#even Snipe paid attention longer than this

[buridans-darkace]

How did Cyclonia become the empire that we know today? 👁👁

The history is a lot more elaborate than that, but there's the condensed version. I'm glad at least someone is willing to pay attention to it.

((Dagr is an OC belonging to @ashe-alter :3 thanks Grimm for letting me include him in this AU, enjoy the surprise cameo.

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [Bring Him Comfort]

For Day 5 of Carry on Countdown 23, Fight.

On not such a terrible boyfriend.

Rated T for themes, parental feelings, and presumably naked snuggles in bed, even if they are entirely unhorny snuggles.

⋆｡˚

“Give me a bloody break!” My voice is cracking from all the screaming. I don’t scream particularly often. I don’t particularly care for a loud sort of anger, but sometimes my father pulls it from me. Not that he intends to, with all his passive little snipes and comments that I think he’s hoping I won’t so much as actively notice as let them sink into my skin and take effect.

Put more succinctly, the man’s passive aggressive. I don’t bother to stop the door from slamming behind me when I storm my way out the front door and into the cold biting kiss of the rain directly against my skin. I’m going to ruin my good jeans, the one Simon pretends not to be infatuated with. Worse than that, I’m going to ruin the seats of the car. Somehow, I don’t have the energy to care.

I hadn’t even realized I’d grabbed the keys until I felt the groves of them pinch against my palm, digging in too hard against soft skin from my grip. There they were though, saving me from a walk in the rain. I slide into the driver’s seat and she hums alive for me when I turn the key, the most reliable thing about my spotty homelife. The Ford Anglia purrs prettily while she warms up, warming me in the process, and I run through my options.

I could…

Go back inside. I scoff immediately at the idea. Of course, it’s the easiest option, the closest, but given my explosive exit I’d have to work to resolve the issue and given that the issue was once again my unchanging sexuality, I would not be caving to niceties. I would not be apologizing to my father, I would not be seeking compromise, I would not be disguising myself any longer. I had Simon. I wasn’t about to just let that go, not after all this time.

There’s a stray hope that Daphne might be attempting to mitigate on my behalf, but I doubt she’s making much headway 5 minutes into it. Besides, as much as she is kind, she’s got so many of my siblings to look after, and she’s always been soft-spoken by comparison. No, stepping back through that door again would not be an option.

Tomorrow maybe, I might slink my way back, but not tonight. If Father Dearest needed to get somewhere, I’m sure he can make do with the spare car.

The keychain hanging from the keys jangles as I flick it idly, humming my frustration. I could show up to Simon’s unannounced, I’m always welcome there, I know, but there’s the little detail of explaining himself once I’m there. Not that I’d necessarily have to, not that Simon would ever force me, but he would ask and I would hardly be able to deny the emotions I’m wearing on my sleeve.

I’ll tell him about it, eventually, but I don’t know that I’m up for it just now. Though a part of me is warring with that thought, I know the comfort just existing with Snow could bring me. I could tell him I’d tell him later, he’d understand. Something in me can’t quite reconcile the idea of just… outright being that vulnerable right now.

I’m already driving, thinking of my aunt and how she wouldn’t ask questions, even if she was keeping… odd company lately. Well, maybe that’s more why she wouldn’t ask questions. She’d been avoiding my father for more than a moment, unless it was absolutely necessary. I could at least go there and detox from the fight and she wouldn’t ask details. She might try and give some of her sagely “rebellious” advice, but I’d never much paid attention to that sort of thing anyway. So I set my path.

⋆｡˚

I’d intended to drive to Aunt Fiona’s, I know, but somehow, the car’s ended up parked in front of Simon’s place. I can’t stop spinning the keys in my hands. I should leave the driver’s seat before Simon drifts off. The lights are still on. He’s probably watching something mindless on the tele, or maybe he’s trying to solve some mind teaser, something to wind down before he sleeps properly.

I should be already up half the stairs, but I hate feeling like this.

Like a dependant.

I take a sharp breath in and sit up, stepping out of the car and up the steps to the door to Simon’s flat. I could just open the door, I’ve a key, but I knock instead.

Simon’s on the otherside blinking up at me, confused by both my soaked state and the hour at which I’m showing up unexpected, but he tugs me in with a hand wrapped tight around my wrist. “Basil,” He hums my name so sweetly as he closes the door behind me.

At first I think he’s going to ask, but he says naught at all and forces me into a tight hug. I’m soaking through his soft flannel pyjamas, but he keeps holding tight to me until I wrap my arms back around his shoulders, over his wings folded down against his back.

“Simon…” I don’t know what I’d intended to say, but the sentence fails me and falls off at just his name, my nose falling into his hair, burying my face in the comfort of soft curls.

“It’s alright,” Simon soothes, rubbing soft circles over my back. I know I’m hiding sobs in his hair, tearstained cheeks against his scalp, and I know he knows it too, but he just keeps rubbing those soft circles over my back and murmuring quiet nothing words to calm me. “You’re alright, it’s just us, love, you’re alright…”

My breath runs a little too hot over him, but he doesn’t push me away, doesn’t quiet me when all I can manage is his name. I hadn’t even realized I was this broken up about all of it. I’d expected to be angry, not to sob over it all. It’s not like this had been an unfamiliar, unknown point of conflict. It’s not like I’d been caught off guard, but here I am, bloody well sobbing over it into Simon Snow’s sweet brown sugar scent.

Eventually I calm enough that Simon guides us into the bath and strips us both down. He hangs up our clothes and towels us down as carefully as I would. Something about that pulls a smile to my lips. “You’re learning, Snow,” I rasp out, as much snark as I can manage despite the raw feeling my tears had left behind in the back of my throat.

“Shove off, Pitch,” Simon punches light against my chest as he says it, a half smile tugging at his lips, “You must be feeling better if you’re up to banter again.”

“A touch,” I admit, “But not fully recovered yet.”

“Let’s get into bed. You’ll feel better after sleep.”

“And some water.” It’s a quiet request, and Simon’s already guiding me back out of the bathroom and towards the bed.

“And some water,” Simon agrees, “You get into bed. I’ll be right behind you.”

I go through the motions, curling up into myself under the covers, eyes drifting closed with my exhaustion. Simon’s there only a few moments, tall glass of water in hand and as much a tall glass of water himself, but there’s no energy in me to flirt with him like that.

Tomorrow, I commit the thought to action, tomorrow I’ll flirt with him shamelessly, ridiculously, excessively. Tonight, I thank him with just a nod as I swallow down the water in deep gulps.

Simon takes the empty glass from me and climbs into bed atop me. He uncurls all my limbs and wraps me up in his arms, laying on me as if he were a weighted blanket, as if he were every comfort I’ve ever needed. My arms wrap back up around his waist, clinging as if he could heal every wrong in the world, and I realize through our matched breaths that to me, he can.

Simon Snow is all I’ve ever needed, and all I’ve ever wanted, and he might have been asleep already, but I tell him as much, hoarse-voiced and barely audible, but I say it all the same.

I feel the soft kiss he presses to my chest and the words he says more than I can consciously hear them. “I love you too, we can talk about it in the morning, sleep now, Basil.”

My consciousness is fading fast, but still, I manage just one more moment of consciousness, “You’re not such a terrible boyfriend, Simon Snow.”

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Staying Up With Hunter When He Can’t Sleep

Slight Hunter X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Star Wars themed swear words, mentions of war and death, reader really just wants to shoot something

Word Count: 1.6k

(A/N:) I am so glad that Bad Batch is back! Though I am going through some MAJOR Hunter withdrawals right now! So I’ve been wanting to write this but I had to get a request done before I wrote what I wanted to! I am really proud of how this turned out and it is way longer than I thought it was going to be! So far I’m really enjoying this new season and I can’t wait to see what it holds! But hopefully this fic helps out my fellow Hunter fangirls! Maybe we’ll see him tomorrow! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

As a sniper that served on a few missions for the Grand Army of the Republic you were no stranger to clones. You even had saved a few the times you were hired out to snipe a few droids or a warlord that was too stubborn to die via normal occupation. You got the job done and then disappeared until they needed you again. But now as the Republic had fallen and no longer existed, you found yourself hunted by the new found Empire. So you turned to the one person you could trust in this time of chaos, Cid. You had ran a few smuggling missions with her at times, so you had gained the Trandoshan’s trust and respect quickly. You were a crack shot and you didn’t make a habit of missing your targets. You weren’t afraid of getting your hands dirty either as the galaxy had been cruel to you from a young age. You had to fight to survive and it made you the sniper you are today. So when Cid called you in for a particularly nasty and tough mission you were shocked to find a group of clones standing before her desk. Though you could tell immediately that these peculiar looking fellows weren’t the average Jangos the Kaminoians pushed out of the growth tubes.

An unknown interested party had come to Cid with information and a large sum of credits. According to the resources the Empire was excavating the last remaining Kyber Crystals on Jedah and the interested party was willing to pay a handsome sum for as many of these sacred crystals Cid’s best team could get their hands on. Cid didn’t ask questions, especially when the shadowy figure slid half the payment forward with no questions asked, that’s when she called you. Her best team she worried was not enough and they needed eyes that could watch their backs on the Empire infested moon. You agreed when you saw how much your cut was going to be and true to fashion Cid paid you half upfront. She knew how you ran your operation and that you wouldn’t leave until the mission was complete or or you were dead. She liked that about you.

Now as the weeks had passed, the job was becoming more and more frustrating. Just getting close to the mines was becoming a problem and you were about ready to start killing everyone who got in the way. The only thing keeping you from going berserk is the new friends you had made in this little ragtag group that called themselves The Bad Batch. Tech didn’t waste time telling you how they were defective clones with desirable glitches and after that explanation you weren’t paying much attention to the creation of clones he deemed worthy to tell you. You liked little information that told big stories, more than that and it was just about certain that you would shoot whatever annoyed you just to get it to shut up. That’s how the Republic knew to keep protocol droids out of your way. But when it came to Tech you just ignored him and kept your itchy trigger finger at bay. The nights of Jedha were colder than during the day, though the permanent winter of the moon was seeping into your joints and making it difficult to sleep. The other clones didn’t seem to be having the same problem and compared to you, were wells of patience. The surrounding trees had suffered through most of your pent up frustrations sporting blaster burns and holes from silenced blaster rifle shots as it was better than shooting something alive. As the time passed it was time to get some sleep and try again tomorrow. Wrecker was given the first watch as everyone bedded down to get whatever rest that being on such a dangerous mission could give. It didn’t take long for you to fall into an uneasy sleep, but hours later you were awoken by the loud snores of Wrecker. He laid close to where you were sleeping on the Marauder shaking the very ship with the volume that came from his mouth. You sighed deciding whether to smother him or go ahead and get up. You decided on just getting up, you had grown to care about the big lug though his sleeping habits left much to be desired. If he was asleep someone else had to be keeping watch. The ramp was only halfway up and you peeked around to see Hunter sitting outside around a lantern trying to keep a watchful eye out for any intruders. 

Hunter had explained about his “defect”. Having heightened senses had to be a pain, especially when it was time to rest or want to concentrate. You could only imagine the stress it had to cause Hunter at times. Though he probably relieved Wrecker telling him he just wasn’t sleepy, but you could tell differently. Hunter flinched when a chirping bug got too close to the lantern and you knew he couldn’t sleep because he was overwhelmed by the outside noise. As quiet as possible you dug a couple packets of instant caf out of your supply pack and heated water in two cups. Shaking in the powdered drink from the packets you stirred them a little and let the ramp down. Hunter watched curiously as you walked towards him, avoiding any sticks that would make a loud noise.

“Can’t sleep,” you asked quietly.

“Something like that,” he answered. While Cid trusted you, Hunter still had his doubts. It wasn’t that he thought you were an enemy he just had a hard time opening his circle up to anyone outside his brothers and Omega.

“Must be hard,” you replied close enough now to offer him the cup you made him. “I can’t imagine hearing every little sound or smelling everything. Sorry it’s instant caf but I made you a cup. I’d normally say if you can’t sleep you can at least enjoy some caf but it’s instant. Try not to puke.”

Hunter chuckled. “Thanks. It can be rough at times,” he admitted while taking the cup from your hand. “But I’ve grown used to it after all these years.”

“Apparently not since you’re out here in the kriffing cold when you could be lulled to sleep by the sweet sounds of Wrecker peeling the ship’s paint with his snores.”

“Snored ever since he was little,” Hunter outed his brother and you laughed. “Enjoying Jedah so far?”

“Kriff no! I haven’t been around so much mumbo jumbo in my life! If one more person says that I need spiritual guidance I may have to shoot them just to make myself feel better.” Your huffy tone gave away how frustrated you felt at this mission.

Hunter looked away twirling the dark liquid in the cup, “Do you believe in the Force?”

You sighed finally sitting down and propping yourself up against a tree, “Yeah. But I’m not some religious nut about it. I worked for the Jedi. Dank ferrik those were the days. Everything was simpler then. I made good money, got to enjoy it without somebody trying to kill me, and when it was time I did it again.”

“Yeah. Life isn’t so cut and dry now,” Hunter agreed taking a drink and grimacing. “Being a soldier was easier.”

“Yeah the instant stuff tastes like bantha fodder but finding the real caf is hard to come by, especially when you have to stay on the run like me now,” you took a drink yourself. “But Hunter I can see what you’re talking about. You were raised to be this perfect soldier who follows all the orders. Yeah you don’t know where you’re going in the galaxy and your brother is lost to you right now. But you are way better off than your brothers are that stayed.”

“Crosshair will come around,” Hunter sounded so sure.

You really hoped for the sake of his brothers that Hunter was correct. You might have just met them those few weeks ago in Cid’s office, but you had come to care about them and learn about their lives.

“I hope so for the idiot’s sake,” you nodded. “Bet I can outshoot him though.”

Hunter looked back up from the lantern taking in your smug expression. Hunter didn’t know many snipers and he had gotten to see you in action a few times already before the big fireworks started and he did have to admit that you could give his silver haired brother a run for his money.

“It definitely would be the shootout for the ages,” Hunter replied. While he couldn’t sleep due to his senses going off the deep end, in your presence he found himself beginning to relax and his senses calming. He hadn’t had many friends outside of his brothers and it was difficult for him to trust easily but the more time that passed he found himself being drawn towards you. He could also tell that you felt the same way as your heart would begin to race a little faster if he got close to you in the cramped ship. You had a steady sense of purpose that he could trust with his life and he could tell that despite your rough ways you were a caring person. You would protect him and his brothers with your very life and skills you had gained over the years. When the caf was gone and the buzz of it flowing through both your veins you both spent the rest of the night talking while the others slept. Learning about one another and becoming ever closer in a galaxy that was shifting and changing every rotation.

[riftwalker-limbro]

intermission - Resignation

masterpost

---

Your leg is the same, no?

The same as a warframe’s repaired-as-best-as-possible scars, that would never heal further, that would always cause him some level of pain.

It had been weighing heavily on Kelth’s mind, the past few days. They were pressed with their nose to the fact every morning since that first transference tryout, as they and Vince tried to figure out his abilities together. They didn’t practise proper transference - Kelth wasn’t going to try that again unless he specifically asked for it, and even then - but it was more like just hanging out together, seeing if they could spot the things he missed, to help prevent him from making mistakes. It wasn’t full transference, but it was still enough to make their knee sting in sympathy on his bad days.

