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libsterslobsters · 4 years ago

Text

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

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“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

#marvel #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x original female character #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #fluff

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radbutsafe · 4 years ago

Note

ALL FUCKIN 35 OF THEM SKLNWESDJFPXO

I SHOULDVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

A three! I think I’m mid range cause I ain’t terrible but there is still shit I gotta improve and grow in my writing

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to manifest what canon won’t give me and to write more! (though yes it is mainly about the smooching and the— I’ll stop there LOL)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm! My weird research details? I’m that “fun fact, did you know...” in my fics sometimes LOL! I plan on giving a penthouse for erina in a fic and I went through penthouse listings in Japan for floor layouts and locations💀 my research gives me inspo and depth to stuff I think I lack in comparison to others sometimes.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

In terms of fellow fic writers, one of them I can’t name here but she’s an inspiration with her exceptional gift for prose period and her lovely skill at comedy! I want to be as funny as her when I write, I love her ironic situational humor. Other fic writers are @takoyakitenchou, @royaldragonsevgisi15 who I always love sharing ideas with and motivate me to create more! For non-fic writers it would be V.E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, Oda, and Horikoshi! The last two may be mangaka, however they are writers as well to create their stories! The depth these creators have given their worlds and interesting characters theyve given life to are all what I aspire to be like!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

so far uh?? hm everything I’m currently writing are wips lol!! im proud of my wip that has been nicknamed ‘soma panics’ that is a multi-chapter fic that spans like probs 20 plus chapters maybe

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue! it’s so much fun! and character thoughts. I’ve said to people I may be better suited for script writing

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think it’s description, of like setting and showing action. also an expansion of my vocabulary LOL

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

erina! I think it’s because canon has shown us many of her different faces and range of emotion.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

SOMA!! chill ass mofo whos more carefree compared to the common shonen protagonist! for other shokugeki characters I’m not sure just yet because I haven’t flexed my fingers enough for the rest of them.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

I guess I should say romance cause that’s what I mostly write LOL!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

sorina and I try to get them to smooch eventually KEK and yeah it’s..usually romantic fluff lmao

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

HONESTLY ALL OF THEM but “soma panics” is my brain child

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

pretty sure it’s digimon....

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

currently shokugeki no soma!!!!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

uhhhh I guess SNS? LMAO fandoms...all have their quirks to them.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

characters cuddling!!!! or getting the urge to smooch!!!!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

unrequited love GOOD FUCKIN BYEEEEEE

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I have plot ideas thst can be wild potentially but so far nothing fits this criteria so far that I actually have written.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

depends on the fandom, but if written well, all of it!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

shippy 100% like I said I like smoochin

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

romantic is...*drumroll* SORINA! platonic, soutaku and erina and alice!

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! There are times songs will be on loop and times I just shuffle a playlist. and if I’m writing in random bursts it’ll be with no music but it really does depend lmao I think music is when I’m forcing myself to write?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

completely independent ideas, I’ve realized in the past prompts shoot me in the foot often unless I luckily figure something out. but I’m often driven by my own sporadic self interest with shitty ping ponging attention

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

multi-chap I guess cause I can post without being finished LOLLL but tbh can I really answer? I haven’t finished anything.....

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I can’t answer this question imo because I haven’t finished a fic yet so technically stuff could all fit in the one fic?

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

MYSTERY AND CRIME! I love the genre and I have plot ideas once a blue moon but I can’t dive in because I want to make details that work and reduce plot holes where suspension of disbelief isn’t as needed. I need to study it more (I need to study all the details for any of my fics imo to be confident sometimes LOL)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I don’t think I can say one comment was the nicest because I’ve gotten comments that have given me quite the smiles to my face many times! I know this is a cop out but it’s true!

IS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY UNTIL REINA SENT ME THE FOLLOWING ON DISCORD LIKE TWENTY MINS AGO:

and also rad. i am never this vocal about my emotions like EVER but this needs to be said your fics are obviously far from perfect, as are mine and everyone else's. but the thing about your works is that they're so well-sanded that it's impossible to find any rough edges or faults in them in terms of cohesion to a plot. your cast is never OOC and the amount of effort you devote to developing your takes on the characters as accurately as possible is unimaginably awe-inspiring.

BITCH I WANNA CRY 😭

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

I’d like to believe I take it often well to try and improve because that’s always my goal. if someone is rude lol that’s not constructive snd is unhelpful. If I disagree with criticism I’ll explain why !

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Not yet, but I have some plot ideas I think will let me test this.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

F L U F F.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

elliott fuji, a japanese-american award winning photographer who is erina’s boyfriend in ‘soma panics’ which..causes soma’s panic LOL he’s 30 with slightly wavy black hair. I still haven’t pinpointed his personality just yet...he kind of humble brags for sure an artsy fucker and flirts maybe I’ll make him a lil shy though. he teaches sometimes, and becomes an adjunct photography professor in Tokyo so he can be with erina.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

a cook is unfashionably late in realizing his feelings.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I am a slow. so slow. motivation who is she? I also write out of order, unfortunately a bit too often.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

this should be for the fic ‘soma panics’ it’s either megumi or satoshi talkin to him rn, I’m leaning towards satoshi

“You thought she would always wait for you, didn’t you Soma-kun? To always welcome you home.”

Soma drags his palms down his face and groans. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t shy from confrontation but this is a whole different ballgame. Soma doesn’t play any ball.

“I guess..?” Is his reply, because he thinks he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“You guess?”

Just being questioned again is enough to crack Soma’s pathetic facade as if it was dropped chinaware and he lets out the longest sigh.

“No.”

Coming home means coming home to Nakiri Erina too.

Nakiri Erina is his forever.

this is @takoyakitenchou’s excerpt she’s most proud of that I’ve written, which is also from you guessed it, the long fic soma panics

SOMA: I am, I mean I will be, I swear I will always come home to you, not spend as much time abroad, once I’m done with work I’ll come right back. I’ll make sure to message you. Nakiri, I’m in love you with you. Maybe for a really long time. You know how I say I dedicate my food to you? My dad—my dad said that the key to become a good chef is to find someone to dedicate your cooking to. A special someone. For my dad it was my mom, you know? For me it’s...

(this is a good piece of dialogue tbh so I am also proud of this)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I’ve mentioned it throughout this but the WIP I’ve nicknamed ‘soma panics’ is something I’m super excited to write, but it’s going on slowly...and almost completely out of order. out of all of my writing it showed off that particular habit of mine, along with “what is this, a shoujo manga?!” though the latter is currently being written chronologically now that I’ve posted chapter one and is pretty solid in direction. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but I got impatient and wanted to post at least something for the sorina / soueri fandom.

however, because ‘soma panics’ (I won’t call it that LOL) is my baby I want to keep true to my rule of refusing to post it until I have a draft of the entire fic finished and I’m satisfied with the main points pretty much. due to my writing out of order, I’m worried I’ll change my mind about scenes or want to reflect things in earlier chapters for later ones etc etc

I joined the SnS fandom extremely late, as season five was airing. I was a fan of the manga five years ago and dropped it because I forgot to check for updates when I caught up 😔 I really want to bang out the different fics and aus for sorina that I have before the fandom fizzles out entirely but tbh I’m writing for myself, I’m manifesting what I want to see and I’ll just share it with all my friends to read if no one else will. cause I’m slow broski I dunno what writing fast even is like LMAO I do really want to write faster though, so I can contribute more and let the words free from the discord dms....

#ask meme #ask rad shit #writing #writing by rad #fanfic #reina girl u put me thru it I swear lol #thank u for sending!!#ur amazing!!!!

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

02| trouble |greg sanders

Notes:

So apparently, I wasn’t done with these two? Yeah.. I thought I’d post another part to their whole /story./ as it were. So, here we are.. I am... honestly lowkey tempted to do this with my Tim Speedle x OC one shots too, because I had this whole ass backstory that I broke down and condensed greatly there that I could rewind and do, too...

So if anybody wants to see it (either of them, Tim or continuing this with Greg), lemme know I guess?

Either way.. Here we are. Part II. Yay! For those who missed part I it is ( here ) I’m off to go brainstorm more on this and create a soundtrack, hehe.

Pairing:

Greg Sanders x Sidle!OFC.

Warnings:

Uhhh... heavy lingering sexual tension. Mutual pining. A whole lotta cute awkward fluffy times.. Eventually, filth. This is non timeline compliant, btw... so if you’re strictly by the timeline posed in the series, I’m sorry? Kinda?

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet

[ faq | tag list doc | soundtrack ]

TWO. “What the hell are you watching?”

At the sound of Nick’s voice, Greg tried to avert his gaze. Tried to look anywhere but out the window and down into the pool area which happened to be right below the balcony of his apartment. He’d been completely distracted. Forgotten all about Nick still being at his place..

He stepped away from the window, turning his entire body away from it so that his back was facing it.

Nick chuckled and stepped over to the window, peering down.

“Well, I know it’s not the blonde.” Nick mused aloud, fixing a teasing gaze on his friend as he did so.

“What the hell do you mean you know it’s not the blonde?” Greg’s brow raised at Nick’s assumption. Even though it hadn’t been the blonde, he hadn’t even realized there was even a blonde down at the pool until Nick mentioned her just then, he wondered what automatically made Nick rule out the blonde.

Nick chuckled. “You have a type, Greggo.”

“I do not have a type.” Greg argued.

Nick eyed him and after a second or two, he shrugged. Then with a smirk, he went on. “I can tell you exactly which girl you were starin at so hard your eyes were about to pop right outta your skull though.”

Greg rolled his eyes in annoyance, folding his arms over his chest.

“Fine. Go for it.”

“The leggy brunette in the black Ouija board bikini with the top untied and the lime green earbuds in. She was on the red beach towel, layin on her stomach... I think she was reading a horror novel and eating a green apple. Had herself a little garter tattoo… Am I right?”

Greg’s mouth opened and closed quickly because Nick had him dead to rights and he didn’t feel like arguing. “How the hell did you know? And why the hell were you staring so hard anyway, man?”

“She’s cute. Not my type at all, but cute.” Nick was peering out the window of Greg’s apartment now, probably watching the blonde. When Greg asked him the question, he chuckled and spun around, holding his co-worker’s gaze.

“ Because I know you. I know you well enough to know that you’re gonna go for the dark haired girl, every single time.” Nick shrugged. Greg eyed him, waiting on further elaboration. Which Nick gave, a second later.

“You were checkin her out Monday morning too when I dropped you off after work. When she was jogging?”

“I was not.” Greg said it quickly. Defensively. Entirely too quickly and defensively and he knew almost immediately that Nick didn’t buy that for a single second.

“You were, Greggo. Don’t even bother denyin’ it, I pretty much caught you. Both times, buddy.”

The sound of Greg’s apartment door being knocked on had both men sharing a look. “Were you expecting somebody, Greggo?”

“No..” Greg eyed the door, walking over to it and unlatching the locks, peering out the crack in the door when he opened it.

Belle leaned in the doorway lazily, a sheepish look on her face. Cheeks tinted pale pink and hints of a little bit of a sunburn starting to show. “I,uh… Well shit, this is lovely.” she stammered after a few seconds of the two staring at one another again, her hands dragging through her hair.

“What’s up?” Greg opened the door, letting Belle into his apartment and Nick eyed the two, chuckling to himself as he walked to the door and cleared his throat. “I’m goin back to my place, man. Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah. My car will be out of the shop Friday, I think.” Greg waved him off and the door closed, leaving him alone in his living room with Belle.

His eyes wanted to roam but he didn’t dare. He cleared his throat and tried to swallow down the lump that had formed in it over the space of the minute or two since he’d opened the door to find her standing outside.

“What’s up?” he eyed her in concern.

“I went down to the pool to swim a few laps and tan… And I may or may not have forgotten the key to my sister’s place… She told me if I managed to lose my key somehow or get locked out, you had their other spare?” Belle gazed up at him hopefully, shuffling bare feet against the living room floor.

“Oh shit.” Greg chuckled. “Yeah, they gave me a spare when they got the place and realized I lived across from them. Let me go try to find it.”

He wandered down the hall and into his bedroom, locating where he’d sat the key on top of his dresser. Pocketing that, he called out to her, “How is it so far?”

She wandered down the hall, leaning in the doorway of his room. Biting her lip as she realized that he was taking off his button up shirt. She only barely managed to tear her eyes off of broad shoulders before he turned around to face her.

“It’s peaceful? It’s a lot more peaceful than New Orleans was.” Belle answered, their eyes locking on each other all over again. Greg went to step out of his bedroom and this put the two of them body to body for a second or two and he barely managed to bite back the groan that wanted to come at the way she felt somewhat pressed against him like she was right now.

He found his eyes drifting down and settling on her lips.

She dragged her hand through her hair and his eyes drifted upward, watching the movement. Biting his lip as he did so before remembering the key she’d come to get. He put it into her hand, curling her hand closed around it and maybe he didn’t want to let go. Maybe he held on just a second or two longer. She gave a soft laugh and stepped away, following him back up the hall as he started back towards his living room, falling down onto the couch.

“Hey, if you’re not doing anything.. Nevermind. You’re a graveyard shifter like Sara and Gil.. I need to get goin’ and let you get your sleep…” Belle started, stepping towards his front door. Greg called out, “No, what were you going to ask?”

“Well, I’m not the greatest cook or anything.. But I was going to ask if you wanted to come over? Maybe grab some food with me?”

She shuffled her feet, leaning her back against his door as she gazed at him. Greg got caught up in staring at her and almost forgot that she’d asked a question, finally managing to answer a few seconds later, “Actually, I’d like that…”

“Sweet.. I was gonna throw something together and supposedly, it’ll be ready in an hour?”

“Supposedly?” Greg questioned, smiling at her as their eyes met again at last. “Yeah.. I’m covering my own ass because it’s like I said. I’m not the best cook.. And it may well end in the fire department having to come by.” Belle gave him that little troublemaker smirk as she shrugged and he chuckled, nodding.

“I’ll be over in a few minutes. I’m gonna go grab a shower.”

She smiled at him and nodded, giving him the thumbs up as she closed the door to his apartment behind her.

Greg let out several long and shaky breaths and rose from the couch, heading to take his shower.

XXX

I’m surprised I heard the door being knocked on over the sound of The Artic Monkeys blasting through my sister and Gil’s apartment, just to drive out the heavy and almost oppressive silence.

But as soon as I did, I bit my lip, staring at the door. It probably wasn’t a good idea to do this as I was attempting to cut up vegetables for the stir fry I was going to try to make for Greg and I to eat. I managed to nick my finger and, swearing under my breath, I grabbed one of the paper towels next to the stove, holding it against my finger as I called out to Greg, “Just a second.”

I managed to get the finger situation under control and I slunk over, opening the door and stepping out of the way so Greg could step in.

He eyed my paper towel wrapped finger and I bit my lip, giving a soft laugh and shrugging. “It’s like I said. I can’t actually cook that well. And apparently, kitchen knives hate me.”

“Let me see it.” he was reaching for my hand and to my surprise, before I could stop myself, I was letting him take my hand in his. He unwrapped the paper towel and eyed the very small wound carefully. I spoke up. “It’ll be fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Yeah, but it’s still bleeding a little. Did you at least clean it out?”

I shook my head. Apparently, the running theme here is that every single time I’m around Greg Sanders, my mouth and brain are going to cease all function. I wanted to smack myself in the back of the head for it because it wasn’t me at all.

“Yeah, you need to clean that out.” Greg spoke up again, catching my attention. I nodded. Found myself distracted by his eyes and then his mouth… The strong jawline.

,, Christ, you are ridiculous. Get it together, Belle.” I admonished myself, ,, First you’re cooking and you know not the first fucking thing about cooking beyond ramen and barbecue on a grill.. Or frozen meals. What next, huh?”

I stepped away and slunk towards the bathroom down the hall, finding the bandaids and an alcohol pad.

“Fuck.” I hissed as soon as I’d gotten the alcohol pad out of it’s wrapper and pressed it against the pad of my finger. Greg leaned in the doorway, dragging his hand over his hair. “It smells good. The food, I meant..”

“Thank you.” I glanced up at him, struggling with getting the band-aid around the end of my finger without getting it too tight or having it stick to itself. He stepped into my sister’s bathroom and took my hand in his, biting his lip as he fixed his gaze on the finger and the band-aid, wrapping it around securely before glancing back up at me.

“That should be good.”

The fact that he had to let go of my hand had me pouting a little, then fuming at myself about that internally. I finally managed to bring myself to pull my hand away and slunk up the hallway, into the kitchen. Stopping by my docked phone to change the song from Girls Just Wanna Have Fun to Need You Tonight, dancing over to the stove. Making Greg laugh at me from the doorway.

I stopped mid wiggle and stuck my tongue at him. “What’s so funny, huh? I happen to think INXS fucks.”

Greg shrugged as he stepped into the kitchen. Closer to me. I gulped, staring up at him. Not entirely sure what to say all of a sudden and definitely not sure what to do with my hands. “I mean, you’re not wrong.” he was staring right back down at me. One of us stepped closer and behind me, the shrill cry of the smoke alarm and the smell of my food burning just a little had me biting the inside of my cheek and swearing, pouting as I stepped away abruptly and made my way over to the stove to turn it off and see just how bad the damage to our food was.

“Well fuck.” I whined, turning back. Finding myself close to him all over again. Dangerously close.

Brown eyes seemed to stare straight into my soul before finally breaking away, nodding towards the wok filled with the burnt remains of what I’d been trying to cook.

,, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach my mom said… explain this fiasco, mom…” I gave a soft laugh and shook my head at the thought as it came and I sighed. I didn’t want him to leave.

Him leaving meant that I’d be in this apartment alone again, for one thing. For another, maybe there was just… something about him. A magnetic pull.

The harder I tried to fight it, which I had at first, the harder it was to fight.

“So, uh… do you know anywhere that’s open? I’ll pay.” I offered quickly. Mentally kicking myself because it almost felt clingy.. I hated that I couldn’t control myself more than anything right now. Especially after all that I’d gone through before my arrival in Las Vegas. That alone should have taught me a huge lesson.

But here I went again.

Greg chuckled, rubbing his chin in thought.

“I do have food at my place. And I can throw something together.” he said it and immediately did the same as I had when I’d asked if there were anywhere to go. Tensing slightly, almost as if he expected me to say no. “Forget it, it’s late.. That was probably dumb to ask..” he trailed off after a second or two, but I shook my head no, giving a smile.

“Actually, I’d like that. I love my sister and Gil but this place is a little… creepy… at night. Maybe it’s because it’s so quiet and I’m not used to that yet.”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it.” he gave me that lazy grin and raked his hand over his hair. “If you want to come over, Belle… I wouldn’t mind at all. I never actually go to sleep when I get in for an hour or two anyway.”

“Oh, I want to.” I replied, slipping on my favorite boots, grabbing the key to my sister’s place and following him out into the hallway, pausing to lock the door. I turned around and found myself kind of pressed against him in the doorway. “Ready when you are.” I smiled, my eyes getting lost in his all over again…

#greg sanders fanfiction #greg sanders fanfic #greg sanders fic #greg sanders imagine #greg sanders imagines #my writing ; greg sanders #my fanfiction ; greg sanders #my fics ; greg sanders #// hope ya'll enjoy agonizingly SLOW burn.#because oof. this is that.

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vore-scientist · 5 years ago

Text

Cookie Jar (M/f platonic safe/soft sfw vore)

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Sophia see’s an opportunity to prank her half-giant wizard, by getting him to eat her. Also some Gardening! (sadly no actual cookies or jars feature in this story)

Princess Sophia and Yonah the Wizard are my OCs, they are both adults, and part of my Mystic Woods series. I commissioned art for this chapter! So that’s in there too!

Warnings: While this story is all about safe, soft, willing, silliness there are uhhhh some really strange references/discussion about fa.tal. None occurs. King Ben just is a bit... creepy and uncaring.

----

“So, what’s the plan for today?”

The Princess Sophia asked as she and her half-giant wizard ate breakfast. Toast with a citrus marmalade and eggs scrambled with spinach, onions, and mushrooms. They always had eggs. Yonah was a really amazing cook, and eggs were his favorite food. Well. Second favorite food. Sophia had to admit, the wizard made the best eggs she’d ever had, and she grew up with royal cooks! Yonah took one more giant mouthful of his own portion of eggs, and a drink of water flavored with a few slices of magic melon, before answering.

“Not much,” he took another bite. Clearly not in a hurry. “Was thinking we could garden this morning, then I’ve got some translations to complete. Maybe there will be time for a dusk patrol.”

No way.

Sophia’s forkful of egg was frozen halfway to her mouth.

There was no way he had forgotten. Right? Someone so smart organized and all. It wasn’t possible Not in her wildest dreams.

“That’s it? Nothing else?” she risked jogging his memory just to be sure.

Yonah was looking at her funny, so she finished her bite of food to keep a straight face.

“Nope. That’s it. Unless… Is there something you wanted to do?” He asked.

She took such a big drink of water she nearly choked.

“Ah- um.”

“I could try to put together a lesson, but I didn't plan on one today. Im still waiting on a few potion ingredients, which should be here soon.”

“The plan sounds good!” She said, her voice squeaking a bit.

He’d definitely forgotten. And if Sophia was a good friend she would have told him. Thankfully Sophia wasn’t a good friend. She was a great friend. His Best Friend. And as the best friend to an evil giant wizard she got an evil idea. All she had to do was not raise suspicion.

“Ok…” Yonah didn’t sound convinced. “Would you like me to clear your dishes?”

Sophia nodded and placed them delicately unto his palm, but finishing her water first. Then she zipped off, climbing down the ladder attached to the table, sprinting to the staircase, and leaping down the stairs to the bedroom. By the time Yonah caught up to her she was in her gardening outfit. Waiting for him, on top of his dresser, upon which was her magic wardrobe.

“What’s the rush princess?” Yonah said with a smile as he took his time changing into a sturdy button up and overalls that matched Sophia’s. “I don’t have any plants that will get up and walk away if we don’t water them.”

He adjusted the shoulder straps on his overalls and held out a hand to Sophia. She scampered across his arm and dropped into his front pocket.

“Ok then,” he said, smiling as he got out his sandals, gloves, and straw-wizard’s hat.

“I’m just excited to garden!” Sophia said.

“Glad to hear it,” he gently pat the pocket over his midsection to jostle the princess, and then with a finger ruffled her hair. Or tried, since it was in it’s pretty-permanently tight braid. He did nearly knock off her tiara but she held it in place. Then she held onto the lip of the pocket as Yonah went up the stairs, and she bounced happily.

She had to hold on tighter when he leapt from the tower window. That was never not exhilarating and so frightening she screeched like a banshee as, with an earth-shaking THUD, Yonah landed in the garden.

“Out you come from there!” Yonah said cheerfully as he plucked Sophia out of the pocket and set her on the edge of a flower bed.

Then from a side pocket he took out a pouch of power that he dipped a finger into. He dabbed a bit of the powder and recited a spell in giant. With a puff of grey smoke Yonah now stood 7.5ft. About a third his original height.

There was a lot to do as it turned out. A lot of beds had weeds! Those damn seeds must just manifest out of thin air. The pair spent an entire hour weeding the flower beds. A few weeds happened to be spell ingredients, which Sophia Then wondered why they were considered weeds.

Regardless she attacked them with extreme ferociousness, getting right to their roots. Which was good because the roots of this particular weed were what they wanted. They were placed in a bag to be dried out over a magical smoke that night.

They didn’t take a break. Not really. When moving onto the Apple trees and other fruits the pair took random small breaks to sample the ripening bounty, but worked steadily to trim branches and check for sickness and fungus.

