you into a headlock—chest pressed to your back as he breathes down your hair while you feel the cocky smirk of his spread across his face.

“Let go of me you fucking shithead.” You snarl.

Jungkook snorts and only tightens his grip on you, twisting your chin between his thumb and index finger so you’re glaring directly at his face that is only a mere inches away from yours to give you a taunting grin that you want to slap off his face.

“You’ll never outdo the doer—” He whispers so low that it almost seems like it’s just the two of you, “—baby.”

You take that as a chance to knee him in the stomach and shove him away before you dust your hands on your pants, only to remember that you were still in Namjoon’s office and he likely saw the show that the two of you put on.

“I … I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” Namjoon clears his throat before gesturing to the two of you to take a seat as if you weren’t seconds away from walking out that door.

“Look, Namjoon—we—I—don’t need this group therapy session with him, okay? The two of us can work together but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen to what he says. His judgement is clouded by the systemic oppression that Kingsman entrenches to their agents and I won't stand for that.”

Jungkook’s fists tighten at your blatant disrespect to the organisation that employed you, and he remembers every reason why he hates you so much.

“_____,” Namjoon sighs, “I don’t understand why you walked into that interview years ago if you hate everything that Kingsman stands for.”

You clench your fists by your side because of course, he didn’t understand. And of course, Jungkook, Jimin, Jin and even Merlin didn’t understand. They didn’t need the luxury of understanding a system that favoured people like them.

“Then let me spell it out for you both,” You say emphasise each word with a spit.

Jungkook clenches his jaw but remains silent.

“I walked into that interview knowing I was going to ace that shit because I owed that first step to all the women that were used and abused by your Kingsmen. The women that were offered comfort for sex to only be shunned and disposed of by the esteemed agents you call Kingsmen. I am not a Kingsman and I am not Lancelot. I am ______ ______ and I’m a woman who fucking owned every single one of those male agents that day who decided to snicker and laugh at me when they wouldn’t be able to ever walk a mile in my shoes. I’m here because I have a point to prove.”

Namjoon is stunned to silence and you don’t know what triggers your outburst but you suppose its years of repression and having to work alongside a male peer that only sees you as impressive because of your gender and not because of your skills. The comments rubbed you the wrong way and you never looked back since.

“_______ …” Namjoon begins but you glare at him and that’s enough to send him silent.

But you see the way Jungkook’s jaw twitches and you know that sign well enough to know he’s about to say something you won’t like.

“That’s it? All the anger, bitchiness and attitude for you to prove a point?” Jungkook scoffs, “You’re that pathetic?”

“Jungkook—” Namjoon warns.

“You walked into this life and you need to deal with the consequences. I don’t give two shits your intention in Kingsman but you’re here and you’re working for the Kingsman so you better suck all that bitterness up or leave. Don’t you dare disrespect the foundation of what a Kingsman is.” Jungkook hisses.

The expression on your face is thunderous and Jungkook has never seen you like that, ever. Not even when the two of you were arguing head to head and everyone else thought someone was going to end up hurt. No, this is much more … threatening. A look that’s so unfamiliar but familiar enough because it’s the first time he’s seen it directed to him.

“I wonder why you’re so overprotective about the Kingsman name, hm?” You say blankly, “Is it because that your entire identity revolves around it? That you’ve never seen a world with eyes when you weren’t a Kingsman? You’re pathetic, Jeon. You’re nothing without the title but at least I know what I want. You don’t. You’re just hiding behind the suit and weapons to make you feel like a man but you’re just a sorry excuse of a human being that only sees the world through a bigoted lens.”

Jungkook is about to retort but you’re faster, and the action alarms both Namjoon and Jungkook when you—

“I quit.” You smile.

The badge and your key weapon with nothing but a slam to the table.

“______—“ Namjoon stands up but you don’t spare him another glance before you’re out the door.

#bts imagines #bts fic #bts fics #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #kingsman!au #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook enemies to lovers

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bibiana112 · 3 years ago

Note

im a bit late but Akane for the character asks? :0

Thank yooou, she is such a character ever oh my gosh

favorite thing about them: There's SO much to her, god I love the nuance I love the kind of character that she is of like a smartass weird girl seer archetype with a sprinkle of girlboss my absolute beloved LMAO On a serious note her whole vibe in 999 (once you know what's really happening at least) just hits me, she's going through so much just to be able to live, and like it takes strength to stand up for your younger self like that and see so clearly that it wasn't a personal failing that landed you on that situation, like she could easily think she was the dumb one to go back for the doll (and people certainly make that point often) and let that weight so much on her conscience that she'd be too paralyzed to even create the possibility for herself to survive, but she didn't, because that's simply not the kind of person that she is, and I think that's cool

least favorite thing about them: Her issue is that she's that person who thinks they're the main character in life except, like, she's right about it and she knows that too akjsksjs The hypocritical moral self-righteousness that she displays after 999 kind of irks me despite being a cool ass character direction, but I honestly wouldn't have her any other way

favorite line: "Now, who am [I]? I am [I], the 9th letter of the alphabet. But I am also [Zero]. ...No, that's not true. I'm not really Zero. Not yet. Perhaps you could say I am...[less than Zero]. Zero is my future. In 9 years... I will be [Zero]." Tough pick but this one just makes my brain go brr with every turn of phrase

brOTP: Aside from her literal brother, I like to imagine her getting along with Light decently well I wish they had a talk I wonder how many paragraphs long it'd be lmao and... that's about it she doesn't make many friends going forward aksjaks Aside from Carlos like a little bit I guess?

OTP: Junepeeei, they're so messyyy I love it kahsks there's so much devotion while at the same time so much distance between them like, it's just refreshing to have so many layers of both healthy and unhealthy patterns to their affections for each other instead of a clean straightforward romance, it's a lot to analyze and pick apart and boi if that's not what I love doing with stories lol

nOTP: Aside from the obvious, uh her and Sigma I guess? I hardly see anything for it but I just don't like him to begin with lol

random headcanon: non-binary beam go brr, like, she/her pronouns but she's really whatever when it comes to gender, helps that people unknowingly refer to her with he/him pronouns throughout both 999 and VLR and sure it's because she's playing a part but I think it's fun that she really just doesn't mind at all. Only way of expressing herself were elaborate ruses during death games instead of theater or cosplay or whatever helps people play around with gender, okay? It happens lmao

unpopular opinion: I imagine everything she does after the 999 isn't coming from a place of selflessness as much as it's coming from a sense of needing to be as in the know and in control of a bad situation as possible, even if it's like the literal apocalypse, but she's doing it mainly to feel like a good person and martyr even if she herself wouldn't admit it God I wouldn't be so hard on her if ztd wasn't so bad and retroactively made so much of vlr's plot into absolute nonsense

song i associate with them: Oh BOY! My most Akane core bops would be Wicked (which I already impulsively made a gif of her in the style of the mv lol) I love the funerary vibe and the story being told and I love the "This is the part where the real work starts" so much in this context. I'd Rather Burn is another one aside from obvious reasons, it has bits that are like you go girl! Get your vengeance lmao And finally the last one I have is Temporal Shenanigans do not mind where this one is technically from just listen to it and see how all around perfect it is for Akane because I have no words it just works insanely well

favorite picture of them: Tie between every picture of baby her that isn't sad and that one promo art where she's looking over at Junpei and Aoi nearly throwing hands and probably thinking oh no my idiots are fighting. But anyway *Arrives fashionably late to own death game*

#contractually I need to talk about Aoi and how I think that the first thing there about her not blaming herself is the polar opposite of #takeaway to what he experiences‚ like‚ because at that point he's so used to Not being a kid that he sees it as a kind of #shouldn't have taken my eyes off her kind of thing and he'd already blame himself for not providing enough security to not get kidnapped #even without all the incinerator stuff #despite being literally 15 #I've used that image for art reference so many times qwq #shout out to the one friend that made me a doodle of mini-Akane smiling with a bunny for my birthday #cause I told her drawing mini-Akane crying for my animatic almost ended in me crying too aksjsk #hold up is I'd rather burn not on the yt playlist? that's an oversight lol #In All Chaos There is Calculation 🔴 (akane kurashiki)#long post #a tag for asks

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vagrantblvrd · 4 years ago

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AU where Luke and Leia are the children of the queen of Naboo and powerful and well-respected Jedi Knight, just about the age to marry and it’s this Responsibility hanging over their heads.

Their parents would never marry them off to someone horrible, but that’s not the point, and anyway, anyway, they know their duty.

(It breaks their parent’s hearts, but barring the same sort of Very Specific and Unique events that conspired to allow Padme to marry Anakin the best they can hope for is to like their future spouses, so.)

But then!

Conspiracies and the whatnot, and whispers of war spreading across the galaxy thanks to some faceless warlord pulling strings from the shadows and so on.