Ordis had said he didn’t think Sufford would mind it if Kelth got a proper fitted cane - and when they’d asked Sufford to come along with them for this, he’d agreed enthusiastically. They couldn’t just go in Sufford for this, as on their more-limited-than-usual budget, it wouldn’t be wise to just eyeball any random cane. Kelth was nervous about going out as themself, not particularly used to it, but plenty of tenno walked around relays as they were, next to their warframes or without entirely. It would be fine.

The relay was busy, with many unfamiliar noises and faces, but Sufford stuck to them like glue, and once in the store, they forgot to be nervous - they’d had no ideas canes could look like that, or that, or have this-

The clerks were nice and helpful, and after what felt like barely ten minutes, they had found out what type of cane worked best for them. They paid for a basic model as they listened to knee brace recommendations and looked at the fancy ones from the corner of their eye. They’d have to be back once their wallet was looking better.

The current state of their funds didn’t stop them from trying to be thrifty and pulling Sufford along to the flea-market-y section of the relay, where they proceeded to dig through piles and piles of rubbish until Sufford poked them and pointed them at a pile of rocks which looked at first entirely ordinary. After one quick once-over with their focus abilities, they turned a wide-eyed look to Sufford, telling him all he needed to know to go bargain for them with the shopkeep. Afterwards, though they were vibrating with energy from all the excitement, Sufford managed to herd Kelth back to the Liset without any further incidents or purchases. 

—

Once back on the Orbiter, Ordis concluded that these were void relics, and they might contain treasures much greater than the price they’d paid for them - and they’d been seeing them laying around on missions, too. They’d have to pay attention and grab them next time they saw one. After a short hour of research, Kelth was much too full of energy to sit still anymore, and together with Sufford, they went out to see if they could crack one of these relics and see what was inside.

Right as they stepped out of the Liset, they could tell something was off - the air itself was crackling, felt ready to snap. Sufford was apprehensive about it, so Kelth forced themself to calm down and not rush him through this.

Slowly, they moved through the base, sniping enemy soldiers as they popped up. Sufford was uneasy about the difference in the air, so Kelth was on guard, as well. They’d read that the relic needed to be exposed to the void energy in the air here, but they weren’t entirely sure how to get it out-

A distance in front of them, a small hole in reality suddenly tore open. Sufford froze in surprise and nearly fumbled his next step, while Kelth was too awestruck to at first really pay attention to what it was doing to the void relic. Then, the enemies came through the tear.

Once they were dispatched, they inspected the dusty rock in Sufford’s belt-pocket, only to find that it was no longer dusty, and did in fact look like it had absorbed some of the energy from the fissure - it was humming softly, but not showing any signs of breaking open just yet.

“We’ve gotta find another,” Kelth said, excitedly. Sufford agreed, but he sounded short, pulling them out of it a little bit.

“What is it?” they asked, taken aback.

“We should finish this up quickly,” he said. “This is unpredictable matter.”

“You’re right,” they said. They’d celebrate their victory back on the Orbiter.

Two steps further, another fissure burst, this time right in front of them. Sufford’s shoulder flared up bright with pain - it felt as though it had burst apart along with the patch of reality in front of them, as though the Stalker’s blade had been driven through it anew. A quick check told Kelth he wasn’t bleeding - had he just been hit by some debris from that? There wasn’t-

Sufford staggered back, rifle falling to the ground as his right arm suddenly dropped to hang limply by his side. Enemies were coming through the fissure, but Sufford wasn’t ready. Halfway taking control, Kelth had him raise his pistol with his left hand and clear out the handful of hostiles, picking them off one by one, running between various crates to duck behind.

After the last one had fallen and they couldn’t detect any others coming to their location, he holstered the pistol and picked up the rifle again with his left hand. His right arm was still immobile, sending regular shocks of pain through his system, strong enough that Kelth could pick up on them. “To extraction?” he asked, strained. Kelth agreed. The relic wasn’t worth it.

—

The Helminth had scoffed at him when he had entered its room. No work to be done, it had said. No damage it hadn’t already fixed up earlier.

Sufford had admitted that the scarred-over injury was likely what had caused it - why exactly it had flared up so badly in proximity to void fissures, they could only guess. He also explained how it caused various other low-grade troubles for him, but none so bad that they’d ever impede the mission, so he hadn’t thought it very important to bring up. With a great and tired sense of déjà-vu, Kelth had scolded him for that one, and themself for not connecting the dots on this one earlier, too. It seems they’d been missing a lot of stuff, recently, and they were just going to give up on hoping they’d catch it all going forwards. It was important to remember that their best was all they could do.

The other important thing was that they were going to avoid void fissures like the plague. They might be able to strike up a deal with Kali about the ones they had gotten now and might find in the future, because they were still interested in the results from it, but they just wouldn’t be the ones cracking them open. That was alright by Kelth - not always being on the front lines suited them just fine.

Well, it was looking like they were a club of three now, together with Vince. A lot had changed in a short time, but they felt more settled now, more sure of themself and their team of two warframes.

Kelth couldn’t wait to see what was gonna mess it up next.

[pathetic-gamer]

Graduation Day, baby!!! RSoS Alumni run complete!

shall we do a run recap?

okay FIRST OF ALL this took so much longer than expected (because i just kept Not Playing) and also was honestly a little harder than anticipated lol

This was pretty fun, but idk if it's my favorite of the gimmick roster runs Ive done. there are definitely things I would do differently if i did it again, like classed, but also stuff like the fact that i forgot to recruit Caspar and so lost out on Mercie's paralogue lol

We can get into that later though - let's review the stats:

MVP: tie between Constance and Annette, with 15 each!

Most battles: again, Coco and Annie with 999+ each

Most kills: Coco, with 673 kills

Longest battle: Chapter 22 (52 turns 😭)

Final classes:

Mercedes - gremory

Annette - gremory/dark flier

Constance - sword master

Lorenz - bow knight

These are the builds approximately as they sat for most of the run (shoutout to 130 avo coco)

I will say, I kinda fucked it up a little bit by letting Annette and Mercedes use viskams (hacked item from the AM Fhirdiad map that people sell via travelers at the Monastery). It trivialized a lot of things that maybe would have been more interesting if I hadn't had them around.

Now some reviews/recollections:

I think one of my biggest mistakes was making Constance my dodge tank sword master and Annette my battle mage - I should have switched their roles up or messed around with something different entirely.

iirc, my original thought process behind that was that Constance has higher speed. But! they actually have the same speed growths, and Annette has better strength, dex, and charm. There was no good reason for doing it the way I did other than the fact that I love Annette and I like when she gets to cast spells, since "meta" people always shove her into a dancer or support role lmao

A lot of the run boiled down to patience, going oh so slow and steady around the maps. Constance didn't start really being able to kill enemies on her counters until about part 2, which meant it was her chipping away and then Annette sweeping in and out on her pegasus sniping them from 6 tiles away (s/o thyrsus)

Lorenz was the strongest person for most of the run, but also the slowest. I invested a lot in his ability to just tank damage, but that was not very helpful, turns out. So I struggled to figure out how to use him for a while... That said, this was the first run where I've ever actually used him at all (or seen his supports lmao) and I will say I'm enlightened now. He's a great character.

notable stuff from part 2:

Despite all that posturing about not knowing how to use him, losing Lorenz for half of Part 2 was significantly more impactful than I had thought it would be. But then when he finally got back, he had to play catch up and couldn't even get right back to work smh. It also didn't help that he was already a little underleveled because I had put my attention on leveling up Mercie and Annie as much as possible before Hunting by Daybreak.

The biggest challenge in part 2 was, in fact, chapter 22, where I discovered that I simply couldn't take Edelgard’s last health bar, like, mathematically, just due to the reality of everyone's stats. I asked for help on reddit and was alerted to the sacred shield gambit which I fully had no idea existed, which also sparked running through all the other support gambits I hadn't paid attention to. fun stuff in there!

ultimately, i hired a couple new battalions, gave Mercie the dance of the goddess gambit (which I already had and which I have used before but I had forgotten about it lol), deployed my only two non-run-required units (Marianne and Felix, adjutants kept around for paired endings), and broke my own rules to let them help - mostly blocking stairwells and in Marianne's case healing and chipping away at enemies with Viskam. Felix did also get to tank Edelgard’s ranged attacks and help finish off some monsters, though.

So with the two of them, plus Byleth and Dimitri, we have the rest of the roster:

Byleth - Cavalier (blessing gambit)

Dimitri - Cavalier (sacred shield gambit)

Marianne- bishop (stride gambit, plus healing)

Felix - wyvern rider (just hanging out having a good time w the broskis)

speaking of paired endings, I had planned for Marianne/Lorenz and Dimitri/Mercedes but ended up with Marianne/Dimitri and Lorenz/Mercedes. Surprised, but into it!

(all of the battles and victories listed for Marianne and Felix come from the final battle)

And there we have it! the former student of the Royal School of Sorcery have saved the world and everyone in it 👍 they will pass their group project

Royal School of Sorcery Debate Team DESTROYS Enemies with Facts and Logic

that's right fellas - we're doing the RSoS run

I actually started this a while ago, but never posted about it!

Rules:

Azure Moon, maddening/classic, ng+

Can only use characters who attended the Royal School of Sorcery before attending the Officer’s Academy

Byleth and Dimitri are allowed to help by doing things like use gambits, and finish off stragglers

I reserve the right to turn down the difficulty lol

Units and classes:

Annette, gremory or perhaps dark flier or even wyvern rider

Constance, mortal savant

Mercedes, gremory

Lorenz, dark knight

Notes:

Nothing major to note. Currently at Chapter 7, and everyone is doing pretty well so far. MVP has actually been very evenly distributed. I've classed Felix into armored knight so he can proc guard for Annette lol it's been useful.

I'm very worried for Chapter 13, since Byleth and Dimitri are going to have to hold their own until Mercedes and Annette show up. I want to be able to keep Ashe alive, too, so it's going to be tough. Thus, I'll have a pre-chapter 12 save so I can turn down the difficulty if I can't manage it lol

[hella1975]

wait hold on a ursa takes both zuko and azula away fic??? idk how anyone hasn’t done this concept but hella you’ve tapped into a concept that has to be explored at this point! making it zukka is also just the norm around here too.

ah im glad you like the sound of it! i refuse to believe im the first to think of that idea bc i dont think ive ever had an original thought but there's definitely a lack of ursa exploration in the fandom. the thing with this wip is that it's going to be so ginormous and so multi-faceted that it's actually really hard to explain the plot of? like ursa takes zuko and azula with her but ursa is so damaged by what she's been through and is too busy prioritising survival to be loving anymore and their life on the run is so brutal that zuko and azula - still only 9 and 11 years old which is a big reason of why their relationship is able to heal, bc they're still so young - really lean on each other to cope. initially it's a survival thing, but they grow to just genuinely get on well with and care deeply about each other. and one way they do that is that zuko starts telling azula stories! like the two of them become huge avatar nerds bc of these stories and actually i might just give you a snippet bc this is rlly hard to explain LMAO

Neither of them had any idea how to just be nice to each other, but Zuko wanted to be nice. He wanted Azula to be safe. He wanted to protect her. She was his little sister. She always had been, and she needed him. Now, more than ever. 

“You know, Mother used to tell me about our great-grandfather.” Zuko said quietly into the shadows, a whisper to ensure Ursa, always so quick to anger these days, didn’t wake up. “You know he was Avatar Roku?” 

For a while, it was painfully silent, to the point Zuko was certain Azula wouldn't respond. Then; “Of course I know. Some of us actually paid attention in our lessons.” Azula sniped, but she sounded a little too cutting, in a way she only sounded when she was unsure. She didn’t like it when she didn’t know what Zuko was leading to. 

Zuko turned to face her direction, the cheap blanket scratching his chin and not covering all of his body. At eleven-years-old, Zuko was finally starting to grow into himself.  

They were in a town on the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom, barely a speck on the map, and currently, their names were Riku and Aoi. Ursa has been very clear; her children were to never use their birthnames, no matter how alone they thought they were. They were living in a cottage with half a roof, their mother funding the rent by sewing patches onto dresses for a seamstress. She was barely in the house, but Zuko knew even when they left in a few day’s time – as they never stayed in one place longer than a week or two – he would still barely see Ursa. He wondered if she knew how reclusive she’d become. 

“She told me stories about all the Avatars. I always wished she’d tell you them too.” Zuko said a little sadly. “I never understood why she didn’t.” 

This silence was different, and they both knew Zuko wasn’t just talking about the stories. 

“Tell me.” Azula breathed, so quiet Zuko almost missed it. 

“The stories?” Zuko asked in surprise. He had been waiting for Azula to cut him down, to tell him to go away like she used to. But...  

He realised maybe Azula wanted to be nice too. Maybe she was tired of being looked at like a monster by the people supposed to love her.  

Maybe she was just a nine-year-old girl who needed a bedtime story every now and then. 

“Yes, Zuko.” Azula hissed, and his name was so shocking it was like a curse. “The stories. Tell me about the Avatars.” 

So, Zuko did. 

“Water, earth, fire, air.” Zuko whispered, remembering how Mother told it. In the shadows, Azula’s eyes burned gold. “Long ago, the four nations lived together, but everything changed when the Fire Nation, the superior nation, began to share its wealth. The Hundred Year War began, and the only person able to stand in the Fire Nation’s way was the Avatar, master of all four elements. But when the world called for him, he fled...” 

It became a tradition, after that. Zuko would lie beside his sister on the nights neither of them could sleep, and after an entire day of hiding himself, he’d turn to Azula and just talk. In Kyoshi Island, he told her of Avatar Kyoshi murdering Chin the Great. In Makapu village, he told her of Avatar Roku – Great-Grandfather Roku – battling a volcano. And in the Western Air Temple, he told her of the Avatar who never was. 

“He’s out there somewhere, though.” Zuko uttered wondrously. “One-hundred-and-twelve, the last airbender. Can you imagine it?” 

“You’re in your head too much.” Azula sighed. She always pretended not to care, but as the months dragged on, she allowed herself more. First, it was in her asking for a specific story. Then sometimes, she’d slip up and laugh. In the fragments of these nights handed over to ancient legends, as scraps of lies left behind in their wake with every new roof they found themselves beneath, Azula was more herself than ever. She could be, in front of her big brother. That was something she learned. 

They learned other things, too. They learned that the Earth Kingdom was starving, that the Fire Nation was hated, that people weren’t rebelling; they were suffering. The story changed. When Zuko saw technological advancements that bewildered him in the Northern Air Temple, he stopped saying that the Fire Nation was the superior nation. When he saw children with burn scars and amputated limbs, he changed ‘began to share its wealth’ to ‘attacked.’ When the stories he told his little sister of the Avatar turned into a lifeline, a speck of hope in a world of ashes, ‘fled’ became ‘vanished.’

Zuko learned that a war was a war, that his father was not a hero by any means, that they got out just in time. 

And it was hard, but the two had their own rebellions. Zuko and Azula didn’t get on in Caldera, but out here with a string of fake identities behind them and a death sentence at the end of it, they only had each other. Their mother was a wound, their father was a blade, and they were, through it all, still just kids. They leaned on each other in the places they used to bruise. Azula took the softness she tortured her brother over and began to protect it. Zuko took the coldness in his sister he used to despise and chased it away. When Azula drew the curtains and hid in cupboards to hold a flame in her palm and just breathe, Zuko made sure Ursa didn’t catch her. When Zuko lay beside Azula and talked to her until she finally fell asleep, Azula didn't push him away. 

Azula, he whispered, and it was a promise that she could still be who she wanted to be. 

Zuko, she breathed back, and it was a recognition that, through it all, she still saw him. 