Some fungus was of course wanted! Yonah had recently planted a patch of moaning bamboo that was bred to be vulnerable to infection by void fungus; used to make magical ink to enchant scrolls and book pages. It was a slow growing bamboo but it was finally large enough that if infected would produce a decent amount of magic ink, enough to make the investment in the bamboo worth the money.

Sophia took a tuning fork and tapped the green-yellow rods. No void fungus to be found. But cuttings of the bamboo were taken. When the current batch caught the bug they would have healthy ones to replace them. Void Fungus was not kind to it’s hosts. Thankfully it wasn’t harmful to animals or people.

She started to worry that, after all this work, Yonah would insist they have lunch, and she would have to tell him.

And then she nearly ruined it by cheering when he suggested he get a little translating done before lunch. He was just feeling very motivated for some reason. She didn’t mind waiting a little to eat right?

“Don’t mind at all! In fact, you wanna eat me?” she couldn’t risk waiting any longer or it would be too late. She tried not to look at the clock.

It wasn’t really a silence, since Yonah continued to gather supplies around the room, until he stopped listening to himself and processed Sophia’s words. Then he stood up, holding a bunch of scrolls, looking at her as if he may have imagined her talking at all.

“You haven’t had lunch yet, so you must be hungry,” she added. /don’t push it too much he’ll get suspicious!/ “and watching you translate is boring.”

But then she heard his stomach growl and his cheeks grew red. “I- yeah!” he came over to the desk. His face was still a bit flushed but he was smiling as he leaned over, arms folded and he put his head eye level with Sophia. “A pre-lunch snack is exactly what I need!”

He reached out a hand to poke her, which tickled. “And I couldn’t refuse my favorite snack.”

Without hesitation Sophia got out her vial of glass paste and applied a small dab to her forehead and recited the words. Yonah closed his eyes as there was an explosion of sparkling purple dust. He felt the heavy glass form of the princess sit on his arm. He stood back up, taking the princess with him, keeping her at his face. He opened his mouth in a wide smile that revealed large white fangs glittering with drool and anticipation. She took hold of his bottom teeth, hoisting herself inside. It was a tight fit, which always made her wonder how he managed to eat people larger than herself. And she was petit.

Air wooshed by her as he took a deep breath and tipped his head back so that she slid to his throat. With perfect timing he swallowed. Once. Twice. Three times.

The princess’s feet passed over his lips, and he kept swallowing. It hurt considerably. Stretching his throat and putting pressure on his windpipe, but it was worth it. With a strong gulp she was down past his airways and he could breathe again. He could already feel her hands in his stomach, soon joined by the rest of her. Filling him up so nicely, he smiled and sighed.

“Mr HaEsh?”

It was like his blood turned to ice and then instantly into steam; the pressure threatening to make him explode.

He remembered.

Dare he open his eyes? He had to. It was too late now.

Yonah HaEsh looked down at the magic mirror on his desk. But instead of his reflection framed by the fancy gold filigree, the King of the Mystic Woods looked back at him, arms crossed. It was like the entire damn forest was looking at him. And the forest didn’t exactly have feelings like normal people.

/Had he seen?/

“Ah- Y-Your Majesty-”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Because at that moment Sophia started laughing hysterically, with her whole body. Normally that would feel GREAT; now it was distracting at best, visible and audible to her father at worst. Her father who spoke over the stuttering giant.

[art by @pythonpie @art_python on twitter]

“We had a meeting today, or did you forget?” The King’s expression. Well it wasn’t neutral but it wasn’t full of vengeful rage, which it surely would have if he had seen his daughter get swallowed whole. It still wasn’t happy.

“No-I mean yes- I mean no, Your Majesty.”

“Then where, Mr. HaEsh, is my daughter?” The King’s emerald green eyes pulsed and narrowed, his face hardening like petrified wood.

Yonah resisted putting a hand to his stomach to try and cover up Sophia’s movement, or get her to stop! Her laughter was penetrating his brain! But that would be too obvious.

“The princess! She!” Yonah realized he had a bit of drool running down his chin, but he dare not wipe it away. “Is asleep.”

“In the afternoon?” asked The King, raising an eyebrow, “Surely she didn’t forget the meeting?”

Yonah gritted his teeth as Sophia screeched inside him.

He hissed out “No sire, she did not.”

“Speak up Mr. HaEsh,” the King Ordered.

“Ah- well, I don’t know, she was very tired after working so hard in the garden I thought she deserved a nap,” and he thought he deserved a freaking medal for coming up with that excuse and saying it as convincingly as possible with a princess thrashing in his belly.

“I don’t appreciate her sleep schedule being dysregulated this way,” said The King, his voice rising enough to make Yonah’s skin crawl.

It was so eerie, and so absolutely horrifying to see The King get mad in the mirror, while outside the trees rustled with the rhythm of Ben’s words, his breaths, his huffs, and his grunts. Yonah swore the vines around his tower were constricting, causing the stone to crack a bit. Could Ben collapse the tower just like that?

“I didn’t mean-” but once again The King spoke.

“And,” the king pointed at him. Though it wasn’t exactly precise through the mirror it was clearly at his stoamch very full of struggling human, “Who was that you were eating?”

“Sire?” Yonah didn’t think he could really hide it.

“Don’t play dumb with me, wizard,” The King spat, “When the mirrors resolved I saw feet disappearing down your massive throat. And they’re still alive by the look of-”

“A thief!” Yonah said a bit too quickly, “It was, is, a thief!”

Now he felt comfortable enough to rub at his stomach, “Tasty too, your majesty,” he smiled a big embarrassed grin, “In the excitement of the chase I forgot it was nearly time for our call.”

The King didn’t look convinced and Yonah felt his heart sink.

“A thief? In the middle of the day?”

“Yes Sire! That happens, not common but not-” was he gesticulating too much? Was he gesticulating to little? Should he just stop using his hands?

“And that doesn’t sound like screaming, it sounds more like laughter.”

/Oh GODS he could hear it!/ Yonah’s heart lifted but only so it could start racing

“Nope! Not laughter” Yonah poked his middle and Sophia obliged by screaming a little less happily, “It’s terror! Because I ate them! And I am very scary. Just like you hired me to be!”

“Very well, I suppose you should go wake Sophia,” The King examined his fingernails. Thanks to the mirror enhancing the King’s size, Yonah could see they were painted with black runes. What for? Yonah couldn’t think about that right now.

“And the thief?”

The king looked up, “Oh right, the thief.” the king eye’d Yonah’s middle like one would a disappointing servant “Are they not dead yet?” Sophia had stopped laughing so hard, guess Ben couldn’t hear it now.

“N-No sire,” Yonah poked his middle again and was relieved when Sophia moved sharply and screamed at like she really was in danger.

“Not in the mood for a free meal today?” Ben asked, completely serious. “Less money out of my pocket. It costs a lot to... feed you.” There was a weird tick in Ben’s right cheek. Like he had been about to mention the fact that Yonah gives adventurers gold when he lets them live, which was most of the time, and that money was technically King Ben’s, even if most of it was deducted from Yonah’s salary.

“Not with you watching, my liege,” Yonah said, trying to sound like he cared as little for the thieves’ lives as Ben did.

“It’s not as if I can see whatever horrorshow is going on in there,” he said.

With Sophia being the one in there, that was the last thing Yonah wanted to think about.

“Fine, spit them out.”

Gods those gem-like eyes were so bright yet so hollow. Yonah wouldn’t be surprised if Ben COULD see though mere barriers like flesh, but also was thankful he couldn’t.

Yonah bowed, unable to enjoy Sophia being squished inside him.

“Where are you going?” Ben said as Yonah turned to the stairwell.

“To- spit out the thief and wake-”

“You cannot do that here? I’ve seen it before”

He had. Once. When interrogating a prisoner of war, Ben supervised Yonah swallowing, threatening, and spitting up fairy. That had been a feat. Fairies were larger than humans. Even thinking about it briefly made his throat sore.

Yonah’s face turned so red it was like a tomato. If he spat Sophia out that would be it. In the moment he could not fathom what Ben might do to him if Sophia slid out of his mouth. Could he somehow cast a disguise spell on her? No Ben would see the cast.

Thankfully Ben heaved a huge sigh, “I don’t see why you’re so self-conscious, go ahead.” He waved him off and Yonah disappeared down the trap door.

---

PERFECT TIMING!

Sophia couldn’t see what had gone on outside, but as Yonah stiffened, everything around her going tense, the pulse around her accelerating and his quavering voice say “Your majesty,” she knew she had done it.

While she had wanted to try and hear what her father was saying she could not help but burst into laughter as soon as she imagined the look on Yonah’s face. Probably guilty, smiling, bewilderment. Oh she wished she could see! But if she could have done that, this would be a very different prank.

It wasn’t hard to guess her father’s words based on Yonah’s responses.

Deciding to help her poor giant she switched from laughter to just yelling when Yonah poked at her and insisted the sound coming from his middle was terror. That should be pretty convincing, though it was hard to sound scared when riding the high of such a brilliant prank.

Eventually she calmed down to hear her father. She loved her dad. She really did. But 30 years ruling two kingdoms; 30 years being joined magically to The Mystic Woods, a mind as far from human as one could get, he tended to be a bit heartless. Ben’s body, mind, and spirit were part of a vast ecosystem that had things living and dying in it every day. So why would random adventurers dying, even eaten by one of his employees, be of much concern to him?

Still, she felt proud of Yonah for managing to get away to “wake her up” and “spit out the thief”. She did not resist when Yonah threw up into his bathroom sink.

“That was ! A dirty trick!”

He coughed out a bit more fluid and did not bother to aim away from Sophia. He didn’t speak again until he regained his breath. By then Sophia had washed and dried off, and returned to flesh of her own accord. She sat on the towel and looked at him with big innocent brown eyes.

Ok not innocent, but definitely not guilty or regretful. He reached out to grab her but she grabbed him back, wrapping her arms around his fingers. He wriggled his fingers and she laughed, not at him, but with him. He did pull her to the edge of the counter and kissed her side. She tried to get away from his scratchy facial hair but failed.

“How long were you planning that?” he asked, his chin in her lab.

“Since this morning,” she said, shoving him away.

He obliged but left one arm on the counter for her to climb across to his shoulder. She lay into his hair. The dark curls so fluffy and soft.

“Couldn’t believe my luck. Something like our monthly meetings slipping through that big wizard brain of yours!” She scratched his head, making one side of his hair stick up funny. Then she sat down and he put on his hat.

“Let’s not keep my father-” she paused.

“The King-” Yonah smiled.

She laughed “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Ben had not moved a muscle as far as Yonah could tell, when he sat at his desk and tried to smile without conveying that he had in fact, not eaten a thief, but the king’s daughter. Sophia scrawled down from his shoulder and leapt onto the desk.

“Hi dad!” she said.

“Hello Sophia”

And no, it wasn’t really comforting to see kind emotions in the face of The Mystical Majesty, if anything it made him more eerie. He was capable of human feelings, or at least he remembered what they were enough to mimic them.

It never really bothered Yonah before but. He barely noticed. Oh sure Ben unnerved him greatly. Yet he hadn’t registered just how detached The King was.

Not until he had figured out that Sophia was already chosen as the next Mystic King. Would she slowly turn into an unfeeling vessel for the forest? Would he lose her? He was to train her, prepare her to be King. Maybe that meant she could avoid this fate.

Shit Ben was asking him a question!

Shit Sophia was answering for him!

“-unconscious when they came out. We put washed them off and put them in a box.”

Ben was back to his normal, detached irritation. But there was a flicker of amusement. Still not comforting.

“You woke her before spitting the thief up?”

He had to nod; Sophia was in charge of the narrative now.

“Cutting it a bit close weren’t we?”

/why did he care? Ben was just fine with letting this hypothetical thief die while they had a not-so-pleasant chat/

“No sir, fainted from fright. Happens all the time. They were kicking and screaming until-”

“I don’t actually want the details Mr HaEsh.”

Yonah wasn’t so sure about that. King Ben seemed to have some morbid fascinations. Maybe when one’s mind is so expanded you need some really extreme diversions to peak your interest.

With so much time wasted the talk was very brief. Ben was actually legitimately pleased with Sophia’s progress. In the last month she’d met with several insular communities in the woods. One in particular was hardly more than a rumor. The fact that she’d made contact was a significant achievement. Not that she knew why, but she was glad to go on about the new spell she’d learned, none the wiser about her growing connection to The Woods.

Still, Yonah didn’t breathe easy until Ben’s face faded from the mirror.

Sophia sighed and turned to look up at him.

“Im going to get you back for this,” he said, “especially since you were this close” he held his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart, “To Ben seeing you eaten. He saw you feet.”

“Ah!” She finally looked guilty, “Well- I couldn’t resist”

No. She wouldn’t be Sophia if she’d done anything else. He even suspected that his mirror had delayed establishing the link and made a mental note to be kinder to it.

“-if you want to eat me again.”

Yonah scooped her up, cradling her in his arms. “You’ve certainly earned the honor of being my dessert tonight,” he cooed. “And I’d better get some belly rubs. But that doesn’t count as payback.”

“You’re going to eat me now too?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “No. We should have actual lunch; like we normally do after talking with your father-”

“The King!” she declared, standing up unsteady and pulling herself onto his shoulder.

He laughed so hard she almost fell back into his arms.

And they went downstairs.

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’

#safe vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling #g/t vore #nonfatal vore #sfw vore

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ofravensandgenesis · 4 years ago

Text

Meme Tag Games!

Thank you for all the lovely tags!! :D <3 This is quite belated but between some health happenings, the weather deciding to turn the thermostat way up (and the house AC went out), and other stuff, I got swamped for a while there. Here we are now though! :D Tagging anyone who wants to jump in on any of these, namely FC5 GFH tag game; OC Fighting Style; and WIP Day. Continued below the cut because this got long:

FC5 Guns For Hire Meme Game

Tagged by @chyrstis and @amistrio for the FC5 GFH meme, thank you for the tag!! :D <3 We have full length responses with some banter with the human GFH in particular here. I was kind of stumped with how to answer this for Joshua in what he might say as a GFH since his verse is very tailored for him being the Deputy and all the psychic shenanigans. Eventually I got over that and this is basically an AU where there’s another (unnamed here) Deputy who IS slated to be The Deputy that Joshua is trying to help (and convince to do less murder) to explain how he fits into a verse as a Gun For Hire. Psychic shenanigans still happen in this AU of an AU ofc, just it’s perhaps less prominent. We’re skipping over possible musings of relevant sidequests for Joshua relating to the Seeds in this for the sake of time, though I acknowledge that it’s something to explore, likely would impact the endgame with the Heralds, cult, and Joseph depending on the Deputy’s choices of doing a Kill or No-kill run. This verse also assumes that Joshua, the Deputy, Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson all got away or were not present for the helicopter crash. Other characters minor and otherwise who are alive in Joshua’s main fic verse ACABH are the same as in that story thus far, such as Rae-Rae and Ryan being alive. We’ll also presume the Seeds are all still alive at the time of these dialogue lines.

Deputy Joshua Raguel Rook

(All images used were public domain and/or labeled free for reuse under creative commons license. Above image was sourced from [here.]) With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Hey there boy, how’re you feeling today? Got some venison strips saved for you, you eating enough with all this running around?” [cue more small talk and praise for Boomer about how Boomer’s doing such a good job and Joshua feeding Boomer bits of cooked meat. Will likely sing snatches of cheery dog-themed songs he’s heard when in the party with Boomer and there’s no enemies nearby.]

Peaches: “...I hope that’s not people-meat in your teeth, Peaches, you know how Miss Mable feels about that, it’s bad for your health. I’m also not quite brave enough to want to brush your teeth—though maybe Dr. Lindsey or Wade can offer advice on that. We’ll get you some nice fish instead, that’s a good kitty.” [He’s a bit more shy around Peaches than Boomer bc cougar, but an effort at friendliness will be made.]

Cheeseburger: “...that is one big bear. He’s a sweetheart though. Just...hoping he doesn’t make a mistake of who he’s barreling into. It’s not like we’re wearing team colors or anything.” [Cheeseburger is a sweetie and Joshua likes him, but also: bear. Joshua’s a bit wary around him, but will still feed Cheeseburger salmon when able. May crack a joke paralleling Cheeseburger going “Only You Can Prevent Cult Gun Fire.” Will not crack this joke after any Jacob-region events though.]

With Other Guns for Hire:

Sharky

Sharky: So amibro, I was thinking, you know how those Angels are all dead in the head and stuff? How are they still shuffling around, is the Bliss like a zombie plant or something? Joshua: ...no, that’s more in line with the aliens that Larry keeps going on about I’m sure. Something about brainmelting and bendy straws, I got lost when he started mentioning Navier-Stokes equations for how the...resulting brain juice would be redirected. [Shuddery noise of disgust.] I’m not sure if he’s serious or just fucking with me and referencing Guy’s zombie movie series at this point. Could be either or. The Bliss is more like...like...uh. Like if you lost the keys to your car, but the car’s your body. You get me? Sharky: Damn, remind me never to OD on the stuff, I lose the keys to my car all the time. Sometimes I can’t be bothered to find em and just jiggle the lock so I can hop on in to hotwire the car because I’m in a hurry, you know? Ladies love a man who’s good with his hands, and who’s good with time and can improvise. You think that’d work on the Bliss car keys? Joshua: Maybe? Not everyone seems to be as readily lost to the Bliss at the same amounts. Personally I’d wager you’d be able to find your way back to your body no matter where you were in the bliss if we stood you near a signal fire. Sharky: This is why we’re friends man! Ride or die! ...also can you help me find my keys with that trick of yours, I lost ‘em again. Joshua: Yeah, though did you check under your bed? Also, maybe hang your regular set and a spare set of keys on a hook by the door so you can always find them, just in case you’re in a hurry.

Hurk

Joshua: Hurk. [Said in a Mild, Judgmental Voice of Impending Doom From A Friend kind of tone.] Hurk: Hey man I didn’t do nothin’ to deserve that tone of voice now don’t you start on me. Joshua: How can you say that when you and Sharky went and invented zipline grenade-golf without me last night? And blew up part of the mini-YES-sign. Hurk: Oh man you were talking up Lindsey and with the way the two of you were smiling and laughing, we figured you might be getting lucky so like the proper supportive wingmen me and Sharky were, we left you gentlemen some of our finest booze and sticky green. You did find it didn’t you, I’d hate to waste the gifts of the beneficent Monkey God from above as He Who Likes To Par-tay Above And Here Below On This Earth did command me never to waste beer or the good kush and to always help a brother out who’s trying to hook it up with their fine persons of choice. Joshua: Hurk I’m not— [sighs in accepting and fond exasperation.] It’s not like that with me and Charles— Hurk: Ooooooooooooo, you’re on a first name basis already! I knew you had it in you! Get it man, get it good! I’m not into that, you know I like the ladies strictly, but I will support your endeavors no matter the sex of your fellow party-goer as leader of Hurk Gate and the Bro-iest of Bros. Joshua: Hurk oh my god, I’m not trying to sleep with or romance him. I’m—he’s not looking for that, at least not with me certainly, and I—...just, thanks. I still have most of the beer and weed leftover if you and Sharky are up for graffiting one of John’s billboard signs though. You in? Hurk: Hell yeah man, and oo, you did get some then, Josh you sly dog! Joshua: I DID NOT! [Meta-clarification: Joshua indeed did not, for reasons to be revealed at a later time in the main fic.]

Sharky, Hurk, and Joshua, if one bends the mechanics so they are all in the party together at the same time:

Sharky: Pfhahahahaha oh man did you see the look on those Peggies’s faces when we came just crashing down the mountainside in that burning car? It was priceless!

Joshua: What better way to set fire to mass amounts of Bliss fields than with a moving fireball? Sharky: I know man it was great! We didn’t get too singed or nothin’! We gotta try that burning trash-ball idea next time though, like building a snowman but with fire! A fireman! Ha! That was the easiest fifty bucks of my life, cuz. Joshua: Hold up a tick now, what. Hurk: Sharky man that’s against the betting code! You’re not supposed to tell! Joshua: Oh, you cheeky bastards were betting on if Sharky could convince me to drive the car down the hill, weren’t you. Hurk: Man it’s always a crap shoot with you, specially around cars. That’s what makes it fun, sometimes you get all “guys that’s not safe,” [said with a poor imitation of Joshua’s voice complete with a very terrible southern, Georgian-style accent before Hurk switches to his normal speaking voice to continue,] —and other times it’s just “hold my beer.” You’re not going to go all prim and proper on us now are ya? Joshua: I can’t believe you two. Gambling in Hope County, I’m shocked, shocked. Sharky you owe me half, I’ll buy you a beer first round. Sharky: Hell yeah man! Hurk: Wait a second did you two just con me? I’ve been robbed! Police! Joshua: Hurk I *am* the police, one of them present at least. Hurk: Oh shit son, you right. Help I’m being oppressed by the system!

Nick Rye

[This conversation happens after Seed Ranch has been taken, along with the AU detail of capturing John’s plane Affirmation at the same time, preferably early on, while John is still alive.] Nick: Hey Joshua I was talking to Sharky— Joshua: Oh no. Nick: And he had an idea that wasn’t half bad. Not a good one, and you’d be liable to get killed or captured, but I got stuck thinking on it and wanted to ask: What d’you think would happen if you dressed up like the Father and just pulled a whole Mission: Impossible face-a-roo switch? You can do that imitation of how he speaks and everything, I’ve heard you do it before. And with how high the Peggies are most of the time, they’re so far out of their gourds they wouldn’t notice the differences. Joshua: You mean aside from his brothers and sister noticing he’s suddenly an inch shorter, twenty years younger and the wrong brand of crazy? Nick: Just go off about there being an edit to God’s Plan or something, and you could get makeup or something going on with that age thing. People do all kinds of wizardry with foundation and stuff, though you’d have to ask someone else on that. Maybe Addie or someone she knows? I don’t know if they have aging-up tricks compared to aging-down though. It could work! Might be a quick way to end the fighting if we can just stuff Joseph into a car trunk and then stash him in a bunker somewhere while you’re pretending you’re him. Joshua: Nick my tattoos are different and I’m not going to convince people I’m Joseph if I have to do one of his shirtless walkarounds, NOR am I having sins and Bible verses carved into my hide to complete the look. I don’t think we have any special effects or make up artists in the county who specialize in convincingly fake scars made out of latex or something. Nick: I don’t know, that Guy Marvel might have someone. Or, had someone. He has to be able to afford all those special effects somehow. Joshua: I’m not going anywhere near that guy with a ten foot pole man, he weirds me out. Also consider: I’d have to talk to Jacob, John and Faith as Joseph. I don’t want that kind of responsibility of herding that conversation at the family dinner. Nick: Hoo, good point. So...how is that family bullshit coming along then? Joshua: I have no idea, I’m just winging it, like you are. Nick: [who’s currently flying a plane, thus the slight pun] Heh. Good luck with that then, and let me know if you want me to paint something special on John’s precious little Affirmation next time you take it out for a spin to spite him. Joshua: I’m sure I can think of a thing or two.

Adelaide

Adelaide: Honey you need to take a breather one of these days and just take a load off, if you keep up the way you’re going you’re going to end up looking more like your dad sooner rather than later. You should swing by the Marina sometime and have a yoga session with Xander, really helps get the blood pumping and limber you up if you know what I’m saying. Joshua: [Snorts in amusement.] Is Xander trying to convince you to eat more kale chips instead of potato chips again? Adelaide: Rook sweetie, I love Xander but there are some things a woman won’t put in her mouth, and kale chips are one of them. Joshua: I’ll swing by sometime to help out with the kale chips then, and maybe get in a yoga session at the same time. It’s been a while since I chatted Xander up what with the county going pearshaped. Adelaide: I’ll never understand how you two can eat those things. Ugh. Gives me the willies. Joshua: *I* eat them dipped in homemade spicy nacho cheese sauce. I have no idea how Xander eats them straight and still claims to have working tastebuds.