Worlds that co-existed, thrived, suddenly at one another’s throats and out of fear for their children’s safety they arrange for them to visit dear friend Bail and Breha on Alderaan.

(There’s meant to be a celebration, eligible suitors for Luke and Leia while keeping them far from skirmishes that have taken place too close to Naboo.)

Unfortunately Leia gets sick just as they’re about to leave, nothing too worry over, lose sleep over, but travel would only make it worse so she’s to stay behind while Luke and leaves for Alderaan on schedule.

(He visits her, the night before he leaves. Sneaks into her rooms the way he used to when they were younger and supposed to be asleep hours ago but young and foolish and the kind of reckless rebellion of the young and so on.

Leia’s tired, still recovering but she still manages a smile, a laugh, when Luke tumbles in through the window a though their parents haven’t been training them since they were young.

Politics, of course, but their father is a Jedi Knight and their mother is the queen, and anyway, anyway, any clumsiness they show these days are deliberate, so.

They talk, aware this may be one of the rare chances they’ll get like this again, what with their duties and responsibilities and privileged as they are the universe is far from fair.

Luke smiles, jokes, but there’s a flat tone to it that Leia hears all too clearly and Luke -

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says, wry twist to his mouth.

It’s a childhood joke borne of the stories their father and his former mentor would tell them at bedtime, well-worn phrase that heralded the kind of adventure that made them into legends, and now -

Leia grips Luke’s hands tight in hers because she does as well, dread a heavy weight in her chest.

“Don’t go,” she tells him, knowing he has no choice in the matter. “Luke, please.”

It’s on her face, in her voice, her yes, and there’s nothing they can do.

So.

Luke smiles, jokes, reminisces with Leia about the adventures they had running around the palace and its grounds and causing no end of trouble to their minders when their parents were busy until Leia falls asleep and Luke slips out the window and back to his own rooms without waking her.)

Leia knows long before word reaches Naboo that Luke’s ship was attacked in transit, all hands lost.

(Knows when their father senses it too, his rage and grief enough to send her to knees, draw the tears she refused to shed until then. She’s Force-sensitive, yes, but her father and brother are stronger, and if he’s so certain Luke is gone, then there’s no hope left for her.)

BUT THEN.

Luke’s not dead, of course he’s not, what kind of story do you think this is?

As it turns out, Luke’s ship was attacked, but one of his guards, escorts, manages to get him to an escape pod and away from the ships painted to look like one of Naboo’s allies turned jealous and bitter and angry over years and some insult or other.

(Conspiracies on conspiracies and so on.)

Lands on a planet, rocky and desolate and very much alone, injured.

Stumbles out of the escape pod, emergency supplies held tight in hand and absolutely certain he can’t stay there. Can’t wait for rescue to come, not knowing if whoever attacked his ship might find him first and finish the job that claimed his ship and the lives of people he’s known since he was young.

Manages to get a decent ways away from the escape pod before exhaustion and his injuries lay him low.

Cave in the distance he might be able to seek shelter in, assuming there are no native predators or otherwise living there, and he almost, almost makes it before he passes out.

Comes to however many hours later to a voice he doesn’t know pitched low and annoyed, but the hands checking him for injuries - he hopes, would be the worst luck to be robbed, looted, after recent events - are surprisingly gentle.

“What?”

Luke said that out loud, didn’t he.

“...Yes.”

Luke would laugh if it didn’t feel as though his head might burst, result of his skull meeting with a bulkhead at inadvisable speeds, and that had happened before the escape pod landed, so.

“Sorry,” Luke mumbles, because he does have manners. “But if you are robbing me I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer.”

There’s a long pause then, whoever is there with him so still Luke has a moment to wonder if they’ve left, offended by Luke’s words or disappointed he’s not worth robbing and then -

“Hmm.”

Luke frowns, risks opening his eyes and sees a kneeling beside him, oddly shiny.

“’Shiny’.”

Luke squints, tries to make out the figure, but it’s difficult as there seem to be two of them, and -

“I think I might have a concussion,” Luke informs the oddly shiny figure, and passes out again.

Later, however many hour later, he comes to with that same annoyed voice in his ears, but now there’s a fire merrily burning.

Nice, because it’s nighttime now, and cold and -

“You’re awake.”

As far as observations like that go, it’s incredibly unimpressed.

“Hmm,” Luke hmms, fuzzy memory of his oddly shiny companion doing the same, and also Luke being a natural-born smartass,

(Hereditary, he’s been told, along with stubbornness and fondness for eschewing things like common sense and a flair for the dramatic.)

There’s a sigh, long and heavy, and then the sound of the oddly shiny person moving closer, shadow falling over Luke that he can’t see with his yes closed the way they are, but, well.

His father is a Jedi Knight and he and Leia take after him in noticeable ways.

Luke opens his eyes and thinks oh, and hmm, and Leia is going to kill me, because his companion is indeed oddly shiny.

Or, well.

Perhaps not so odd, what with the armor and all.

Din - because of course it’s Din - is super unimpressed with Luke and his everything and Luke is just ??? because Mandalorian???

Not known to be BFFs with Jedi or Jedi-in-training, like Luke???

But Din can be excused for not partaking in this old feud/rivalry/animosity between them because Luke isn’t dressed as it befitting someone of his position, no.

He’s wearing the clothes he prefers on long trips when the are no other dignitaries along because to start with, they’re comfortable? But also Luke likes to tinker??? Little projects and such and maybe his father sent along a speeder or some other tinker-able vehicle to keep Luke occupied on the trip, use when he gets to Alderaan or...whatever.

Doesn’t look like the royalty, especially after recent events, and nothing to mark him as the prince of Naboo, or a Jedi-in-training and sworn enemy of the Mandalorians, and really, it’s incredibly, amazingly convenient, but it is what it is.

Din grumbles and complains, but he stays with Luke until he’s able to stand on his feet and even walk a fair distance without falling on his ass, and sighs when Luke invites himself along later that day when he says he has business elsewhere,

And then the two of them traveling to...somewhere, Din didn’t volunteer that information and Luke was too grateful to be headed away from where his escape pod crashed and potential search parties (doesn’t feel like trusting to the fact they’d be friendly towards him) and so on.

Doesn’t chatter incessantly as the annoyed set of Din’s shoulders heavily imply, because Luke is still injured and while his head isn’t an agony at the moment, it’s hardly a joy to deal with.

But, he does talk.

A lot.

About everything and nothing, off on a tangent here, there, wander far and wide the better to annoy Din into forgetting what questions he asked Luke. (The ones asking who he is, how he got there, and where the hell he’s going next, because Din’s patience lasts only so long.)

To Dins quiet horror, however, he actually starts to like Luke???

Like.

Annoying, yes, with the talking? But he doesn’t complain about all the walking they’re doing, or sleeping conditions when they make camp for the night and so on.

And, alright, sometimes it does get a bit lonely out here - conveniently far enough away from settlements or cities where someone would definitely recognize Luke - but he doesn’t tell Luke that, goodness no.

They run into trouble, after a while.

People who took part in the attack on Luke’s ship and other baddies on Mandalore connected to them and it’s a matter of bad luck meeting worse luck, and anyway, anyway.

There’s a fight, and some guns with the pew-pew shootout and Luke being the one to save Din’s life, escaping with him to some abandoned mine or underground tunnels, something and -

“Ah,” Luke says, breathless from the running and hiding and saving Din’s life and then hauling him somewhere that was supposed to be safe, even with the help of the Force.

(His head is killing him again, nowhere near healed enough to expend as much effort as he has just now, but it that or die, and he’d rather not get Din killed as well since the man’s only shown him kindness - and his special brand of charm - and anyway. Yes.)

He’s expecting it to be the people who ambushed them, but to his surprise, wariness, dread, it’s a Mandalorian. (Armor’s a dead giveaway and all.)

One who cocks their head when they see Luke’s face, blaster dipping slightly at the sight of him.

Luke tries for a smile, but Din groans, low, pained, and the best Luke was able to do was check the wound wasn’t life-threatening and slap a patch-job bandage over it before they made a break for it, and -

“I don’t suppose it would be asking too much if you had medical supplies, would it?” Luke asks, expecting to get shot for his trouble - sass, snark - but the Mandalorian holding them at blaster-point huffs out a laugh and holsters said blaster.

Jerks their chin towards a side tunnel and strides off, clearly expecting Luke to follow, and after a moment’s hesitation - no way to know if the Mandalorian is taking them to their deaths - but no better option available to them, so Luke follows.

(Murmurs an apology to Din when he groans again, guilt heavier than Din’s arm slung over his shoulder, the weight of Din and his armor, knowing he wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d left well enough alone after stumbling on Luke. So.)