[symwinter]

HBIC Marinette – Chapter Two

Taglist: @ladybug-182 | @our-preciousss | @woe-is-me0 | @vroomtaka | @lady-bee-fechin | @ramos123 | @itsmeevie01 | @chaoticstarworld | @vixen-uchiha | @seraphichana | @pleaseignorejustheretoread | @basenikon | @bread-loving-mess | @walkingthroughonautopilot |

Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. If I stop writing I have to go back and read what was there and it just reads so badly to me so I have to start over. To make up for it, I tried to make this chapter extra long, but I don’t know if it came across that way.

First - Last - Next

Hell hath no fury like Marinette scorned. On the outside she appeared calm, almost peaceful, but on the inside she was plotting. She doubted the class would take the fallout quietly so she needed to be prepared. The bell on the door jingled as she stepped inside. Her maman perked up hearing the bell. “Marinette! How was school today?” “Eventful,” she replied, “can I talk to you and papa about something? It’s important.” “Of course,” Sabine replied, “please flip the sigh to closed will you?” Marinette nodded and flipped the sign, locking the door for good measure. From there she was ushered upstairs.

“So what do you need to talk to us about? Did you find your sketchbook?” Sabine inquired, her hands folded gently on her lap. “You remember Lila right? The girl who falsified my expulsion?” “She’s the one with the lying disease right?” Tom replied. Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. Lila literally said she had a lying disease and was still believed. “Yes and yes. Lila was the one who took it and tore it apart,” Marinette pulled the broken sketchbook from her backpack. Sabine gasped. Tom rubbed her shoulder. “Most of my class did as well. Except for Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina, and Nathanael.” Sabine frowned. “Was it your commission book?” “No, thankfully. That one’s still here. This one was just doodles.” Marinette put the sketchbook down on the table. “But I refuse to leave this unpunished. I just thought I’d let you know.” Tom grimaced but object. “Normally I would be against this,” Tom said, “but if you think it’s necessary then you have my support.” Sabine nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we can do to help?” “Outside of Chloé, Adrien, Sabrina, and Nathanael I don’t know who helped tear it apart and who tried to take it away so it wouldn’t get damaged,” Marinette began, “so until then could you refuse to serve anyone from my class that isn’t those three? Or at least not give them a discount? Or let them see me?” Not that anyone but Nathanael would visit from that small group. “Of course Marinette,” Sabine said, “we’re your parents. It’s our job to be there for you.” Marinette didn’t comment about how they believed Lila when she was expelled and instead shot herself into her parents arms, pulling them into a hug. “I’m going to go salvage what I can from this.” She said, picking up the sketchbook. “Let me know if anyone stops by.”

It took longer than Adrien would like to admit to pick out which sketchbook to buy for Marinette. This was the third shop he went to. “Oh for the love of god Adrikins will you just pick a sketchbook already?” Chloé snapped from beside him. Adrien staggered slightly before looking at her. “It’s not just a replacement but an apology.” He replied. “It needs to be perfect.” “There’s only so long before you father comes a calling and then you can’t give her the sketchbook at all.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Sabrina appeared next to the two blondes holding a 12 by 9 inch sketchbook. Adrien took it from her hands and inspected it. The cover was rather bland, only being a dull dark brown, but the quality of the paper was rather nice. It looked like something his father would use. He didn’t know Sabrina as well as he did Chloé but she clearly had an eye for these things. He supposed being friends with Chloé helped in that regard. “I also considered the idea of getting flowers for Marinette,” Sabrina added, “maybe they’ll act as a nice icebreaker before giving her the sketchbook.” “Sabrina, when you get married I will happily pay for the wedding.” Adrien said. Sabrina smiled. “I’ll hold it to you.” “Great we have a sketchbook can we go already?” Chloé hissed, clearly annoyed. “Yes Chlo, we can go pay and head out.” Adrien paid for the expensive sketchbook before hopping into a flower shop nearby, much to the chagrin of Chloé. One bouquet later and they was off to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Welcome! How can I-” Sabine paused looking at the odd trio in front of her. Adrien, Chloé, and Sabrina, only two of which had ever been over. “We’re here to see Marinette.” Adrien replied, giving an awkward smile. If Sabine did know about the sketchbook, it’s possible she wouldn’t let them visit. Chloé and Sabrina’s less than perfect history with Marinette certainly wouldn’t help. “Of course, you remember how to get inside don’t you Adrien?” He nodded and slipped past the confused Sabine. Tom was equally as confused. “You’re here to see Marinette?” “Yep.” Adrien replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Feel free to grab something then, you’re practically skin and bones.” “Model diet,” Chloé retorted, as Adrien slipped the sketchbook under his arm. Marinette’s parents made the best baked goods. The trio moved efficiently through the house before sending Sabrina to knock on the trap door. A simple ‘who is it?’ rang from above. Sabrina pushed the trap door open. “Adrien and Chloé are also here.” Marinette ushered the three up. Adrien practically shoved the flowers in front of her. “Are these-” Marinette began. “Flowers? Yeah. Sabrina suggest I get some along with this,” he held the sketchbook out. Marinette placed the bouquet on her desk before delicately taking the sketchbook from him. She inspected it but found no price tag. “I heard the class damaged your sketchbook so I found it right to get you a new one.” “I can’t this accept, ugh I mean, I can’t accept this.” “Yes you can. You deserve nice things Marinette.” “Adrikins practically dragged me around Paris to find you that sketchbook. Take it.” Chloé said, inspecting her nails. “Ignore her,” Adrien replied, “it was my fault that you’re sketchbook got torn in the first place. I didn’t know how awful Lila could be.” “But you didn’t. I didn’t tell you that she threatened me-” Adrien, Sabrina, and Chloé’s heads whipped to look at her. “She threatened you?” Adrien’s voice was cold. It almost reminded her of M. Agreste’s during the brief time he heard it. “When exactly did she threaten you?” “When she first got back. In the bathroom. And she kind of did when I got briefly expelled.” “Well then it was definitely the wrong advice. I thought she was just lying for attention, not threatening you. That’s serious. I would’ve never made that deal if I knew how awful she was. I could’ve, I should’ve-” “Wait deal?” This time Sabrina spoke up. “The reason Lila works for Gabriel is because I made a deal to get her to lie Marinette back into class. I swore I told her to leave you alone to. It’s all my fau—why are you crying??!!”

And lo and behold, large tears dripped down Marinette’s cheeks, which she wiped away. “You did that for me?” “Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien replied, pulling her into a hug. “And that’s what friend do right?” “Okay great, dirty laundry has been aired or whatever but can we get to the point people?” Chloé sniped. “What’s the point?” Marinette asked, stepping out of the hug, albeit reluctantly. “When you go maul the class to death, leave Sabrina, Adrikins, and I out of it. We’re not friends, but even I know not to ruin your stuff.” Marinette put the sketchbook down. “I will but I get to slap you with no consequences.” “You’ve got to be joking.” “You made my life hell and that’s getting off easy for the amount of crap you put me though.” “How about instead, I cover whatever expensive fancy fabrics you can’t buy for the next two months. I’d have to explain the smack to daddy after all” “Hm, make it four months.” Marinette replied. “Three.” “Deal.” Chloé turned on her heel. “Sabrina, let’s go.” The redhead followed but paused to wave goodbye. “I guess that’s my cue to leave as well.” Adrien replied. “And again, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” “You didn’t know. But you’ll stand up for me now right? When Lila opens her mouth to spew more lies?” “Of course Mari. I’ll be your alibi until the foreseeable future.” He pulled Marinette into a hug again, and impulsively kissed her cheek before leaving the building. It wasn’t until he was standing on the street, phone in hand to call the Gorilla did he realize what he had done.

“Oh god.”

[galeforged]

Drabble: New Orders

It was every last man for himself.

As the Wandenreich city replaced every last inch of the Seireitei, screams broke out from across the icy metropolis and were subsequently silenced in a horrific loop. Reiatsu of all sorts spiked just as quickly as they vanished among the common shinigami soldiery of the Gotei 13. Chōjirō Sasakibe’s death was a warning. The first invasion, which claimed the lives of many including their own Captain-Commander Yamamoto, was a preview. This, however... was opening night.

The Quincy are back.

The Quincy are here.

The Quincy are coming for every last one of you.

Panic pulsed throughout his body as Kōtarō raced through unfamiliar streets in desperation, having stopped by the 4th Division to check in on others among the 13th who survived the first wave. He was right in the middle of returning to his barracks by the time the second invasion began. He tried to drown out the cries and deaths, but he couldn’t! He couldn’t think! His throat was so dry with sheer fright he couldn’t even speak! He kept on running, trying his hardest to avoid conflict—from Soldat and especially the Sternritter, knowing the odds would not be in his favour—so he can find someplace quiet to process what’s going on and strategize.

The fourth seat thought himself brave, capable of staring down even the most fearsome hollows with a cocky expression, but how do boogeymen compare to the terrors of war? If the Quincy hadn’t come around for at least another 9 years or so…-!

He shook his head before his thoughts went too far into cursing his lack of Bankai. No point in crying over spilt milk now. He needed to track down his men so they can group up and stand a fighting chance, otherwise they won’t live to see the end of this war.

If we can even win…!

As Kōta stepped out onto what he thought would be an empty street, alarm overtook his senses, eyes opening wide in fear and skin growing pale. Quickly, he jumped to the side, but try as he might to dodge? Skin, muscle, and organ nonetheless tore open from a superheated blast of reishi flames piercing his abdomen from behind. It might’ve been better than his heart, but he was still too slow to dodge the incoming snipe entirely.

“Oh, sorry… was that your liver? Guess no sake for you anymore! Haha!”

Momentum brought him to fall into a heap into another alleyway out of view while that cackle rang in his ears. Wet blood flowed freely amidst the cauterized crimson as his uniform now bore a gaping hole into his own body. Was that his liver that just got shot? The pain was almost overbearing! Eyes already welling up with tears, Kōta leaned against brick and bit hard onto his lips and cheeks as he tried not to scream in anguish… though that did not prevent him from coughing up blood into his palm.

Try as he might to repress it, his reiatsu still jumped. Whether it was his assailant or the Quincy’s footsoldiers, they were closing in on his position, now that he had given himself away.

He can’t get caught. Not here. Especially not now.

Lidding his spiritual pressure, he strained and pushed all his efforts toward flash step to get away from this location and find somewhere to hide.

The wounded officer assumed the Sternritter who shot him would give chase to cut off his attempted escape, but his heart dropped when he felt their attention shift to the reiatsu of nearby shinigami in his stead. It sank further when he then felt his kind’s presences getting wiped out as fast as he could blink while he flash-stepped from the scene, as more innocents have paid the price of their predecessors’ hubris in wiping out the Quincy in centuries past.

Grim thoughts supposed any target in a shihakushō would’ve done if it meant culling more of their number. Though ensured he was no longer being followed, terror continued to overwhelm his being with the harrowing realization that he could’ve just as easily joined the fallen mere moments ago.

Still mid-stride, he felt the frosty reiatsu of a Bankai-less 10th Division Captain—and the shinigami spiritual pressure of who he assumed to be his second-in-command—cutting off that Quincy’s warpath. There was relief in that the Sternritter of fire definitely would not be pursuing him anymore, but how for long could Captain Hitsugaya and Lieutenant Matsumoto put up an actual fight against these honest-to-god monsters?

If there were any opportunity to seek respite and escape from the pending horror of his own mortality getting snuffed, now was the time to take it. With the last of his shunpō and feeling no Quincy spiritual pressure in the immediate vicinity, his hand still firmly pressed against his gut to quell bleeding over seared open wounds, the soul reaper left luck to fate as he spotted an open window six stories up one of the taller buildings.

He guided his flash steps up the smaller two-story building next to it, then launched himself from its roof through the open window he spotted. Unfortunately, it was then his strength gave out to the heat of his pierced liver and torso, bringing him to stagger mid-step at last. The silver-haired shinigami crashed shoulder-first onto the floor with a pained groan as momentum caused him to slide, up until his back met the wood of a crate with a harsh thud.

Despite the noise his intrusion made, after a few moments of tense silence, there were no signs of nearby Quincy encroaching on his position to finish the job. Held breath turned strained yet relieved as the 13th Division’s 4th Seat found sanctuary amidst the chaos of the Wandenreich’s second invasion. Kōtarō Ryōhei finally had time to think.

He rolled onto his back with teeth grit as he tried to keep his thoughts off of his injury. The hand against his abdomen began to glow with the relieving light of Kaidō to mend the partially cauterized perforation through his body – though he’s no expert, Kōta was glad that he thought to take up some degree of healing arts in hindsight, but lamented that this will be a slow recovery for him. It would be one thing if he ran into somebody from the 4th Division, with two wells of reiatsu to pull from to facilitate the healing process, but having to use his own energy alone to fix up his body will take him some time.

It would only amount to a patch job, but given his situation, a patch job was better than nothing. Once done, it should be enough to last him until he returns to the barracks... or where the barracks last stood.

His emerald gaze sharpened to scrutinize this unfamiliar room, walls a perfect marble white with hints of ice clinging to their surface. Head turned from one side to the other as he took note of old boxes and sealed barrels. Kōta reasoned he was in a storage room of some kind – supplies gathered from the Wandenreich empire’s thousand years of hiding in the Seireitei’s shadows, perhaps.

Before he could think on his surroundings more, Kōtarō found his thoughts drifting to his superiors. What he would do for their counsel right now...

Captain Ukitake was outside of the Seireitei when the Wandenreich got the drop on them all yet again. Ryōhei knew his Captain had begun his own ritual to prepare for the conflict, far outside of the Sekkiseki walls and deep into the Rukon districts, but that brought no comfort when it mattered most. There was no Captain at the helm to come to their defence thanks to the Sternritter’s surprise attack. Not even Kotsubaki and Kotetsu were around right now, shadowing Ukitake as they often do to best tend to his good health and safety.

Lieutenant Kuchiki was also indisposed. Suffering mortal wounds from the first invasion that already decimated the Gotei 13, Rukia’s frail form frightened him all the more when there was nothing more the 4th Division could do. She was taken to the Soul King Palace to make a full recovery not long ago, and Ukitake assured him she would be alright, but how long would it take for her to heal up and come back? Would he really die down here before he could reunite with her again? Was back at the 4th Division the last he would ever see his friend?

Without them, there was no one else left who could come to the 13th Division’s rescue. With no Captain, Lieutenant, or 3rd Seats standing by to lead and give out orders, there was no other guidance for him to lean on.

He was alone. Marooned. Without direction... and so were the rest of his men.

“...I’m still here.”

All it took to tether the storm of panic that overtook his composure earlier was those three little words of dawning realization. They may be gone, but the 4th Seat still remained as the highest-in-command officer of their Division within the Seireitei’s walls. Captain Ukitake, Rukia, Sentarō, and Kiyone – he’s still here for his superiors, to act in their stead until they return.

“I’m... still breathing... for fuck’s sake...!”

Pushing one foot after another to crawl against the ground, he fought against the body-wracking bouts of pain streaking up his nerves urging him to lie back down and relax, all while a streak of red followed his path. He’s still here to look after his juniors, who need some direction if they have any shot of surviving this war – that’s what he’s here for, isn’t he?

“I’m... still... ALIVE!”

With spiteful determination flooding his being, and a hand pressed against the floor for support, he shuffled back some more until he managed to sit upright against one of the crates. He’s still here to protect as many from his squadron as possible, to ensure they’re not abandoned and alone.

They needed orders. That much was clear. As he wracked in his mind to strategize, he figured there was one way to reach out to them in immediacy, but he could not think of a method to execute it.