Grace

[For context: This conversation is based on the AU’s detail that Grace’s father has survived the previous attempt on his life prior to the start of the Reaping.]

Joshua: Did you crack open the extra care packages we dropped off yet Grace, or did your dad get to ‘em first? Grace: You referring to the chocolate bars you stashed in there? I got my share of them out in time. Joshua: Good, I was a little worried when you told me they were missing last time. Thought they might’ve been lifted without me knowing beforehand. Grace: He’s a sly one when sweets are up for grabs. Now if you can do something about the shortage of decent coffee… Joshua: What’s that? A reason to piss John off today and raid his personal stash? Say no more!

Jess

Jess: So. Joshua: So. Jess: Just like old times but with more fucked up cultist family bullshit than before, huh. Joshua: [Sighs.] Yeah. Jess: That’s rough, buddy. Joshua: Least I can steal shit en masse from the cultists and no one else minds right now. For the life of me though I can’t figure out where all of the snacks from Lorna’s went when the Peggies hit her place. I think they ate ‘em all. Jess: [Noise of disgust.] Those two-faced fuckers going on and on about how bad commercially produced food is and how everyone should get back to basics, but there they go snatching up all the frosted cakes and maple bars like it's baby’s first shoplifting spree. Joshua: I know right? Even if they do believe the end of the world’s coming, that’s still rude to clean the store out on the first go around—leave some snacks for the next bunch of looters, god damn.

In Combat

[Note: due to Joshua’s verse details, this comes with the assumption that were one to play in a version of his universe, the Deputy would have a kill/spare mechanic and thus also an option of doing a No Kill run and variations on that spectrum, which Joshua’s mechanics would support more so. This would likely also mean some additional options for the other guns-for-hire and creative use of their canonical loadouts and abilities. Joshua’s setup would overlap with Boomer and Jess’s via the Spotter and Concealment abilities, and he’d be equipped with a bliss dart gun and a scoped hunting rifle. Also melee options and such.] Seeing/tagging an enemy: “Hey look, another whack-a-mole.” / ”Fashionably challenged mountain-man zealot sighted.” / “Enemy sighted.” Seeing/tagging multiple enemies at once: “duck, duck, cultists.”/ “The Rapture called, they don’t want these Peggies back.” / “multiple hostiles in the area.” Bliss darting/knocking out a Peggie at range: “Nap time.” / “Another one bites the dust.” / “Down they go!” / “A little dirt nap never hurt any Peggie. Won’t hurt their outfits any either, a little dirt brown looks better than all of that mayonnaise-white so many of them wear anyway.” Knocking out a Peggie with a non-lethal stealth takedown: “Lights out.” / “Rang this one’s chimes hard enough he’ll think it’s time for morning service on a sunday when he wakes up.” / “Sleep tight.” / “She’s/he’s down.” Sneaking: “Feels like a tuesday.” / “...” / “Five bucks says I can pickpocket the guards and they’d never even know till later.” / “Moving position.” / “Good to go.” Upon witnessing the Deputy killing an enemy: “Was that really necessary?!” / “...shit.” / “Maybe we should disengage and drop back out of sight instead of this.” / “What the fuck!” Reviving an ally/The Deputy: “Don’t you go dying on me! Stay alive, you’ve got so much to live for!” / “Come on, let’s get you patched up, you’re gonna be okay!” / “No no no! Don’t you dare die! Not today!” Hurt: “MOTHERFUCKER!” / “Ow!” / “God damn it, I just patched this shirt! And myself!” / “This is NOT my fucking element, fuck!” / “Why are we even in a situation where we’d get shot at?!” Downed: “Could use a little help over here!” / “Bleeding out, help!” / “...mom?”

Driving

When asked to drive: “...you sure? I really think someone else driving would be a better idea under current circumstances, but okay. Just don’t go making a habit out of this. Please. For everyone’s sake.” / “No.” [This is followed by outright refusal to sit in the driver’s seat.] / [Optionally if Sharky and/or Hurk are around] “Ugh. Just...gotta pretend this is driving through a Clutch Nixon. With live gun fire, instead of just fire-fire.”

When the Deputy/someone else is driving recklessly: “Iwantoffthisride” / “I’m going to have to pick upholstery out from under my nails later.” / “JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.” / [Recites a Hail Mary.] / “Having a good time! NOT.” / [If it’s Sharky or Hurk driving] “This is the kind of reckless driving I can get behind. Through regular past exposure therapy.” Changing radio stations: [If it’s being changed to Eden’s Gate stations] “Can we not? I’ve heard this music so many times it’s old as hell, however catchy.” / “They did do a good job on the music, I gotta say. More ominous meaning to the lyrics right now in particular though.” / [If it’s being changed to Resistance Radio stations] “Road trip time! Watch out for moose in the road.” / “Hell yeah, crank those tunes!” / “I’m glad we have regular music to listen to still, it’d be such a drag to have to go without it.”

Idle

- [General] “What’s up? Everything going alright with you?” - [General] “I heard of a good fishing spot where the rainbow trout [or other game fish depending on situation/mechanics] are really biting today if you want to take a breather and just do a bit of fishing.” [this dialogue only triggers if the Deputy hasn’t filled out the map yet for fishing spots, and adds one to the map with a notification.] - [General] “Hey, there’s a prepper stash over yonder, if you want to try your hand at getting at it. [This dialogue only triggers at random if the Deputy hasn’t polished off all the nearby Prepper stashes already. Marks a nearby prepper stash on the map and gives a notification.]

- [General] “You know what surprises me? That the Project didn’t try to shut off the power plant to at least portions of the county. Sure lots of people are preppers or woodsmen and such, but electricity makes everything easier for us. Weird, ain’t it? They have the technicians for it I’m sure. Guess we should thank our lucky stars they either didn’t think of that or decided it wasn’t worth it. We’d be straight out of ice cold beer then, Whitehorse would hate that.” - [If the Deputy is taking the no-kill route] “Hey I just want to say...I appreciate you trying not to kill people, even if some of these cultists are absolute motherfuckers who deserve it. We might be able to stop all their prophecy crap dead in its tracks if you keep this up. And...you know. Thanks for not killing my crazy relatives? I think. They’ve done a lot of bad shit and they need to answer for that, but...the right way, not backwoods murder. We’re better than that, I hope.” - [If the Deputy is taking the killing route] “I get wanting to kill the Seeds and the cult...but this isn’t going to end well, even after we’re done. I wish you wouldn’t, but I can’t stop you if this is the choice you’ve made. ...I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you. I...hope you’ll be alright, in the end. But I don’t think you will be.” [Recall that Joshua Knows What Will Happen To The Deputy if they take the canonically-based killing route. He leaves before the final confrontation, and curiously Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson don’t show up in the final scene either—ie, whichever route the Deputy chooses, they survive elsewhere (coughcough Joshua’s secret bunker cough.) The scene with Joseph still happens more or less the same, only the Deputy leaves alone if they choose Walk Away, and ends up alone with Joseph if they choose Resist. Also interestingly enough: Dutch isn’t present on the radio, nor in his bunker. His fish have been taken too. Joshua didn’t have the time to grab everyone, so he tried to grab the ones he knew for sure would die, and warned the others that he foresaw not surviving the Collapse or aftermath, like Mary May and Jess Black, or who suffered serious injuries like Grace. His buds Sharky and Hurk he bribes with beer and weed to hide out in their bunker or hang out in his while this goes down. Boomer, Cheeseburger, and Peaches are all herded to safety (yes there are mechanics for that in the standard AU verse, we shan’t delve into them here though bc spoilers tho.) The others he tries to warn, but whether he managed to get to them and some of the other latter people mentioned above in time or not is uncertain.] - [If the Deputy switched from a killing route to a no-kill route and all of the Seeds are still alive, Joshua sounds relieved] “Hey, I know it’s...it’s hard to hold off pulling the trigger when someone who’s hurt so many people is in your gunsights, but...I do think bringing them in for actual processing through the legal system—a proper trial without bullshit—is the better way. For all of us. Thank you.” - [If the Deputy switched from a no-kill route to a killing route, sounds slightly devastated] “...Why?” - [If the Deputy is doing a “neutral” run of killing significant numbers of cultists, but is sparing the Seeds as they go] “...I appreciate you not killing the murdery head-cult-family members, but…you think we could maybe lighten up on killing the rank and file? They don’t have the big names and they aren’t the leaders, but those are still people. They are responsible for their own actions, not saying they aren’t, but many of them are redeemable. Not all of them, but...maybe we can just lay them out in the infirmary for a good long while instead? Nothing permanent. The bad ones though can fall off a cliff.”

- [If the Deputy is doing a “selective killing” run of not killing rank and file cultists, but is in the process of killing all the Seed Heralds. Joshua sounds conflicted.] “I appreciate you not killing the followers, though some of them are definitely bastards who shouldn’t be allowed to walk free for the shit they’ve done, but...you think we could...maybe not kill the Seeds either? The Seeds are the primary responsible parties, not contesting that, but maybe we can just kick their asses and arrest them instead? It might help dampen the chaos somewhat, maybe we can use ‘em for leverage. We certainly could hide them somewhere secure that the Peggies wouldn’t be able to find ‘em. It’d be easier to talk Joseph down too, using his siblings as leverage.” [See above for killing route ending details.] Also? We’re driving in separate cars. Don’t turn on the radio, stay away from the others. You’re still brainwashed, and dangerous.” [Joshua is disappointed in the Deputy for not having stuck to some manner of universal moral principle.] - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route,] “Hey, you wanna play a game of checkers, or chess? Take five for a bit, if you got the time?” - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route,] “Hey, not to be mushy or anything, but...thank you. For being you. It’s inspiring to see someone’s able to take the higher path when everything’s falling to pieces all around us. Makes me have a little bit more faith in humanity, too.” - [If friendly, and the Deputy is on either a no-kill playthrough or has switched to a no-kill route, and has been on said no-kill route for a decent amount of time,] “Hey, we grabbed some really good produce this time around and sent it on over to Casey. Told him I’d tell you to swing by, and asked him to save some for you in case you were interested. They’ve got some fresh beef for burgers and sandwiches, pumpkin pie, apple pie, loaded baked potatoes, and all kinds of other tasty stuff for a cookout. The Ryes are coming round to help pitch in and organize it all as a little morale boost party. Wanna come? You deserve to put up your feet and relax, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d appreciate your company if you felt like joining in. If you’d rather not, I can sneak food to you if you want quiet time to yourself. It’s all good, just tell me what you want and where you want it.”

Location Specific:

- Near where the police station was, if it’s been burned down: [Sighs.] “While I’m not missing the paperwork that got torched, there was a nice feel of history to the old place. Wish they hadn’t burned it down, fuckers. But, well...the Project and the Seeds have good reason to have no love for police and authority figures among others, even before all this horribleness and the leadup stuff came down. So I can’t say I’m surprised they did.”

- Upon entering the Spread Eagle, if friendly: “Finally, a place where everybody knows our names instead of yelling “Deputies!” at us all day! Wanna hit up the arcade? I’ll buy the first round if you get the higher score.”

- Seed Ranch, outside if it hasn’t been liberated, inside if it has been liberated: “Never going to understand why some folks want real airy houses with so much dead space as their main living quarters. Feels more like a knickknack museum you’re supposed to look at, not a home you’re supposed to live in. He’s got all this Eden’s Gate paraphernalia in those glass display cases, and I don’t doubt John’s fervent in his beliefs, but it feels more like a rich boy’s hunting and vacation lodge cobbled together with a vague idea of home. You saw the doghouse out back, right? What’s the point of having a dog live outside if you’ve got ALL this space, it’s all finished wood floors, and you’ve made sure to train ‘em and raise ‘em properly so they know not to chew on the furniture? It’s lonely, that’s what this is. Joseph chides John and all that about learning to love, but it’s a case of the blind leading the blind there.” - Outside St. Francis Veterans Center: [Before the Veterans Center is liberated, if Jacob has captured the Deputy at least once, so the song “Only You” is played around the Center, and the melody starts to be audible in the distance as the group approaches.] “Yeah hey, I’m going to go the other way now and wait for you over here where I can’t hear the song of madness, ‘kay? Maybe you should avoid it too.” [This is followed by Joshua refusing to go too close to the Center, sans possible AU story missions.] - Anywhere near Joseph’s Island: [The first time the party gets near Joseph’s Island,] “Uh. No. I’m not going near that place twice any sooner than we need to.” [Watch Joshua be willing to jump out even into deep water and swim away if the Deputy tries to approach the island with him in tow on a boat.]

OC Fighting Style

Tagged by @chyrstis !! Thank you for the tag!! :D <3 This was another fun one to fill out (and shorter than the above but you know what we’re stapling all of these bad boys into one post bc Why Not.) Have an aesthetic picture of a Jacob sheep skull upon a sheep skin for the fun implications of what that says about Joshua’s fighting style. xD Ram skull image after some searching was sourced from [here], with a creative commons license for free-to-reuse, with some limitations.

Rules: bold = often (or always), italics = sometimes, default = rarely, strike = never

fight honorably / fight dirty / prefer close-quarters / prefer range / chat during / go silent / low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance / attack in bursts / attack steadily / go for the kill / aim to disarm / fight defensively / bait an opponent’s first strike / strike first / provoked easily / provoke their opponent / tease / get visibly frustrated / shout while attacking / use strategy / focus on their battle / experience conflicting thoughts during battle / rush in recklessly / try to read their opponent before fighting / fight wildly / fight calmly, apathetically / fight with anger / fight with excitement / fight because they have to / fight because they want to / fight without regard to wounds / run away when wounded / hide wounds / take a blow to protect another / prefer a blade / prefer a gun (non lethal rounds/tranquilizer darts) / prefer a bow / prefer a shield / prefer a spear naginata / prefer a personalized weapon / prefer psychic abilities / prefer brawling / their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional / transform for battle / fight as they appear / rely on strength / rely on speed / use everything they have / hide their full potential / exhaust quickly / high stamina / doubt their strength / proceed with caution / behave arrogantly / brag after landing a hit / belittle their abilities / use psychological tactics / use brute strength / avoid civilians / strike down civilians / damage surroundings / avoid damaging surroundings / signature fighting style / making it up as they go / mastered skillset / learning their skillset / fancy footwork / sloppy footwork / messy fighter / elegant fighter / accept defeat / refuse defeat / beg for mercy / compliment their opponent / insult their opponent / use unnecessary movements / move efficiently / barely move / prefer to dodge / prefer to block / defend their blindside / has no blindside / use all available advantages / strictly use one main method / play around / hold back / fight ruthlessly / show mercy / wait for opponent to be ready / strike when opponent isn’t ready / fear death / fear pain / fear killing / has PTSD / avoid fighting / has lost a fight / has won a fight / has killed / refuses to kill / want to die standing / would succumb slowly

WIP Day

Tagged by @chyrstis and @hawkfurze !! Thank you for the tags!! :D <3

An excerpt from the current WIP chapter for ACABH: ————————— Weak. He was so weak, barely able to move right now, and he didn’t even know why. There was pain, a lot of pain, a feeling like his bones were on fire and about to crumble under pressure at any moment—but he’d been through worse. In this instance, he could recall that he’d fallen through the sky for a brief tumultuous time before gravity had stepped in, leading to him landing hard upon the road, as if making up for the lack of physics earlier. —————————

#FC 5 #Far Cry 5 #FC 5 AU #Far Cry 5 AU #WIP #WIP Wednesday #ask game #tag game #Deputy Joshua Rook #long post

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taurusjaehyun · 6 years ago

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change // j.jh

♦️ Pairing: jaehyun x fem reader

♦️ Other Members/ Characters: Yeri from Red Velvet, Haerin (oc), Taeyong [mentioned], Johnny and his wife, Saera (oc) [mentioned]

♦️ Genre: angst, single dad jaehyun, bff au, unrequited love au

♦️ Warnings: grab a tissue ig?? Also, mentions of bisexual Jaehyun

♦️ Word count: 2,601

♦️ Story: You’ve known Jung Jaehyun for all of his life and you did everything together until you were older. After his girlfriend had left him and their new born baby alone in college, it was only natural you’d take the role of his daughter’s mother, like how he said he was the father of your son, Clark, a chow-chow, growing up. You’ve been playing house for years now but he’s starting to change and you don’t know what to feel about it.

Note: I’m uploading everything I’ve written since forever before I write new ones so I can fill up this blog with scenarios. Also, for some reason, I was hooked on writing with babies and children in stories years ago LMAOOOO so yeah, the last scenario I posted was Jaehyun with an unknown daughter lol Anyways, tell me what u think after. I don’t bite and I’d like to be friends!

You should have known when the ‘signs’ started to show almost 3 months ago. He was more distant, less focused when you were having conversations. He became distracted and closed up until it went to him completely not saying things he always used to say. The skin ship was less to none, the banter wasn't there, the affection was declining, and the warmth in his eyes was getting running out. In a blink of an eye, the person you knew for years wasn't there anymore.

He was slowly turning different.

It became worse when he'd often sleep out without telling you and returning home early in the morning for appearances sake for Haerin. If he did stay, he would sleep beside Haerin. Well, before, he would sleep beside Haerin but then he'd start to sleep in the living room, leaving just as soon Haerin left for school. You barely made conversation then. Video calls and phone calls were close to none and texts were scarce.

But to his credit, he was still an amazing father to Haerin. He often took Haerin out, excluding you but it was understandable because you were also very busy because you started to work on personal cases that took more of your time than usual. It was a career step but you made sure to do everything for Jaehyun and Haerin. Upon seeing that Jaehyun was becoming distant, you had worked on becoming closer to him but he seemed to shut you out. You'd cook his favorite food, buy his favorite snacks, play his favorite songs and did whatever you knew would please him, even going as far as letting him 'suck' on your boobs which was his favorite. He used the same joking tone you used on him but he rejected you, laughing.

And the reason was, he finally let you meet her: Yeri.

You first met her when he decided to take you out to a fancy dinner. It hadn’t happened in a long time. Jaehyun had texted you saying that you were going to have dinner somewhere fancy so he asked you to dress up. You were so excited that a permanent smile was etched on your face after he had texted you. Haerin was also happy, knowing that you, her Mom was happy.

You had dropped Haerin off at Johnny and Saera's place for the mean time. You were so happy and excited that your uber driver even told you and complimented you. You had started to chat with the old man until you reached the hotel with Jaehyun at the entrance, waiting for you. Jaehyun gave you a brief and awkward hug but you paid no mind, wanting to make this a good memory. You wanted to say you missed him since it had been a while since you actually had a proper conversation together.

The bliss you felt in his company was quickly replaced with disappointment when she had shown up. Yeri was beautiful. She was definitely one of the most beautiful women he’d let you meet throughout the years (all the girls he dated were gorgeous anyways). She had white, milky, smooth skin, big boobs, a cute smile, twinkling eyes and everything that he described when you had asked his type back in the days. Yeri was literally the woman of his dreams.

But then you also remembered that back then, he had dismissed the thought of dating. Even as far as saying that you would have to stay with them until Haerin was 30. Only then, he would settle down with a woman. It was such a vivid memory embedded in your brain. You comforted yourself by those thoughts, knowing he would keep his word like he always did.

You felt a pang in your chest when Jaehyun had introduced Yeri as his girlfriend. Yeri then introduced herself to you and her first impression was excellent. It was obvious why Jaehyun fell for her, honestly. She was intelligent, born into a rich and prominent family, beautiful and practically perfect in every way. She was classy, her speaking voice was even beautiful, her words were tasteful, her laugh was flowy and melodious, a great contrast to your dog like barking laughter that Jaehyun was probably sick of hearing. Yeri was practically perfect in every way. And looking at the way Jaehyun looked at her, you could clearly see that he adored her because that was how he looked at Haerin.

You admittedly couldn't join in their conversation. Even if you wanted to share your thoughts, it was like whatever you’d say wouldn't matter so you found yourself speaking when you were was being spoken to, which was totally unlike you. But of course, Jaehyun didn’t notice, as he was too deep into Yeri’s gaze.

"You've been friends with Jaehyun for so long! Tell me more about him, please. I'd love to know more about my boyfriend from another person's perspective." Jaehyun looked embarrassed but he let Yeri do whatever to himself.

You had told Yeri everything you thought she wanted to hear, of course but tweaking some things that you knew Jaehyun didn't want to be known, more specifically the negative things. In return, Jaehyun gave you a thankful smile after in which you gratefully accepted.

Dinner was cut short since Yeri was to meet with her parents so she had to be picked up by her chauffer so Jaehyun had no choice but to take you home. You had sensed it so you told him you were doing an errand do you had to go home, but Jaehyun insisted he drives you home since you live in the same house anyways.

"Just drop me off at Johnny and Saera’s." You spoke as you watched the rain drops slide on the car window. It had started raining a little after you left the hotel. It was still early and you were barely half an hour in your dinner when Yeri had to leave. It felt like forever, though.

Yeri had given you her number, insisting that you contact her so you can both hang out soon because according to her, Jaehyun’s friends were her friends too, and especially that you’re Jaehyun’s best friend since forever. Somehow, you were relieved to meet Yeri because the more you wrapped your head around the idea of Jaehyun and Yeri together, the more it made sense. They were perfect for each other.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” She didn’t realize he had been talking to her the entire time.

“I said, let’s not tell Haerin about me and Yeri yet. I don’t want her to be shocked. But, Yeri already wants to meet Haerin. She loves kids!”

You nodded, glancing at him before looking straight ahead. Wow. She even loves kids. No wonder Jaehyun fell hard. “I’m happy for you, Jae.” You spoke almost too tenderly. It was sincere. You were happy for him because you’ve always thought love was something to be celebrated and Jaehyun looked very much in love with her earlier. You wanted to get mad and express you jealousy but you knew your place. You were just a friend. You meant nothing more than a friend. “She’s an amazing woman. I was kind of intimidated, to be honest. She’s perfect, huh?”

Jaehyun chuckled, “yeah! Honestly, she kind of intimidated me too. I had the biggest crush on her then and I never thought she’d notice me… But now… I can’t believe she’s mine, y/n. It’s like she came from a dream. It’s like… there’s a bright light around her and she always somehow makes everything brighter. She’s like the sun, y/n. I’ve never felt this strongly for anyone before.”

You smiled, touched by his words. You never knew he could get poetic but no matter how beautiful his words were, they felt like big, sharp rocks being thrown at you. You knew you couldn’t fight against Yeri if you tried. “You deserve each other, Jaehyun. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this happy with anyone. I’m happy she makes you feel that way.” I wish I was her, you thought.

Jaehyun hadn’t talked and opened up to you in so long but honestly, you didn’t wanna hear anything he was saying. His words were too painful. Too raw. And you wanted nothing but to cry and maybe then, if he saw you cry for him, he’d realize you’ve always been the one for him.

By now, you knew every detail of how they met, how he felt and how he stayed over at her place, how they bonded over things they liked in common, how they liked the same food, how great the sex was and what not. He also told you about how Yeri doesn’t know about his bisexuality and Taeyong. Yeri was a bit of a conservative, according to him, and she was apparently raised by a conservative family. For Yeri, he was this perfect straight male. He never smoked around her too.