Mystery!Mandalorian leads Luke to a room with medical supplies stored neatly. Clean and well-lit and after getting permission - nod of Mystery-Mandalorian’s head and wave of their hand that seems more amused than mocking - Luke sets about properly treating Din’s injuries.

Fumbles a bit, because Luke’s still injured himself, over-extended himself in the earlier fight, and it’s catching up to him now they’re somewhere arguably safe.

(No one actively trying to kill them, anyway.)

Mystery!Mandalorian watches as Luke tries to et his hands to stop shaking - stress, injury, exhaustion, any of a dozen reasons and he swears, low under his breath because now isn’t the time -

He startles when Mystery!Mandalorian takes the medical supplies out of his hands, didn’t notice him moving close enough to do so, and allows the hand on his shoulder that guides him into sitting on a stool as they do for him what he can’t in that moment and looks after Din.

Watches quietly, closely, but Mystery!Mandalorian knows what they’re doing, and truthfully Luke knows if they intended them harm there would easier ways, more efficient ones than this.

So.

He watches Mystgery!Mandalorian tend to Din’s injuries, and blinks up at them stupidly when they turn back to him, head tilted just so.

“What?” Luke asks, and Mystery!Mandalorian huffs out a laugh, quiet breath of laughter and then it’s Luke’s turn to be treated.

Careful, gentle hands and Luke’s mind drifts while Mystery!Mandalorian cleans and dresses a blaster burn on his shoulder, graze courtesy of a shot he hadn’t seen coming, attention on Din instead and he knows if it were a normal (...somewhat) normal situation he’d get a lecture on that lapse.

(A lecture, his father’s face stern, and under it worry, concern for him Luke’s never doubted, and after that his mother and quiet, soft words interwined with the same firece love his father has for his children. .)

As it is...

“Thank you,” Luke says, hopes Mystery!Mandalorian hears the things he can’t find the words for, the gratitude he feels.

Mystery!Mandalorian studies him for a long moment, Luke returning their regard best as he can even as he feels his mind going slow, stupid, as exhaustion rolls over him.

He can feel Mystery!Mandalorian watching him, them, unexected guests, visitors, complications, and there’s another sigh.

A gesture towards an unoccupied medical bed, slight tilt of his head that feels of that same brand of amusement from earlier.

Luke eyes it longingly because he’s tired, isn’t he, too much happening in too short a period of time and this feeling in the back of his mind that something is happening.

Whispers and rumors building towards something catastrophic if left unchecked and murmurs though the Force he’s known all his life.

“Rest,” Mystery!Mandalorian says, gentle, kind. “I’ll keep watch.”

It shouldn’t be a reassuring as it is, shouldn’t feel like Luke is breathing his first full breath since the alarms on his ship started wailing, intangible dread he’d felt once they left Naboo’s made real.

And yet...

There’s something about Mystery!Mandalorian he can’t help but trust, and Luke’s mind is tired, muddled, clear thought a struggle but the way the Force coils around them is enough to set his mind at ease.

“Thank you,” Luke says, and the words aren’t enough to articulate what he means, but it seems to be understood anyway.

He makes his way to the medical bed, and it isn’t long until he falls asleep, swears he hears Mystery!Mandalorian say, before he does, strangely soft, fond.

“You really are just like your father, aren’t you?”, and with no little amusement, “Skwalkers.”

And then shenanigans???

Luke waking up to Din staring at him from his own medical bed, at a loss regarding their situation, everything, and annoye (at himself???) about it, because Luke saved his life, didn’t he?

Saved it, and saved it again by getting them to safety and out of the hands of whoever attacked them, and that’s about the time Mystery!Mandalorian shows up, and Din is -

Not thrilled???

Doesn’t recognize the armor, person, regarding the two of them with this underlying amusement. (It rankles, that amusement, leaves him wrong-footed.)

Still, he follows Luke’s lead when he insists Mystery!Mandalorian is a friend - “Well,” Luke allows, at the look Din gives him when he says that. “He hasn’t tried to kill us. Yet.”

Which.

Fair, if not a ringing endorsement, but it’s not like they have much choice in the matter when Mystery!Mandalorian tells them to follow them, and off they go.

Underground tunnels and such until they get to some sort of base.

Other Mandalorians and Din is like oh, no, because these ones he does recognize.

“Resistance,” he says to Luke who’s picked up on his unease, gaze flicking to Din’s behind Mystery!Mandalorian’s back as they’re led down corridors to meet with what must be leadership.

Because Mandalore and unrest and that same something Luke’s known about his whole life and the way it affects the universe around him and just, yes.

Mystery!Mandalorian cocks his head as the lift they’re on descends, listening in, and still that amusement.

“Indeed,” he says, and something about it snaps Luke’s attention to him, makes Din...wary.

Just as well the lift stops, doors sliding open and then more corridors that seem to go on forever until they reach a set of doors.

Mystery!Mandalorian glances back at them for a moment, and huffs a quiet laugh at whatever he sees, and then they’re pressing forward.

It’s...not what he was expecting.

An office of some kind, with a holomap table off to one side and monitors and consoles beside it. A stripped down version of the control room they passed by floors down, and a slight figure in armor, head bowed over the holomap table.

Mystery!Mandalorian clears their throat, a courtesy, and the armore figure lifts their head, looks over at Luke and Din.

At Mystery!Mandalorian, and there’s a look exchanged between the two, silent conversation before Mystery!Mandalorian glances at Luke and Din again.

Sighs, and reaches up to remove their helmet, crooked smile on their - his face - at the way Luke goes so, so still beside Din.

Silence stretches long enough for Din to feel it, the weight of the revelation even if he doesn’t understand it.

“Hello, Luke,” he says, tired, aching.

Sharp inhale, and Luke tears his eyes away from Mystery!Mandalorian to look at Din, something so very wrong with the smile on his face.

“It’s Ben,” he says, and his voice cracks as he looks back at Mystery!Mandalorian, laughs at something Din doesn’t understand, something that makes Mystery!Mandalorian wince, even as he holds Luke’s gaze when he looks back at him. “Old Ben.”

Din frowns, because the man is older than them, Luke, that much is certain, but surely not old enough to have earned a title like that.

Because, look, alright.

Look.

Obi-Wan and sekrit missions because everyone knows trouble’s brewing, and a duchess of Mandalore contacted Padme, and things kind of just. Grew from there, to the point Obi-Wan went to Mandalore as an emmisary, ostensibly for political reasons, but really to help root out what information he could with Satine’s help and things went wrong.

Had him, and Satine, presumably killed in an uprising, no longer a threat to an unknown enemy.

Until the resistance took root, grew, and other such things.

Satine and Obi-Wan at the head of it, getting what information back to Padme, Anakin they could and everyone agreeing it was best for the time being if they stayed dead.

And then Luke’s ship being attacked and everything that followed, and anyway, anyway welcome to the resistance Luke Skywalker and friend, glad to have you.

Luke is understandably confused, angry at having been left in the dark, and angrier still that he has to admit to the necessity of it.

(He understands, but he’d still mourned for Obi-Wan, his father’s former mentor, teacher, and beloved uncle to Luke and Leia. He understands.)

And then there are briefings, because it’s very much a war the resistance is waging, against a common enemy and while Luke pay close attention to everything he and Din are told, he watches Obi-Wan, Satine.

Thinks oh, of course, when it hits him why the way the two of them interacts seems strangely familiar, known, because it’s the way his parents are, isn’t it?

Familiarity and trust, a knowing, and that little knot of anger buried deep in his chest at the deception involving Obi-Wan’s supposed death all those years ago unravels until he’s no longer breathing around it.

And then!

Shenanigans in which Din very much tries to NOT be part of this madness, because no, okay, no.

Simple bounty hunter and so on, and Luke don’t look at him like that, it won’t work -

So of course that’s when things go to hell and the base is attacked and Luke is taken and Din finds himself staring “Old Ben” down in the aftermath because this may not be his war to fight, but Luke is an idiot.

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, corner of his mouth quirking. “He does take after his father that way.”

Dramatic Rescues and Dine being So Done with everything, but also, like. Being heroically injured by shielding Luke and Luke’s pale face and fear in the back of his eyes as he leans over Din to keep him from bleeding out.

Striving for calm, soothing Din in between yelling for help, Obi-Wan and the others on their way, and Din laughing at him because he was told Jedi didn’t panic.

“Shut up,” Luke says, laugh all wrong. “I thought nothing could get through Mandalorian armor?”

Well.

Things go fuzzy for a bit, Din remembers pain and blood and yelling - a lot of that - and then he wakes up in a medical center somewhere.

Not the resistance base, but he doesn’t recognize it.

“Idiot,” is the first thing he hears, and then, “Stupid,” and so on, and when he turns his head Luke is glaring at him.

He must make for a terrible Jedi, Din thinks, because Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachment, are they?