What Kōtarō would do for some powder right about now. He didn’t even have it in him to open and inspect every odd container on the off-chance the Quincy stored something he could use here. Time was of the essence, but if not ink, then...

...

...the 4th Seat’s eyes trailed down to his crimson-stained hands.

“That’ll work,” he huffed, nodding to no one in particular. He can finish healing himself when he’s done. His colleagues and subordinates—whoever was still standing—need him.

“Black and white net.”

Arms shot up so that his sleeves may fall. Bloody palms then clapped together to share in makeshift red ink, and his arms became his canvas to draw lines and symbols along their length, as well as runes on the floor—careful not to draw where his life force had already been smeared.

“Twenty-two bridges... sixty-six crowns and belts.”

Beads of sweat dripped from his brow as his mind focused with renewed resolve to generate the white rectangle coming aglow before his eyes.

“Footprints, distant thunder... sharp peak, engulfing land, hidden in the night... sea of clouds, blue line.”

Though stilted, his hands moved like a conductor’s guiding baton, channeling his power into roots of spirit energy encroaching from the box of white light. His mind reached out to every one of his squad who he knew survived the first wave as he mentally reached out in the direction of the 13th Division grounds.

“Form a circle... and fly through the heavens."

Before their numbers could dwindle more and more, until there wouldn’t be a division left to save, he can still try and make a difference among those who remain.

“Bakudō #77... Tenteikūra.”

Relief flooded Kōtarō’s soul as he could now clearly sense the familiar auras of the handful of seated officers lingering in the area. Among the unseated, less than half their total number from before this sickening war started still stood.

Time to do his job.

–

Attention, officers of the 13th Division. This is your 4th Seat, Kōtarō Ryōhei, speaking.

Today... no doubt makes for the darkest time any of us ever faced as shinigami. The Quincy intend to wipe us all out, for our forefathers attempting to do the same to them a long time ago, with violence the likes of which we have never seen. This battle, though we never saw it coming... well, it looks like it was a long time coming for all of us.

I... I know things look bleak right now. They got us beat in information, number, military tactics, home territory... and sheer power. There... really is no easy way to say this, but we may actually be staring down our last days here. I won’t fault any of you for feeling helpless and outmatched, or having lost the will to fight, because for a minute there... I did too-

—

A harsh grunt cut him off as pain flared in his gut. It was tempting to bring a hand back down to resume self-treatment, but he could not end the transmission now. Not yet!

—

-but... our Captain—our Division—lives by a creed. There are two types of fights: fights where we protect honour, and fights where we protect life. We might not fight for the honour of the Gotei 13 or the division right now... hell, I don’t know if either’ll still exist when this battle is over, yet... we can still—and absolutely must—fight to protect life.

We’ve lost too many among us already. Close allies. Loved ones. Lifelong friends in the 13th and out. But though there is no bringing them back from the dead... they still live on through you. Their hopes, their dreams, their memories... their hearts. You die here... then that’s it, they’ll all die for good, along with you. If the Quincy take that from you, then there really won’t be a Gotei 13 left to return to-!

—

Breathing turned laboured as he felt his mouth go dry. He needed to lie down and rest. No, he needed to be seen to! But that hardly mattered to him now. He couldn’t count on the 4th Division this minute. He had to stick to what he can do and see it through to the bitter end, if that is what it will come to!

—

So... it comes down to this, in what could be our final hour: the fight to protect life—your own... and that of the soul reaper standing next to you. Until further notice... until Captain Ukitake or Lieutenant Kuchiki return to issue new orders, then follow this one single command... by any means necessary: survive.

It doesn’t matter if you regroup, run fast, watch your surroundings, hide, or even strike them from behind... just survive. If all else fails... then stand your ground, give the Quincy hell, and make sure their job is not an easy one. Give them no quarter.

I... I will try my hardest to return to you all, but... in the event that... this is the last you hear from me... just know that...

—

“...it’s been a privilege... and an honour... for me to have served and fought alongside you all these many years. Ryōhei out.”

The moment connection terminated, his bloodied arms slackened, but he made sure his palm fell back over his wound to pick up where he left off. In his self-imposed strain, some of the work he already put in towards healing came undone, so it was back to doing it all again from scratch. Fantastic.

As his body slid so he may lie down fully once again, bleary sights looked up to the dimly lit ceiling in worry for the immediate future. Eyelids grew heavy, and the urge to sleep grew ever tempting, but Kōtarō feared that the time he closed his eyes again would be his last if he drifted off right away. He did not want to die yet. This war had only just begun in earnest, and he would be damned if he allowed himself to be done in by a single attack.

Once Kōtarō finished patching himself up, rested, and got back on his feet, then it would be time to face the Wandenreich properly. For now, however...

“Captain Ukitake... I... hope I did the right thing.”

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 273 “The Tsurumi Theatre”

So new chapter here before a new break that reminds us of something important...

...that yes, although the truth can be terrible, it’s much better to know it than live in ignorance. At least once you know it, you can deal with it, while if you’re in the dark you’ve no idea what to do.

Anyway we start with Vasily, who is finally back after more than 10 chapters and who has found himself a sniping spot up on some observation tower.

He sees the firemen, who has finally finished extinguishing the flames walk away, then one of them running away. He’d like to shoot him but remembers how Ogata had TWICE pushed him to shoot at the wrong target to either pass under his nose or track his position and attack back and restrain himself, thinking the guy running away might be a fake like the past time and, by shooting, he would only give away his position like it had happened the first time he and Ogata fought.

But the guy running away is not a fake, he is the real Ogata who, again, took a huge personal risk by betting on the fact by then Vasily would be so fearful of being tricked he wouldn’t shoot.

It paid off as Vasily, indeed, didn’t shoot, afraid to do the wrong move.

All this will tie nicely with the end of the chapter, so keep it in mind.

It’s also noteworthy Ogata is keeping his right eye close. Either he didn’t place his glass eye back (you shouldn’t without washing it first but I’ve no idea if back then they cared of things like that) or he’s afraid to lose it as it popped out too easily.

Vasily, I think, figured he was tricked but, by then, it’s too late.

Ogata, in order to move, deploys the technique used by Hijikata in Barato, walking inside the houses of common people, proving he can even learn by his adversaries.

Then, in a very cat-like way get out of a garden by passing under its fence...

...and spots Kadokura walking supported by Kirawus who has evidently managed to find him and is worried for him, telling him to get some rest.

I guess Ogata might be milking them for info.

Back on the bottle mobile Sofia is somewhat gone, maybe she went to collect her men or she’s planning to bring the tiger’s curse down on Tsukishima, we don’t know, she’s just not shown on it. Is she still on it and fainted? Is that why she isn’t shown and does nothing? Honestly I don’t like much this unexplained disappearance but whatever.

Asirpa seems to be still in shock. She’s panting and sweating and her eyes are void of light.

Shiraishi suggests her to sit down as it can be dangerous for her to remain standing but Asirpa is still troubled by seeing Ariko being shoot and, as she turns her gaze she also spots Boutarou dead which causes her to crumble, the visual showing it as if she’s… sinking in water, becoming liquid herself.

She has seen death other times, way too many times to be exact, death of men she didn’t care for, like Nihei or Henmi or boss and princess, death of men that only wanted to harm her and her people, like the fake Ainu or the blind bandits or Ostrog but also dead of people she was starting to like, like Kumagishi or viewed in her group like Suzukawa, death of people she loved, like her father and Kiroranke, and the almost death she almost caused of Ogata.

She had always handled it well but now it’s starting to pile up and combined with the events of the last hour she can’t bear it any longer. All that blood that can be traced to her father and that, from him, drips on her, crushes her.

Sugimoto stops paying attention on the street to grab and hold her as she has a panic attack and covers her eye in attempt not to see while Shiraishi grabs the steering wheel so that they won’t go crashing somewhere.

Honestly… it makes sense it’s Sugimoto who comforts her as between him and Shiraishi he’s the most experienced in fact of dealing with death… but I just wish this hadn’t happened while they were driving because the fact that Sugimoto drops driving to comfort her instead of letting the job to Shiraishi who also has seen his share of death and loss (Kiro and Boutarou were his friends after all) seems to be done to drive home the fact that there’s a special bond between her and Sugimoto so of course it has to be him who comfort her and this can’t be done by anyone else.

Maybe it wouldn’t just give that feeling if both Sugimoto and Shiraishi had reached out for her, or if she had been pulled on the front seat or something like that or if he had stopped the car to just comfort her.

I don’t know.

As I want Asirpa to let go of her crush for Sugimoto, this sort of scenes that instead remark how ‘it can be only Sugimoto’ even when he should be busy doing something else and there’s a replacement on hand, sit bad on me. Maybe it’s just me.

Asirpa clings to him, clearly finding comfort in his presence and he looks at her without saying anything.

So yeah, it’s basically two pages of Asirpa and Sugimoto.

Shiraishi catches sign of Ushiyama and Asirpa collects all her courage, and even if there are tears in her eyes she manages to stand up and tell Ushiyama to call Hijikata as she has figured out how to tell the fakes apart.

My beloved child is a tough, brave girl who tries her hardest to do the right thing and I’m so proud of her.

However... at this I genuinely hope she means Tsurumi somehow made the mistake of showing her how to do it, because the idea some skins fits with the code and some don’t works only if we assume by chance Edogai didn’t write in the fake skins kanji that can fit with the code.

Meanwhile Kikuta is bringing Ariko to a clinic because THE BEST BOY EVEN ISN’T DEAD YET!!!!!

Now… okay, I’m partial to Ariko because this would be cheating, I mean, Tsukishima shoot him from a way too close distance for Ariko to survive, but I wanted Ariko to live and I was so very saddened by the idea he didn’t I’m just going to pretend this isn’t foul play.

So anyway Kikuta brings him to a doctor, telling him not to die on him, to wake up and that he hadn’t even done his Makiri.

If we compare his reaction with Tsukishima, Kikuta is living this a lot more passionately.

Even though Kikuta was shocked at first, now we can see he’s really invested in saving Ariko and doing all he can, where in, when Koito had been stabbed, a numbness had spread on Tsukishima that lingered on passivity. Tsukishima didn’t rush Koito to a doctor, albeit he stopped Koito from ripping out the blade, remained with him and, eventually, took him to a doctor.

It’s a sign of how, despite the shock, Kikuta has his priorities set straight, while Tsukishima back then still needed to process them, to realize he cared if Koito were to live or die, before he could spring into action. Tsukishima had told himself so many times he didn’t care that he even managed not to realize he cared and possibly risked to act when it was too late.

Ariko, to Kikuta’s relief wakes up.

Kikuta, who’s opening his clothes comments Ariko’s father saved him. I bet this means Ariko had on himself his father’s Makiri and the Makiri took the blow… which is an extremely old plot trick to spares someone from a fatal blow which GK has already used (remember how Tanigaki shoot Ogata’s binocular in a scene that was made with the deliberate intent to mirror “A fistful of dollars” ‘Aim for the heart, Ramon’ scene which you can see on Youtube, Ogata’s cape even playing the role of Clint Eastwood’s poncho, while the movie will be referenced even more in the Barato arc, Ogata always in the role of the nameless gunman/rounin).

Anyway, while what saved Ariko isn’t said out loud, we learn that currently, in a local museum there’s a Makiri on display, crafted by an Ariko Ipopte which is a copy of Ariko’s father Makiri but on which, in a single spot, there’s an original design… which can mimic a bullet hitting the Makiri and leaving its own imprint on it.

Anyway Ariko is alive, I’m delighted and everything is well under the sun and it’s about to get even better.

Thank you Noda for this, really, you made my day by saving Ariko!

Anyway Ariko says he won’t forget the debt he has with Kikuta for saving his life but, when his wounds are healed he’ll fight with Asirpa and not with Central (with whom Kikuta is aligned).

Ariko has done again the right thing, not only in terms of chosing to side with Asirpa, but also in terms of coming out honest with Kikuta. It was more convenient for him to lie, to pretend he would side with Kikuta, but he respected Kikuta enough and was his friend enough to come out honest with him and tell him the truth. Ariko is a great person.

And Kikuta, compared to Tsukishima, reacts to Ariko being honest much better. Kikuta, apparently, doesn’t take it as betrayal and as a reason he has to kill Ariko. He tells him it’ll take time for him to heal and that they should go to the hot springs together again once Ariko has healed.

If Ariko doesn’t side with him, Kikuta is alone in this, or maybe with Ogata but we know and Kikuta can suspect that Ogata has his own schedule so Ariko’s support could have been important for Kikuta and he personally risked by saving Ariko and yet Ariko turned him down. And Kikuta accepted it.

If Kikuta hadn’t lied and I really, REALLY hope he hadn’t, he had handled Ariko much better than Tsukishima had Koito or Tanigaki.

He has accepted Ariko’s decision, had figured out that Ariko, at the moment, still poses no danger and has decided to risk and let him go, likely in the hope things will be solved before they’ll have to fight. If Central gets the gold before Ariko is up and running, presented with this situation, Ariko might not have much to oppose to and they might avoid fighting.

In a way, Kikuta’s words about Ariko taking his time and focusing on healing are also a request for just this, for Ariko to use it as an excuse not to get involved.

And in a way it’s interesting to see how selfishness and selflessness mix in Kikuta. The easiest choice would be to kill Ariko. He doesn’t want to so he gives Ariko an out: focus on healing yourself, this way you won’t get involved in the fight until everything is done. But it’s again asking Ariko to chose between being selfless and selfish, between prioritizing Asirpa who needs help and prioritizing himself who needs time to heal and who would remain away from dangers.

Kikuta is telling him to save himself. I get the feeling Ariko might still decide to save Asirpa instead.

To Kikuta’s words Ariko says nothing, his face serious.

He knows with his decision he had placed them on opposite sides and I think it hurts him... but you can't make an omelette without breaking the eggs and doing the right thing often comes with a price and requires the courage to be able to pay that price.

I really, really hope those two won’t end up facing each other as enemis, I really love their friendship and the way they try to be good to each other.

But whatever, we switches back to Koito and Tsurumi.

Koito goes back on talking fast Satsuma with Tsurumi. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, because Tsukishima pointed out how he dropped doing it, or it came natural to him, but Tsurumi is clearly satisfied as Koito calls Nikaidou and uses him as translator… speaking to the ear on his kin.

Whatever, Nikaidou repeats what Koito told him, how Tsukishima is pursuing Asirpa and would like to call several men in support.

Tsurumi, in a creepy mode, tells them to call Tsukishima back as Asirpa is no longer necessary since it feels the key to solve the code is correct.

Koito is sweating as he thinks Tsurumi is amazing and tells himself all Tsurumi did was just to get Asirpa to give him the key, all part of his theatre.

Honestly, considering Koito’s expression, I get the feeling he’s trying to persuade himself of this, that Koito, differently from Tsukishima, has doubts… but he doesn’t want to face them. Tsurumi fitting with his idealized image is a truth he prefers to Tsurumi having manipulated themselves all along and he having merely been a meaningless pawn in his hands.

Anyway, as he tries to persuade himself everything is all right and Tsurumi is the cool person he wanted so badly him to be Koito overheard a conversation between Nikaidou and the other soldiers which point out how Nikaidou reeks of beer so much it seems he was soaked in it… which is exactly what happened to Nikaidou, Koito and Tsukishima.

At this Koito connects the dots and realize that Tsurumi had to have known they were hidden there even if he hadn’t seen them, because they reeked so much he didn’t need to see them, he could realize it just by smelling the air.