Halfway to the drive, you had pretended to be asleep but ended up falling asleep for real. When you woke up, you were already at home. You immediately unbuckled your seat belt as soon as the car rolled up by the the gate. You were about to open the door of the car when Jaehyun had stopped you.

“You’re not sleeping over at Yeri’s?” You asked, confused.

“No. I haven’t been home in a while and I missed you. Let’s just get Haerin tomorrow.”

As soon as you got in, Jaehyun headed to your shared bedroom and dropped himself on the bed, sighing contently. The look of bliss on his face made you jealous. You announced you were gonna take a shower and quickly made your way to the bathroom to take a quick cold shower so you could sleep. You were too tired to think and frankly, you just wanted to sleep to avoid the throbbing pain in your chest and avoid anymore conversation.

You reached behind your back to pull down the zipper of your dress but failed so you tried again with your other hand but ended up failing again. You tried and tried but you couldn’t reach it so you had no choice but to ask Jaehyun for help. You walked out the bathroom and padded over to Jaehyun’s side of the bed where he was already settled in, “Jae. Help. Please.” Jaehyun grinned before you spun around quickly facing away from him, trying to regulate your quickening heart beat. Damn him and his smile.

You finally felt your dress being loose and eventually, Jaehyun was trying to pull down your dress, but you weren’t wearing a bra so you pushed it up and ran over to the bathroom, holding the front of the dress to your chest as if he hasn’t seen your boobs before.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, y/n!” Jaehyun laughed as he walked over to the bathroom, catching you in your bathrobe as you removed your make-up for tonight which you spent hours on, to be honest.

You frowned as you watched his happy expression from the mirror as you scrubbed your face.

Jaehyun also started to wash his face then brush his teeth. You noticed that he had a scar on his cheek so you reached over and ran the pad of your thumb over it. For a moment, it felt like the old times. “Yeri doesn’t like the scruff, so I got cut when I was trying to shave.”

You had always been the one to shave his face because stupidly enough, he always manages to hurt himself like now. You clicked your tongue and grabbed the first aid kit. “Put this on after you wash your face.” You handed him a heart patterned band-aid that Haerin chose (for the design, of course) from the cupboard from under the sink.

Jaehyun smiled, drying his face with a towel as he watched you clean off your make-up with precision, as always. He’d seen this routine for years and he’d suddenly appreciated how you’d always done it regardless if you were too tired, or too drunk, especially back in uni after attending those frat parties his frat threw every weekend. “You know, I’m glad I introduced to Yeri. And I’m even more glad you like her.”

You looked at him as you scrubbed you face with facial foam. His face was filled with warmth and emotion. It was so obvious how he was so happy. It kind of hurt, honestly. You gave him a smile and faced yourself in the mirror, fingers unconsciously scrubbing harder.

“You’ve taken care of Haerin for almost all her life and if there was one person who could say if someone would be good with Haerin in the future, that would be you. I mean, I’m not talking about marriage yet but I want her to be a mother figure for my daughter, too.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words. You’ve always been just his best friend and his daughter’s Aunt. No matter what Haerin called you, you would never be Haerin’s mother. You hissed as you washed the soap off your face, realizing your face had turned red from the hardness of your scrubbing.

“Do you think Haerin would like her?” Jaehyun asks, pure excitement evident in his face and voice.

You chuckled, trying to make it look natural. “I mean, I’m not Haerin so I’m not really sure but she won’t dislike her for sure.” It was true. You didn’t know how Haerin would react but Haerin wasn’t a spiteful child albeit a little shy to strangers but it was no doubt she and Yeri will get close soon. “Wait, I have to poop so can you get out?” You chuckled in which Jaehyun laughed at, teasing you as he came out.

In reality, you sat on the toilet, thinking about how Haerin would react if you’d have to leave when Yeri and Jaehyun become serious. Was it better that you let Haerin and Yeri spend more time together so the parting between you and Haerin would be easy? The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth that it made you feel like you wanted to throw up but even if you wanted to, nothing would come out.

After your shower, you had dressed in an old t-shirt and and shorts, not your usual sleepwear which comprised of Jaehyun’s shirt and boxers. Jaehyun was already on his side of the bed, looking fast asleep. It would be weird to sleep next to him so you decided to sleep in Haerin’s room instead. But before you could pass the bed, Jaehyun was already awake, asking where you were going and why you weren’t in bed with him despite you saying you were sleepy. Of course, you didn’t want to make it awkward so you played it cool and laid on your side of the bed, facing away from Jaehyun.

Feeling drained, you closed her eyes and let yourself be succumbed to sleep. But before you could, Jaehyun had pulled you back in his arms, spooning you, like he always did, and kissed the nape of your neck before burying his face on the curve of your neck. “Thank you for everything, y/n. Thank you for taking care of Haerin all these years. Thank you for being the best friend anyone could ever have.”

Sleep never came after that. It was only when you knew Jaehyun was asleep, was when the tears you didn’t know you were holding, started to fall.

You needed to change, too. it was better this way.

Here’s a drabble for the story featuring Jaehyun and Haerin.

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #nct jung jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenarios #singledad!jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun au #jaehyun x reader #nct fic #nct angst #nct fanfics #nct scenarios #nct scenario #taeyong #johnny #yeri

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duhragonball · 5 years ago

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[FIC] Green Christmas (Luffa Annual 1)

Normal Brain: Write a Coffee Shop AU

Big Brain: With my own OC’s

Galaxy Brain: Set it in Japan to make it harder.

Cosmic Brain: Also, it’s a Christmas story.

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z. This story is set on a Monday.

[December 23, 2019. Kiyosu, Japan.]

There was a very light drizzle outside. It didn't snow often in Kiyosu, and when it did, it usually happened in February, not December.

"It's a shame, y'know? This is a romantic time of year. Just once, it'd be nice to have a White Christmas without having to head out to Shirakawago or someplace up north."

Yamcha was a regular at the Emerald Eye Cafe. He liked to chat while he paid for his order. Every year around Christmas, he would wax poetic about the lack of snowfall in the Aichi Prefecture, and speak idly about someday taking a trip to a ski resort in Hokkaido. Zatte didn't know if he would ever make the trip. She only knew that he visited her store nearly every day, and she suspected that he enjoyed talking about snow and travel than the actual experience. He had a large iced milk coffee and a potato salad sandwich, which came to 1260 yen.

Zatte never minded the lack of snow. It meant one less obstacle to the day-to-day routine. She didn't know how people got along in snowy parts of the world, and she wasn't terribly interested in finding out. Christmas was Christmas whether it snowed or not. The sound system in the cafe was playing Beethoven's Ninth Symphony for the fourth time that day, and she had been selling Christmas cakes for the better part of the month. Half of her customers spoke excitedly of their plans for the holiday, and the absence of snow didn't seem to discourage any of them. And then there was her "favorite" tradition of the season.

"... might call her up tonight and see if she wants to check out the lights downtown. You know, keep it casual. How about you? You got any big plans for Christmas?"

Zatte shook her head. "Maybe," she said. She had learned a long time ago that this was the best way to keep conversations short. Yamcha might have had unlimited time to talk, but she needed to head back to the kitchen at some point. Answering "no" only invited a polite argument. "Come on... I'm sure a young lady like yourself must have something to do on Christmas!" and so on. Answering "yes" was a lie, and it only invited the other person to press for details that didn't exist.

"Maybe, huh?" Yamcha replied. He finally fished the money out of his wallet and laid it on the counter. "Well, that's better than nothing, after all. Hang in there."

"Out of 1500 yen, 240 yen and your receipt," Zatte said, handing him a few coins and a slip of paper.

"Radical. Well, I'll get out of your hair," Yamcha said. "Thanks!"

She relaxed a bit when he left the store. Truthfully, he was one of the best customers--courteous, patient, and easy to please. Outside of work, he was probably an okay person to hang out with, if you liked hanging out with middle-aged civil servants. But in a customer service setting, life was all about getting the clients' orders filled and getting them on their way with as little fuss as possible. Zatte didn't think of herself as an introvert, but working retail seemed to have a funny way of making her feel like one for a few hours.

She supposed that it would be kind of fun to be chummy with the regulars, but the fact was that she had too many responsibilities behind the counter. She had to count the money later. The tables would need to be wiped down. Fresh muffins had to go on the display. The cook would probably need help, sooner or later. The customers saw this place as her home, and she was a hostess providing companionship in addition to food and a place to relax. That was the business model, of course, but it was still a business.

She chided herself for feeling grumpy, but decided that she had at least kept an even keel through the morning. The key was to accept the bad moods when they came, so long as she put on a pleasant face for the customers. They had their own lives and their own problems, after all. It wasn't fair to them--or profitable for her-- to burden them with her own troubles.

*******

Two hours later, she was reminded of one of those troubles.

"You haven't seen Roshi at all today, have you?"

A shiver ran down Zatte's spine at the name. "Not today, why?"

Krillin took his latte from her and shrugged slightly. "Well, let's just say I need to talk to him about something," he said evenly. Krillin was a police officer, which tended to inform statements like these, but he still felt a need to be as discreet as possible.

"Did something happen?" Zatte asked.

"Hey, you've gotten really good at making pictures with the foam," Krillin said. He pointed at the surface of his drink. "It looks just like that guy from One Piece."

"Thanks," Zatte said. "I'm still trying to get the hang of it, but luckily he's not too tough to draw. He's good practice."

"I oughta watch that show sometime," Krillin said. "Everyone at the station keeps saying I sound like the guy, but I don't even know anything about it. What's his name? 'Luffa' or something. No, hold on, that was the girl who used to be your cook, wasn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," Zatte said. She was sorely tempted to use "maybe", but that seemed kind of pointless here. Luffa was something of a legend at the Emerald Eye. Even if Krillin hadn't remembered her name, he would still know her reputation, so there was no point pretending she didn't exist.

"Whatever happened to her, anyway?" Krillin asked. He took a sip of his latte and added: "Nothing against the new guy, but she made the best danishes. And that egg salad! Boy, I could go for some of that right about now."

"Would you like me to get you--?" Zatte started to ask, but Krillin shook his head.

"Nah, it just wouldn't be the same," he said. "Something about the spices. Paprika, I think. Better to live with the memories."

"Understood," Zatte said, though she really didn't understand at all.

"Anyway, I'll be around for a little while, but if you see Roshi later, let me know, all right? And... don't tell him I said anything."

"Of course," Zatte said. As Krillin turned and went to his usual seat, Zatte wondered what sort of trouble that man had gotten into this time. It was always something with him. She wanted to believe that this time would be different, but somehow he always managed to get away with his bad behavior.

Later, as luck would have it, Roshi did stumble into the cafe. "Well hell-oooooooo, nurse!" he crooned as he staggered to the counter. The stench of alcohol on his breath was unmistakable. Public drinking was legal in Japan, though Roshi seemed to consider this license to make an ass of himself whenever he pleased.

"Can I help you?" Zatte said, struggling to maintain her composure.

"Well, you see," Roshi said with a mischievous grin, "It's my nose. It's awfully cold this time of year, and I was hoping I could... heh-heh-heh... warm it up."

Zatte looked toward Krillin's seat, ready and eager to call out to him. But it was empty. Had he already left?

"Now I know this is a coffee shop and all, but I don't think hot beverages will do the trick here. No, sir. I was thinking more along the lines of..." He held up his hands to pantomime the act of shoving his face into a pair of large breasts. Then he started smiling, like he had just suggested the most brilliant idea, ever.

Zatte wasn't sure that what she felt for this man qualified as hate, or pity, or revulsion. She only knew that he was a pathetic old man, who seemed to think his crudeness was quaint, or charming in some way. He was sorely mistaken, and she wanted him out of the store, permanently. Did that mean she wanted him dead? The thought of this worried Zatte, more for her own sake than for his.

"Sir, if you want something, you'll need to place an order," she said through clenched teeth. Below the countertop, her right hand clenched into a fist.

"Oh, well in that case," Roshi said, "I'd like to buy a pair of... heh-heh-heh... panties please! Used ones, of course!"

Zatte wanted him dead. If that reflected negatively on her character, then so be it. If Roshi had a heart attack and died right in front of her, she was sure she would feel relieved instead of sad. It wasn't even the harassment so much as the fact that he used the same five or six lines every time he came into the store. He wants to "puff-puff", he wants someone's panties, he wants to have coffee in the ladies' restroom, he wants to take showers with any woman in the store, and so on. Roshi embodied the absolute worst qualities of customers. He seemed to thrive on the power of going into shops and forcing cashiers and waitstaff to listen to his crude and pointless jabber, precisely because they had little choice but to put up with it.

And then, just as Roshi was telling the one about putting his grimy hands on someone's buttocks, Krillin stepped out of the men's room. "Oh, there you are," he said as he noticed Roshi at the counter.

"Eh? Krillin? What are you doing here?" Roshi asked. His jovial tone was suddenly gone. He almost sounded sober. Almost.

"We got another complaint about you," Krillin said with a sigh. "That maid cafe you keep messing around with."

"Th-that was just a joke!" Roshi protested. "Can't an old man have a bit of harmless fun anymore?"

"That girl you were picking on didn't think it was so harmless," Krillin grumbled. "Look, I have to take you down to the station."

"What? You can't do that!" He tried to run out the door, but Krillin caught up to him before he could get there.

"Just settle down," Krillin said. "Don't make this any more difficult than it already is."

This only made Roshi even more difficult than he already was. Eventually, Krillin managed to get the handcuffs on him, and he frog-marched Roshi out the door. By the time they left, everyone in the shop was staring. With Krillin and Roshi now gone, that left them no one to look at but Zatte.

"Uh, sorry for the disturbance," she said awkwardly. She wasn't sure how to feel about what had just happened, but she hoped that this meant Roshi wouldn't be back for a long time. That should have made her feel more at ease, but somehow she felt more tense than before.

*******

More than anything, Zatte just wanted some normal customers. She was starting to miss Yamcha, but then Tien entered the store, and she felt a sense of relief. Of all of her regulars, he was one of the easiest to deal with.

"Hello," he said evenly.

"How can I help you, sir?" she asked pleasantly.

He gestured to the smaller man who had followed him into the store. Zatte had never seen a little person before, but she was pretty sure this man was small enough to qualify as one.

"This is my brother, Chiaotzu," he explained. "I've been showing him around while he's in town."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said with a slight bow.

Chiaotzu did not move.

"I get my coffee here after work," Tien said to him. "Black, please. No sugar."

"Of course," Zatte said. "And for your brother?"

"Ice cream cafe au lait," Chiaotzu said after a pregnant pause. He never blinked. He just stared at Zatte as though gazing into her soul.

"Certainly. Your total is 1140 yen."

They paid and she brought the drinks to their table a few minutes later. Zatte forgot about them after that, until she happened to look up while counting the money in the register. Chiaotzu was still staring at her. His expression was completely neutral.

What made it even stranger was how normally Tien behaved by contrast. He was facing away from Zatte, but he was moving his head and arms like anyone having a normal conversation. If he even noticed Chiaotzu staring past him, he didn't seem to care.

She tried to ignore him, but this proved more difficult than she imagined. Every time she happened to glance in his direction, there he was, still staring, never moving. The cup in front of him was already empty. At some point he must have drank his au lait, but Zatte had no idea when that could have happened.

What was it about his eyes? Those bottomless, pitiless eyes? Looking at them just made her realize how pale his complexion was, like one of those stories about a vampire secretly living among humans. She was grateful for the next few customers who came in, as they gave her something else to think about, if only for a few minutes at a time.

She turned away from the counter to tidy up her workspace, and when she looked around again, he was suddenly standing there, glaring at her through the display glass.

"Orange cranberry muffins," Chiaotzu said.

"Huh?" Zatte said, trying to hide how much he had startled her.

He pressed his face up to the glass. By this time of day, the display case was nearly empty, as the demand for baked goods was too low to justify making more. "Do you still sell them? Or did you just run out?" Chiaotzu asked.

"Um, we stopped selling them," Zatte said. "We, uh, changed cooks a while ago. So we changed the menu. I'm sorry."

Chiaotzu never took his eyes off her, and after a long pause, he finally uttered: "Oh. That's too bad."

"There you are," Tien said as he walked up to the counter. "Come on, Chiaotzu, we need to get going."

Chiaotzu turned and followed him out the door, and Zatte was never so grateful to see the back of someone's head. He was bald, so she half expected a second pair of eyes to be there waiting for her. Instead, he turned back toward her, just as he stepped through the door.

"Thanks for the coffee," he said, though his expression looked more like he should be accusing Zatte of desecrating his own empty grave.

When he was finally gone, she glanced down at the display case. Luffa used to restock it herself, multiple times a day. It was a welcome distraction from the rigors of the day, even though she only popped out of the kitchen for a minute or two. She would have whispered something like "Get a load of that guy," to her, and they would have shared a quiet chuckle over it.

But Luffa was gone, and the new cook was fine, even if he wasn't quite as good, or fast, or popular with the customers. It made the workday slower, but Zatte was determined not to let that get in her way. She considered herself a survivor, someone who could adapt and endure anything life threw at her. All that mattered was getting through the day and closing up the shop, and then getting through tomorrow, and the day after, and so on. She didn't need Luffa, or anyone else to do that.

At least, that was what she told herself.

*******

Keda usually got home from school by 3:45 P.M. Today, she returned an hour early. Zatte wanted to know why, but there were too many customers for her to ask, and Keda walked straight through the swinging gate at the counter, and into the door that led to the upstairs apartment where they lived.

Ten minutes later, she came back down, having swapped her school uniform for a blue "Emerald Eye" apron. Under that, she wore one of her collection of T-shirts commemorating various professional wrestlers. This one said "NIGHTMARE ANGELS" in English, with the words "KNEE THE ELITE" in smaller text. Zatte was grateful that the apron kept the customers from seeing the entire shirt, and she hoped most of them didn't know enough English to be able to read it and wonder what it meant. She was pretty sure Keda would try to explain it if someone asked, but no one did, and Zatte was grateful for this as well.

"Need some help?" Keda asked.

"Why are you out of school so early?" Zatte asked as she finished handing someone their change.

"They let us out early," Keda said. "It's the Emperor's Birthday."

"Not anymore," Zatte said. "The Emperor abdicated, remember? The new Emperor's birthday won't be until February."

"Well, we convinced the school that it wasn't fair," Keda said with a shrug. "I mean, December 23rd is a good place for a holiday, isn't it? Right before Christmas. The new Emperor can't help being born in February, but it's not right that we don't have an Emperor's Birthday holiday in 2019. It just seems disrespectful, doesn't it? So the student council talked it over with the faculty, and we agreed to let out two hours early as a compromise."

"Why can't you just say you cut classes like all the other kids?" Zatte grumbled.

"Because that's not what happened," Keda said. "Can I help it if the President of the Student Council likes my ideas? Can I help it if the faculty is really open to suggestions?"

She picked up a small cup and put less than fifty milliliters of hazelnut coffee in it from the dispenser behind the cash register. Keda smelled it, but decided it was too hot to drink. This was part of her after-school ritual.

"I wish you'd stop doing that," Zatte said.

"Everyone says it's an acquired taste," Keda said. "I'm almost twelve, Zatte. In a few years, boys are gonna want to take me to coffee shops. I mean, not this one, that'd be kind of awkward. Getting waited on by your own sister. But a coffee shop, and I need to be ready to drink coffee by then."

"Now if only I could get you to put that kind of dedication into your schoolwork," Zatte said.

"Oh, I've got that under control," Keda said. "You see my grades, right? I've got a high school picked out and everything. But none of that matters if a boy buys me a coffee and I start gagging at the first sip."

As she said this, Keda decided her drink was cool enough, and she carefully raised it to her lips. She winced, but managed to swallow it, though the face she made indicated that it was an unpleasant achievement. "Ugh. Okay... okay... I'm getting there."

"Why would you want to go on a coffee date anyway?" Zatte asked. "Just tell a boy that you work at a cafe and you'd rather see a movie instead."

"That's the beauty of it!" Keda explained. "If he takes me to a coffee shop, it's like I'm on my own turf. It gives me the advantage. I can say all sorts of things during the date, like how they get the caffeine out of decaf, or how the cappuccino machine works. They'll think I'm super-sophisticated that way. If I'm at a movie I'm totally out of my element. You really need to read more Sun Tzu, Zatte."

"Sun Tzu?" Zatte asked, bewildered. "Are you trying to date a boy or kill him?"

"Never mind me," Keda said. "I'll bet you're excited today."

"About what?" Zatte asked.

"About Luffa, dummy," Keda said.

"Luffa who?" Zatte grumbled. "You mean our ex-cook who walked out on us and barely ever stops by?"

"Oh, come on," Keda said. "You know how busy she is, and she's on the road constantly."

"And now that she just happens to be in the area, I'm supposed to be giddy about it?" Zatte asked. "It's not like she's coming to see me, Keda. You're her biggest fan."

"Come on, you miss her too," Keda said. "She's your best friend."

"No, she's not," Zatte said. "I mean, of course she's my friend, but not like... Don't you have homework to do?"

"Nope," Keda said.

"Then shouldn't you be watching your show?" Zatte asked.

"It doesn't start until five," Keda said.

"All right then, go bus some tables," Zatte said, and then tossed a washcloth at her. Keda nodded with a shrug and then headed off to begin her assignment.

*******

Exactly two hours and fifteen minutes later, Keda had vanished from the shop. Zatte was never sure if she was doing a good job raising her little sister. It often felt like Keda was raising herself, and acting out just enough to make Zatte feel like she was involved in the process. The girl was extremely smart for her age, and she helped out with the cafe, so it seemed unfair to criticize her for being nosy or presumptuous. It was hard to tell whether she was being too strict on Keda or not strict enough.

No, Keda wasn't what had her on edge. It was Luffa. Zatte did miss her, but not in a way she particularly cared to admit to anyone else. And with Luffa away from the cafe, essentially out of their lives, it seemed pointless to admit anything now. Better to go on like it hadn't mattered. Better to be strong and independent, and hope that everyone accepted the image of Zatte as an independent, responsible shopkeeper. It wasn't always a satisfying life, but at least it was her own, and it couldn't be taken away by someone when they moved on to other things.

As much as she appreciated the new cook, she had to suppress a certain resentment towards him. It wasn't his fault that he didn't have the same level of culinary talent. Or that he didn't have that same wild look in his eye. Or that the apron didn't frame the small of his back the right way. Or (let's face it) that he was a 'he.' So Zatte was never sure if she was too hard on the guy, or if she was too easy on him because she was trying not to be too hard on him. Now that she thought about it, she had the same trouble with Luffa back in the day, for completely opposite reasons.

It was distracting and depressing, and she wasn't sure how she would feel about it, and she just wanted some work to do so she could think about something else.

*******

Gradually, more customers came into the store as offices started to close for the evening. It always struck Zatte as odd that people would want coffee so late in the day, but she supposed that they were all trying to fight off the tiredness from the workday, even if it cost them a few hours of sleep later in the night.

By 8:00 P.M., Zatte had convinced herself that she had nearly forgotten about whats-her-name, and she had settled into a steady routine of taking orders, making change, and handing out drinks. Then a middle-aged couple threw off the entire rhythm. The wife had been very concise with her order, but her husband was holding up the line while he tried to decide what he wanted.

"Now, lemme see here," he said as he looked at the menu and thoughtfully rubbed his chin with his thumb. "Oh, you've got pork fillet cutlets? I'll take two of them, and.... the egg sandwich... and... hmmm. Wow, you've got chili dogs? That's awesome! Three chili dogs, please!"

"Um... will there be anything else?" Zatte asked, unsure if she really wanted to know. His wife seemed to feel the same way.