Dangerous, terrible, and yet.

“You are, yes,” Din says, voice haorse, more of a croak, and when he laughs at the affornted look Luke gives him for that it hurts - still healing and all - but so very worth it.

And then, okay, and then.

It comes out that Palpatine has been building a base of power for himself for years, slow patient, and setting his enemies at one another’s throats to weaken them.

Conspiracies on conspiracies and Din watches Luke as his father - his father, mother, and sister who hasn’t left Luke’s side since they arrived - tell them.

(Because, you know, because. Luke’s family and secrets weighing heavy and of course, of course Leia would not be held back, would not just let Luke’s death go so easily.

Would investigate, relentless, until she stumbled over everything and her parents and a shared look and she gets it from you, you know, and me? you have to be kidding, and I get it from both of you, now tell me what’s going on right now.

Adventures, because Skywalkers. A chance meeting with a scruffy smuggler and his long-suffering Wookie friend, and a rickety, rusty freighter

.Hey, that’s no way to talk about a lady, and as if you’d know, and don’t encourage them, Padme, and Of course not, Anakin, and heavy, resigned sighs because Leia has always been terrifying like her mother and somehow more stubborn.

A resistance - “Rebellion,” Obi-Wan says, glint in his eye when Anakin looks at him, “seems more fitting don’t you think?” - growing as well in secret.

Both brought into the light with recent events and untold battles ahead, and just.

It’s a lot.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Luke says, and Din doesn’t tense at his voice, quiet, something sad to it under his amusement.

Din hmms, glances towards Luke.

So much has happened since they meet, learned of things far bigger than them, and still -

“We’re meant to be enemies,” he says, a Mandalorian to a Jedi, albeit one still in training if what Luke told him is true.

Luke cocks his head, and still crosses the clearing to sit beside him.

Hmms, right back at Din and Din bites back a sigh, watching Luke from the corner of his eye.

With everything that’s happened, they’ve learned, the old grudge seems petty in comparison.

Also, Obi-Wan and Satine, and it hardly seems important anymore, long before his time as it was, and while Luke’s certainly many things, he’s never felt like an enemy.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, calm, cool of the night and so much between them they don’t have words for yet, and none of it unwelcome.

When Luke gets to his feet, holds his hand out to Din, he doesn’t have to think about it when he takes it. Lets Luke pull him to his feet with that surprising strength of his, and falls into step with him just as easily.

And then they have Adventures and death-defying shenanigans and such. Steal kisses here and there and never put a name to this thing of theirs, but it’s strong enough to last through a war and to the other side of it.

Would-be Empire scattered and broken and a good bounty hunter’s experience is invaluable in stamping out the remnants.

Almost as much as a Jedi Knight who earned their title through countless battles and conflicts, steady familiar presence at his side.And really, really, it shouldn’t surprise him so much when Luke gives him this soft little smile when Din comes home after a solo mission, small green gremlin of a kid he’d found (rescued) in his arms and knows their little family has gained another member.

(And again and again, because Luke’s just as bad as him and Finn and Rey are fine on their own, but Grogu? An absolute nightmare and evil mastermind and Din doesn’t care what Luke says, the small green gremlin child gets it from Luke’s side of the family.)

Also, though.

The day Finn and Rey met Poe (Ben a little confused, bemused, blissfully unaware of what he was witnessing) signaled the beginning of the end and Luke is absolutely laughing at Din, don’t think he doesn’t know what that looks like by now. >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #i absolutely wandered away from the main plot with this?#but yes #/o\#long post

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years ago

Text

Tongue Tied (Number 5 x reader)

Ask: ahh I love the way you write for 5!!! I'm binge reading all ur fics rn but I thought of this while at work- what abt 5 x Griddys donuts waitress! reader?

A/N: Hope this is decent! The reader and five are both 16/17 so take it as you will. Im still getting back into writing so hope this is what you wanted! this is like griddys waitress! reader and five + a first date... i could do a pt 2 maybe?? also five does have powers but hes tryna be normal ya get me so like a pt 2 could be y/n finding out and then Fives fam finding out abt him and y/n?

Words:1090

Joyful chatter echoed throughout Griddys as the lunchtime rush hour started, people from all over the city came for the fresh homemade donuts, most of them on their lunch breaks the others just passerbys. It was the peak of summer, due to the summer holidays you were able to pick up shifts nearly every day. The uniform wasn’t bad either, just a simple pink 50′s style dress and even though it was 2019 the aesthetic was well received by the city.

At exactly 1:31pm the bell chimes and in walks Five, dressed as he always was in his crisply pressed uniform even if it was the middle of summer, whenever you asked he always just dismissed the question, simply saying he went to a private school. Everyday, just like clockwork, he would walk in at the exact same time, sit at the counter and drink a coffee, black.

Over the past 2 months of this routine he’d really warmed up to you, greeting you with a warm smile and asking about your day as you poured him his coffee, his eyes followed you as you spoke, listening to every word you said with a small smile on his face. He only ever stayed for 25 minutes, his eyes would lazily follow you round the diner and he’d take any opportunity to start up a conversation.

“Hey, y/n,” Five was getting ready to leave. “I’m going to be gone the next couple of days, you should text me.” He gently placed the napkin with his number scrawled messily on it, you pick it up from the counter and place it in your apron pocket, when you look back up he’s gone. You smile to yourself as you finish your shift, checking your apron pocket to make sure that napkin was still there.

As soon as you got home you typed the number into your phone and just stared at it, you weren’t even sure what to put or how to phrase it. You opted for a simple ‘Hey, it’s y/n’ and within seconds you heard a ping from your phone, which started a stream of conversations, Five hardly waiting seconds before sending a response.

Even though you didn’t see Five for the next couple of days, you texted in every possible minute you could, he’d even randomly text you in the early hours of the morning, leaving messages for you to wake up to. He’d often complain about his family, but in a way which suggested that deep down he really cared for them.

‘Are you at work tomorrow?’ Five was always so formal with his texts, it made you smile but also made you fully aware of how bad your texting was. You sent a quick one back about how it’s your day off and seconds hardly passes before your phone vibrates and Fives name flashes on the screen as he rings you.

“We’re going out tomorrow, if you don’t already have plans that is.” Five spoke quickly.

“You know, I think something has just came up.” You say with a cheeky smile on your face, even though you knew Five couldn’t see. You heard him do a disappointed sigh. “I’m joking, I have no plans so I’m yours for the day.”

Five continued to talk about your day tomorrow and all sorts of other things, about his week, wanting to hear about your week and just in general, you both went on for hours. Before you knew it, it was well past midnight and a yawn wracked through your body.

“I’m going to go to sleep but I’ll see you tomorrow Five.”

“Night y/n.”

Nervously, you waited where Five had asked you to meet, aimlessly fiddling with the strap of your bag that was loosely slung across your body. On queue, Five came around the corner, his face lighting up when he saw you. This was the first time you’d seen him without his uniform and slicked back hair, instead he left his hair ungelled and was wearing just a casual jeans and jumper.

“Hi,” You smile at him as he approaches you. “It’s so strange not seeing you in that school uniform of yours.”

“I could say the same to you about your Griddy’s uniform.” You laughed at his words as you started walking, you weren’t really sure where you were both heading but you followed his lead, weaving between the busy pedestrians on the street.

Five had led you to the very edge of town, you had both been talking about anything that came to mind, familys, hobbies, interests and you even dared to ask about this private school Five goes too, but you didn’t really get too clear of an answer from him. You’d both been walking and talking for so long you hardly noticed where he was actually taking you until you’d reach the top of a hill and onto a clearing that looked over the whole city.

“I like to come here a lot, just to get away from everyone.” He sits down with his back against a rock and gently patted the spot next to him. You sit down next to him, taking in the view of the city as the sun sets behind it.

“It’s beautiful.” You say as you look out at the horizon.

“Yeah.” His eyes never left you as he answered.

As the sun set, you both sat in silence, admiring the peaceful atmosphere. A shiver shot through your body as the cold breeze of the night danced around your bare arms. Without hesitation Five had already peeled his jumper off himself and handed it to you.

“You don’t have too!” You say quickly, a sense of guilt filling you.

“Don’t worry about it, I insist.” You hesitantly took it from his hands before putting it on, it ran big on you, falling past your hands and covering them. Taking your now covered hands, you wrap them around his arm, softly resting your head on his shoulder as the sun sunk into the unknown, disappearing into the night.

“I’ll walk you home.” Five pulled you up and interlocked his fingers with yours, making small talk as you both made your way down and back into the city, making your way back to your neighborhood. Finally reaching your front door.

“I’ve had such a good night y/n-” Before he could continue you pressed your lips against his while holding his face in your hands, you felt him wrap his hands around your waist as you pulled away.

“Thank you, Five.”