His first instinct is to call Tsukishima, which is his default action each time he has a problem, but then he stops himself.

He gives two reasons for this.

The first is, again, that what Tsurumi said is what Koito wanted to believe. He wants to think that Tsurumi told the truth, that the fact he knew they were there overhearing him didn’t make Tsurumi’s words a lie. He wants to believe IT’S ALL RIGHT TO BELIEVE IN HIM.

It’s not. Even if we just consider the last few hours in them Tsurumi manipulated, traumatized and basically psychologically abused a child, and didn’t come honest with them. He knew they were listening?

He could have called them out and told them ‘Listen to my conversation with Asirpa. I’ll come clean with you too. I’ve ulterior motives yes, but they aren’t all that matter to me. Come hear me out.’ Instead he preferred to manipulate them. At this point Tsurumi isn’t a reliable source, they just can’t trust his words.

Koito can work in his mind what Tsurumi did and find out what’s obviously sincere and what can be doubted because even liars sometimes tell the truth, but giving your trust to a person who is deliberately manipulating you is a stupid move. It’s not all right to believe Tsurumi, not in the slightest. With how he again manipulated them, he has lost any right to be a reliable source.

Koito has another reason for wanting to believe in Tsurumi, which is Tsukishima, who has given everything to this cause so for him it’s even more important that Tsurumi has been honest. So Koito tells himself he must accept Tsurumi’s words for Tsukishima too. And this too is a mistake because if Tsurumi has lied to them, the truth will come out in the end and, by then, Tsukishima will have sacrificed even more. So no, Koito isn’t doing him a kindness, he’s just risking to let him sink even lower.

The chapter ends with Koito closing the door to the church from which he was observing Tsurumi.

The scene, as you might have read in the scanlator’s notes is a reference to a scene in “The Godfather”. In “The Godfather” Kay realizes Michael, her husband and new Godfather, lied to her and then had the door close on her. I’m going to talk a bit about it because it makes a wonderful parallel.

This is how it is in the movie (you can see the scene on youtube)…

KAY: Michael, is it true? MICHAEL: Don't ask me about my business, Kay... KAY: Is it true? MICHAEL: Don't ask me about my business... KAY: No. MICHAEL (as he slams his hand on the desk) Enough! (then) Alright. This one time [Michael points his finger] -- this one time I'll let you ask me about my affairs... KAY:(whispering) Is it true? -- Is it? MICHAEL (quietly, shaking his head) No. KAY:(after a sigh of relief and Michael kisses and hugs her) I guess we both need a drink, huh? [Kay leaves the room to fix Michael a drink. At the same time, Rocco, Clemenza, and Neri enter the office. Clemenza shakes Michael's hand. Kay turns her head to watch them. They embrace Michael, then kiss his hand.] CLEMENZA (kissing Michael's hand) Don Corleone... [Rocco kisses Michael's hand as Neri shuts the door blocking Kay's view]

And this is how it is in the book by Mario Puzo:

Kay looked into his eyes. “Michael, it’s not true, please say it’s not true.”

Michael shook his head wearily. “Of course it’s not. Just believe me, this one time I’m letting you ask about my affairs, and I’m giving you an answer. It is not true.” He had never been more convincing. He looked directly into her eyes. He was using all the mutual trust they had built up in their married life to make her believe him. And she could not doubt any longer. She smiled at him ruefully and came into his arms for a kiss.

“We both need a drink,” she said. She went into the kitchen for ice and while there heard the front door open. She went out of the kitchen and saw Clemenza, Neri and Rocco Lampone come in with the bodyguards. Michael had his back to her, but she moved so that she could see him in profile. At that moment Clemenza addressed her husband, greeting him formally.

“Don Michael,” Clemenza said.

Kay could see how Michael stood to receive their homage. He reminded her of statues in Rome, statues of those Roman emperors of antiquity, who, by divine right, held the power of life and death over their fellow men. One hand was on his hip, the profile of his face showed a cold proud power, his body was carelessly, arrogantly at ease, weight resting on one foot slightly be hind the other. The caporegimes stood before him. In that moment Kay knew that everything Connie had accused Michael of was true. She went back into the kitchen and wept.

The scene in the movie drives home the gap between the two because Kay, by hearing him being called ‘Don’ and seeing him react, realizes he had lied to her and the door closing on her symbolizes how she’s cut out by his business, his life, he’ll never come honest with her. You might notice how, the closed door is only in the movie, which basically ends here.

What you might not know is that, in the book, Kay leaves Michael the day after and it’s not so much because he murdered her brother in law but because he lied and she could never trust him again.

She’ll come back when Tom Hagen, one of Michael’s men, will honestly tell her the truth on the whole matter along with the reasons why Michael acted in such way and how Michael would still let her be free to go.

In short, Kay correctly figured Michael lied to her and correctly left until she could make an informed decision. We can, of course, find her decision bad, but at least she didn’t blindly put up with her husbands’ lies because they made her feel better.

So, back to Golden Kamuy, the scene is a visual reference to the movie one, with the door closing, but it’s Koito who closes it, and this time it comes to symbolize Koito realizing Tsurumi might have lied to them but not wanting to know about it. Unless things change later, as of now Koito decided, differently from Kay, to swallow Tsurumi’s words because ‘hey, they might be the truth’ and they would ‘exactly be the truth they were hoping for’.

And again the parallel with Ariko and Kikuta came. Ariko came honest with Kikuta, even though Kikuta saved him, Ariko told him the truth, that he would side with Asirpa and Kikuta, who is in a dangerous position and might have to explain Tsukishima why he didn’t let Ariko die, just accepted it and went on aware of how things were, not believing Ariko would just side with him like they had decided to discover only when it would be too late how this wasn’t the case.

In the end, although Koito and Tsukishima care deeply about each other same as Ariko and Kikuta, Ariko and Kikuta have better relationship than them and I like to hope that the fact they came clean with each other and supported each other even while on opposite sides will pay off for both of them.

On another note… even if I think Koito just wants to believe… I doubt he’ll manage to lie well to himself for long. There’s something interesting in the visual of the panels, which is they drew kind of like a line of light that goes from Tsurumi to the door… a way… and when Koito closes the door, he cuts that line and the light remains inside, we can see it shining through the keyhole. The light that came from the room won’t fall on Koito anymore, we don’t see him but he should be in the shadow since from the door came the only light that shined on him.

The seed of distrust is in him, snuffing out the light of the hope Tsurumi was as cool as he wanted to believe him. However, if Koito doesn’t accept it, if he’s going to remain in the dark and not act, not question Tsurumi or try to find out the truth, he’s going to stall like Vasily in the beginning, torn and unsure about what to do.

In a way the scene parallels the beginning as well.

Remember? I told you to keep it in mind.

Ogata took the initiative and a huge personal risk on himself and Vasily stalled, not knowing anymore what to believe, not knowing anymore if the person who was escaping was Ogata or not.

Afraid to do wrong, Vasily did nothing, he took no risk and gained nothing.

And here too, Tsurumi took the initiative and let them hear things at his own risk because Tsukishima could have snapped and barged in and ruin all his work but the risk paid off and even now that Koito has figured things out Koito… does nothing.

After all that he heard from Tsurumi, he knows exactly as much as he did before, because that talk could as well be a lie, so he has gained nothing... beyond the knowledge that Tsurumi has again, manipulated them, but yet he doesn’t manage to act on it, he doesn’t want to, because the lie Tsurumi fed them is to nice to pass on, because that lie make Tsukishima happy so Koito would prefer to believe it, instead than face the truth, which could be as unpleasant as the one Asirpa was forced to face.

I wonder if Koito will get a chance to confront with Ogata again and learn the truth from him, or, at least, receive again a hint that will push him to learn the truth.

After all it was Ogata who literally kickstarted Koito’s grow so he might end up being influenced in pushing him to climb on the next step.

Still, though, this is no good because Koito should be able to do it on his own and if he doesn’t he can’t always wait for Ogata to kick him into action.

Oh well, we’ll see.

[fanfictionfansmiction]

Look At Me

This is a Sirius x Reader piece I wrote. The summary is you’re in love with him (obvs) and you’re out drinking together. You’ll have to read it if you want to know more because I don’t know how to do summaries! Word count: 1846

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Sometimes when I look at Sirius, I try to read his mind. Tonight, in the local muggle pub I sip my rum and coke staring as inconspicuously as I can at him. I think I’ll finally do it. The rest of the gang are distracted in their own little worlds. Perfect for me, I think I’ve finally cracked it. He stands on the outside of a conversation, eyes glistening. I sip my drink, look up and see him unexpectedly looking back. I am afraid if I blink, I might miss it. The look of yearning on his face. It brings out this urge in me to hold him. To wrap him up in my arms and never let him go. But I do not blink, and I look a little closer, my mind begins to wander is it me he is yearning for. I know that I want him in every meaning of the word. Does he feel the same for me? I look away from him and I notice a girl our age behind me with raven hair and crimson lipstick that elicits a poisonous envy within me. This goddess come to life has poise and mystery, she is elegant and distant. All in the unknown, I tell myself. That is why I hate horror films. All the suspense and all that you do not see is what makes itself horror. Right now, that is how I see her, as a beautiful horror. Something I cannot take my eyes off. She is everything I wish I were and part of me knows I too would jump, eyes closed, at the opportunity to be with her just once. Is that what he longs for? Mystery and darkness. All the things you could imagine and things you would not dare wish for. 

I look back at him. All of him. His icy eyes that I always saw more as the sky on a sunny day but now I see them how she would. He too is mysterious. Leather clad and brooding. Tattoos disappearing under sleeves you cannot help but want to trace. His inky hair that falls guiltily over his face like he is already broken your heart. I know he will. I know I will let him. Is it me your looking for? I want to ask. Am I all mystery and elegance? No, I do not think I am. I am the familiar option. I am warm sand after an icy cold swim. I have my own good qualities. I know this but I do not know if this will be enough. This time I look at James, Remus and Peter. They are not looking at me. James holding his heavy head up sloppily with his toned arm gazes all wide eyed and wishful at Lily. Who laughs with a stranger at the bar. Brushing her auburn locks over her shoulder. James’ sighs so cartoon like I must stop myself from laughing. Then I move to Remus who picks at the sleeve of his knitted jumper while talking animatedly to a small chubby girl about some muggle literature. She seems to be having fun as she softly hits his arm. Peter is chatting quietly to two tall men who have such dark circles under their eyes I feel the need to tell them to rest. I take a longer look at Peter who is chewing at his lip. He is a little drunker than the rest and I see his face go red. He tells a joke, and the tall men laugh, it softens their faces, and they do not seem as tired. My eyes make their way back to Sirius who seems to be talking to me. His pale cheeks reddening as he notices I have not been paying attention. “What?” I mouth to him taking the last mouthful of my drink. “I said are you hungry?” He chuckles pushing himself round the table, so he is standing beside me. I forget how familiar he is to me. He is so inviting I feel something tug inside me. As if something is saying you love him for Christ sake just tell him! But the timing is not right! I snipe back to myself. It never will be. That is my plan. To never tell him because how could I ruin something so precious to me? I hold him so closely in my heart I could not live with myself if I ruined this. “Hello oh.” He says with that grin growing. He shakes my shoulders as if to wake me up. “Um, isn’t a little early for that?” I say. “I know you Love, you’re always hungry at pre drinks and I cannot listen to you talk about pizza while dancing to the muggle music one more time! So, I figure I feed you now and then if you’re still hungry later we can share a kebab or something?” He says absentmindedly twirling a stray piece of my hair. The heat rises from my neck threatening to give me away. I clear my throat. “Are you sure? I know how important it is to solidify the lady friend for the evening early on so you get the prettiest one and you can tell in here because it’s well lit.” I say a little sourer than intended. “Who says that’s not what I’m doing?” He retorts shifting his weight. “Are you trying to bed me by offering me takeaway?” I ask amused. “I wouldn’t have worded it like that because now you sound like a prostitute who gets paid in food.” “You never know, it sounds like a solid business plan to me.” I laugh. Then Sirius laughs with me. We leave the pub arms intertwined wandering toward the pizza place down the road. It’s gotten colder since we arrived in the crowded pub and now, I am wondering why I didn’t bring a coat. I look up at Sirius with a wide grin because this is my favourite part of the night and now, I have been promised it twice. Not the food, but this little walk to the takeaway. Where we giggle and bump into each other. It feels so intimate despite the crowds of drunks. “What are we getting Love?” He asks stuffing his hands into his pocket and bringing out a twenty-pound note. “I was thinking something spicy but put your money away I’ve got this one.” I insist attempting to push myself into the small takeaway. But he stops me and before I know it, he is in there and he is ordering then he pays and tips the guys generously. He pops outside. Leaning against the window he smugly grins at me as though he has bested me. Which is ridiculous but I cannot stop myself from going into the takeaway and ordering something myself and matching his tip. He clearly protests shaking his head with feigned annoyance. He turns his head away, but I see him laughing. “Let’s go.” He laughs taking our orders from the ledge and wandering back to the pub. “Did you see who Remi was talking to?” I say chewing on the crust of the pizza. “Yeah, I think they work together at the book shop. He fancies her. Obviously.” “She definitely likes him.” “How can you tell?” He asks with genuine curiosity as he takes a large bite of my cheesy chips. “It’s all in the eyes Sirius. Her entire face softened when she looked at him. Like he was a puppy she had seen after the worst day of her life.” I ask batting his hand away so I too can fill my mouth with cheesy chips. “So, what do you see in my eyes when I look at you?” He asks and I’m not sure if he’s teasing me. I know that I do not want to play this game. It will end up with me in tears and him leaving with someone else. Sensing the shift in my attitude he stops and turns to me. He takes the food boxes and leans them on a nearby bench before turning his body to me and looking at me. Really looking at me. “I’m not messing around Love. What do you see when I look at you?” He says softly as though he is afraid, afraid that I will break. For a moment we stand there in the golden light from the lamppost. Just the two of us there like a painting. A moment in time where the silence is deafening. I look at him like I did in the pub and I am confused. He has got that same look on his face. Soft and forgiving. His big grey eyes warm and loving. I suddenly feel so stupid. So blind and ridiculous. “I see love. I see warmth and forgiveness. Something else that I can’t quite place.” I whisper. It feels more like a prayer. Wishing on a shooting star or a coin thrown into a fountain. Something I have thrown away without thought. Without thinking what it really means if he feels the same. What happens after the happy ending? Where we end up. How it really feels to be loved. If I could throw myself away with a coin. I look up and I see he is still looking at me. Suddenly I feel very shy. I feel naked and wounded. I did not just tell him what I saw I told him what I wanted to see in him. Revealing much more of myself than intended. So, I ask him “What do you see?” in a small breathless voice. He drags a hand through his hair and rests his chin on his fist. He focuses and in such a comical manner I cannot help but smile because suddenly this all feels so silly. So childish. I keep looking at him and see a small scar above his brow. Something he probably got from childhood and I think about everything I do about him. If it’s enough. I think about how he used to help the younger students who were being bullied. How he’d bring Remus chocolate when he was down. Or how he always gives money to the homeless or the charity people on the street. He was hopeless at cooking but would always make sure the boys had a home cooked meal to come back to when they lived in that tiny flat together. Under all the flirting and joking Sirius is the kindest most giving person I have ever known. Suddenly I feel like I could cry because has anyone ever shown him the same kindest. Has anyone ever looked after him? “Why do you look so sad?” He asks with a strange look on his face. “Because I just realised that I want to look after you Sirius. If you’ll let me.” I say taking his large hand in mine. I see his face change. As though that was the last thing, he thought I’d say. “Alright Love,” He says, “I think I’d like that.”