"Goku, you'll never be able to eat all of that," she groaned.

"Sure I will!" he insisted. "I had a light lunch today, so..."

The look on his wife's face suggested that this was not even remotely true. Zatte decided it was better to just ring them up and get their money before she could talk him out of it.

"It will take some time to prepare all of this, you understand," Zatte said to Goku.

"Aw, don't worry about that," Goku said. "Take as long as you need. Me 'n' Chi-Chi will be so busy playing with the rabbits that we probably won't even notice!"

"Rabbits?" Zatte asked.

"Where do ya keep those guys, anyway?" Goku asked. He began looking around in every direction, which made all of the cowlicks in his hair that much harder to ignore. "Oh, crap, we forgot to order lettuce so we'd have somethin' to feed 'em!"

Chi-Chi's face began to turn red, and Zatte finally began to understand what he was talking about.

"Sir," Zatte said, "This isn't a rabbit cafe."

"It's not?" Goku asked. "Well, you've at least got a cat or something, right?"

"No, we just serve coffee and food."

"Goku, we talked about this on the way here..." Chi-Chi grumbled.

Goku crossed his arms and lowered his head, and it was hard to tell if he was pouting or contemplating his predicament. "Darn. Well, you still got chili dogs. I guess that'll just have to do."

"I... apologize for the inconvenience," Zatte said. She had never meant that sentence less than she did in this moment.

*******

Ten minutes later, Keda was downstairs in the shop again, sitting at one of the booths and scribbling notes while she read from a textbook. When asked, she would insist that this wasn't homework that had been assigned, and she was simply working ahead in anticipation of future assignments. Zatte was too exasperated with this explanation to dispute it. By now, business had slowed down considerably, with only a few stragglers coming in for quick to-go orders. At one of the tables, Goku was still finishing the feast he had ordered while his wife played a game on her phone and tried not to look too embarrassed. Finally, the couple got up to leave, and as they did, the doors swung open, and someone else entered the shop.

"Luffa!" Keda shouted. She practically jumped out of the booth and ran up to meet her.

"Hey, kid!" Luffa replied. She had been holding a gym bag, but dropped it so she could return Keda's embrace.

Zatte had been unloading the dishwasher when Luffa entered, and she looked over to see her. Luffa was wearing a pair of zubaz--baggy gym pants with a zebra-striped pattern--and a satin jacket with a steakhouse logo printed on the front. There was a smear of green around her lips, and even her teeth had a green stain on them. Once, Luffa had worn her hair long, but now it was cut very short and seemed to stand on end. And she had colored it an unnatural shade of yellow, far more vivid than blonde.

"You beat Ribrianne!" Keda said excitedly. "That puts your score up to 10 points!"

"Hey, don't sound so surprised," Luffa said.

"I thought she had you near the end," Keda said. "You looked like you were nearly out of it, and then you reversed that suplex into a head-scissors... how did you do that?"

Luffa puffed out her chest and jabbed her sternum with her thumb. "What do you mean how? I'm the Golden Ace, aren't I?"

"Well yeah," Keda said, "but you lost to Hop last week."

Luffa grimaced like she had accidentally swallowed a bug. "She cheated. That doesn't count."

"Well, the tournament rules say it does count, but now that you've got ten points, you've got a strong chance of winning. There's still some tiebreaker scenarios to consider, but personally I like your chances."

"Ugh," Luffa said. "I'm glad you can make sense of the scores. You know, these round-robin tournaments are great, right until you have to figure out whether you're winning or losing. Is Kale still in the running, or did she get eliminated?"

Keda pointed to a group of armchairs at one corner of the cafe. "Come on," she said, "I'll walk you through the scenarios."

Luffa followed her, waving to Zatte as she passed by. As she did this, she nearly bumped into Goku as he and his wife were on their way to the door. They exchanged a look, and for a split second, Zatte was worried that it might become awkward. Luffa almost looked like she was sizing him up for a fight. She couldn't read Goku at all, but she assumed he was mostly intrigued by her loud costume.

For some reason, the sound system in the store was playing a metal cover of "Carol of the Bells". Zatte didn't know how that had gotten added to the holiday playlist.

"Cool hair!" Goku finally said.

"Hey, thanks," Luffa said.

And then they went their separate ways.

The music system abruptly switched to "Here Comes Santa Claus," perhaps the most tension-free Christmas song of all.

"Now then," Luffa said to Keda as she collapsed into one of the armchairs. "Let's get down to business."

Keda was tapping a notepad with a pen, looking more like Luffa's accountant than a young fan. "Right, well, obviously, if you can win all of your next matches, you'll be a shoo-in to win the tournament. But even if you lose two more, there's still a chance of squeaking by. The only thing I'm worried about is you tying with Hop."

"She cheated," Luffa grumbled.

"It doesn't matter," Keda said. "If you both tie on points, she wins the tiebreaker, since she has a win over you. But if Ribrianne beats her, that'll set up a possible four-way tie with Videl. Then you'd win, because you'd have the best record among the four of you."

"Sounds like I should just win the rest of my matches," Luffa said after digesting what Keda had said.

"Just promise me you'll stay in the ring when you face Sorrel," Keda pleaded. "She always tricks her opponents into getting counted out, and I know how much you like to fight in the crowd."

"What I like," Luffa said with a sadistic grin, "is having the referee out of my way. If Sorrel thinks a twenty-count will save her from me, then she's already lost."

"But if you get counted out, you could lose the tournament!" Keda protested. "Then you won't get a shot at the All-Pacific Championship!"

"Hah! If someone like Sorrel can beat me," Luffa said, "then I don't deserve the title. It's that simple. Besides, she's not the only one with a trick up her sleeve." She pointed at her mouth, which had smears of green dye around it.

"When are you gonna teach me how to do the poison mist?" Keda asked.

"I keep telling you, kid," Luffa said, "it's a sacred technique. I can't just teach it to anybody."

Zatte approached them and cleared her throat to get their attention. "Sorry to interrupt this strategy conference, but I thought the 'Golden Ace' might be hungry." She held up a chicken salad sandwich and a to-go cup of coffee, which Luffa accepted with relish.

"You're a lifesaver," Luffa said with a smile. "I haven't eaten since before the show started."

"You'd think SPARKING! could afford catering for their events," Zatte said.

"They do," Luffa said as she unwrapped the sandwich. "I just don't like to eat so close to bell time. Makes me nervous. Too many stories out there about guys pooping their pants during matches."

"Ewwww!" Keda said. "Really?"

"I've never run into it myself," Luffa said, "but you hear about it. I almost threw up during a match, so I believe it."

"Was it because you swallowed posion mist?" Keda asked.

"Huh? Oh, no way," Luffa said with her mouth full. "I... well, I built up an immunity to that a long time ago."

Keda began scratching her chin thoughtfully. "Immunity... so that's it."

"What do I owe you?" Luffa asked Zatte.

"It's on the house," Zatte replied.

"Oh, come on," Luffa said, "I'm making halfway decent money these days."

Zatte pointed at Luffa's yellow-and-black striped pants. "Then why are you dressed like you're doing your laundry?"

"Hey, these are high fashion in my line of work," Luffa said with a smile. She propped her black boots on the ottoman in front of the armchair. There was an image of a playing card printed on the sides of each boot. "Check it out," she said. "They liked my match in Osaka so much that they paid me a little extra, and I used it to get these babies. I can afford to live it up at the Emerald Eye Cafe."

"Don't worry about it. Half my regulars keep asking if you'll ever come back to the kitchen," Zatte said. "You did such a good job while you were here that I'm still making money off of it now."

"How's the new guy working out?" Luffa asked, glancing toward the general direction of the kitchen.

"He's fine," Zatte said. "He's not as good as you, but who could be?"

"You know, that's what I think about you," Luffa said as she took a swig of her coffee. "I mean, there's a cafe near the dojo. It's just not the same."

"Right."

"Yeah."

There was a long silence, and then Keda nudged Luffa in the arm. "Hey, do you really think you can beat Kale next Saturday?" she asked.

"Are you saying I can't?" Luffa asked in a haughty tone.

"I'm just saying you can't take her lightly," Keda said. "That running knee she does is nothing to sneeze at."

"Running knee," Luffa scoffed. "Let me tell you what I'll do about that running knee..."

"I need to get back to the register," Zatte said, though she doubted anyone was listening.

*******

Closing time at the Emerald Eye wasn't for another hour, but the kitchen shut down at nine. The cook was saying his goodbyes to Zatte before leaving, when he happened to notice Luffa and Keda chatting.

"Is she some kind of celebrity?" he asked.

"Huh? No, that's Luffa," Zatte said.

"Oh. What's with the hair?" he asked. "She looks like a pop idol."

"She's a professional wrestler," Zatte explained. "She quit working here to go work for the SPARKING! promotion. They did a show tonight in Okazaki, so she came by to visit."

"Huh. I thought she became a famous chef or something like that."

"No, as good a cook as she is, she only worked her to make ends meet until she could break into the business," Zatte said. "And she's done pretty well. I read on the internet that they're planning to make her the next All-Pacific Champion."

"I thought you have to win the championship in a match," he said.

Zatte turned and gave him a dirty look. "It's fake," she said. "They decide who wins and loses ahead of time."

"Oh! Right," he said. "I guess it's like getting a promotion at an office job, then. You must be happy for her."

"I don't know that it matters," Zatte said. "This is the first time she's come back since she left. If Keda wasn't such a big fan of this stuff, she probably wouldn't even bother. She's moved on. I heard she's dating some referee there. She's got a whole new life on the road now."

"Well, I'd go over and pay my respects, but my parents are pretty upset that I haven't called home in a while, so..."

Zatte nodded and waved. "Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow, Trunks."

Less than five seconds after he had walked out the door, a man walked in and asked for Christmas cake. Zatte stifled a groan and explained that the kitchen was closed for the night. This was spelled out on the cafe's front door, but no one ever really read that as they walked in.

*******

At 10 P.M. Zatte switched the sign in the window to "CLOSED", and began turning off several of the lights in the store, until only the section above the armchairs was illuminated. The Christmas lights on the trees outside were easier to see this way, and they lent a pinkish, purplish tint to the inside of the cafe. Finally, Zatte walked over to Luffa's chair and took a bottle of soda out of her apron. She slung the apron over the chair opposite Luffa's, then collapsed into it with a heavy sigh.

"Long day?" Luffa asked. It wasn't until she saw her up close that Zatte noticed how tired Luffa looked. Keda had gone to bed a half-hour earlier, leaving Luffa by herself. She looked like she wanted to fall asleep in the chair, but was too excited from the day's events.

"I've had worse," Zatte said, "but that was back when I had you on the staff."

"Well, I'm off for a few days," Luffa said. "I could give you guys a hand."

"Tempting," Zatte said. "Keda would be thrilled, but I couldn't impose on you like that. You've probably got plans for Christmas Eve."

"Not really," Luffa said. "That's why I came here. I've been touring for so long that I'm not really sure what to do with this much free time."

There was a hiss as Zatte opened the bottle on her soda, and she raised an eyebrow at Luffa's words. "I thought you and that referee..."

Luffa looked confused for a moment, then she threw back her head and laughed. "No, no, no," she finally said. "That was an angle. Part of a storyline to make people think I had an unfair advantage. It was kind of dumb, but sometimes you gotta do what the office wants to show 'em you're a team player."

"Oh," Zatte said, somewhat embarrassed. "Well, it looked so convincing..."

"Well that's the idea," Luffa said. "Wait, have you been watching my matches? I thought you didn't go for that stuff."

"Well, Keda watches them all the time anyway," Zatte explained. "And she's got that subscription to the on-demand service on the internet. It's about the only time we get to see you anymore, you know? Even if it's while you're spitting green stuff all over people."

"Keda asked me to teach her how to do the poison mist," Luffa said. "I told her I couldn't, because the recipe for the poison is too dangerous. Merry Christmas."

"Thanks," Zatte said. She glanced around at the walls, imagining what they would look like with green food coloring on every surface. "When are you gonna tell her the truth about all that stuff, anyway?"

"What, that it's fake?" Luffa asked with a smile. "I dunno, she's still pretty young. I'll tell her next year."

"That's what you said last year," Zatte said. "I'd do it myself, but she wouldn't believe me. She's a smart kid, you know. Sooner or later, she'll figure it out on her own, and that might be kind of awkward for you."

Luffa settled back in her chair and looked down at the empty cup in her hands. "I don't know, it's cool to have someone I know who believes it's all real," she said. "I'll have to give that up eventually, but it's tough to let go. You saw how excited she was when I came in."

"Yeah..." Zatte said. She took a swig from her soda and propped her feet up on the ottoman that lay between their chairs, so that their ankles alternated in an orderly row across the cushion.

"So are you really winning the title?" Zatte asked after a long pause. In spite of Luffa's exhaustion, her eyes lit up at the question.

"Keep it under your hat," Luffa said, lowering her voice as though worried someone might overhear, "but maybe. That show's six weeks out, and a lot could change before then. If someone gets injured or something, they might have to call an audible and change the card around. But they definitely want to put the title on me at some point." She held up both hands and crossed her fingers for emphasis.

"That's great," Zatte said. "I mean, it is, right? If the matches are predetermined, does the championship even matter?"

"Oh, it's a big honor," Luffa said, visibly excited at the chance to explain it. "I mean, it's a secondary belt, and SPARKING! isn't that big a promotion, but still. It's kind of like an actor winning an award. The people in charge are saying they think I'm good enough to deserve that spot on the show. I mean, two years ago I was still helping the crew put the ring together. I still can't believe it."

"I can," Zatte said. "You always put everything you have into whatever you do. I always saw it when you worked here, so it doesn't shock me that other people can see it in you now."

"I've missed this place," Luffa said wistfully. "That's the only trouble with being on tour so much. I don't get to cook as often. I saw a place selling Christmas cakes on the way here and you've probably been selling them all month without me..."

"Well, if you really want to," Zatte said, "you could give us a hand in the kitchen tomorrow. I mean, if you really didn't have any other plans for Christmas Eve..."

"Nope, I got nothing," Luffa said. "What about you? Keda and I could keep an eye on the place so you can leave early."

"We're closing early anyway," Zatte said. "Business usually drops off pretty sharply on Christmas Eve night, so we might as well. Besides, I can't have you waiting tables with that crazy hair. You'd scare the customers."

"Huh? Oh, right," Luffa said. "You know, I've been wearing it like this for so long I'd gotten used to it. You don't like my look?"

"It's just... very bright," Zatte said. "It's not so bad up close, when I can see your face better, but it almost doesn't look like real hair. It looks rough, like hay."

"It's really not," Luffa said. She tugged on some of it to demonstrate. "I don't even put much stuff in it to make it stick up like it does. Here, feel this."

Zatte shrugged and moved to the seat beside Luffa's, where she reached for the same part of her hair that Luffa was holding. Their fingers brushed against each other, and neither of them seemed entirely sure how to react to the sensation.

"Huh..." Zatte said as she gently touched Luffa's head. "That's not at all what I expected."

"Yeah," Luffa said, somewhat awkwardly. "It's not so different from that red streak you've got in your hair, I bet."

She reached out for the side of Zatte's bob, and rubbed a strand of it between her fingers. "Why are you blushing?" Luffa asked.

"Oh... uh, I probably stood up too quickly," Zatte said.

"Oh..."

They heard someone outside walking past the storefront, and suddenly became very self-conscious of holding onto each other's hair, so they quickly let go, and looked away from each other.

"So uh..." Luffa said. "If you're not doing anything tomorrow night..."

"I mean, I've got a reservation at Kentucky Fried Chicken, but that's it, really," Zatte said. "Keda talked me into it. Said I ought to do something, even if I was alone. But if you wanted to come along..."

"Sure," Luffa said. "I haven't had KFC in ages. And you know, it'd give me a chance to see the lights around town."

"They've got a new thing at the mall," Zatte said. "Well, not new new. It was there last year, but you wouldn't have seen it then."

"That sounds fine," Luffa said. "Yeah."

*******

Behind the front counter, Keda observed her sister and Luffa through the glass of the display case. It wasn't an ideal vantage, and she could barely hear what they were saying, but it was enough for her to get the gist of things, and so far things looked promising.

There were still a lot of things that could go wrong. Long distance relationships were always a challenge, and the professional wrestling business wasn't exactly known for fidelity, but these were factors Keda couldn't control, and at some point it would be up to the two of them to make things work as best they could. It was enough that Keda had gotten them to this point-- studying Luffa's tour schedule, playing the eager fan, and providing Luffa a useful excuse to visit right before a romantic holiday. Really, the only thing she had been worried about was that the two women would have seen through Keda's "wrestling-is-real" act, but they were grown-ups, and they didn't know an eleven-year-old from an seven-year-old, not when you really got down to it.

Keda noticed Zatte reaching for Luffa's hair a second time, and decided that was her cue to withdraw. She was playing matchmaker, not spying on them, after all. Besides, Keda would have to rest up for tomorrow so she could help out in the store tomorrow, in order to make sure neither of them were too tired for their date.

Quietly, Keda made her way back to the door that led to their second-story apartment. As she ascended the stair, she imagined how great things would be next Christmas, with a SPARKING! All-Pacific Champion in the family. Maybe then, finally, Luffa would teach her how to spit Poison Mist.

[THE END]

#dragon ball #fanfiction #luffa #zatte #keda #yamcha #krillin #master roshi #goku #chi chi #trunks #tien #chiaotzu #earth #i tried to do a coffe shop au and i made it about wrestling sorry

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shadowsong26fic · 5 years ago

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The Family of Spies AU

AKA ‘Shadowsong should not have unsupervised access to multiple fandoms at once: Exhibit A.’

I kid. Mostly.

Anyway, it’s that time again--time for an AU Outline! It feels like forever since I’ve done one of these. …and by ‘forever’ I mean the last one was the SPN/Person of Interest crossover back in January.

This one is, uh, also a fairly niche crossover. It’s inspired and helped along by @tigerkat, who introduced me to one of the two fandoms and whose Star Wars OCs I’m borrowing to make it work. (Also, one or two bits in here are more or less lifted from our IM conversations on the subject

Basically, the short version is, I’ve been watching Nikita, and TigerKat and I have put together this whole extended family for Kallus and Zeb and one thing led to another, wires got crossed in my brain, and here we are.

Welcome to my Star Wars/Nikita fusion.

So, first, some relevant background:

In everything TigerKat and I developed, Alex and Zeb end up collecting/adopting four kids. (TigerKat, feel free to correct me on any details that are Off in any way!)

First kid they adopt is Mirah, shortly after the events of ANH.

Mirah is Human, and around three or four at this point; her parents were part of an extremely pacifist sect, of the kind where even defending yourself against someone trying to kill you is Not Okay. The sect was wiped out (probably not by the Empire, last I heard?) and Mirah was the only survivor; she watched her parents died right in front of her. Alex ended up there on an unrelated mission, and brought the little girl back to base.

Turns out, she’d gotten Attached and would not sleep without him close by.

(I mean. He’d gotten Attached as well but there is a Conversation to be had here, and he and Zeb haven’t actually had it yet, so…yeah.)

So, that’s how they get Kid #1.

Mirah later grows up to be essentially a mob boss/puts together a semi-legal syndicate. She doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in the law.

Second kid is Orryn, something like a year or two later, I think?

Orryn is a Donogh (species name subject to change; they’re basically like human-sized rabbit hobbits), and four or five years older than Mirah. His father and older brother were killed when he was born, and his mother eventually found her way to the Rebels after that. Donoghs tend to have very large families, so the fact that he’s an only child is a little Weird.

His mom is a friend of theirs, and when she dies, Alex and Zeb take Orryn in as well.

He is very Soft, both physically and metaphorically (like I said, rabbit hobbits), and like the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet.

(Mirah learns very quickly to weaponize her brother’s Sad Eyes. She’s very good at getting what she wants.)

The other three kids all end up taking Zeb’s last name; Orryn keeps his original one (his people are matriarchal and matrilineal).

He grows up to be a mechanic, and has a more typical family for his species with nine kids.

Third is Shamie, who’s roughly halfway between Mirah and Orryn; they get adopted a month or so before ESB.

I’ve written about them here; but the most important bits--

They’re Human, agender, and a former street thief/pickpocket. They help Zeb out when a mission goes sideways after his local contact fails to show up, and Zeb decides to keep them, because he really can’t leave them there for a long list of reasons. They’d been on their own for close to a year at that point, and were roughly eight or nine.

(The conversation where Zeb checks in with Alex about this is very entertaining, because he texts to confirm that a third kid is okay in the middle of a firefight. Alex is less than thrilled.)

Shamie and Mirah are basically platonic soulmates. There’s just a sort of click when the two of them meet.

They grow up to be a priest of a sun/fire deity.

Fourth is Hanula, better known as Hanny.

She’s a Lasat baby who they adopt a few months after Endor, after Zeb mentions to the elders on Lira San that he and Alex have been considering a fourth kid, maybe starting with an infant this time, and maybe someone of his own species this time…

Some time not too long after that, Hanula is placed in his arms and he’s told ‘good luck.’

She’s stabby, as in she likes to Stab Things as a baby (usually with, like, a fork), which later gets translated into cooking--she ends up as a Chef.

While she does turn up, of course, she’s not super relevant for this crossover, but she’s Delightful so I thought I’d share anyway XD

(There’s also Alex’s sister and her sons, plus, uh, the various grandchildren, but they’re also not super relevant to the crossover. I can share details about them if anyone’s curious, though.)

As a note, I’ve only seen like half a season of Nikita at this point; so while we’re starting from the same basic premise, I don’t really expect this to converge with actual future plot points like at all. So.

Also, as a result of that, this outline will probably also take on a certain resemblance to Alias and/or other similar Spy Dramas.

Anyway. So. Let’s get this show on the road.

Kallus takes on Nikita’s role in this--Death Faked For You; trained to be a super spysassin by a Shady Black Ops Group from his late teens/early twenties. Much like Nikita in her canon, he meets someone while on an extended cover assignment and falls in love.

Division is less than thrilled with this, and so arrange orders Zeb’s death.

(Obviously, this doesn’t take, because I am Not About That. But Kallus genuinely believes Zeb is dead, which is what pushes him to break free, much like Nikita’s reaction to Daniel’s murder.)

(Zeb also thinks Kallus is dead; he, of course, got picked up by the Ghost crew, but more about him later.)

Mirah will take on Alex’s role (which is why I started referring to Kallus that way, even though in my head and in this outline up to this point he’s mostly Alex XD).

Probably a blend of the two backgrounds--her parents/the sect she grew up in were taken out by Division; probably with the cover story that they were a Dangerous Cult, but the exact reason was more likely Profit or something. Since they mostly weren’t? At least not in the ‘need to be dismantled’ sort of way.

Kallus, like Nikita, was on hand and made sure that the little girl survived, but wouldn’t/couldn’t follow up since he was still a mostly-loyal Division agent at that point. He tracks her down after he breaks free, and they start working together.

She eventually talks him into the idea of her infiltrating Division, as that will better suit their plans to dismantle the organization.

(…really, most of this early part is not super different from Nikita and Alex. Mostly summarizing for anyone reading this who’s unfamiliar with the show.)

Shamie is an older/prior recruit; they’ve been here a few months. Their marksmanship is pretty much bottom of the barrel, so far as the current crop of recruits go, and their hacking skills could use some work, but they’re one of the best at hand-to-hand/other close-quarters combat, and they’re probably top third with explosives and other detail work. And they’re generally a pretty phlegmatic person. Not many of the other recruits keep cool under pressure as well as they do.

They’re probably fairly close to being evaluated and promoted to full Agent status when Mirah is brought in.