#number 5 #number five #number five fluff #number five imagine #number five x reader #number 5 fluff #number 5 x reader #number 5 ima #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fluff

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imaginejamesandsirius · 3 years ago

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I freaking love your blog so much! I was wondering if you could do some fluff after the prank™️ where everybody has forgiven Sirius but he is struggling to forgive himself and James is the best boyfriend and helps him forgive himself

Please don’t feel like you have to answer. Sorry if my grammar is incorrect.

"Where are you going?" Remus asked, looking at Sirius's full arms with a frown.

"Library. I need to get some studying done." He thought that was a perfectly good reason, but Moony's frown deepened.

He didn't keep eye contact for long. There was no recrimination in Moony’s eyes, but Sirius didn't want to push it. Remus had said that he'd forgiven Sirius, but he didn't know how true that was. He didn't want to spend too much time around him and remind him of what he'd done. If he mentioned schoolwork and then got the hell out of there, he'd be able to keep their friendship in good standing. Or rather, help keep them in good standing again-- he'd ruined it the first time, and he knew that.

He shoved his feet back into his shoes, then left.

He ran into James as he was leaving the Common Room, which hadn't been part of the plan. When he ran away from Moony or Wormtail, they let him. James always followed. Sirius didn't know if that's because they were dating, or if it was because they lived together at Potter Mansion when they weren't in Hogwarts. Either way, Sirius saw him and immediately shrank back, like maybe James wouldn't see him. Which was ridiculous, of course. James saw him and beamed, then put a hand on his arm like he always had. Like nothing had changed.

"Hey, where are you headed to?"

"Library," Sirius muttered.

"Smashing. I'll catch up with you in a minute."

If he'd had the time, Sirius would've tried to tell him that he wanted to study alone and James's presence would distract him. But James pressed a kiss to his cheek and then was in the Common Room. It would be easier for Sirius to accept that this was happening than to chase James down and try to tell him that it was no big deal. With a sigh, he turned and continued walking to the library.

True to his word, James showed up a few minutes after Sirius picked a table. He'd barely started getting set up when the seat across from him was filled. "Hey, sorry that took so long," James said with his usual grin.

"I hadn't noticed."

Sirius's lack of enthusiasm didn't dampen his spirits in the slightest. Or if it did, he didn't show it. "Nothing wrong with getting our work done early, but is there something wrong with our dormitory?"

"Moony was up there."

"So?"

"I didn't want to disturb him. He always says that I distract him when I'm studying."

"He does?" James asked.

"Yes." Though it was more like Remus had said it a couple times back in second year and never again since, but it worked for Sirius right now, so he'd said 'yes'.

"Huh. Who knew?"

James kept doing it. Sirius would try to sneak away to give the rest of them space, and James would find him. He wasn't even using the Marauders Map-- Sirius knew, because he'd started taking it with him to try and prevent it. He was always able to find Sirius in the handful of cases that he was able to get away at all. James caught him most of the time, tailing along with Sirius's excuses like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Stop it," Sirius snapped at him one day, as James slid into the chair across from him.

James blinked. It was hard to say what was going on in his head when he let his expression go blank like that. "Stop what? Talking to you? I'm not going to do that."

"Stop pretending like nothing's changed!"

"I wasn't aware anything had changed," James replied evenly, like Sirius hadn't just yelled at him in an empty classroom with no provocation.

"I nearly killed Snape, and I made Moony do it for me. It's different now," he hissed. "Stop pretending otherwise."

James blinked again, a shameful expression coming over his face to replace the blankness that had been there before. "I thought it would make you feel better."

"To pretend that I didn't bugger everything up? Remus hates me, and he has every reason to. I can't believe Dumbledore didn't throw me out of Hogwarts; he should've."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"You made a mistake," James argued.

"Nearly murdering someone isn't a mistake. It's a crime. And what did I get for it? A couple weeks of detention. I've gotten worse punishment by mucking about with the Slytherin Quidditch teams' brooms. I got two months for that. Nearly killing someone was two weeks."

James didn't say anything. He didn't think that more detention would make Sirius feel better about this. In fact, he didn't know what would make Sirius feel better. He'd thought that his presence would help, but obviously it hadn't.

Sirius turned back to his book. He hoped that James would leave, but he didn't move. Not so much as a twitch or shift in his weight.

"Moony's forgiven you, you know. I know that he's told you he has."

"Yes, Moony's forgiven me, and Wormtail's forgiven me, and I'm not convinced you were ever mad enough at me to merit forgiveness." He sounded bitter about that, but James didn't know why; he would've thought it was a good thing that James wasn't mad at him. "Dumbledore got slightly more stern with me than ever before, but I'm not sure his forgiveness was a thing to worry about either. Snape will never forgive me, and that sits fine with me."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Things are different. And everyone's pretending that that's not true. Like, if we just pretend that nothing happened, it'll be true." Sirius had been upset from the moment James sat across from him, but now he was losing his temper, hand curling into a fist as his words became more venomous-- if not in his phrasing, then in his tone alone. All of a sudden, it became clear to James that Sirius hadn't forgiven himself, and that's why he was so upset.

"What would you rather I do? Scream and make you feel horrible?"

"It would at least be something," Sirius said, looking at James challengingly-- as if he actually expected for James to start yelling now that he'd said he would prefer it that way.

"I'm not going to do that," James said flatly.

"Then why offer?"

James leaned forward and flicked Sirius's knuckles.

He flinched away, a flash of pain crossing his face.

"You're being an arse," James said. "You know that none of us want you gone, and yet you run away like you're doing all of us a favour. Do you really think that Moony isn't beyond annoyed with you right now? He wants to see his mates, but not if he has to go around, hunting them down. Running away is- it's not always the solution. It's sure as hell not the solution right now. Does it really make you feel better? Because it doesn't make any of use feel better, and I sure hope it's doing something for someone if you're doing it every bloody day, ten times a day. Suck up your poor, pitiful feelings and at least pretend that you're a decent person."

"Really?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. "This is your brilliant idea for how to make the situation better?"

"...No good? I thought I was making sense."

"Oh you were making sense, but it's not something you'd ever say to me genuinely."

"Hm. Yeah. That is unfortunate. Is this the part where you kick me out?"

He shook his head. Despite everything, Sirius found himself feeling better. Maybe it was that this was the first conversation they'd had where it didn't feel like they were both walking on eggshells around each other.

"Does that mean we can go back up to the dormitory? These chairs are uncomfortable."

"I don't think I'm ready for that," Sirius said, looking down at his hand. He'd bitten his nails down until there was no more white showing; James hated when he did that.

"Okay," James said slowly. He didn't know how to do this. He didn't know how to convince Sirius to forgive himself. It had been a close call-- there was no denying that-- but at the end of the day, Snape hadn't been hurt. Scared, yes, but not a hair on his head had been harmed. "You still feel guilty for what you did. You nearly got Snape killed." It was the first time he'd actually said those words aloud to Sirius, and he couldn't say that he liked it. Unfortunately, it was the truth, and it was one Sirius wanted someone to say to him. "I get it, it's horrible, and you don't know how to keep going after something like that."

"It's not that. Not just that, I mean. Yes, I did something that was completely horrid, but it's not like it's hard to keep up with the day to day of Hogwarts."

"Then what is it?"

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it again. He flipped the page of his book, then flipped it back to where he'd been at the start. "I thought I was better than that. Different. I wasn't supposed to be anything like my family, but killing another student and getting away with it? I might as well be back at Grimmauld Place, learning how to be the leader of an Ancient and Noble House."

"You didn't kill him," James said, even though he knew that that wasn't the point Sirius was trying to make. "You're nothing like them."

"Am I not? I'm just like them, only I don't hate all muggles just for existing. That's hardly enough of a difference to matter."

"I think it would matter to muggles."

Sirius paused. "I- yes, of course, that's not what I-" He stopped and cleared his throat. He closed his book. "I'm just going to run to the kitchens." He shoved the book in his bag and got to his feet. He reached the door, then realised that James was still sat there, not moving. He glanced behind him. "You coming?"

James smiled at him. "I wasn't aware I was invited."

"You've never let that stop you before."

"Forcing my presence on you is exactly as much fun as it sounds," James said, getting to his feet. "As in: not fun at all."

"You didn't let it stop you," Sirius said again.

"Well, no. You needed company, whether you wanted to admit it or not."

"And you enjoying my presence?"

"Mere coincidence," James said airily, and it did not fool either of them.

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #established relationship #hogwarts time #no voldemort au #siriuslystarbucks

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fleechin · 3 years ago

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Opening the Vault

This is my @portal-secret-santa for @mechanakal on tumblr, they requested some stuff with Wheatley, and so I figured I would do something with him trying to get Chell out of the vault at the beginning of the game. I also threw in a little nod to Portal Stories: Mel and meet the cores, since they mentioned liking cores a lot. Plus we couldn't have a story complete without Rick, can we?