[blackholelynn]

Mourning Stars

Summary:  Above Earth, there is Heaven, a hidden space station that has existed longer than the Earth itself to watch over it. Uriel is an occupant of this space station, one of the Morning Stars that humans dubbed "angels". She contently spent her days doing her job, surveilling the Earth for any potential dangers. That is until she is sent down to the planet's surface to bring back her rogue brother, requiring her to investigate Stark Industries in the process. After she gets pulled into Avengers drama and her own family issues, she is thrust into the unknown, meeting Bucky in the process. How will she navigate through deep-seated secrets and newly forming relationships?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Original Character

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, death, grief, swearing -- these warnings are for the series as a whole and don’t necessarily apply to this prologue; there may be more warnings for future parts I haven’t written yet

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This is the prologue to a Bucky/Female!OC story that I’m currently writing. I’m only going to be posting the prologue here, but I’ll be updating it over on my AO3, so if you enjoy it, be sure to check it out there! This is my first fic that I’m posting, so any feedback would be appreciated 😊

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Pure and innocent moments always tend to entrance onlookers by beckoning them into a lull of comfort. The wind softly billows the fabric of a girl’s dress as she stands on her front porch. The awakening horizon in front of her was so mesmerizing, the presence behind her went unnoticed. A step forward, and the figure is no longer in the long shadows cast by the house’s doorway. He is now gently lit aglow by the morning sun, still unseen and unheard in his approach. The woman’s chest falls, a large and content breath escaping her lips before becoming whisked back into her lungs with a gasp. His arms wound around her waist to trap her in his grasp. There was no escape and no chance for help to come anytime soon. Yet she relaxed when his laugh reached her ears, and they shared a quick kiss before their gazes both turned back to the skies, unaware that someone was watching them from a great distance with a content smile.

The observer to the scene was silently lounging with a content smile on her face. She sat in a plush white seat that slowly made rounds around the room, and it made sure to pass all of the many screens mounted on the walls. Other white seats floated past, but they were all empty save for the one occupied by her.

“I see that you’re still on your morning routine.” A deep voice chuckled from the entrance of the room. The intruder to this quiet examination appraised the scene on the screen with a bemused smirk, clearly finding this entertainment to be a trashy kind of interesting. “Did you learn anything?”

That was anything but sincere.

Uriel turned her head from the large screen to her brother, who had so rudely interrupted her. “Michael.” Her expression betrayed no emotion, something she knew would annoy him despite how much he would deny it. “I believe I just learned to lock the Observatory.”

Her brother’s standard jovial exterior had cracked when she had been so indifferent. Still, it returned once more when she shot back with her wit. “You’ve clearly forgotten that I hold the key to every lock here.”

“Oh,” she replied dryly. “How could I have forgotten?”

“As much as I would love to snipe at each other all day, I did interrupt you with good reason.”

“I had assumed as much. Even you aren’t so stupid as to interrupt my observations.” Finally, she let the steely facade fall, and her face lit up with a grin as she made room on the seat for him to sit. “If I’ve read the duty rosters correctly, you’ve been neglecting your survey duties. You can fill me in while you make up for that.”

Michael grandly sprawled across the ample space Uriel had made on the seat just for him, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding escaping into the air. Uriel hadn’t paid much attention to his appearance until that moment. When she took in the minute changes to his appearance, she felt a chill settle in her stomach. A curl of brunette hair fell over his brow, and his wings’ feathers were ruffled in a few places. His normal pristine and perfect appearance was mussed, even if only a little, and this was something that she hadn’t seen before.

“Stop fretting, sister.” Michael didn’t even need to open his eyes to feel that her gaze was now entirely on him, observing every tiny piece that was out of place. “I can’t say all is well, but I’ve surely seen worse. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

She scoffed, “Pride is unbecoming, you know.” Damn him. She crossed her arms and tore her gaze away to try and hide the concern he had detected. “However, it’s clear that the issue is serious.”

“Serious enough that The Father has ordered me to fetch you for labor.”

“Truly?” Her eyebrows raised, and she was simply unable to contain her reaction to that statement. It had been thousands of years since she had been given anything to do, much less an official task curated for her. “What’s happening that would prompt this?”

“Gabriel.”

“What about him?”

Michael seemed to pause, mulling over his choice of words carefully. “It seems that there have been...whispers, and his absence has been creating talk of treason far too much.”

The insinuation — the mere notion — that Gabriel would do something so horrendous caused Uriel’s face to scrunch in distaste. She abruptly stood from the seat, her feet landing on the floor with a quiet and graceful thump. She didn’t need to listen to these baseless rumors, even if they were coming from Michael’s mouth.

“It’s something we can’t just ignore.” Michael stood as well, quickly grabbing Uriel by the bicep to stop her attempt to flee from the conversation. “You know this.”

“And you know,” she harshly jabbed her finger into his chest with little effect due to his chest plate, “that Gabriel is just reclusive. He could be holed away doing research, and we would be none the wiser.”

“He’s not been gone this long before.”

“He gets carried away! It’s what he does!”

“Uriel,” Michael attempted to soothe her by putting his big hands on her shoulders, but when she quickly shook him off, he steeled himself. “You have a duty to The Father, and he has given his orders. You are to follow them.”

Of course, this was an order. “And what orders am I being given, exactly?”

“Jegudiel has had his armies searching across Heaven for Gabriel, but to no avail, so it has become clear that he’s fled to Eres. The Father has ordered you to follow after him and bring him back.”

“I would have seen him! I am here day and night and would have seen him on Eres if he were there.”

“Gabriel knows more than any of us, and he would easily fool us if we were not looking for betrayal.”

Uriel’s wings defiantly slapped at the air, a futile and frustrating gesture that just caused a draft. “He did not betray us! If it takes me descending to Eres to prove it, then I will! And when I bring him home to refute these claims, I expect fanfare and celebratory songs at his return as an apology!”

Michael looked grim, an expression she hadn’t seen before. They had been alive for, how long had it been? Long enough that she could read any of her brothers like a book, and it was rare that they did something she hadn’t seen at least once before. ‘Grim’ is not an expression she remembered seeing on any of her brothers’ faces once she had thought about it for more than a moment. To see Michael like that caused her to feel as though a weight had settled in her stomach.

“I hope that your sentiment is well placed. I will have you remember that I have had to deal with a brother’s betrayal once before, and I will not be so kind this time.”

“You call Lucifer’s banishment kind?”

Michael summoned his spear in one hand and put the other on his hip, his eyes narrowing to a glare. “I will not allow another traitor to leave alive. Should you bring Gabriel back guilty, I will mount his head on my spear.”

“Then I will bring him back, absolved of any notion of guilt, and we will rejoice to be with our brother. Have faith, Michael.”

“I only have faith in The Father.”

Uriel’s mouth thinned to a line, regretting that she’d even brought the subject of faith up. “I will depart immediately. Is there any place in particular where I should start?”

“You know Eres far better than any other here, which is why you were the one chosen. I would suggest trying to remember where Gabriel’s interest lay most during his survey duties.”

Uriel nodded darkly, and Michael turned to leave the room with a stiff posture. It was clear that he was under a great deal of stress. Uriel turned to the screens in question before picking up a smaller device that resembled the large monitors mounted all around the room.

“Pen,” Uriel addressed the device and smiled when the screen awoke, and the display sent a smiling face back. “Clearance: Uriel.”

With just a moment of processing, and then replied, “Clearance accepted. Archangel Uriel, how can I assist you?”

“Search for Archangel Gabriel across all feeds.”

“Searching.” Different visual feeds passed across the screen in the blink of an eye, but Pen made quick work of the tremendous amount of information. “Subject of search not found.”

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Uriel groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath before she asked, “Has there been any activity on the network using the subject’s credentials?”

“Time frame?”

“Just tell me the most recent activity.”

The screen showed a small rotating circle before the Pen’s face reappeared. “The last access from Archangel Gabriel was seven Eres months ago.”

“What was accessed?”

“The database of observed information on Stark Industries. Would you like to display this archive?”

“Yes. Put it up on screens thirty through forty, and set the feed for one and a half speed.” Uriel gently glided back onto her cloud-like seat, tucking her legs under her as she watched the information on the screens quickly scroll through. The archive was short compared to some of the other, longer-lasting ones that the Host had on the network, but it was still a beastly amount of information.

She could feel her eyes becoming heavy, but then a piece of information flashed by one of the screens, and she frantically yelled, “Stop!” All of the screens simultaneously paused, and she scrambled forward to sit on the edge of her seat. “Image on screen thirty-two, enlarge and display on all currently used screens.”

The ten monitors that she had commandeered for her recon all displayed the image in question — Stark Tower. The large building towered over every other in the area, and the name “Stark” was proudly stamped on the side in fluorescent letters.

“Pen, I thought this building was still the Avenger’s Tower.”

“Negative,” Pen corrected. “The Avengers moved their base of operations to a Stark Industries warehouse that was renovated into a compound. The tower was then sold back into Stark Industries’ possession and is used primarily by the company’s CEO, Virginia Potts.”

Well, that seems to be as good of a place to start as any. Uriel shut the device off and quickly exited the room. As soon as she stepped foot outside the surveillance room, she went from the observer to observed. Every pair of eyes Uriel encountered ogled at her appearance outside the white and fluffy room. Few in Heaven were old enough to remember the last time she exited that room, so she was sure the rumors among the rest of the Morning Stars would only grow.

The many winding hallways of the space station weaved in and out of each other. It was hard for the angel to keep her breakneck speed when all she wanted to do was look around the station more. She hadn’t realized just how much time she had spent holed up in the surveillance room, and as she was seeing the improvements around her, she realized that she must have been there for centuries. The beauty of the golden halls and the stars outside reminded her that she should be spending more time out amongst her brothers in the station.

When she arrived at her destination, she entered the room with a giant smile on her face and her arms open. “Barachiel!”

The angel in question looked up from the personal device in his hand and immediately broke into a huge grin. “Uriel! I feel it’s been ages since I’ve seen you last!”

“That would probably be because it has been ages since you’ve seen me last.” She pulled him into a tight hug, thumping him on the back once. “How are the guardian angels lately?”

“Busy. We’ve had to give some agents two souls to watch over just from how short-staffed the troop has been.” Barachiel broke the hug to keep typing on the golden device in his hand. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I’ve been assigned to Eres for some time, and I need a cover made.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’ve been assigned a corporeal mission on the planet’s surface, and no one ran this by me?!”

Uriel’s brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms. “Michael didn’t talk to you about this?”

“No,” Barachiel grumbled, setting down the device in favor of turning to a console in the room. The screen it was attached to displayed the start of a fake cover for Uriel. “But we have to get you a cover. Anywhere you need or anyone you need to surveil in particular?”

“I need to look into Stark Industries. The highest kind of clearance you could get me, the better.” Uriel stood beside Barachiel, looking at the screen over his shoulder. “Wait, hold on. In New York.”

“The headquarters for Stark Industries is in Los Angeles. You said you wanted the highest clearance.”

“But I need to look into Stark Tower.”

“I thought that was the Avengers’ Tower?”

“Not anymore, according to Pen. It’s Stark Tower again, and I need to look into it.”

Barachiel changed the location per her request while grumbling, “Everyone thinks they’re an expert. Fine, we’ll change it to New York. I’m seeing openings for a high-level researcher, some security personnel, or we could try for a long con and get you in on the board of directors.”

“What’s that?” Uriel pointed to a specific section of the screen, showing a job listing that Barachiel hadn’t mentioned. “The CEO’s assistant? Do you know how much information I would have access to?”

“I didn’t mention it because it says assistant ,” he stressed, and then he chose a job listing before quickly moving on. “We’ll put you as a researcher since that would be the simplest option. Because you spend significant time helping Gabriel with his research and experiments, we wouldn’t have to lie as much on the resume.”

Uriel huffed in annoyance before she reached over his arm and chose the assistant listing on the console, and then she locked it in place using her clearance. “I’m taking the assistant job. I’ll do whatever else you suggest, but I want that place at the CEO’s side. There’s a lot of business an assistant overhears.”

Barachiel didn’t speak much throughout the rest of the process. She couldn’t tell whether or not it was because he was focused or if it was because she’d upset him, but she suspected that it was a confusing mixture of both. The constructed cover was simple enough: she moved to the United States from Canada shortly after graduating high school, quickly starting administrative work as an assistant. Her resume was filled with previous job experience and desired certifications, making her one of the most viable job candidates. There would be no guarantee that she would get this position since she would have to interview for the job, but she was willing to take that risk.

Finally, Barachiel finalized the cover and turned to Uriel with a weary smile. “You’re picky, but it’s a great cover. We’ll get you set up with housing, paperwork, and the corroboration for your resume, and then you can go to the planet’s surface.” Barachiel then turned to the far wall and chose a golden device from the shelf. “You can’t take your tab down to the surface since it’s directly connected to the mainframe, but we can issue you a field tab.”

“Is Pen still the operating AI on this system?” Uriel asked, quickly assessing the tab by swiping through it quickly.

“Of course. There’s no other AI suitable for archangel-level work. Oh! And you’ll need these.” He then reached into his robes and pulled out four spherical devices in the palm of his hand. “These are extraction and return tokens. The extraction tokens can be programmed for any location, either on Eres or the station, and you’ll be instantly teleported to that location. The returns tokens are used afterward to return you to the location of the extraction.”

“Simple enough. I assume this is my way out of the field, and if I’m out, I’m out?”

“You would be correct. Opening the gates for you would be far too risky.”

Uriel thought of constant war ongoing at the gates and shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to use the gates anyway. Regardless, I should announce my departure in the throne room before I disembark.”

“The loss will impact the Host while you are away. Your duties are immense.” Barachiel laid a proud and robust hand on her shoulder, and just then, she noticed that tears were welling in his eyes as he smiled. “We will miss you, sister.”

Uriel suddenly felt a bit misty herself but gave Barachiel a watery smile in return. “As I will miss you all. Please make sure the Heavenly Host doesn’t tear itself apart while I’m away.”

Barachiel gave her a solemn nod before gently ushering her to the door. Uriel sensed a change in the station after just a few hours she had spent in the recon compound. It seemed that the news of her departure had spread far and wide, and there was a grim air through the hallways as she hurried to the throne room. The atmosphere suggested that she was permanently leaving the station despite her plans to return. Her feet suddenly felt leaden, as though every step she took would be closer to a dark future.