The two of them, as in their normal lives/timeline, immediately click. Mirah reports back to Kallus, confirming her infiltration was successful, and also mentioning Shamie.

“Remember what I told you about making friends,” Kallus warns her. “Losing them will be hard. And you can’t know how loyal this person is to Division. Be very careful.”

Mirah internally rolls her eyes, because she’s not dumb, she knows that.

A few more quick parallels, for the Higher Ups at Division:

Arindha Pryce stands in for Percy.

She just has the right blend of Genuine Competence buried under Not As Good As She Thinks She Is to match up with him.

Founding member and leader of Division.

Thrawn stands in for Amanda.

Like, okay. The two of them, for a variety of reasons, have vastly different management styles.

But in terms of his actual skillset and the role Amanda plays, at least on paper? Which is to say, supervising training/constructing covers/monitoring recruits and agents and their mental states?

(Plus, the whole…resident torturer/interrogator/etc. thing…)

Yeah, he could pull that off.

Pellaeon stands in for Michael.

Because I love him.

Also the Vastly Different Dynamic between the Head of Division, the Whatever Amanda’s Actual Job Title Is, and the 2iC/Head Field Operative with these three as opposed to Percy, Amanda, and Michael entertains me.

(Pellaeon is more loyal to Thrawn than Pryce, but only if it came down to an Actual Contest between the two of them would that ever be relevant. He’s extremely competent, but occasionally a little too involved with the recruits, in a fairly paternal sense. Especially since he’s probably a good twenty years older than Michael. But I digress.)

So, Mirah is successfully inserted. That goes pretty much the same as in Nikita canon, completely with Kallus making a splashy return to Division’s radars.

(Probably not at Zeb’s grave, though; if Zeb even has an actual grave.)

She starts interacting with other recruits, including Shamie. The two of them click pretty quickly, all things considered, but given the circumstances…yeah, they keep a certain level of distance, at least for now.

…well, at least on the surface, anyway. Mirah is even more determined to burn Division to the ground if they breathe harm in Shamie’s direction.

(For their part, Shamie may or may not start to notice a few anomalies, but they keep that knowledge to themself for now.)

For a few months, it’s pretty much the pattern the early S1 episodes have--Mirah will get details on an official Division op, pass them along to Kallus, he’ll be on hand to foil it. She gets activated briefly once or twice, but is mostly just working as a regular recruit for her cover.

Plus, you know, evading Thrawn’s suspicions; all that good stuff.

Pellaeon does take a liking to her--she reminds him of Kallus, who was one of the better recruits, and he keeps an eye out for her, much like Michael does for Alex in canon.

Shamie gets activated for their final evaluation/first kill mission about two or three months after Mirah gets recruited. They succeed, but some of the aftermath/followup confirms their previous suspicions about Mirah, and they’re left sort of struggling with what to do about it.

On the one hand, they’re a fairly loyal Division agent at this point, and what Mirah’s doing is probably going to get a lot of their fellow agents, maybe even some recruits, killed. And they know that probably some of what’s been reported as Kallus’s activities is exaggerated, or at least spun to make him look Evil and Division look better, but they know there’s a grain of truth to it.

On the other...they spent a few years, as a child, working for a thief-runner/gang. This was…not a good situation. Gotta keep the baby thieves in line. And they’ve seen other recruits get canceled before. As much as they don’t necessarily want to go against their superiors in Division (again, gotta keep the baby thieves in line; they know what the consequences of that would be), they also know that that loyalty does not go both ways. They are expendable. All of the recruits and agents are.

And they like Mirah. And if they don’t look out for each other…well, who will?

Besides. It’s not like they have any actual proof. Bringing this to Pellaeon, who likes Mirah, or Thrawn, who likes no one--let alone Pryce--seems like it’ll backfire.

So, they stay quiet about what they’ve guessed, and wait, and watch, and work.

Things change when Orryn is recruited.

Mirah and Shamie both take one look at this sweet, gentle boy and have the same thought--he won’t last. He’ll be cancelled within a month. Maybe sooner.

Pryce questions the choice of bringing him in, too; it was Thrawn’s idea. No, he’ll never make field agent, but the boy’s good with mechanics, and computers. If he can survive the training process, they can put him to use there.

Sort of considering him for Birkhoff’s role.

Shamie, even as a full agent, doesn’t have the access or the tools they need to spring Orryn, as much as they want to.

But Mirah--Mirah has Kallus, and a way to contact him.

“This isn’t about my friend. This is about a sweet kid, too sweet for Division, who will be killed or broken if we don’t do something,” she says. “And isn’t that part of what we’re doing here? Trying to make sure that doesn’t happen to anyone else?”

Kallus is torn. Because, on the one hand, she’s absolutely right--it’s why he was reluctant to send her in undercover (oh, yes, the thought had occurred to him) until she suggested it.

But on the other hand, getting a recruit out of Division without compromising Mirah’s emergency exfiltration strategy is going to be Hard. And as much as he wants to help this kid, he also wants to help/protect the one he has already.

He tells Mirah, eventually, that he can’t promise anything, but he’ll start working on a plan.

Mirah…

Remember what I said earlier, about Mirah tending to get what she wants?

Mirah gets to work on her end. The way she sees it, if she figures out a way to get Orryn outside somehow, whether it’s getting him temporarily activated like she was that one time, or some other excuse, then Kallus won’t have a problem rescuing him.

Of course, she’s just a recruit herself, and she can’t muck around with that without compromising her cover. She’s half-tempted to just shove Orryn out her escape tunnel, her own exit be damned, but Kallus specifically told her not to do that, so she holds back.

The opportunity comes when one of Mirah’s prior breaches is discovered, two or three weeks after Orryn’s brought in.

Possibly the shell program she and Kallus have been using to talk; possibly something else and she didn’t cover her tracks quite well enough (i.e., breaking into Pryce’s office). No one’s tied it to her, not yet, but things are Tense.

Kallus asks Mirah if she needs an extraction, and she again brings up Orryn. “I’m good,” she says. “But the sweet kid I was telling you about…”

“We talked about this,” he says. “And I am working on it, I promise.”

But before either of them can do anything, Orryn ends up at the wrong place at the wrong time, and one of the guards is convinced he’s the mole.

Thrawn points out that this doesn’t make much sense--the serious breaches started well before Orryn was brought in.

Pryce agrees, but insists on letting the situation run its course, to see if it can flush out the real mole.

And Mirah has a Thing about people she’s attached herself to getting hurt.

Mirah manages to somehow get Orryn out of wherever he’s being held. She sends a quick message to Kallus--“Sweet Kid coming out, they think he’s me”--and takes him to the exit tunnel.

They are pursued, of course. By the overzealous guard--and by Shamie.

Mirah gets Orryn into the tunnel and prepares to stand her ground.

Shamie catches up first.

And handles the situation Very Differently from the way Thom does in Nikita canon.

“I’m not turning you in,” they say. “You got Orryn out?”

“Yeah.”

They nod. “Good. Okay. They think he’s the mole, but they’re gonna realize someone helped him escape, unless--”

And then the guard catches up.

There is a Fight. The guard manages to shoot Shamie (not seriously; through-and-through in the upper arm), who tosses Mirah their gun, and she fires back, putting two in his chest.

“…we can work with this,” Mirah says, pressing her hands onto where Shamie’s bleeding. “If we…if we stage it so he pointed the finger at Orryn to cover his own crimes…”

“You have any evidence we can plant on him?” Shamie says. “M’good at that. Planting evidence.”

“Yeah,” she says. She has a key card, and a few other bits and pieces. Shamie, hands shaking slightly, positions them appropriately. “And Orryn…”

“Was also a plant,” Shamie decides. “Sent in when the guard’s cover got shaky, to extract him. But he managed to get away in the confusion. We underestimated him.”

Mirah thinks about this for a minute, then nods. “I think I can sell that,” she says, as more guards start heading their way.

“Good,” Shamie says. “…talk later.”

Mirah nods, and Shamie blacks out, leaving her to spin the lies they need to survive this.

A few hours later, Mirah touches base with Kallus to confirm Orryn got out safely, and to inform him he has another inside agent.

So, the situation has improved somewhat! Unfortunately, it’s also been damaged--since the shell program was found, Kallus and Mirah don’t have secure communications. That first message she got out, about Orryn and Shamie? Yeah, she can’t use that route again, or she’ll establish a pattern.

On the other hand, Shamie is a full agent, which means they have an apartment and the freedom to move around and set an in-person meet. Which Kallus wants anyway, to evaluate Mirah’s friend.

(And, if they check out, to spoof their tracker and give them freedom of movement. Always a plus.)

So, Shamie and Kallus use another one-off communicator to set an in-person meeting, so they can talk.

“You did help Mirah and Orryn,” Kallus acknowledges, after they’ve run through their prearranged confirmation signals. “That counts for something.”

“But you think it could just be me establishing a cover,” Shamie said.

“The thought occurred.”

Shamie doesn’t say anything right away. “I hear all kinds of things about you,” they finally say. “Some of it seems true. Some of it seems exaggerated. I know you’re Division’s enemy, but that…” They shrug. “I trust Mirah. And she trusts you. That’s good enough for me.”

“And Division?”

“I know how gangs work,” they say, flatly. “I used to work for one--they ran a bunch of kids, pickpocketing. Thing about gangs is, most of them do some good in their community--take care of external threats, or whatever. That’s how almost every gang started, anyway. Division may have more money and fancier gadgets and a bigger community, but they work the same way. And most gangs, even if they keep helping their communities sometimes…somewhere along the line, it turns out to be about profit and power more than anything else. But that’s not the issue. The issue is…you can tell, when a gang’s leadership, the loyalty they demand from their members…you can tell when they reciprocate.”

“And Thrawn and Pellaeon and Pryce don’t,” Kallus says.

“Pryce for sure,” they say. “Pellaeon does, but he’s more loyal to Thrawn than the rest of us. Thrawn…is harder to read.”

Kallus considers that for a moment. “You know, what we’re doing--it’s dangerous. I can’t protect you. I burned my one extraction route getting Orryn out.”

“All of my choices are dangerous,” Shamie says. “But like I said. I trust Mirah. She trusts you. I don’t trust Division.”

Another moment of silence. “Here’s our communication protocol,” Kallus finally says. Because Mirah trusts them. And I trust Mirah. If I don’t trust her--what am I even doing here.

Shamie also, as it turns out, has valuable information Mirah didn’t have access to. While not as successful as Kallus, there’s another group working to take Division down; getting involved and throwing off some of their ops.

“Should we reach out to them?” Mirah asks, when this filters back to her.

“No,” Kallus decides. “Most likely, they’re another mercenary group. Trying to be another Division, another Gogol, and take out the competition. There’s a slim chance that they’re actually on the level, but if they’re not…Best to stick to ourselves and avoid drawing in any outsiders.”

The kids agree, because he’s the expert, and drop the subject.

He does, however, ask Shamie to keep tabs on this other group as best they can without compromising their cover. Which should be easy enough.

(Of course, Shamie can only tell him as much as Division knows about them, which isn’t much. They’re a small group, probably a five- or six-person team, and they tend to ghost in and out of situations without leaving much evidence behind…)

The other new advantage they have is Orryn.

Remember why Thrawn wanted him recruited? He’s good with tech and gadgets?

Orryn gets a look at Kallus’s setup, particularly when he’s trying to figure out how to re-establish communications with Shamie and Mirah.

“I can fix that,” he offers.

Kallus blinks. “Plan was, establish an identity and get you out of the country, into hiding,” he says. “Which I will do, I’m working on it, but--”

“Division hurt me, too,” Orryn says. “And Mirah and Shamie are in trouble, and so are you. I want to help.”

Kallus eyes him. He knows, just as clearly as Mirah and Shamie did, that he cannot take this kid into combat. On the other hand…he would’ve been recruited for a reason. And Kallus is well-trained and skilled, but there might be something to said for raw talent and an expert touch.

“All right,” he finally says. “We’ll prep an exfil for you, just in case, but it’ll be some time for me to put it together anyway. We’ll see how things go.”

Orryn nods, and gets to work.

And so pass the next few months, with Mirah working her way up towards qualifying and passing the information she has access to, and Shamie and Orryn supporting Kallus in the field.

Eventually, Mirah goes on her qualifying evaluation, and passes with flying colors. She’s an interesting counterpart to Shamie--she’s a sharpshooter and just as deadly as they are in hand-to-hand, but she doesn’t work as well with the explosives and so on.

Meanwhile, Shamie is a very tactile person--if it’s a hands-on task, especially one that requires a lot of detail work (such as setting up a bomb), there are very few people who can match them. But they have issues with distance kills and with the computer stuff.

Mirah is set up in her apartment, not too close to Shamie, but enough that they can meet. They’re in the same city.

The two of them, on their own, are pretty terrifying assassins.

Shamie is fairly innocuous-looking; dark hair, dark eyes, skinny, blends into a crowd. They’re also the most chill/calm person in the known universe, so people tend to gravitate to them in a crisis. And they’re kind. Genuinely kind, in a way that invites people’s trust.

This is what makes them an excellent priest in another life. And in this one…Beware The Nice Ones is a trope for a reason.

Mirah, on the other hand, is much more overtly intimidating. Unless she’s making an active effort to pretend otherwise, she exudes Danger. She is ruthless and practical.

She is also extremely skilled, good at manipulating people, and very hard to convince to back down.

Now imagine the two of them working together.

Unstoppable and terrifying.

And Division (and Kallus) are both aware of this.

So, they actually end up partnering quite a lot.

The four of them are circling closer and closer to closing in on Pryce and taking her out permanently--Thrawn as well, and Pellaeon as a third priority, but Pryce is their top target--when things Change again.

Mirah and Shamie are put on a wetworks op that requires a team. Probably similar to that one prince dude and the museum.

They feed Kallus the intel, as always, and he comes up with a plan to foil it.

But there are a couple of issues.

He needs Orryn for this op, for one thing. And not just as background, on-site.

When he scouts around to do his own prepwork, there are some technobabble things he need handled, but they need to be within range. Twenty yards, twenty-five on the outside.

So, his first priority--well, maybe not first, but certainly Up There--is to plan out Orryn’s escape route if things go wrong.

The second issue is that Shamie thinks this might be another mission the Unknown Third Party may also crash. Since they still don’t have a lot of intel, that’s potentially another five or six people coming in.

And that’s if they’re correct in that it’s the mystery team, and not Gogol or someone already on the radar.

But the opportunity to interfere with Division and save a life or two is too good to pass up, despite these problems. Kallus plans his counter-mission, and they get to work.

Phase One of the mission goes fairly well. Shamie does confirm a third party is involved, but at first, their presence doesn’t cause too much difficulty for either Our Heroes or Division.

Shamie gets the assassination target pinned down somewhere Kallus and Orryn can extract them; Kallus gets the victim to the prepared escape route, and then returns to deal with the secondary objective; the one that required Orryn--some sort of hacking/virus/Planting Evidence type thing.

Well.

So my Art Skillz are far from up to par, but here’s a general overview of the layout of the scene where they do:

...so I can’t figure out how to make tumblr embed it without throwing off all the rest of my formatting so, click the link.

Where things go wrong is when Kallus gets a good look at the closest member of Team Unknown.

Who is very, startlingly, distractingly Familiar.

And he does the worst possible thing he can do in this situation.

He freezes.

Naturally, another member of the Division team sees the opportunity and takes it.

He gets hit three times in that second--chest, abdomen, upper thigh. Serious injuries.

Mirah immediately runs to him, laying down cover/suppression fire at her supposed Fellow Division Agents.

(…yeah, remember that whole bit about her parents dying in front of her? She’s. Uh. She’s come to view Kallus as a second father. This is Not Okay.)

Shamie follows, of course; she gets to Kallus.

They hesitate for half a second. “…get him out of here. I can handle this. Go.”

Mirah nods and drags Kallus back to the van--

--only to find that Orryn has been taken.

She can’t--she can only be in one place at a time. She’s good, but she’s not that good. And Kallus, her teacher, her unofficially-accidentally-adopted dad, is dying in front of her.

She gets into the driver’s seat and books it.

Shamie fires after her, but…well, marksmanship has never been their strong suit, so they fail to stop her.

This is basically Mirah’s worst nightmare made real.

Her dad is dying.

Her brother is missing.

Her other sibling is trapped and about to be probably tortured.

She is holding together by a thread and the only thing keeping her going is if she falls apart now, Kallus will die.

Okay. Time to do something about that. She can’t do much, but she can do even less about the other things, so. Time to do something.

She gets a tourniquet on his leg, pressure dressings on the other wounds, but she’s pretty sure his lung’s collapsed and she doesn’t know how much other internal damage there is. Her training in field medicine/dressings Will Not Cut It on this one.

Now, Kallus has a contingency--he always has contingencies, he loves contingencies--but Mirah doesn’t know his medical contingency and he’s too unconscious and bleeding-out to tell her.

She can’t take him into an emergency room, obviously, but there’s an urgent care center close by. And Orryn’s stuff is still in the van. Which means she can hack into their records find out who’s coming off shift--because there will be someone coming off shift--and stick a gun in their face.

Which is exactly what she does.

She drags the doctor into the van and points her at Kallus.

“Fix him,” she snaps, but she stops pointing the gun at her at this point--she needs her attention elsewhere to drive and fend off Division agents in pursuit, among other things, and surely this doctor will be overcome by that whole Need To Heal thing. Hippocratic oath. Whatever.

Doctor stares at him. “He needs a hospital, I can’t--” Even as she moves towards him.

(Because there’s that whole Need To Heal thing. Hippocratic oath. Whatever.)

Mirah starts the car. “I’m not gonna tell you again.” She tosses the doctor their first aid kit--which is pretty Extensive. Not on the level of the one at the safehouse, but still impressive. “Anything you need that’s not in there, I’ll get at a pharmacy. Now. Do your damn job or I swear to God.”

The doctor looks at Mirah one last time, then turns her attention to Kallus, and opens the kit.

“Good,” Mirah says.

(And then, while the doctor is stabilizing her dad, as soon as she can pull over for a second, she gets rid of her tracker. She has the standard one, in her thigh.)

(And probably kills a Division agent or two pursuing them along the way…)

When the doctor has finished patching Kallus up as best she can with the supplies on hand and what Mirah stole from a convenient pharmacy, she says, “He really should be in a hospital. He needs a transfusion, and should be on IV antibiotics. And I think there was damage to his femur I couldn’t fix without imaging.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Mirah says. Note to self: rob a blood bank. And a hospital. Saline won’t cut it. I wonder how hard X-ray machines are to steal…

“I’m guessing you know how to change the dressings, and how often to do it,” the doctor says.

“Obviously,” Mirah says. She grabs a handful of money, and shoves it at the doctor--she did her job, she should be paid for it; people should always be Appropriately Compensated for the things they do and in this case that means actual money--as well as the badge she’d pulled out of the doctor’s purse. “You can go. Oh, and, Doctor Sloane? This never happened. You never saw us.”

“Right,” she says.

“Because if you say anything,” Mirah says, “I will hunt you down and kill you. Clear?”

“…crystal,” she says, and takes the money and walks away.

Mirah takes a few more distracting turns (with a couple pit stops for those last few Necessary Supplies), a very roundabout route, and eventually makes it to the safehouse. She gets Kallus set up as comfortably as she can, under the circumstances, on one of the beds, manages to take thirty seconds to check for any messages from Shamie or Orryn, and then curls up in a corner and just…melts down.

Like I said Mirah’s Worst Nightmare.

Let’s check back in with Shamie, who is about to have an extremely rough several days.

Because they get to go spend some Quality Time with Thrawn in full interrogator mode.

And they get the works--torture, hallucinogens, manipulation, everything. To figure out how much they know about Mirah’s compromised loyalties, back to Orryn and everything.

When that comes up, they repeat their older story--that they spotted Mirah pursuing Orryn and the guard, and followed. They got there, there was shooting, and they were sure it was Orryn, or the guard, but maybe it was Mirah. They know she killed the guard, and Orryn was never good at combat skills, just tech…

After somewhere between three days and a week of this, Thrawn can’t get Shamie to admit anything incriminating, and leaves them in a cell to report back to Pryce.

“I would estimate there’s somewhere between a twenty and fifty percent chance that Mirah managed to turn them,” he says.

“So, we cancel them,” Pryce says.

“We could,” Thrawn says. “But that is not my recommendation.”

“Oh?”

“I recommend surveillance,” he says. “My prior sessions with Shamie indicate that they’ve had very little human connection or affection in their life. Even we, for all we provide them, have a tendency to view our recruits more as tools than as individuals. It is absolutely within their makeup to latch on to the first person to treat them and value them as an individual. Which may mean they joined Mirah and Alexsandr’s crusade--or may mean that affection blinded them to things they should have seen in Mirah. If the former, they will lie low for a while, but eventually grow complacent and reach out to their partners. If the latter, they will redouble their efforts to prove their loyalty. And their skillset is not one we can replicate at this time--there’s one recruit showing a certain promise, but they’re very new, at least a year away from graduation. Assuming that particular recruit actually lives up to their potential.”

“So,” Pellaeon cuts in, “letting Shamie live, either way, we gain something valuable.”

“Precisely,” Thrawn says.

Pryce considers for a moment. “Very well, I’ll bow to your expertise. Shamie can return to their prior status. Add more cameras to their apartment before sending them home. And I want to upgrade their tracker.”

“I agree,” Thrawn says. “This would be an excellent time to test out the kill chip program.”

So, Shamie is kept in medical for another day, to have the surgery for the new implant and patch up some of the more significant damage from their interrogation.

They use one of the Contingencies to send a quick message to Mirah and Kallus, confirming they’re alive, and that they have a new tracker and may not be able to keep in regular contact for a while.

So! Let’s see what became of Orryn in the meantime, shall we?

And to do that, we actually have to jump back five years, to the night that made Kallus leave Division and vow to bring them down.

Zeb was military, special ops. He met Kallus when the latter was living on extended cover, and Zeb was about to get out.

They met in some kind of dojo/gym/whatever, and had one of Those sparring matches.

(You know the ones I mean. Where it’s like 30% fight and 70% foreplay?)

They danced around the issue for a while; Zeb knew Kallus works for the government somehow, and is pretty sure he’s either CIA or NSA under some kind of NOC (non-official cover). Eventually, though, they get together.

They have about six months, with Kallus staving off Division as best he can, and Zeb going through the process of finishing out his military service/resigning his commission--as soon as he wraps up one last investigation--and then he proposes.

And, yeah, he thought about waiting until he was completely out, but then he figured--there’s only so much time in a life, and why waste it?

Kallus is getting everything together so the two of them can disappear, when the Cleaner comes.

I’m…not sure exactly how this all works, so we’ll handwave all this. Basically, each walks away thinking the other is dead, and can credibly believe this without a body.

I think probably Kallus saw Zeb go over a cliff or something after getting shot, and Zeb found a whole heck of a lot of blood when he climbed back up to where he’d fallen from, and figured it was Alex’s.

Ooooh, better idea--while he’s climbing back up to help Alex--he thinks this attack has to do with him. With that last investigation, which was actually into some kind of Hinky thing that was either Division or Gogol…

And now the building is on fire. And Alex was still in there.

He tries to run in, but the building is too unstable, and the entrance collapses in front of him. Burying Alex--or whatever’s left of him--completely.

Kanan finds Zeb kneeling in front of the rubble, and takes him home.

He and Hera patch Zeb up, and basically explain what they do--which is something to do with trying to uncover groups like Division; essentially terrorist/assassination/murder-for-hire organizations that operate under a thin veneer of government officiality.