AO3 Link, Raw text below:

Another day in Aperture, Wheatley thought to himself.

Another day of whizzing around on the management rails, or what’s left of them at this point, checking in on long expired relaxation vault pods in the hopes that at least one person in there is still alive, which of course no one ever was. When said out loud it would have come across as one of those soul rendering jobs that no one would ever want.

For Wheatley, however, this job turned out to be a great fit, in ways he did not always immediately realize. It was a job built for cores, which meant it was easy enough that he wouldn’t have had to use his hands if he had any. Most of the work involved in actually keeping the vaults up and running was left to an automatic program within the mainframe, and the energy needed to power it all came from the unimaginably large reserve power supply. Even Wheatley didn’t know how long it would last, but the fact that it was still up and running now was a good sign. Additionally, all the people he had to watch over were asleep, and would stay that way. If everything went well, they wouldn’t have to eat, drink, wake up, get medical attention, use the restroom, or anything else. In other words, his hours were only whenever he needed to check in on someone, which was almost never. Though he might have phrased it differently, Wheatley had found the perfect job for a lazy core. And he was certainly a lazy core.

Plus, there was hardly any boss to nag him around, and he had practically no bills to pay or basic necessities a human would need, like food or water. In fact, there was no real reason Wheatley even had to keep doing this job, and under normal circumstances he probably wouldn’t have wanted to. But these were not normal circumstances.

Although She had been offline longer than Wheatley cared to think about, he often found himself coming in to work each day anyway. Even he wasn’t sure why. At first he would have figured it was because he had no idea when She would come back online, and the central computer was not known for her sympathy. The longer She was offline, the less he thought about that, but he didn’t stop coming in. It might have been because every other core, bot, cube, and/or turret seemed to be still functioning as well as it could have after the explosion, and Wheatley didn’t want to seem like the only one slacking off. That might have been true if most other cores were earnest in their jobs, or at least were good enough at making it look like they were, but the truth was that none of the other personality constructs knew why they were still doing what they were doing either. It could have been because She had ingrained the idea of never slacking off in their heads, but some cores were significantly more receptive to that than others, especially now that She was dead.

The most likely real reason Wheatley, and all the other cores, kept on doing what they were doing was that there really wasn’t much else to actually do down here. Sure, there were the occasional core bars you could visit, and they were often plenty entertaining, with live music from the jazz core, and plenty of free shocks if you ever wanted to simulate being drunk. Plus they were a decent enough place for a core to get into the dating game, something Wheatley was never any good at, but which existed nonetheless. Then there was seeing whatever a certain adventure sphere was up to: usually getting himself blown up followed by a trip to Doctor Virgil’s wing for a fix up. Rick somehow never got tiring, but Virgil was not a huge fan of large crowds of visitors, and he was a pretty grumpy core anyway. Most cores theorized that he was based on the personality of a really stingy scientist. On top of that, Virgil had been missing these past two weeks, with nobody sure where he had gone.

The truth was, though, that Wheatley eventually got bored of all that. Socializing with other cores only worked for so long, even in a place as big as Aperture, and Wheatley was never good at socializing anyway. The real reason he would come back to this job as often as he did was that it was often the only way to relax, unwind, and hope to pass the time. Maybe something new and/or interesting would happen. So far it hadn’t, but a core could hope.

So when one day, after however many years it had been of the same old routine, Wheatley got a message that read: WARNING: RESERVE POWER DEPLETED. INITIATING TEST SUBJECT REVIVAL PROCEDURE; he was both terrified and excited. Maybe for once he would get to do something significant.

First, however, he would have to remember how to turn off the alarm message. Simple enough, he thought to himself. “Uh hey there, mister alarm system, thing, program. You uh, you’ve been going at it for a while now, about how the reserve power is all gone. And I’m here to tell you that the message is received! Yes, that’s right, signed, sealed, delivered, received. I mean not exactly signed or sealed or any of that, just a metaphor really. Point is, I have now been alerted to your message, and you can now rest easy.”

The alarm bells continued to go off. “Do you, uh, do you understand what I’m saying there? Hmm? No need to keep going on about the reserve power. It’s all in good hands- er cores, it’s in a good core’s care now! This core is on the job! Well, he’s going to be on the job as soon as he figures out what to do next. Which coincidentally, you, good sir, or madam, could easily help me out with.”

Nothing happened. “Is there maybe a language barrier perhaps? Do you understand what I’m saying? Questo software di traduzione è guasto. That’s Italian there, it means that you can go ahead and quit going off there, about the relaxation pods.”

Wheatley began to look around. Maybe there was a button somewhere. He moved back slightly, hoping to get a better view of the console area. “Ï think maybe there’s- OW!”, he said as he bumped into the wall behind him. The alarm system then finally turned off. “Huh, right, well I guess that was all I needed to do… there. Gonna make a mental note of that, somewhere.”

Next order of business was to see what relaxation pods were still salvageable. Wheatley had only occasionally checked in on the subjects himself, partly because he assumed that the automated system did all the work needed, and he figured it wasn’t necessary. The other reason he didn’t often check on the subjects was that on the occasion he had, none of them ended up being quite as… alive, as he had hoped. The fact sphere’s little documentary Wheatley was in had gotten it exactly right, and Wheatley himself had even said as much. How could these humans have such a hard time staying alive themselves, and who in their right mind thought that Wheatley would be a good caretaker? Wheatley wasn’t sure he would ever get an answer.

The console began to show a series of relaxation vaults, all sorted by the condition they were in. Well there was some good news, maybe not everyone was completely dead after all. The one on the very top of the list began to get Wheatley’s attention. According to the system logs, this pod had strangely been moved up to the top of the priority list, not long after She had come online and killed all the human employees, and it had been moved up by almost 1500 places from where it was originally. Also, for some reason the pod was recorded as having been filled and long term relaxation activated right after She was killed. Finally, this subject only had a first name. Her last name was just [REDACTED], as in that was the only thing in the space where a last name would go. None of this made sense to Wheatley, but he knew right away that whoever this person was, she was incredibly resilient if she could survive all that and still be alive now. It was worth a shot.

Wheatley immediately began to make his way towards the pod in question. It had been a while since he had gone this far into the depths of the relaxation center, and this fact did not escape him. But he had to keep going. Whoever this mystery tester was, she just might be the key out of this place. For Wheatley, and for all the other cores.

Along the way, Wheatley managed to stumble upon a green eyed sphere, who immediately noticed him. “Well, how you doin’ little blue-eye? You havin’ some lil’ adventure of your own?” Wheatley sighed, or at least the core equivalent. The adventure sphere was, to put it lightly, as much of an explosion as the ones he would try to create. He would frequently get so drunk on electricity at the core bars that he would end up going back and forth on the management rail, forgetting who he was and babbling nonstop. He had had at least six romantic partners, all of whom had dumped him after he tried to put them through one of his adventure courses.

Seeing no easy way out, Wheatley begrudgingly replied: “Why yes, as a matter of fact. I am on a mission to find what just might be the key to all of us getting out of here! Very dangerous stuff, classified, all top secret. Completely on a need to know basis. But just you wait and see, cause once I accomplish the mission it’ll be the greatest thing you ever saw!” It wasn’t hard to amuse the adventure sphere, to the point that even Wheatley knew how to speak his language.

Somehow it seemed to work. “Well hey, don’t let me interfere. But shoot, you ever need any explosions, you know who to call.” He then railed off, humming some tune to an action movie he had seen. That adventure core was by no means harmless, but at least he meant well, Wheatley thought to himself, as he got closer and closer to his target.

Before long he was at the relaxation pod in question. This wasn’t the first time Wheatley had checked in on a test subject, but it was much more important that things were going well this time. This person could possibly be the one human remaining in Aperture. The stakes had never been higher. Wheatley had to make sure he knew what to say if someone opened the door.

Once he reached the door, he took the closest thing a core had to a deep breath. This is just a standard routine checkup, he thought to himself. No need to be nervous - well there was plenty of reason to be nervous, in fact that’s exactly the reaction he should be having right now. But he wasn’t going to think about that. Step one, deactivate long term relaxation protocols. Next step, play the “knocking on door” audio file. Step three, call out and see if anyone is in there.

Here goes nothing, Wheatley thought to himself. “Hello? Anyone in there? Are you going to open the door, at any time?” No response. “Are you going to open this door? Because it's fairly urgent.” Still nothing. Wheatley was getting nervous. “Oh just open the door!” That was too aggressive, he thought to himself. “Hello friend! Why not open the door?” Yes, that was better.