Almighty, what had Gabriel started?

~~~

The trip down to Eres was simple and much more understated than in the past. The warm light that surrounded her and delivered her to the surface in a simple beam was gone. Instead, she was transported in the blink of an eye with no fanfare. She almost wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it.

People bustled around her, and when a passerby bumped her shoulder, she realized that she was fully disguised and ready for her interview. She surveyed her surroundings and found that she was on the sidewalk just outside of Stark Tower.

Checking her watch, she realized that her interview was just an hour from now, and Uriel cursed under her breath, “Barachiel, I can’t believe you.” She was sure that the accelerated schedule he used was probably to get back at her for her impatience.

She hurried into the building, and immediately as she stepped through the threshold of the door, a man stopped her and simply asked, “Badge?”

“I...” Uriel’s brain seemed to stutter and spit at the odd question. “Excuse me?” The uncomfortable start to her mission immediately had her clamming up, unsure whether or not she was prepared enough for this.

“Badge?” He tapped his finger softly to a piece of laminated plastic secured to his lapel. “Do you have one?”

“Oh!” Uriel chuckled a bit, trying to play off her confusion. “I, um, suppose I forgot it at home! I’m here for a job interview.”

“Sorry, but no entry without a badge.”

She frowned, an enormous sigh of exasperation escaping. “Of course. That would be just my luck today. I just finished moving here, and it would be just my luck that I misplaced the badge in the move. I really need this job.”

The security guard shrugged lazily. “I’m not sure what to tell ya, kid.”

Kid? Uriel’s chest tightened to keep her laughter from escaping in a bark that would echo in the spacious lobby. She shoved her hands in the pockets of the dress clothes she chose for her cover. Perhaps pity was a more complicated con to sell to humans than her brothers.

“Can you search my name in your database and give me a new badge? I promise I will stay right here and won’t move until I get that badge. I need this job.”

“That’s what everyone who interviews says.”

“But they don’t actually mean it.”

He seemed to size her up, trying desperately to find her angle before he let out a hefty sigh. “If you wait here and don’t take even a single step into the building, I’ll go and see if I can reprint that badge for you.” He started back into the building before calling over his shoulder, “It’s just a minute, so don’t get any ideas.”

A ball of tension that had nestled between her shoulder blades suddenly gave way, and her body finally stood down from red alert. She did it. Once he checked the system, he would find the security information that Barachiel had planted there for her, and she would be in. All that would be left after that would be the interview, something she was sure she could ace.

Finally, the security guard returned with an extra badge held in his hand. “Here you are, Ms. Elliot.”

“Thank you so very much! Mister...” Her eyes narrowed down to read the name. “Mr. Hogan.”

“That’s...you can just call me Happy. Everyone does. Now, if you’re interviewing for the assistant position, I can escort you to our CEO’s office.”

Uriel nodded with a smile, following closely behind him, careful to take note and survey her surroundings as she passed through the halls. She made sure that she kept an air of friendliness by sending a nod someone’s way when their eyes met. She needed to fit in before starting the interview because she couldn’t afford to lose this position if her mission would succeed.

Happy opened the door and ushered her into her destination. She immediately took note of the red-haired woman’s affronted expression while she pored over the documents on her desk. That was Virginia Potts — the CEO of Stark Industries and the only lead on Gabriel’s whereabouts that anyone had. Uriel had done a fair amount of research into her before leaving the station, finding out that she preferred to be called Pepper, among other things.

Her attention had been so zeroed in on the documents when Uriel had entered that it took Happy loudly clearing his throat for her to finally look up. Her worried expression immediately snapped into a cordial façade, and she approached with her hand extended for a handshake. “Hello, Ms.Elliot. Are you ready to begin your interview?”

“Born ready,” Uriel answered, returning the handshake with a firm grasp and a small smile. She wasn’t even sure how much of that was an exaggeration considering that her very nature was to serve.

The interview proceeded with routine questions. As the meeting between them went on, Pepper’s smile seemed to become more and more genuine. Uriel could also feel that the conversation was becoming more comfortable. She could only be thankful that her prospective boss was someone she was sure she could get along with.

Pepper abruptly ended the meeting when her eyes glanced at her clock, “I’m sorry to cut us off so abruptly, but I just realized that I have a meeting with the board of directors in ten minutes.”

“Of course! That’s no trouble! I look forward to hearing from you.”

“It won’t be a long wait,” Pepper hinted with a mischievous smile before leading her out of the room.

Uriel left the building, and her body suddenly felt exhausted from the whirlwind of the day’s events. This was more action than she had been through in longer than she could remember, so she was looking forward to finding the safe house that had been set up and relaxing. Uriel had a feeling that she wouldn’t get too much time to relax in the coming days.

[presumenothing]

FMAB: Daughter of the Dusk – Chapter 8: A Gunshot Through Hope

(A little late, but here’s my non-fic contribution to the fandom in honour of FMA day! The game is quite long overall, so this covers just the first part, which I figured people might be curious about since it ties up the cliffhanger from Prince of the Dawn. Not sure if I’ll do the rest of the game yet, but in the meantime – enjoy this chapter!)

-

Daughter of the Dusk is the sequel to Prince of the Dawn, which covers Chapters 1-7 of the story, and has a English-subbed playthrough by EnvyPlays (which you should watch first before reading on, obviously). I don’t have either game, so this summary is based on this playthrough by チキンオレ, starting from video 9 in the playlist.

The game is set before the Briggs arc, and picks up directly from where the previous one ended: at the Amestris-Aerugo peace treaty signing ceremony in Central City, with Bradley and Prince Claudio shaking hands onstage. Ed spots Scar in the audience, but he vanishes before Ed can give pursuit. 

Meanwhile, up on the radio tower, Hawkeye prepares to snipe Claudio (on Bradley’s orders) with Black Hayate by her side. She takes out her pocketbook to check the ceremony map, and a photo of the team falls out, leading to this moment as she looks at the photo…

HAWKEYE: [silently] I pull this trigger of my own will. [aloud, at Hayate’s worried expression] It’s alright. [aims the rifle at Claudio as he begins his speech] The Hawk’s Eye does not miss. Goodbye, Colonel.

[sound of gunshot, cut to black]

[flashback to before the signing ceremony]

CHAPTER 8: A GUNSHOT THROUGH HOPE

NARRATOR: Central City gladly welcomed “Envoy of Peace” Prince Claudio, whose arrival marked the end of a long war. But the gunshot that rang out at the climax of the festivities – the peace treaty signing ceremony – abruptly turned the celebratory cheers to screams. The beginning can be traced back to several hours before the fated time……

FUHRER’S OFFICE: Envy leaves to bring Hawkeye to the sniper spot. Greed arrives. Bradley assigns him to bring Hawkeye’s rifle from the armoury (G: “How could a sniper forget her rifle?” B: “She couldn’t carry it and get past security.”), and gives him an ID for a weapons dealer so he can get in.

[player character: Greed]

CENTRAL COMMAND - RECEPTION: Greed bluffs his way past (G: Lying is against my creed, but I did promise to do this…), mainly because it turns out Bradley informed them beforehand of his arrival.

CENTRAL COMMAND - ARMOURY 2: Greed notices something odd about a large box, but dismisses it as his imagination, and takes the rifle. Bradley appears, having “coincidentally” passed by. Greed realises this was a test. (B: “This is a tactic that will shake the nation. Who knew if ‘the prince’ would make a racket.”) Bradley then reveals Greed’s next task – blowing up the sniper spot after the deed is done, to erase the evidence and silence Hawkeye.

[PC: Mustang, who is implied to have been hiding in the box Greed noticed]

Mustang thinks about what he overheard – the assassination and silencing of Hawkeye afterwards. (M: “My instinct was spot on, to have picked this as the meeting place! [beat] Time is running out. ……I’ll have to cancel my date. Hang in there.”) He heads out to search for the sniper spot.

CENTRAL COMMAND - LOBBY: A soldier tells Mustang that Hawkeye has gone out, and someone at the entrance might know where she was headed.

At the entrance, best boy™️ Black Hayate barks and proceeds to tug Mustang’s uniform. (M: “What’re you doing! I don’t have time to play with you now…" BH: [growls] M: “Ow ow ow! Let go! [beat] Fine, I’ll follow you! Lead me to where your master is……")

Mustang spots Envy in the city, and deduces that Hawkeye is somewhere nearby. He arrives at the train depot, followed swiftly by Ed looking for Hayate (this scene was seen from Ed’s POV in the previous game, at 13:20 of Part 18). Mustang decides to return Hayate and make Ed leave so they won’t get caught up in this. He reflects on how Hawkeye has been given nothing but tasks opposite to him ever since Claudio arrived, likely because the higher-ups wanted to separate them so he wouldn’t find out about the assassination plan… which didn’t work out, clearly. Hawkeye then arrives (their confrontation was also previously seen from Hawkeye’s POV, at 7:08 of Part 19).

[PC: Fuery]

Fuery wrings his hands over having lost sight of Mustang, Ed, and Hayate. He decides to track down Mustang since something about him had looked off, by asking around if anyone’s seen him.

ENTERTAINMENT DISTRICT: Fuery runs into Vanessa, who is Peak Angry at Mustang for passing by without noticing her at all. She says that he’d headed towards the abandoned factory.

[PC: Mustang]

ABANDONED FACTORY: Fuery finally finds Mustang, who asks what he’s doing here. (F: “Please stop saying such stand-offish things. Something happened, right, Colonel?” M: “You’re no longer under my command. Whatever I do has nothing to do with you.” F: “It does! I’m worried of my own accord!” M: “One after another… I really did get some strong-willed subordinates, huh.”) Scar then appears out of… seemingly nowhere, causing Mustang to dimiss Fuery over his protests, telling him to contact Breda and Falman. Scar and Mustang both declare they don’t have time for this. Scar activates his disintegration alchemy, but Mustang makes a smokescreen with flame alchemy and runs off.

[Time left until the fated moment – 00:59:59]

Having explained the situation to Falman, Breda, and Fuery, Mustang tells them it’s not too late to return to their posts, but of course they reject this offhand. Mustang then says that he’s going to meet Claudio and try to stop the signing ceremony somehow.

[Time left until the fated moment – 00:51:28]

Mustang asks Claudio to not appear at the ceremony, as he is being targeted. Claudio says he was prepared for the danger all along, and a mini-game follows where you have to choose dialogue that will convince him. Mustang says that it’s a plot by rebels within the military (another option says it’s by mysterious aliens, lol) with a sniper known to be a crack shot, though he claims their identity is still under investigation. Claudio then asks the real reason why he’s so determined to stop this, since it might even endanger his standing in the military, and Mustang answers that it’s out of his personal wish of peace. In the end, Claudio declares that he still won’t stop the ceremony just to protect his own life, but he will bear Mustang’s words in mind. Mustang acknowledges this determination, and says that he will do everything he can to foil the plot.

[Time left until the fated moment – 00:32:23]

[PC: Fuery]

Fuery sneaks into the communication room to eavesdrop on transmissions from Bradley’s allies to Hawkeye. After some false alarms (including a report of a woman being detained for carrying a rifle-shaped object and blunt weapon, who turns out to be Winry with automail case and spanner), he catches an exchange between Envy and Hawkeye, and finds out the sniper spot is outside the ceremony area and informs the rest. An emergency report then comes in about an intruder at the back door – it’s Scar.

[PC: Scar]

Scar barges in and destroys things while… monologuing darkly about various things, including his comrades and “that man”. (I’ll be honest, I do not like this Ishvalan terrorist subplot at all so I paid about zero attention to it.) He leaves. Falman and Breda arrive under the pretext of providing backup.

[Time left until the fated moment – 00:24:45]

[PC: Falman]

Falman and Breda head towards the watchtower to look for Hawkeye’s sniper spot. Just to be on the safe side, Falman memorises a guard assignment map of the ceremony area, which turns out useful when a suspicious soldier gives them a literal pop quiz to prove they’re really here as backup. Falman aces it, and Breda sneaks off while he proceeds to distract the soldier… with a long, long, long monologue on the founding of Amestris. Which continues even as the screen fades to black. Who ever said history wasn’t useful?

[Time left until the fated moment – 00:15:22]

[PC: Breda]

Breda sneaks up to the watchtower, and spots Hawkeye through a telescope, at her sniper spot atop the radio tower. He’s then discovered, but manages to send word to Mustang before he’s knocked out.

[Time left until the fated moment – 00:04:48]

[PC: Mustang]

Mustang hears Breda’s message but can’t get any further response from him, and rushes off. Fuery also radios in to warn that Bradley has ordered Mustang’s arrest, saying not to reply before he’s seemingly arrested too. Mustang is then surrounded, but spots a certain gremlin.

[Time left until the fated moment – 00:03:11]

[PC: Ed]

Unsurprisingly, Ed is furious, and proceeds to furiously kick ass via alchemy. Mustang warns him about the plot before leaving. (M: “The Hawk’s Eye is aiming for the stage. She’s being used by them. I don’t want to ask anything of you, but–” E: “Leave it to me.” M: “You’re not surprised? ……so you already noticed.” E: “No. I didn’t know until now.” M: [shrugs with excessive sass])

Other soldiers try to stop Ed, on account of him being Mustang’s ally, leading to an entertaining obstacle course as he dashes towards the stage. (E: “Hah, as if they could keep up with me! [beat] …wait, this isn’t the time for that!”)

We’re now back to the start, at the moment where Claudio begins his speech. From offstage, Ed spots a flash from the radio tower. He rushes forward to tackle Claudio down and gets shot……… on his automail, so it’s all fine!

It gets much less fine a moment later, when the radio tower blows up. Hawkeye pulls Hayate into a hug, trying to shield him as the tower falls onto them, but the entire thing goes up in flames just in time, metal and all. Stunned, Hawkeye turns around amidst the drifting ashes to see none other than…

MUSTANG: Sorry I kept you waiting. You ended up bearing all this alone. HAWKEYE: I chose this myself. MUSTANG: You were trying to protect us, weren’t you? Leave the rest to me. [Hawkeye inhales sharply] Protection is my job. HAWKEYE: Understood.

Meanwhile, back at the ceremony:

AL: Brother! ELENA: Brother! WINRY: Ed! AL: [silently] “Brother”!? Elena definitely said that just now……!

ED: That was close. CLAUDIO: …time to change plans. We’ll retreat for now. [leaves] ED: What was that about……?

There’s a bit more aftermath: Scar talks with another Ishvalan, Envy chews Greed out for letting Hawkeye escape (until Father bitches them out for sibling quarrels), and Bradley says he’ll release Mustang’s team.

We cut to Mustang and Breda right outside the ceremony area:

ED: Is everyone okay!? BREDA: Everyone was let off without censure. Sergeant Fuery, Officer Falman, and Lieutenant Hawkeye are fine too. MUSTANG: “In recognition of heroic actions to save the prince’s life”, apparently. ED: And what about the ceasefire treaty? MUSTANG: It’s taking everything we have just to handle the fallout. About the treaty, or the prince… none of it has been decided. ED: That prince……

AL: [narrating] The prince’s life was saved with Brother’s involvement. It seems that the Fuhrer and his allies had planned from the start to worsen the war by killing the prince. Unaware of all this, Prince Claudio remains in this country, and is said to be hoping to start over on the treaty. But there’s something I’m far more bothered by–

[flashback to Elena shouting “Brother!”]

AL: The word Elena shouted while looking at Prince Claudio… and yet, I wasn’t able to ask her anything. Because it felt like Elena would vanish somewhere, if I did ask……

To be continued.

-

And last but not least… the trailer for the next chapter!

WINRY: Oh no, it’s terrible! There’s been a case! A locked-room murder! The name of the case is “The Murder of Colonel Roy Mustang”! ED: So you died without achieving your goal… go to your sleep in peace, Colonel. ROY: Hold it right there! I’m still alive! WINRY: I’ll solve this case for sure! I definitely will! Next time, on FMAB: Daughter of the Dusk, Chapter 9 – Automail Mechanic Winry Rockbell’s Splendid Casebook! ROY: Like I said, stop progressing the story however you like! [gets elbowed(??) by Winry] WINRY: Well then, who’s the culprit!?

[madfatty]

the finn nelson agenda - an mmfd  fic #27

Long time, no see. I come bearing gift.  Consider this my woefully inadequate attempt to distract you for a few moments from the shit-show that is now.

The plan is for this to be one of eight or nine stories about Finn falling for Rae, as told by the people who watched it happened. The collection is tentatively titled, ‘Why Are You So Blind?” and this one is from Finn’s POV.

What I’ve learned is that I can’t write it in the order that it ought to be read, so they’ll go up as they’re finished (if they’re finished). This is probably third or fourth from the end, so for the time being, we’ll pretend it’s a stand alone.

My thanks to the most lovely and much missed @bitchy-broken for planting the seed and my dearest @slitherouter for listening to me read it in many of it’s various forms and for the words that inspired both me and the title