“Modern-day privateers,” Hera says. “Only we’re not at war, and these people commit atrocities at least as awful as the ones they’re supposedly trying to avert.”

“We work in secret,” Kanan adds. “Because when we try to work out in the open…”

(Yeah, this is how Depa died in this AU. She started this operation, possibly with Cham Syndulla, and things went Badly.)

“We think you caught on to the operations of one of the groups we’re trying to identify,” Hera said. “We don’t have a name for them, but they’re US-based, with ties all over the world.”

“Most of…most of what I had on ‘em was in the house,” Zeb says.

“So, we start again,” Kanan says.

“But…at this point, Zeb, you’re legally dead,” Hera says. “We all are. You won’t have the access to intel that you used to.”

“I don’t care,” Zeb says. They killed my fiancé. What does it matter if they killed me, too? “I wanna bring them down.”

Kanan smiles, and offers him a hand. “Welcome to the Ghost Crew.”

So, for the next two years or so, the Ghost Crew, along with Zeb, does more or less the same thing Kallus has been doing--try to suss out Division operations and interfere with them as best they can.

Of course, they don’t have insider information.

They don’t even know the name of the organization they’re hunting.

Plus, Division isn’t their only target, even if it’s the one Zeb’s most interested in. They also interfere with Gogol when they catch on to their missions, and a few other organizations throughout the world.

So there’s only so much they can do, and while they are certainly a nuisance to Pryce et al, they don’t have the same level of impact that Kallus does when he comes out swinging.

Naturally, things shift a little when a mission goes slightly less than as planned.

It’s mostly under control--it was primarily surveillance at that point; Zeb was in a restaurant scoping out their target. Unfortunately, one of said target’s bodyguards ID’d him; maybe not specifically as Ghost Crew but certainly as a Threat to their principal.

That’s about when the shooting started.

Zeb can’t get to the front door; the bodyguards now actively trying to both kill him and extract their principal are in his way; so he heads for the kitchen instead.

Yeah, he could try to pursue and complete his objective, except it was a capture mission, not a kill, and he can’t get through that many guards and get out with the target. Not by himself.

He yells at the staff to get down and stay down, and most of them listen. There’s a couple of cooks, a waiter who was grabbing a couple plates to run out, and a kid washing dishes.

Of course, Zeb loses his footing somewhere along the line and skids. He recovers fast, but the closest guy chasing him did not have that problem and is too damn close for--

--or Bad Guy could get smacked in the face with a soapy cast-iron skillet, courtesy of Dish Washing Kid.

Split second to consider the consequences, but there are two other shooters in pursuit; so Zeb does the sensible thing and grabs the kid so she doesn’t get hurt, and finally makes it to the exit. Steals the first convenient car he sees, and books it.

Once he’s pretty sure they’ve lost pursuit, he turns to the kid, who’s--shit, he’s not good at guessing kids’ ages. Maybe twelve? Shit--anyway, an actual kid, which complicates things.

“Uh. Sorry about back there,” he says. “Listen, I’ll take you back to your parents in a couple hours, after the heat’s died down, I promise.” Pretty sure the bad guys aren’t gonna hunt you down if they couldn’t grab you right then and there…

“Foster parents,” she corrects. “They’re okay, I guess, but it’s not like they actually pay attention to me. They own the restaurant.”

“I should still get you back to them,” he says. “Better for you in the long run, kid.”

“Hanny,” she says. “My name’s Hanny.” She looks at him expectantly, but he doesn’t respond in kind.

“Right,” he says instead. “In the meantime, uh…” He pulls off--they need to switch cars anyway--and takes a second to text Hera.

“So I accidentally kidnapped someone.”

“…accidentally.”

“Yeah, there was shooting, had to run through the kitchen, she hit a guy with a frying pan, couldn’t leave her there.”

“Right,” she responds, after a few seconds where he can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “How much of a fuss is she making?”

“Uh. None at all, actually.”

“All right. Bring her here, we’ll figure out how to handle this later.”

“Thanks, I owe you another one.”

He gets Hanny back to the safehouse he and the Ghost Crew are currently using.

Hera glowers at him for a minute, then makes sure Hanny is settled in an inner room before going out to have A Word.

“Zeb? That’s a child. An actual child.”

“Yeah, I know,” Zeb says. “Still couldn’t exactly leave her there. I’ll take her back to her parents…well, foster parents…”

“Our rule is, we don’t hurt kids!” Hera says.

“Does she look hurt?” Zeb says. “Look, this wasn’t my fault. I went through the kitchen, she got involved all on her own. Not like I told her to bash the guy over the head with a skillet!”

“I know,” Hera says, and takes a breath. “I know, sorry. I shouldn’t’ve snapped at you. But you need to take her back sooner than later. Tonight, if you can.”

Zeb nods. “Uh. Soon as I get her to actually tell me who her parents are. She said they own the restaurant, but…”

“Yeah, you probably don’t want to go back there.” She considers a minute. “I’ll see what I can dig up, get you an address.”

“Good,” he says.

“Why can’t I stay here?” Hanny asks, from the door.

“…because you’ve got parents--”

“Foster parents.”

“Who are probably worried about you,” he finishes.

Hanny snorts. “No, they’re not. They’ve got six of us, and mostly use the money they get from the state to keep their shitty restaurant afloat. They won’t miss me.”

“That’s a shitty situation, I get it,” Zeb says. “It’s still better than staying here.”

“Why?” she demands.

“Because I’m legally dead, for one thing,” he says.

“But you’re not actually dead,” she points out.

“I also do a lot of really dangerous things,” he says. “What you saw in that kitchen back there? Ordinary Tuesday for me.” Which is, yeah, a bit of an exaggeration, but…

She rolls her eyes. “Not like I’m asking to come into another shootout with you. Just stay with you instead of the Smiths.”

“Why do you want to stay with him?” Hera cuts in. “And ‘because he’s not the Smiths’ isn’t a good enough answer.”

Hanny chews that over for a minute. “I like him,” she says. “He actually gives a damn about something other than his stupid restaurant, or self-image, or whatever. And he apologized for kidnapping me, which is sort of weird, but nice, I guess? I don’t know, I just do.”

“…that whole bit about doing dangerous things,” Zeb says. “I can’t really look after you.”

She rolls her eyes again. “I’ve been looking after myself for ages anyway. Besides. I’m seventeen.”

He and Hera stare at her.

“…would you believe fifteen?”

Zeb’s less sure about that one, but the look on Hera’s face is answer enough.

“Okay, thirteen, but still. Plus, I cook. I’m really good at it, too. Especially when I have access to decent knives. I’m guessing that’s not a problem here?”

Well, okay, it’s not like they have a lot of kitchen knives floating around, but he could--

…shit.

Zeb turns to Hera. “…sorta running out of counter-arguments here…”

Hera looks from him, to Hanny, and back again. “…fine. I’ll babysit when you’re out in the field.”

Jumping back to the present!

So, Zeb doesn’t actually spot Kallus at this point.

Or, rather, he sees that another party is involved, and does out of the corner of his eye spot the guy going down and then Division agents running at him, but not enough to actually identify him.

He alerts his team to the presence of the Third Party--who they’ve been aware of, since Kallus and his team went active a few months ago.

(It was Sabine’s idea to nickname the team Fulcrum. Since they seem to be a pressure point that really gets to the Shadow Agency they’re chasing, and might be enough pressure to move the lever and make actual progress…)

(Look, it made sense in her head at the time, whether or not the others bought the reasoning, and it stuck.)

Of course, they’re not sure if Team Fulcrum is actually on their side, or just looking to cause Generalized Chaos. Or take Shadow Agency down to take its place. After all, they seem to have an almost personal vendetta against the Shadow Agency and some of the tactics they’ve used…

Ezra and Kanan slip around to the Fulcrum van, and find Orryn inside. They see this sweet kid, assume he’s a hostage, and extract him. There’s no way their team will get through the firefight between Division, Mirah, and the reinforcements intact, so Kanan calls Zeb back, they get Orryn into their vehicle, and they go.

They get Orryn back to their base, and he makes it Very Clear that he was not, in fact, a hostage.

“The people that had you in that van--”

“Were not Division,” he says. “They’re the ones who rescued me from Division, after I was recruited.”

“…I’m sorry,” Hera says. “We made a mistake. Division--they’re the government agents who were attacking that building back there?”

Orryn blinks. “…you didn’t know that?”

“We’ve never had a name for them,” Kanan says. “Maybe we should start from the beginning. I’m Kanan, this is Ezra, Hera, Zeb, Sabine.”

“Orryn,” he says. “…you’re trying to bring Division down, too?”

“Damn right we are,” Zeb says.

“…okay,” he says, and fills them in on what he knows.

Which is, comparatively, not all that much. He didn’t see too much of the internal structure--he wasn’t there for long enough--but they have names and so on to attach to them.

He tells them how Division recruits people in their late teens/early twenties, and trains them as assassins. He tells them how Mirah went in as a double agent, and she and Shamie and Kallus broke him out. He tells them how they tried to get him into hiding, but he offered to stay and help with their tech, which is what led them here.

(He doesn’t, of course, know Kallus’s real/full name--not something shared readily; and even if it was, that might not be the full name Zeb knew him under, so Zeb remains in the dark.)

(Part of why Orryn’s being so open about this is because he’s gotten a pretty good idea of the kind of team Hera and Kanan are running here; he also…it’s something to focus on other than the Very Strong Probability that Kallus is dead, likely Mirah with him, and Shamie, and…)

(On the other hand, if his new family is somehow still alive, they could use all the help they can get. And maybe Kallus would’ve been more cautious, and Mirah would’ve been more suspicious, and Shamie would’ve held back a little more, but Orryn knows how hard this fight will be, and how much they need genuine allies. And so he makes the first move/takes a leap of faith.)

So, to sum up the last few sections before we move on, here’s where we stand after the FUBAR mission where Kallus finds out Zeb is still alive:

Kallus has been badly hurt--near-fatally--and is more or less out of commission for the foreseeable future; not to mention whatever long-term/permanent damage he might have sustained.

Mirah’s cover is blown, and while she pulled herself together after her meltdown once Kallus was safe, she’s still teetering a little on the edge, especially as more and more time goes by without hearing from either of her siblings.

Shamie is fighting desperately to maintain their cover, still deep in Division, but now with little to no support.

Orryn is with Zeb and the Ghost Crew, with no idea if any of his family is still alive, and missing a few Key Pieces of Information that might help smooth things over.

(Yeah, this day went Super Well for everyone.)

After a couple days, though, a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel--Kallus wakes up.

Okay, technically, he’s sort of half-woken up a couple times, but this is the first time he’s been lucid enough to actually process being awake and/or interact with Mirah.

She sees him trying to sit up and is instantly there.

“Stay down, you’re hurt.”

He sinks back without too much argument, and she takes a second to make sure he’s really awake, really back with her, and then, as people with her particular personality and background are likely to do, covers up her fear with “How dare you.”

“Mirah…”

“You got yourself shot! You froze!”

“I know, I--”

And then the look on her face, she’s clearly just barely holding back from bursting into tears (which, she’s done enough of that over the past three days damn it) and he just…wordlessly holds out his arms, offering a hug.

Very, very carefully, she curls up next to him and clings, and she does burst into tears at that point, and stays there until she’s cried herself out.

“…sorry,” she says, when she gets her breath back.

“It’s fine,” he assures her. “And…so am I. For scaring you.”

She nods. “I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

He laughs a little, which is a mistake, because that hurts, but manages to get out, “when I get shot on purpose, it’s generally not this…bad.”

“I know,” she says, then hesitates before blurting out, “Iloveyou.”

He’s taken a little bit by surprise--he was her handler as much as her friend, and that’s not exactly conducive to…but he can’t deny that he’s come to think of her as a favorite niece, or maybe even a daughter, and…

Between being caught off guard, and the pain, and the bloodloss, and the drugs she’s probably got him on, he can’t find the words to respond.

So, of course, she tries to backtrack.

He cuts her off, “love you, too, Mirochka.”

(LOOK fandom has decided he’s a Space Russian ANYWAY so for this AU either one or both of his parents was a first-generation Russian immigrant so FAKE RUSSIAN DIMINUTIVES FOR EVERYONE. Also it makes me smile. So there.)

She brightens and clings again. Very, very carefully.

But he can already feel the room start to spin and blur at the edges. “Probably gonna pass out again. Don’t be afraid.”

“Okay,” she says. “Just don’t die.”

“Of course not,” he says, already fading. “Still have work to do.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not allowed to die when we’re done, either.”

“Right,” he manages to say, before he’s out again.

The next time he’s fully conscious and lucid is just after Shamie finally managed to send word they’re alive.

Which is, naturally, his first thought. To ask about Shamie and Orryn.

Mirah tells him--Shamie’s at least alive and free enough to make contact, but Orryn is still missing.

Kallus, at this point, is half-convinced he hallucinated Zeb--it would make more sense, obviously; Zeb is dead, he knows that, he saw him die, and yet…

On the other hand, he finds himself desperately hoping it wasn’t a hallucination, for more than just his personal needs. If Zeb has Orryn, then he knows Orryn is safe.

“I tried to get him,” Mirah says.

“I know,” he says. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this was.” It was mine.

“What happened?” she asks, and the question had to come sometime, but he’s not sure he can explain. Not sure he should, as on-edge as she is already.

But she’s asking, so he does the best he can.

“I thought I saw…someone,” he says.

“…interesting pause there…”

“A ghost.”

“…cryptic. Are you gonna keep doing that, or…?”

He looks away. He can’t bring himself to say his name. “It couldn’t have been…I know it couldn’t have been, but I saw him, I was sure, and for a moment, I…I lost control. Again.”

I let you all down.

“…again?”

He struggles for a moment, then says, “I told you, before you went into Division…I told you why I left, didn’t I?”

It takes her a minute to get it. “…oh.”

“I only…I only saw him for a moment, and I may have been seeing things.” He takes a shallow, shaky breath, and blinks rapidly for a moment. “But if it was real, and Orryn’s with him, then he’s safe. I am certain of that.”

Mirah nods. “Then I’ll go find out.”

“Be careful,” Kallus cautions. “Division will be out in force, looking for you. And Shamie can’t--they have to keep their head down. Even if they’ve managed to satisfy Thrawn for now--” He starts to get up, because he needs to hit the ground running on this one, pain and shakiness be damned--

“Don’t you dare,” Mirah snaps, pushing him back. “I’ll be careful. Trust me. Papa.”

“I do,” he says; his head is spinning again and he’s gone chalk-white. “Just…don’t get overconfident.”

“I won’t,” she promises. “Go back to sleep. I’ll text every hour.”

“Please,” he says.

“I will,” she promises, and by the time she’s out the door he’s unconscious again.

Of course, by the time she gets back, he’s somehow managed to muster the strength to get himself over to the computer.

“What did I say?” she says, annoyed.

“I did sleep, for a while,” he says. A little breathless, but he’s still conscious, and it doesn’t look like he’s torn any of his stitches, which is probably a goddamn miracle.

(Of course, they are long overdue a miracle or two.)

“I found footage of the incident,” he says. “Target had security cameras all over. I wanted to see if…see if I could track Orryn that way.”

“And?”

He shakes his head. “But I can be sure Division didn’t take him. I accounted for all of them.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes,” he says, then hesitates. “Nothing more from Shamie, which…I don’t know. You find anything?”

“Maybe,” she says, and hands him a blurry photo, of Orryn--with Zeb.

The world spins around him again, just like it did back in that firefight, because there’s no mistaking it this time.

Mirah mistakes his reaction for him being about to pass out again; he vaguely hears her mention going to kidnap Dr. Sloane again; he cuts her off.

“No, it’s…it’s him.”

“Oh!” She considers for a moment. “Good. I’ll go get him.”

He nods; he can feel his heart beating erratically and knows he should probably do something about that--relaxation exercise, get horizontal, something--but first thing’s first. “Tell…no.” He can’t think of a good verbal code, but he has something even better.

Using the chair to hold himself up and keeping as much weight off his injured leg as possible, he starts over to the wall.

“Let me--” Mirah starts.

“Wall safe,” he says. “Keep forgetting to program your fingerprints.”

She makes a face. “And you’ll go to bed as soon as you get whatever it is?”

“Yes, fine,” he says. He makes it to the safe, and opens it, pulling out a fist-sized stone and handing it to her. “Show…show him this. He’ll know you’ve seen me.”

“I will. Now, bed.”

“Right,” he says. But his head is spinning and it seems so very far away right now. I possibly overdid it. “I’m just going to…sit here for a moment first. Catch my breath.”

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I know.”

There is, of course, a slight problem with sending the meteorite instead of some kind of verbal message. One that, if Kallus had been firing on all cylinders, so to speak, he would’ve figured out.

A verbal message can’t be pulled off a dead body, after all.

…yeah, Zeb pulls a gun on Mirah when she shows up.

She restrains herself from responding the way all her training has told her to respond to a gun in her face, because she knows how important Zeb is to Kallus. “Rude,” she says instead.

Zeb snarls at her. “Where the hell did you get that.”

“From Papa,” Mirah says, like it should be obvious. “Are you going to let me in?”

Papa? Zeb had never imagined the monsters that killed Alexsandr--who did the kind of things Orryn described--would have children. “…no,” he says. “You’re going to take me to Papa.”

It’s the best, most solid lead he’s had in forever, more concrete than Orryn in terms of tracing back to the specific people who killed his fiancé, he finally has an actual agent, a string to pull to unravel Division and end them.

“Well, yeah,” Mirah says, because that is the plan. But not right now.”

Zeb glares at her. “No. Now.”

Mirah sighs. “ORRYN!”

Orryn, who heard the commotion and was already on his way, joins Zeb at the door. “She’s okay, Zeb. Really. This is Mirah, I told you about her?”

Zeb is…not at all sure what to make of all this. But he lets her in while he tries to figure it out.

(Keeping her covered with the gun, of course. As much as he can when the first thing she does is wrap Orryn in a flying tackle hug.)

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Orryn says, clinging back so hard. “I was worried.”

“You were worried!” Mirah says. “You know what you’re supposed to do in a firefight! Keep your head down, and wait for Papa to come get you!”

“I know,” Orryn says. “But I saw him go down, and then…” I got grabbed, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do.

Mirah nods. “I already yelled at him about that.”

Which is not what Orryn would’ve done, but he knows his sister, so he’s not surprised. “And…and Shamie, are they with you? Are they okay?”

“They’re alive,” Mirah says. “They got in touch. But they’re still undercover. We’re working on it.”

“Touching as this reunion is,” Zeb interrupts, “you need to tell me where the hell you got that rock.”

“I already told you.”

“Not enough.”

“Well, then ask,” Mirah says. “I don’t know what you know.”

“Who the hell is Papa, and how the hell did he get that meteorite?” Zeb asks.

“No idea where he got it,” she says, which is true. “He just told me to give it to you.”

Zeb stares at her, for a long moment. “What the hell kind of sick joke--”

“What?” Mirah says. “Explain, because I have no idea what the hell you mean.”

“He’s taunting me,” Zeb says, flatly. “Whoever he is.” ...on the other hand, that means I’m close…or they know I have Orryn. He frowns, then shakes his head. “But to use this to lure me out…”

Now it’s her turn to stare. “Lure you? You’re the one who demanded I take you places!”

“Because you turn up, out of the blue, on my damn doorstep, holding that!”

“Because Papa told me to!” she says. “What’s so important about it, anyway?!”

“It’s something I gave to--” He stops. “Your people, Division, they took it off him after they killed him. I’ve spent the last five years trying to track down the bastards who did it.”

And SUDDENLY EVERYTHING IS CLEAR.

“You didn’t see him,” Mirah realizes.

“…what.”

“Okay,” she says. “We can go see Papa now. But leave your gun behind, he’s been shot enough this week.”

“No, seriously, what the hell,” Zeb says. “Saw who?”

“Papa,” she says. Obviously.

“You still haven’t told me who that is!”

“Because I love him, but he’s sometimes a secretive jerk and I don’t know his full name and that’s embarrassing, okay?”

Zeb just stares at her for a moment.

Mirah sighs, exasperated. “Orryn, do you know Papa’s full name? I don’t have any pictures, and I don’t want to wake him up by calling.”

Orryn shakes his head. “Never had that much access to Division’s computers, and you know he doesn’t talk about that stuff. …Shamie might know, but…”

“I’ll text,” she decides. “They won’t get it until it’s safe.”

“Like hell I’m waiting for that,” Zeb says. “Take me to him. Now.” “First, leave the gun behind,” Mirah says, and there is No Room For Argument in her face or her tone.

Zeb considers this for a moment.

He’s dealing with one guy who’s apparently been shot all to hell, and one baby agent…he’s got the raw physical strength to overpower her if it comes to that. Besides, she didn’t say anything about other weapons.

“Fine,” he says, and ostentatiously puts both the gun he already had out and the backup from his boot on the table.

“Thank you,” she says. “Orryn, you coming?”

Orryn hesitates for a second. “…someone should probably stay with Hanny.”

“Who’s Hanny?”

“My kid,” Zeb says. “…kinda. Long story. Can we go?”

“Sure,” Mirah says. “Hanny can come, too.”

“Hell no,” Zeb says. “I don’t bring her into potential danger if I can avoid it.”

“If you say so,” Mirah says. “Just a suggestion.”

So, Orryn and Hanny stay back at Zeb’s place. Mirah texts Kallus to let him know they’re coming.

He. Uh. Wakes up on the floor by the wall safe when his phone buzzes. Never quite made it back to bed…oops.

Part of him thinks he should probably correct that, but on the other hand, standing up sounds like Work right now. He’ll just…wait here. Gather his strength.

Oh, right, I should text back. “Fine, see you soon.”

As they approach, Mirah once again warns Zeb that Kallus has been shot, so he is not allowed to get him worked up or let him out of bed.

“Yeah, you mentioned.”

“It bears repeating,” she says. “And he is not allowed to die.”

“Copy that,” Zeb says, though he makes no promises. Whoever Papa is, he had Alexsandr’s meteorite, which means he Knows Something about the people who killed him.

She opens the door to the safehouse. “PAPA YOU HAD BETTER BE IN BED.”

…well, at least he hasn’t moved from where she left him last?

Mirah gives him her best Aggrieved and Disappointed Face.

“…I think I fell asleep here,” he says, wearily.

And then Zeb has a Moment.

Because he couldn’t quite see Mirah’s papa from this angle.

But he knows that voice.

“Did I or did I not tell you to go back to bed,” Mirah says, but she knows it’s gonna be a lost cause for at least a few minutes. “…I’ll lecture you later.”

“Alex?” Zeb says. Whispers. It takes him a few seconds to actually get the name out and it comes out strangled and disbelieving.

And even though he already knew Zeb was alive, he’d seen him in person and then the picture, something about it…he’s here now, it’s real--

Fortunately, before Alex can try to get up, Zeb is right there.

“You were…you were dead, I thought--”

For his part, Kallus cannot form words right now. He just reaches up, hand shaking, to touch Zeb’s face.

(Mirah, in the background, discreetly texts her siblings with an update.)

(Orryn, upon reading the text, asks Hanny if she’s ever seen The Parent Trap.)

(“Because I think your spy dad and my spy dad used to be together. Wanna go join them?”)

(Hanny doesn’t need to be asked twice.)

Zeb, at that point, just scoops Kallus up and, very gently, puts him back in the bed.

“Oh, good,” Mirah says. “Now we need to keep him there.”

“No arguments here,” Zeb says.

And this had better not be a dream, he adds, in the privacy of his own mind.