The door remained motionless. Hmm, could be Spanish, Wheatley thought to himself. “¡Hola, amigo! Abre la puerta. ¿Dónde está…? Um…” Wheatley remembered that his Spanish was nowhere near as good as his Italian. Either way, he was getting impatient. "Fine! No, absolutely fine. It's not like I don't have, you know, ten thousand other test subjects begging me to help them escape. You know, it's not like this place is about to explode!” Still nothing.

"Alright, look, okay, I'll be honest. You're the last test subject left. And if you don't help me, we're both going to die. Alright? I didn't want to say it, you dragged it out of me. Alright? Dead. Dos Muerte." Wheatley wasn’t actually sure whether either of those was true or not, but he didn’t want to have to think about it any more than he already had.

Either way, he could not possibly have prepared for what would happen when the door finally opened.

#portal #portal 2 #portal secret santa #38's fics #fanfic #@mechanakal #portal 2 fanfic

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years ago

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 85

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

"What can you give me about Hill and her huntresses?" Ironwood asked me as we walked briskly up to his office.

"Fiona has some sort of matter absorption semblance. Evidently she can put a plane in her pocket and walk away. It's Striker ranged and probably limited to non-living things, I'm speculating on that bit. Still, it's supposed to be fairly wicked. May has the invisibility field. It's got a decent radius and it's mobile. It fucked with one of my own operations once. Sabotaged me. Then there's Joanna. She's got super strength, classic Brute," I informed him. "You want me here for this? I've had a run one with them before."

"You'll be with me," he affirmed. He swung the doors open to his office and he sat down at his desk.

I took to a corner by the window. I folded my arms. My sword hilt extended over my head.

"Their weapons?" Ironwood asked me.

"These crossbow staves. Probably modifiable with dust rounds. Except Hill. She's got a crossbow with blades on either side. My man described it as like a fan or an accordian."

"Your man?"

"A union leader down in Mantle. That's how he worked with Hill. You want the details?"

He shook his head. He steepled his hands before him and we waited. Penny came skipping into the room. She saw me, smiled, and waved at me. I grinned back at her and nodded.

"Oh are we acting brooding? I'll do my best." She imitated me by the far side of the long window.

"I don't need to act. I am brooding," I laughed back. "But yeah. A little."

"Hill should be up any minute."

"Good. I was getting tired of looking relaxed."

"I'm glad you two get along," Ironwood mumbled. "It bodes well. For you in particular, Strife."

"Eh, it's mostly Ruby." I kicked my foot around, rolling out my left ankle.

"Don't say that. I thought we were friends."

"We are, Penny. I'm trying to brood, though."

"I see…"

Hill pushed her way into the room with a small smile. She took me and Penny in. She had Fiona with her and another woman I recognized as Joanna Greenleaf from a photo.

Fiona nudged Hill. "That's him. Cloud Strife. The killer mercenary."

Hill glanced at me. "I've heard a bit about you, done some nasty business in my town. What? You working for Ironwood now?"

"For the foreseeable future. Judge ordered. You could probably find out about it. Given your seat," Ironwood returned from behind his steepled fingers.

"You give up the merc life?" She asked. Her question directed at me.

"For now," I answered.

"You're a dangerous man, Strife, I'd be glad to hear you're playing for the good guys. If that's what's going on here."

"It sort of is. You fucked with my operation. Don't think I don't know."

"I did nothing illegal. Nothing anybody could prove at any rate." She showed her teeth. I liked her. "Not like you and Taurus."

"You heard anything about him?" I wondered. "I have a blood score to settle with the bastard."

"Not a peep. He's been laying low. Like I thought you and your illusionist were. Color me surprised to find you standing beside the General. Right beside the protector of Mantle after the shit you pulled."

Maybe this was why Ironwood wanted me here. To divert her focus. I doubted he wanted me for moral support. He wanted me on as a distraction. So I'd be as distracting as possible.

"Those charges were dropped," Penny said.

"You hear that?" I asked. "It's like I never did it."

"But you did do it," Fiona spat. "You killed people."

"Interesting way you phrased that," Hill said with a hand raised at Fiona beside her.

"I only killed other criminals." I shrugged. "And I got time served with a hefty fine."

"Meaningless to someone like you," Hill countered.

"Not meaningless. Just the best I could have hoped for."

"But are you reformed? Do you serve Atlas and Mantle well?" Robyn wondered.

"To the very best of my ability, I protect the people now."

"Will you swear by it?" Hill held out her hand.

"Sure. I'll promise." I took her hand. Purple flowed over my hand as I took hers and it wreathed both of us. "What do you want me to say?" I asked. Words could be very particular.

"That you serve as a guardian to the people, now."

"I serve as a guardian to the people now." I echoed. I technically did before too. Her aura flashed green. It must have registered as true because she reclined looking satisfied.

"Now that that's settled we can get down to business. When will the new tower be ready for launch?"

"Classified. You shouldn't even know about the tower," Ironwood returned.

"But I do. And this will go smoother if we work together, General. I can vote in your favor or I can vote against you at every turn. I can even raise a vote of no confidence."

The General grimaced. I think that he hoped I'd buy him more time before the nitty-gritty.

Robyn leaned over his desk and spread her palms on it. Hunching over on him.

"What's it gonna be, General? I can do worse besides. I can petition to have your council seat taken away. How long will your precious tower take to get completed then. Work with me. I just want to talk."

"You want to talk for now."

"That's right," Hill returned. "I might change my mind based on what I hear, too." At least she was open and clear about it. The value of her prizing honesty.

"The launch is two months out." Ironwood stated.

He stood up and towered over Hill with her slumping over the desk. She recoiled back and stretched to her full height. It was still nowhere near the General and closer to me though she was tall for a woman.

"All of our attention has been on raising the tower and restoring communications between the kingdoms."

"Even though Mantle suffers," she murmured.

I thought about saying something like 'Mantle always suffers' but I kept my mouth shut. It wasn't the time. Never let be said I couldn't be diplomatic.

"Some sacrifices have had to be made to get things done but we're in the final stretch now. No going back."

"I want things to get better for Mantle, General. And fast."

"I'm working as fast as I can," Ironwood vowed.

"I want you to slow down the launch of it means things can get better for Mantle. Diverting both supplies and huntsmen."

"That isn't practical."

"Practical be damned. Mantle always bears the lion's share of the suffering for Atlas. All for it's floating neighbor. You want me to not vote against you at every turn so this project gets completed? You're going to have to make concessions. That means voting my way on minimum wage increases and miner safety standards. Even if those safety standards set back your little project."

Ironwood sighed. It sounded like she had him in a corner.

"We are so close." He grunted. He sounded frustrated and exasperated. "So close to getting this project done. For everybody's benefit."

"Well it just got further away. One way or another. Not one more miner will die for this or anything else. They matter to me. What's it gonna be, James?"

"Friends call me James. You can call me Ironwood or General."

"Petty," she clicked her tongue. She had him in a vice though. She'd be petty and slow down the project too. She was a woman of her word. No one with a semblance like that wouldn't be.

"It sounds like I've got little choice. Just know that once my project is complete I won't back down so easily anymore."

"I'm counting on it, General," she turned on a clicking heel and left. Her tour de force departed with her.

"Sorry. I tried but she wasn't going to be distracted. Not by me and not by Penny."

Ironwood groaned. "The launch just got set back a month. Minimum. And if I start capitulating now who knows when it will end."

"She's a woman of her word. So you've got that going for you."

"At least it wasn't Jacque Schnee," Penny chipped in brightly. "This election could have gone much worse. She's willing to work with you if you work with her."

My scroll chirped. I pulled it out of my pocket.

"Strife. Who’s this?"

"Aurum. I've got a hit on your lady friend. She's here. She's threatening me. She demanded my information. She was asking the same sort of questions you were. I need to know what that's about now."

"You don't. I'll be there."

"My life is on the line! She immolated my men!"

"Try and hold her there. I'm coming. Let's get lucky and kill her."

"Sorry Cloud but I have got to do what I got to do to protect my business."

"Just hold her. I'm on my way."

I cut the connection.

"Something important?" Ironwood asked.

"I got a hit on Cinder. She's about to burn one of my contacts to death. I need to get there."

Ironwood nodded. "Do you need reinforcements? I'll call Ace Ops."

"Better call Team RWBY too and put them on standby with Qrow. She's at The Den."

"I'm sending Penny with you."

"Let's go Penny." I said with a nod by the door. "You and I will fly there."

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Penny and I swooped down on The Den. "You take her accomplices. Let me worry about Cinder."

"Do you believe that you can defeat her?"

"We're about to find out." Let’s hope that sounded confident.

I bust in the door to find the club empty and quiet. The lack of music and the distant smell of inhalants gave the place a void like feeling. It was strangely empty and lacking.

"Sorry Cloud. It's nothing personal. Just business, you understand." It was Aurum's voice coming from the top floor above me. "She forced me. You get it."

There was the clink of glass heels on the floor above us and Cinder Fall came into view.

"You," she purred. "Jaune Arc was it? I owe you for when last we met." Her one eye glowed like embers.

"It was. Not anymore. It's Cloud now."

"A change in name will mean little to my mistress. You're her son."

"Hardly. She didn't raise me," I shot back. I drew the broadsword from over my shoulder. I gripped the enormous handle beneath the titanic cross guard the shield helped form.

"She has bade me not kill you and your sisters have a certain fury I would dread but whatever happens happens," she sung. She spread her fingers and a flame grew across them. "You would have had me last time if not for my maiden powers. Powers which have doubled. I'm sure you are aware. And you've been spying for me. Through this rabble but you've been on the look out nonetheless."

She made Aurum call me, then. Aurum dashed out the exit, trying to keep his life intact and escaping while we were both distracted. Cinder set a trap for me. Sustrai stepped out from behind Cinder with Black in tow. I watched and my vision faded as Sustrai narrowed her eyes at me. She was trying to use her semblance on me.

I shouted at Penny and I watched a blurring kaleidoscope fly up to them and slash out at Emerald with ten floating blades appendages. My vision snapped back into focus and in perfect time for me to see Cinder descending on me with flames pouring from her feet to aid her assault. As she flew she left fire behind on the glass dance floor. I met a strike from her similarly glass weapons and stuttered back a step on the dance floor.

I activated my semblance and brought my weapon around to match her. I drew an electric crystal from my pocket. I crushed it in my palm and sent a thunderbolt at her. She blocked it by crossing her weapons and her one eye flared at me with the power of the maidens. She gestured and a half dozen fireballs floated into place before her. She blew gently. Like she was blowing a kiss at me, I didn’t catch it, and I was forced to dance out of the way of the fireballs.

I went through them. I rolled and floated towards her through the conflagration. I stabbed my sword downward and tore up glass as I pushed it screeching across the dance floor towards her. She met my strike with both her weapons crossed.

Then she struck out at me in high, low, high fashion, alternating each blade. She twirled with the motion and I was forced on the defensive, blocking each one of her attacks. I never let her truly get close to me with the enormous blade between us.

She waved her palm and a flare shot up inside the tight room towards me. I couldn't be sure how Penny was doing against her two opponents because I was too focused on Cinder.

I blocked her and seesawed my weapon down on her. Sparks flew from her glass weapons from where my Titania edge but down into them.

"I'm going to kill you this time. We'll see how my Mother takes that," I whispered. I spoke softly as I threatened her. As I made my vow.

Lightning ran up her weapons and into my arms. It made me tremble in pain for a moment before she pushed me off of her and kicked me in my exposed chest. Then she flew at me.

"Aren't you quite the little rebel. Doing what makes mommy mad?" She laughed at that.

"Oh I'll piss her right the fuck off. Can't imagine she was happy I didn't bring the relic to her."

She pointed her sword at me and there was a kazzap of lightning. I blocked it on the edge of my weapon but she just swung her weapon around her body again. A trail of fire emanating from it and growing larger until she whipped a lash of red hot blaze right at my head.

I rolled again and came up thrusting at her, forcing her to block. She swung at me with one of her glass weapons but at the far range of my weapon I was too distant and she miscalculated.

She dropped into a crouch and pointed both her weapons at me and there was another mighty kazizzle of electricity. I jumped over it and brought my weapon down on her head in a move that forced her to block with both of her own. It shattered the dance floor around us for yards and yards. All the way to the edge near the bar.

"You're right of course. She was most displeased. She will punish you for it given the opportunity. I think not, however. You will die here."

She waved her hand and a gale picked up. All the glass from the once smooth and now shattered dance floor flew up from it. She gestured at me and I hunkered behind the wide edge of my weapon and weathered the storm of glass pellets. Some struck into my aura and chipped it away. I held firm against the wind.

Blue light still licked at my body but it seemed like my semblance would not be enough. I couldn't imagine spending it and then being forced to fight her without it. If I spent it, when I spent it, it would have to be for the kill. I could use it for no other purpose. And it would probably have to be the Octa slash. No other attack would do enough damage in a single go to take her down except maybe a Finishing Touch.

I'd hardly touched her. Hadn't touched her, I realized.

When the gale broke down she hit me hard with both flaming feet. Not as hard as Penny had with a similar move but hard enough to send me stumbling back. Next she delivered three lighting fast diagonal slashes to my torso. She ripped away massive chunks of my aura.

Then she thrust forward and I blocked to the side. Her weapon buried in my personal soul based force field to the hilt right next to my head. She still managed to rip away a chunk of blue light from my body.

Things were seriously not good. Her magic was too much for me and her competence with a blade in each hand was nothing to scoff at.

I kicked her back. A move that caught her in the gut. Then I swung my blade towards her head in a massive strike that she caught with both her weapons. Making yet another 'x' shape. It seemed to be her go to in order to block against my titanic sword.

I screamed and flew at her. Closing the little distance between us with a shoulder check that knocked her to the ground.

I danced at her, flowing like water as she caught herself on one hand and tried to cartwheel back but I chased her roll now that she was out of position. Now that she was in serious disadvantage and close to me I made to capitalize on it.

I caught up to her and hit her once vertically diagonally downward and to the right. Then I reversed and came diagonally up and to the left. Then I can back down on her diagonally and from the right once more in a staggering triple hit. The kind I'd seen do twenty-five percent or more of Ruby's aura when I wasn't Limit Broken. When I wasn't Limitless.

I didn't spend the charge on it but I did shout, a scream left my lips as I performed the move with exertion. It flung her back and into one of the bars and into the wall in a shattering of glass and bottles.

She flew out of the hole in the wall and through the crevice her body had left in the bar. A trail of flame coming behind her and at her feet. I flew to meet her and where we struck the ground rippled like it was made of liquid for a moment before elasticity caught up with it and it shattered.

I was taller than her. I was conventionally stronger, too. Especially while Limit Break was active and I slowly lowered my weapon down onto her while her back twisted from trying to match me in the crater on the floor.

She kicked my leg at the hip but I only grunted and took it. I took one hand off my blade and backhanded her hard with my knuckles. Then I slid forward a step and reversed my hand and grabbed her by the throat and picked her up into the air. I pulled her in and kneed her in the stomach hard enough to make spittle fly from her lips.

Then Mercury came flying and kicked me in the back. Then he shot me in the back with both of his boot guns.

I twisted to my feet again on a pocket of air. He was breathing hard. So was Cinder where I'd knocked the wind out of her.

I wasn't much better and now that they were alone Emerald let out a scream where Penny slammed her hard into a wall.

"Ma'am…" Mercury trailed.

"Save Emerald," Cinder hissed.

Then I gambled. I dashed forward like I was going to hit Cinder. Then I spent Limit on a thrust but not at her. I thrust up and into Mercury's aura and then into his chest in a crackle of violet energy.

Blood flew from his lips as I speared him. Penny had done enough work for this to pay off and from the sounds of things she'd defeat Emerald too.

"No," Cinder whispered. The battle was out of her favor.

"Yes!" I roared. The edge was ours now.

I watched as Emerald plucked herself from the wall and fell to her knees. A tear on her face as we all saw Mercury slide onto my six foot blade.

"Emerald! Get us out of here!" Cinder called.

I swung my sword and Mercury flopped off the blade. He was already dead. I flexed and started charging my next semblance. With slow promise I stood and began the charge. Soon.

"Emerald!" Cinder barked. I was assaulted with a massive illusion. Penny was too from the way she stepped back in shock on the second floor. A gigantic image of my Mother rose from the twisted glass and roared.

Cinder burned a hole in the wall and grabbed Emerald's sobbing form and fled. I was too shocked by the cyclopean vision of my Mother to move.

"Cloud!" Penny called to me distantly. I fell to my knees before the image of my Mother and held my hands up like I was expecting an attack, I fumbled my sword with dumb hands. My brain burned and my mind was ajar.

Mother…

I thought. And despite that I knew it was an illusion. Despite the distance between us I heard her answer.

“My son…”

"No…" I whimpered.

“Yes…”

The voice seethed.

“Yes… you belong to me… I am your mistress…”

I could feel her shadow on the corner of my mind. She twisted into me and trapped me between agonies I knew weren't true.

"Cloud are you alright?"

The massive image of my Mother faded. But she lingered on my brain. A growing pressure. I howled in pain. She raked at my body and I convulsed.

"Cloud, it wasn't real."

"She's in my… my… my…" I stuttered like a broken record player. Then I started to froth at the mouth. I seized on the broken dance floor.

“My son… my precious son…”

"Oh my gods!" I heard Penny cry. "Don't worry, Cloud, help is on the way!"

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-WG

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