Of course, there’s a lot more catching up to do from there, and a creepy organization of spysassins to take down, but I think we got enough here for one outline, lol. XD Future developments, of course, involve Team Fulcrum (who keep the nickname because Why Not) teaming up with the Ghost Crew to actually take down Division and shoot Pryce in the face; getting Shamie’s kill switch removed; and then…whatever adventures the Family of Spies might have in the future. Maybe head down to Miami, run into another team of former spies. Or up to Boston, run across a team of thieves…

The point is, they’ve found each other again. The rest…well, the rest is just Details.

#shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes crossovers #shadowsong writes self-indulgent bs #au outlines for the win #tigerkat24

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b4dluckbin · 6 years ago

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I am evil but- 1 to 50, answer them all!! hahaha (if you only want to do this for one oc- then michaleas)

Hello, I hate you. I'm also not going to cut this because I have no idea how so have fun everyone.

This is for Michaleas Lament.

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

His full name is Michaleas Ermiah Lament. First part is because Michael,,, sounds tOO WHITE. Ermiah I came up with my myself but looking into it, it is kinda close to Ermias or Jeremiah. Hmmmm. Lament? He's a sad boi.

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

One personal title he was given while in the military was "The Lamenting Giant". It was more to poke fun at their commander more than anything because of how tall he was and usually he has a distant, kind of sad look on his face like he was constantly thinking.

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

Yes he did- until he was 9. It was pretty modest but comfortable until then. Fond memories he had would be are listening to his mother hum as he helped her clean around their little house, and looking over his fathers woodwork that he sold in town. For the last bit..... *SCOFFS* His entire life after 9 years old. That's all chock full of bad memories but if I have to limit it of his childhood,,, everything from 9 to 20 years old.

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?

He knew both his father and mother! He had a very good relationship with them both. They were very nurturing but stern when they needed to be (like when he wanted to go outside or into town with his father). A good memory he has of them is just them sitting together for dinner and his father telling him stories about the places he had been when he was younger.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

He has no siblings.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

He never went to school. He was taught what his father and mother had learned.

7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood?

He didn't have any childhood friends as he was cooped up in his house until he was 9. Then he was enslaved for about 10 or so years.

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

No he didn't have any pets. He is neutral about animals.

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals?

He's never really interacted with animals before.

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

.... CONNA YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE EXCLUDED SOME OF THESE- Oh god... He thinks children are cute from a distance but are very annoying. He has a son named Adiren. Because of the situation (no I'm not saying it to validate him in just trying to be like vague with how I'm saying this. He is a terrible father in main canon) he was a neglectful father. But in AUs I've had for him he is decent. He's just a tad bit over protective. As a god father? Uhhhh depends on if this is AU or Canon dad Michaleas. If it was an AU and all is Gucci then he'd be decent enough at being a caregiver. If it was main story well- he wouldn't really be worried about them.

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

Michaleas is actually not allergic to anything. Except love. Also no, this big boi is a meat eater.

12. What is their favourite food?

Steak and potatoes.

13. What is their least favourite food?

Id have to say maybe fish? He doesn't really like the smell.

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?

Stew,,, his mother made that a lot.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

He is actually fairly decent at cooking! He does enjoy it because it's something to take his mind off of whatever he's currently thinking about. He's been told it's really good but he doesn't,,,, care for compliments.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

If there is a flower he has never seen before you best believe he will press it into his journal.

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

Lmao in a modern AU? He'd probably have a little blog or something dedicated to flower pictures. He won't take a picture of himself because he hates how he looks.

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

If my boy was literate, I'd say he'd be into adventure stories. He loves acoustic jams because he plays the guitar. Tv or films??? Maybe family movies and comedys. Video games?????? Medieval-esque stuff. He'd be too into Dark Souls and rhythm games.

19. What’s their least favourite genres?

Tragedy (They just make him sad). For music it's anything too loud.

20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?

I don't think he'd be a fan of musicals very much. Music in general? He likes. If his favorite song were to come on he'd probably just sit and hum along with a smile.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

*insert laugh meme* Yeah. Yeah he fucking does and his blood curse revolves around it. Oh boy he's prone to yelling.

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

He likes to use the word "privileged" a lot against people that are acting out.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

He has a good memory but he can remember faces better than the names that correspond to them.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

It isn't much sleeping as it is lying awake and staring at the wall. When he does sleep ooooh yeah he snores. Not like,,, super loud but noticeable. He likes a more soft bed because hard beds make his back hurt.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

,,, he has a dark sense of humor unless it's just something you really can't have a straight face at. Someone almost choke on bread? He will have a fit. He isn't really one for telling jokes himself.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

When Micha is happy he usually just has a smile plastered on his face for a while. He is capable of singing but doesn't like doing it, so he opts to humming. He doesn't know how to dance.

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

Remembering his past trauma. No he doesn't cry regularly and if he feels he will he will hide off somewhere and call himself a dumb ass. When he's sad he's desolate. He makes himself scarce and when he is around you get that brooding feeling.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Going back to the slave ring. Nothing really scares him. Maybe little jump scares but eh. When he's actually fucking terrified? He will close up on himself and leave. Fast.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective?

Like Kai it really just depends on what the fear is. Spiders? You can handle that yourself. Groups of unknown people in an unknown place? Yeah no, come here and walk with him now so he can watch out.

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

Post military Michaleas hardly worked out any more, but when he was still there? Totally.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

Oh gOD THIS IS PART OF THE PROBLEM WITH HIM BEING A PARENT. He falls into a deep depression because of some shit and picks up drinking more so than he did before in the military. He really just wants to forget so badly. When he's hungover he's a complete asshole. When he's drunk it's just sad boi hours.

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

He gets his clothes at any normal clothing store. Nothing fancy at all just basic shirt and pants. Sleeping is just pants no shirt. His hair? Messy short brown hair parted in the middle with Short cut bangs.

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?

Hi, the image of granny panty Micha is scared into my brain thanks- boxers my fam.

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body

Me, explaining Micha to anyone: Bara. But,,,, smaller,,,, he's like 6ft6-6ft7. Does he like his body? Eh. He doesn't like the scars that litter it.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?

Guilty pleasure? Spending time with a certain fucking vampire. Unguilty pleasure? He likes,,,, sweets.

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

He's good at playing the guitar and fighting. If he was allowed I'm sure he'd pick up gardening. Who knows if he can sing? :3c

37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?

*quietly sobs* he's shit at reading.

38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

How some people can go about their lives so easily without a care in the world.

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging?

Talk to him,,, face to face. Dont be a coward.

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

I mean,,,, does trauma count as a natural way to stay awake and alert? Because I feel like it is personally.

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?

*leans into mic* He's gay. He is more both when it comes to someone. He needs someone who isn't just using him for,,, sex because hi- sex drive? There, but honestly kind of hates it. He wants someone to talk to and help him through his bad moments. Someone who won't talk shit to him about being weak because he does that to himself enough.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

*leans into mic further* To be able to have a decent relationship with said vampire from earlier.

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?

He isn't religious at all. He's Atheist actually. He thinks they're just sheep following a Shepherd. Non religious people, in his eyes, are smart to see through that shit.

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most?

Michaleas likes the time around the end of winter because that's when the flowers start to bulb up. He thinks its beautiful. He fucking hates the heat. You can't escape it.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

They look to him as something like a pillar. He doesn't waver and they believe if they try hard enough they won't either. Which is,,,, completely different than how he sees himself. He hates hIMSELF AND THINKS HE'S WEAK LMAO.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

I mean,,, no. He's very fucking blunt with his observations of people. Yes and no with reflecting him accurately. He is very observant but he isn't like,,, that when you warm up to him. He plays around more and talks shit. Michaleas introduces himself as such. Michaleas.

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?

He hates fancy events. He will wear what he has to but he isn't going to have his tie tied or creases ironed. He doesn't give a shit. He wants to leave.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend?

Regular parties where he can just drink and have fun? Totally. No one prissy there just a bunch of rough dumbasses. He doesn't plan parties he just turns up if he hears about it and is like "where is the booze".

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

He doesn't have anything like that. He has his sword for protection so I mean that counts as a need everywhere and anywhere. Edit: I lied. He has a journal with pressed flowers he normally has on him always.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

Water, food, things to start a fire, tools and his sword.

#thanks for the ask!#my oc #michaleas #im going to go kill you now #excuse me

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xaz-fr · 6 years ago

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Hello! I've been following you for a while and wanting to get into your lore. Where should I start?

Sorry, I was playing ‘Antidepressant the game’ aka Slime Rancher for the past literally 10 hours.

edit: Tumblr apparently doesn’t wanna allow you to read more on asks. Fine. Fuck you too Tumblr.

The way I did it is come up with a very very basic idea/concept/aesthetic. And it should hopefully fit what your dragons already look like or what you’re into but it doesn’t have to.

I started my clan with the simple idea of ‘swamp witches’ because I was missing my home state of Florida and love the aesthetic of Old Florida and gators and the everglades. And that’s why Layali looks the way she did when we lived in Light.

She radiates the idea of a swamp witch while herself not actually being one (she’s a seer but whatever). And from there I slowly built out my clan. And it should be noted; I grew my clan VERY slowly compared to how some people *cough @golden-lionsnake cough* buy dragons left and right. I didn’t buy my first permanent dragon for like a MONTH.

and when I did buy a dragon i asked myself ‘what does a swamp full of witches need?’. Well... herbs for starters, and plants, so probably a garden/farm land of sorts. Which is where Spayar came in

and he’s a druid, living in a swamp, and still kinda witchy, right? At the very least he fits the aesthetic idea I was going for.

And then from there if I bought a dragon they needed a purpose. Even if the purpose was ‘guard’ or ‘huntsman’ or ‘another witch’ because you gotta actually have witches in a swamp witch style lore. And I made everyone do something different. And when everyone does something different they interact in different ways. Like how does the adopted daughter of one of the sort of clan leaders interact with a roving fire spirit? (which I did have for a time). Or how do the druids interact with the witches? How do guards work in a swamp of a tiny clan that has no enemies or allies? What about as they start to get larger and make friends?

I built my Manor sub clan the same way. I bought the Master, gened him, and just had him around.

I then, later, decided I needed more general fodder. So I bought a bunch of fodder pairs. And I had always thought that a dragon named the Master might maybe not really be a sort of weird cult leader? And what he actually is now isn’t that far off. He’s... the owner of a bunch of concubines: my fodder pairs. So I gave my otherwise loreless fodder breeders lore by connecting ALL of them to the Master as parts of his collection and they all live in his big manor (hence the subclan name) and he provides everything for them they just have to maintain the house and entertain him (which is sometimes fucking and sometimes playing music or cooking him food or bringing him nice flowers or fighting wild animals or making beautiful art or dancing). The aesthetic is literally ‘Jeff Goldblum Grandmaster style book collector has a bunch of hot young dragons who like to fuck.’

Carrion Roost is similar (name subject to change bleh) except a littttle different. I had OCs I made into dragons and was like ‘well now what’. Well they’re canonically vampires. So. I made some pseudo-vampire dragons called the Prime Hunters. So my aesthetic for them is literally just ‘does it LOOK like a vampire? It’s a vampire’. And lore builds itself out from there with born Hunters and turned Hunters and Hunters who were chased from their origin points and ones who wandered and ones who despite everything aren’t that bad they’re just so very hungry sometimes and then some who are just ABSOLUTE awful little goblins.

Cahya is the former and then Evit here is the little awful goblin

Also final tips

I didn’t just stumble upon my lore all at once. It took me *looks how old their progen is* nearly two years to get to where I am now with my lore and only recently have I really expanded my lore beyond Cypress Hall. Until tabs and the Den came out I was a SINGLE CLAN lair. No extra sub clans or clans in other flights. I put all of my ideas into one clan. And yeah my clan had cliches and niches and such but they all knew they were the same clan, that they all were part of Cypress Hall. Also I’ve been world building for 10+ years at this sort of mini macro level and can literally come up with an entire plot line for a story in 3 hours with like a one sentence prompt. So I’ve got a LOT of practice.

When you do start writing lore (or even just thinking about it) WRITE SOME FUCKING NOTES. Don’t make me come to your house with a spoon and smack your hands for not taking notes down IMPORTANT story elements or neat little details. I am my own worst enemy and don’t take notes until after I’ve written like... 30k worth of shit. Don’t be like me. Write fucking notes as you write, I swear to the Eleven.

and lastly: everyone does it different. I know people who use webs and make wikis and all those great character and world tracker sites, and timelines to plan their stuff. And that’s great. I am so glad that that stuff exists for people who use it. I cannot use them. It’s too tedious and slow for me. It’s too confining. I want a bulleted list of information I can scan through and find. I don’t like having pages and pages of stuff with a few paragraphs per page otherwise I feel like it’s a waste of time to do it. To be quite honest: I just remember this shit. I hardly write anything down anymore. I just have an encyclopedia of every story I’ve put time and effort into in my brain for quick access whenever I need and my lists and notes are there for me to check spellings mostly or be my backup drive for bullshit fake names or be a map.

So while you can use my method you should realize it isn’t for everyone and just because you can’t do it my way doesn’t mean you can’t. You just need to do it in a way that makes sense for you. Or maybe you wanna Dr. Frankenstein that shit and take parts of stuff I’m telling you and parts of stuff other people are telling you and form a thing you like. Totally valid. Any way of figuring your lore is valid.

#flight rising #Nonnie #ask bb #long post

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rosykims · 6 years ago

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5 + 10 for emeraude, 14 + 18 for effie, 19 + 24 for arylene and 30 through 45 for imogen bc i love her so much ? 😏😏😏

fdjkfjkfdk thank u SO much maia i absolutely Treasure You !

EMERAUDE HAWKE - DA2

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

emeraudes fashion sense is probably my favourite out of all my ocs, so uh if u havent looked at her pinterest board yet u should do that bc its Very cute hehehe

anyway for the most part she sticks to dark, practical clothing whenever she's out and about in kirkwall or doing merc work, etc. she picks clothes that convey strength and power, but she likes having a little bit of colour somewhere on the piece, just to keep things interesting. she's not much of an embroider, but was a good way to keep herself distracted during hard times, so she tends to add little patterns here and there whenever she gets the chance!

as for special occasions, for her this would actually just be. a quiet night at home or a relaxed gathering with her friends. bc its so rare for her to have that lmao. anyway for events like that she usually wears light colours and soft fabrics, simple but always decorated with flowers or colourful patterns.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer?

she has a collection of gifts ! that kids from lowtown would give her over the years she spent in kirkwall. she's a very community based person and wants to do right for her city, and shes very nurturing (in an ironical, Cool Big Sister way) so she likes making sure all the kids are safe and being looked after. she gets a lot of trinkets and strange gifts from some of the kids as a result, but she does treasure them (even if she laughs about it with her friends) and keeps them all !

EFFIE RYDER - MEA

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life?

effie's maternal rolemodel has always been her late mother, ellen. nobody could really fill that role in her eyes, since they had such a close, positive relationship before she passed. her relationship with her dad was a lot more strained and it really impacted a lot of her relationships later on in life too ! she tends to.... see an older man who is Vaguely Nice to her, and then think “ oh, youre my dad now?” which isnt fair to anybody obviously but yeah she,,,, has a lot of unresolved issues regarding alec and tends to unintentionally project so. We stan !

How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was his/her favorite?

oh constantly lol. With her dad being an n7 and her mother working so hard on her research, they tended to move around wherever her parents work required. she actually enjoyed it this way. she was never good at making long term friends, but she lived meeting new people, and obviously with the move she got to experience a lot of different cultures which really put the idea of adventuring and travelling in her head at a young age.

ARYLENE TORR - TES IV

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

she likes them ! she tends to keep her distance with most communities and groups of people in particular, but she does like enjoys having the odd conversation with the odd street urchin here and there, either sharing with them some strange, ridiculous life advice or – if shes feeling particularly chaotic – telling them the scariest stories she can think of. as for having them, arylene isnt AGAINST the idea, but she has far too much for the foreseeable future for that to ever be a good idea

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

outwardly, arylene is an almost unbearably easy going person, so you would assume she doesnt hate anyone lol. but she does DEEEPLY dislike cults and groups of ignorant people who are arrogant enough to start messing with the balance of life, or making deals with gods, etc. she believes that people like that can do an unbelievable amount of damage, so she invests a lot of time and effort it sabotaging any group or plot she happens to find !

IMOGEN FOSTER - RDR2

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they?

hmm idk if this even EXISTED in 19th century london lol, but she would have done some very tame version of girl scouts as a child! She barely remembers any of it, but she liked the classes on what plants did what, which were safe to eat, and the likes. its something that helps her a lot when on the run with the gang, and something shes always had a personal interest in, as a nurse !

other than that, she’s done a lot of independent study on history, classical literature, and she speaks fluent italian we stan !

What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student was s/he?

imogen comes from a very wealthy aristocratic family, so she was very fortunate that her privilege afforded her the education she got at the time. she is VERY grateful to have attended the schools she did, and she made sure to make the most of it, paying attention in class and studying harder than most of her classmates. she's a smart girl with a very active mind, so knowledge is something she can't get enough of. she was actually petitioning the board of education to allow her to attend university before she left for america – already their had been women accepted into universities at that time, but obviously it was still a very scandalous thing lol, especially since imogen wanted to study medicine.

What subjects did your OC excel at?

imogen is a HUGE overachiever and did pretty well at basically everything from science, mathematics, language studies and later on, in her studies as a nurse. i can tell you what shes bad at though lmao

anything physical really dkdkdks she is TERRIBLE at horse-riding since she usually just went by carriage everywhere in the city. art and poetry and writing in general she was never great at, because she's a pretty logical person and was told she never put enough emotion in her work lol !!! sports...obviously was very limited anyway as growing up in like? the early 1870s lol. and as for the traditionally feminine lessons in like ?? sewing and cooking and stuff well ! she was very average at them which made her  feel worse than if she was actually bad bc she's so used to excelling and making a name for herself oof

What subjects interested your OC?

Imogen loves greek literature and mythology !! the iliad is her favourite book and she keeps her heavily annotated, dog eared copy – a gift from her late father – on her person almost constantly. needless to say its why dutch admires her as much as he does lol.

obviously, as a nurse-trying-to-be-a-doctor, she has a great love for medicine in all its forms. she's always been fascinated in natural remedies, and even moreso when she's running with the van der linde gang and is really relying on the land to survive.

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession?

hmm okay so. Technically she's a nurse – she worked in her father's hospital for almost 10 years prior to his death, and she was sort of his unofficial understudy, as in she knows a LOT more than her job description requires lol. but after her father past away, another, less progressive man took his place as chief of surgery and made a lot of changes to the way the hospital operated, and imogen was let go. she and her mother were fighting against it, however, under the ground of unfair dismissal, but obviously given the time period it didnt get them very far. so ! i mean technically she's unemployed rn. but she still has dreams of being a doctor, or at least continuing her career in medicine.

How is your OC working towards their dream job and/or achieved their current profession?

Oh VERY direct action up until she got disheartened and chose to take her sabbatical. she had been working in her role for nearly a decade, and was very obviously one of the most experienced nurses there. even younger doctors would sometimes ask her for her medical opinion dksksks anyway what i am saying is Brain Very Good. she had been fighting to gain admission into a university – any, she wasnt picky – to study medicine officially, but it didnt get very far and she put it on hold after her father got sick. after he died and she was laid off, she fought even harder against the city to reinstate her title, and continues to fight after she returns from america a year or so later.

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession?

helping people is her entire life, and she wouldn't know what to do without it. she loves being a nurse enough to fight to be a doctor, but also in BEING a nurse, she is hyperaware of all the things current medical standards seem to get wrong, and she has a lot of ideas about how else to go about things. her father, a shockingly progressive and worldly man for the time period, shared her sentiment, but he wasn't able to make the changes he wanted to before he passed, so imogen hopes she can be the change herself, and make her father proud

What is your OC’s biggest dream?

being a licenced doctor, babey ! preferably at her father's hospital, but at the point she will take what she can get.

How does your OC react to and handle stress?

imogen handles stress very well , which is partially why she makes such a good medic, and also how she managed to survive the first week of being with the van der linde gang lmao. she is very good at shutting out EVERY distraction when things get dicey, and her brain tends to move at a million miles an hour. all traces of english etiquette and politeness go out the window, though, so you'll usually catch her barking orders at people, and yelling at anyone who prevents her from doing the work she needs to do. it.....is a big wake up call for people like dutch and micah, and gets her into a LOT of trouble on multiple occasions.

How does your OC handle anger?

ooo......not great. she’s grown up with parents who maybe encouraged her to speak her mind a bit....TOO much given the historical circumstances lol. she really doesn’t stand for ignorance or prejudices in any capacity, and if she has a problem with someone and it gets in the way of her trying to do her work or help others - she will ABSOLUTELY be having words. she also overestimates her own strength quite a lot. she’s tried to throw hands with micah MANY times, often forgetting she’s this tiny 70kg englishwoman and he’s .... Him sdjkdcjkf. she has a big mouth too so she often says snide remarks without even meaning too, which tends to get her in trouble as well. on the bright side, it also helps her fit in with the gang quite well, because for the most part they all appreciate how wild she is lmao

How does your OC handle grief?

hmm i guess it depends on what you would class as “well”? she doesnt cry very often - being stoic and handling your emotions is important when your a nurse - but she does tend to shove her feelings down far longer than she should, and tries to pretend they don’t exist by simply focusing on other things. she also blames herself when a lot of things go wrong, because she’s a perfectionist and wants to FIX everything, so when she finds something - or someone - she can’t save, it feels like a personal failure. like she let them down :(

What is your OC’s greatest fear?

probably being trapped in an unhappy, unfulfilling marriage with someone who undervalues her. she’s not much of a homebody and doesn’t have too much of an interest in being married, but the idea of feeling FORCED to marry someone in order to have a decent quality of life makes her blood run cold oof

What makes your OC happy?

helping people ! meeting new folks ! learning about other cultures and ways of life! learning about NEW THINGS in general ! proving people wrong ! insulting micah !

as tough and high-and-mighty as she sometimes seems, she’s a pretty easy person to please, honestly. treat her with respect, give her space to do the things she wants to do, and don’t get in the way of her opportunities to learn new things, and she’s mostly very happy !

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have?

she has a fairly macabre and sardonic sense of humour, something she picked up from her mother. she says a lot of Shocking things for the time period, and she’s not shy of dirty jokes either. the first time sean heard her, a soft, well spoken english Lady, make some filthy, crude joke, he nearly had a stroke right there on the spot kjkjkfdjkf

What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

senseless violence, suffering or cruelty. she really hated the gang at first and hoped to escape the first chance she got, because all she could see was the crime and disregard for human life she assumed they all held. fortunately, as she got to know them, she realized this wasn’t exactly the case, but she still has a lot of anger in her heart for a few key members of the gang who seem to enjoy bloodshed more than anything. she also hates any form of social prejudice, and people who gatekeep knowledge and opportunities from others.

What are some things that annoy your OC?

i guess all of the above, but she also dislikes misplaced arrogance, and people who talk down to others. she tolerates dutch, but often gets frustrated with the way he speaks, using as many big words as he can to manipulate and confuse others. she believes that really intelligence doesn’t require obscure jargon and big, fancy words - she likes keeping things simple, so everybody can follow along.

#trvelyans #asks #ilysm for asking so many questions gal and sorry for the late reply !#oc: emeraude #oc: effie #oc: arylene #oc: imogen #imogen is my new rdr2 oc in case u couldnt tell djkdsjks #i need to update my ocs page with all my new Babies #also im so sorry for how long and probably messy these replies are #i did Not proofread this in the slightest so. godspeed !!#/ long post

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