..  my secret agenda is actually just to sit in your room and show you my favorite songs while you explain different things you have on your wall or your desk to me

Things Finn Nelson says

(a thing that Shiri said. I mean, *GAH* right. I love her SO much.)

Ta very much to @late-to-the-sexy-party for her thoughts and enthusiasm.  Big love and thanks to the wondrous @endemictoearth for giving it a twice-over and the benefit of her talent and experience. She made it infinitely better. Thank you, my gorgeous.  

And finally, thank you dear reader, for giving this a go.

the finn nelson agenda

It’s one of those lazy, late summer days he’d spent all term daydreaming about, slouched in the back corner of some classroom, tapping out bass lines on his desk or scribbling band names and song lyrics all over his binder.  Staring out the window while elaborate fantasies built of music, football and girls, all vividly drawn, played out against the white noise of his reality. He feels the waste of it; counting down the seconds to the end of the hour, the end of the day, the end of school.

None of that matters now.  There are still weeks left of the holidays and each day is filled with even more promise now that Rae’s around. Days like today. While there are thousands of elsewheres he imagines himself being between nine and three during term, today Rutlands will do just fine.

All his mates are here, there’s tunes and booze and a sense of time being stretched out and suspended in the liquid amber of the golden afternoon. It’s almost perfect. The only thing missing is the girl. And fingers crossed, she’ll be here soon too, because Finn’s beginning to realise things are just better when she’s there.

Where was she though? He’s been a twitching mess the whole time they’ve been here, checking his watch every few seconds, never registering the time, but still feeling the drag of it.  Not toward the end of something now, but the start.

Ever since the party, he’s tried to find time every day to get her on own, but it isn’t easy. She’s quickly become the centre around which they all revolve, so competition for her attention is huge. This means he spends a lot of his time waiting to share hers. He prowls an invisible periphery, ever watchful for his chance. They don’t come up nearly as often as he’d like so he’s had to get creative.  

Now, depending on how late he gets in from a long day of almost being together, there’s a new nightly ritual he follows; home, a quick shower and something to eat, then he makes a mug of tea and a cosy nest and dials her number with shaking hands. The last of his preparations is pressing ‘play’ on the carefully curated backing tracking for their conversation while he listens nervously for her to pick up.  

Even then, he has to share her with her family. The sniping and the bickering between her and her mum, the deep warm tones of a hesitant male voice, a rumble in the background.

He can hear the life she complains about going on behind her, crowded and noisy and messy; the chaos and the lack of privacy, he can’t help feel how much he wants to be in the middle of it.

What he’d really like is to show up at her door with a bag full of music and a couple of sneaky cans of lager. He’d happily listen to her mum bitch about the ladies she works with at the hospital and watch football with Karim or help out with the birds if it means that eventually, they can escape upstairs to her room, because even though Finn’s only really been to her house the once, (if you didn’t count the apology), he likes it there. Finn’s got a secret wish; to sit in her room, sharing his favourite songs while she talks about her books, and her posters and all those weird little toy things that cover her desk. He wants to find out about all of it. To know everything about her.

However, despite his best -obvious, desperate - efforts, she hasn’t taken any of the heavy hints he’s dropped to ask him over again, so he’s going to invite her ‘round to his. He’s going to ask her today because he wants so badly for her to come and fill his house with her smile and her smell and her stories and yeah, to make some stories of their own.

He’d tried again, last night at the pub. Just as they were all getting ready to leave, with his heart in his mouth - ‘cause that’s always where it is when Rae’s around, when it’s not in his eyes or on his sleeve, - he’d stuttered out an offer to collect her this morning. His plan was to get there super early so they could just hang out on their own. He’d been prepared for her ‘no’ but it didn’t stop the curl of disappointment when she gave it.

Sometimes he worries that that night at hers didn’t mean as much to Rae as it did (hell, still DOES) to him, that it was just a random kindness, not the revelation that he’d felt, and to her he was just a guy having a bad night that she’d taken pity on. Other times, he believes she can feel this thread between them too. A delicate thing but he thinks it’s getting stronger, can feel it getting tighter somewhere around his ribs.  No longer nothing, but not quite the something he’s hoping for.

Finn doesn’t want to test that thread, in case he tugs too hard and it snaps. He can’t help feeling that he needs to do something though, because it doesn’t matter what Archie says about it, there’s this niggle inside him that says all it would take would be for Archie to finally decide that he really did want her, and with the crook of his finger, Rae would come running.

He’s separated himself slightly from the others, coiled up tight in the shade of a nearby tree, his back to the bark, the pinch and bite of it through his t-shirt not enough to distract him from his vigil.

Cigarette butts lie in an untidy circle around his feet.  His ears are straining past the drone of the radio and the fat buzzing noise of insects, tuning out the prattle of the others for the first sign of her. Her name caught up in the pulse behind his eyes.  Everything is so loud inside his head.

He’s about to risk asking Izzy for a third time if she’s sure Rae knew exactly where they’d be when Rae appears. The anxiety of her absence is replaced with the relief of her proximity. The physical response is exactly the same. The next breath he takes is easier than the one before.

He doesn’t care what it looks like. It’s not enough to be near her anymore; he can’t bear any distance between them.  It makes him brave. Or crazy.  

Without consultation, his body moves with deliberate intent. He turns the music up, up, and reaches for another can, trying to fill his belly with something other than butterflies, hoping that his counterfeit swagger hides the jelly of his knees.  Finn lets himself fall – continue to fall, he’s been falling for a week, pushed from a plane without a parachute – to land beside to her.

He must have lost his mind. It’s the only way to explain his behaviour.  He’s got her pinned to the ground from shoulder to ankle like some sort of lunatic but that’s not the insane part. No, the insane part is his brain trying to convince him that if he doesn’t grab hold of her hand like he so desperately wants to, she won’t notice that he has her pinned to the ground from shoulder to ankle like some sort of lunatic. For fuck’s sake, it’s screaming, don’t hold her hand because then she’ll know. Like that’s where all his subtlety would disappear. He holds fast to his wrist, pinning the would-be offending hand to his chest; a single idiotic attempt at self-restraint.

It’s all he can do to lie here, outwardly calm while inside he’s vibrating so hard his teeth are rattling, his heart bouncing so fiercely off his ribs any minute now he’ll come loose from the ground. His tongue lies thick and useless in his mouth, dry despite the beer.

He hopes his deafening silence reads like casual confidence to her.  

The weight of the sun and the heat from the ground beneath him, simultaneously seeps in and rises up to meet in the middle of him. Yet neither burns him like the length of her body under the press of his arm and the cage of his legs.  A sheen of sweat covers his body, caught between his skin and his clothes. It tickles along his hairline, behind his ears and slides down the sides of his neck.

Everything inside the moment is sharp and highly defined. He can feel each breath that fills her lungs. Everything outside of a three foot radius blurs in his field of vision. It’s coming in waves, all at once and he doesn’t know which bits to savour, which bits to focus on and what to put away for later. He has to keep sneaking looks at her just to make sure this is really happening. Rae on the other hand, has her face turned skyward, barely acknowledging his presence, unmoved by the miracle that’s changing his life.

He’s filling up with her. His head, his heart, his bones. Every nerve is exposed. It’s all stinging nettles and ants itching under his skin.

He couldn’t have stood if you paid him. Dizzy from the blood roaring in his ears before it raced south.

She hasn’t pushed him away.

What would she do, if he just stopped thinking and did what his body was screaming out to do; if he rolled over and covered her body with his own. What would she say? If he gave in to the impulse and kissed those maddening pink lips, lush and full, and coaxed her sharp acid tongue into his own mouth, to taste the sweetness he’s seen her gift to others?

What she must feel like under the long cotton sleeves of her shirt, and  what might that do to him; finally touching her skin. He’s never fantasised about forearms before, or calves or even feet. Her pale wrist under his thick fingers, or the crook of her elbow beneath his lips.  The curve of her shoulder, the tip of her ear, the back of her knee. To see and touch and memorize. To know if his hands have guessed the way of her correctly.

Lying here, so close to everything he longs for, his thoughts slide inevitably to those most recently taken up residence in his brain, a divine carnal loop he indulges in almost hourly, the heavy press of her breasts against him, the torment of that smug mouth around his cock, the taste of her cunt, should he ever be blessed enough to be invited.

He has to stop that line of thought before his body gives him away. Before he can’t help himself anymore and he takes hold of her hand and places it on his hardening cock – do you see now? This is what being near you does to me. This is me, all the time, thinking about the back of your neck and the length of your leg and what sort of knickers you’re wearing or if you’re wearing any knickers at all. Look at me Rae, I’m trying to tell you that I … that I’m a mess about you. My head and my sheets and my record collection. The smell of green apple makes me hard, costs my dad a fortune at the green grocers. I can’t sleep, can’t leave myself alone, imagining your hand down my pants, your tongue in my mouth, the sounds that you’d make with my fingers inside you. I… I… Even in his own head he can’t say the word. Even he knows it’s too soon, but… Like is not enough, although he does like her. Desire is a stupid overused word, a song lyric that rhymes with ‘fire’. Want. He definitely wants her.

Can you see, Rae?

He can’t tell which one of them is trembling.

She still hasn’t pushed him away.

She’s quiet. He doesn’t like it as much when she’s quiet; it makes him nervous. Everything about her makes him nervous but at least when she’s talking, he has some idea of what she’s thinking and right now he needs to know what’s going on in her head. So he asks.

Her answer makes him laugh. It’s not exactly what he was hoping for until she laughs too. It’s treacle over his jangled nerves. They take the same breath and he feels her relax beneath him, which is when his brain detonates.

With the shittest timing in the world, Chop’s hissing Kendo’s name.

Kendo’s a mate of Chop’s older brother Robbie and a wannabe hard man.  He’s also a prize dickhead but that doesn’t stop Chop trying too hard to look cool in front of him, although Finn can see he’s shitting himself in case Kendo makes him look like a twat. Right now, Finn thinks Chop’s doing okay on his own on that score.

Rae stiffens. She sits up and Finn can’t help but follow, caught up as he is in her gravitational pull. All the ease from a few seconds before is gone. Everything that’s said in the next two minutes sounds like it’s being spoken underwater because Finn can’t focus on anything but the distance she’s trying to put between them without physically moving.

The damage is done by the time Kendo finally slithers off, dragging the corpse of the mood he’s killed behind him.

Finn’s still up in his head about how he’s going to get Rae to lay back down with him or if that moment’s gone for good, so he’s not really listening when Chloe asks her question. He says ‘yeah, course’ two seconds before his brain catches up with his mouth and just as he’s trying to scramble back from his offer, Rae’s telling them she can’t go. The ground drops out from under him and his heart is flailing, doing a Wile E. Coyote over his gut.

Wait, wait, a minute ago we were on our way to perfect. Fucking Chop. Fucking Kendo. Fucking fuck.

He’s reeling but before he can find a way to get them back to where they were, a shadow falls over them and Chloe’s voice, brittle and insistent.

“Rae, can I speak with you? Privately.”

Fucking Chloe.

For a moment hope soars because he can feel Rae’s reluctance to move but it’s only for a moment; she’s pulling away now and she’s taking all the warm and the hope with her. He sits there among the shattered bits of the beautiful bubble they’d been floating in, with his unasked question filling up his throat and his eyes closed because he can’t stand to watch her walk away.  

[raendown]

A gift to @sakxuraz for the @tobiizugiftexchange, I hope you enjoy! 

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 4398 Rated: T+ Summary: Building a village with other clan-packs wasn't a terrible idea in theory. In practice it opened the door for all sorts of miscommunication as they all navigated the difficulties of integrating not only as humans but in their secondary animal forms as well. What does a cat know of birds? More importantly, what is he willing to learn?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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A Word For Home

Coming from a clan more disposed to mammalian second forms, living with a bunch of birds was strange in many ways. Tobirama was more than used to seeing family and close friends groom each other but the ways in which Uchiha showed their affections seemed incredibly odd in his eyes. So odd that in many cases he wasn’t actually aware what the purpose of such gestures were supposed to be until he was informed so later on. 

The first time Izuna brought him a handful of leaves he could only stare, mind racing as he tried to figure out what sort of insult was being offered to him. Each leaf was a different shade and all of them newly shed by autumn trees. After a full minute of silence he looked up to see the other man watching him intently with his dark eyes wide in anticipation, waiting for some sort of reaction, and Tobirama hoped his utter lack of any expression was as disappointing as he was sure his rage was meant to be amusing. 

“I have plenty of leaves in my own front lawn,” he rumbled. Then he had turned to sweep away, missing the dejected slump of Izuna’s shoulders before there came the rushing pull of a change. Even without looking he knew the sound of strong wings hurrying away. When he dared to look back the leaves were arranged carefully on the ground in some unrecognizable pattern. He left them there. 

An isolated incident like that could have easily been forgotten, written off as nothing more than yet another attempt to annoy him over petty grudges, if it hadn’t been the beginning of an utterly strange trend. The second time Izuna approached him the man came bearing an armful of cloth all with different brightly colored patterns. At first glance Tobirama thought it to be a small mountain of clothing but a closer look told him the bundle wasn’t even that much, just scraps of varying sizes all piled on top of each other. They were at least neatly folded. Still, he might have no idea what insult the man was trying to imply but he had more important things to do than to indulge his rival’s pointless games. 

“There is a laundromat just down this street if you were looking for somewhere to clean your rags,” he advised stiffly. 

“Rags?” Somehow Izuna managed to insert such a heavy amount of dejection in to his tone that for a moment Tobirama almost thought him genuinely saddened by the denial. Then he came to his senses. 

“Fly away, little raven, I have things that need to be done today.” 

With that he brushed past and paid no attention to the trill that followed him down the path. His mind was already full of the blueprints he and a team of Nara had been working on for the new hospital. 

After that it seemed as though he ran in to Izuna around every other corner and every time he found something being presented to him as though it were some great treasure. Yet without fail each so-called gift turned out to be nothing more than scrap and chaff, never anything of value but neither could Tobirama make heads or tails of what this game was meant to be. He would have asked if it wouldn't have felt so much like losing. 

In his office Izuna brought him a spool of wire. On his front porch was left a basket of untreated wool. Turning corners in the marketplace he found his hands full of old blankets that had clearly seen their share of use. For the life of him he couldn’t seem to connect any of these offerings together. With every new piece of junk in Izuna’s hands Tobirama only grew more and more confused. The two of them were no longer enemies by any stretch, not since their clans had formed a pact to share the same territory several years before, and although they weren’t exactly the best of friends they had managed to achieve a unique sort of equilibrium that worked for them. Casually sniping each other with pointed - if dull - insults might look to anyone else as though they hated each other but Tobirama had been secretly thrilled to have someone who finally understood his particular brand of communication. 

The more bits and bobs of random materials Izuna attempted to give him, however, the more he began to question whether he had grievously misunderstood something. Jabs and jests he could understand. Pranks, on the other hand, had never been part of their repertoire. Oh he had seen Izuna pull the wool over other people’s eyes before and he’d been woken more than once by the eagle scream of Madara caught in some trap or another by his precious little sibling. Until now Tobirama himself had seemed to be the only person who escaped such treatment. He’d assumed his counterpart understood that he was not the sort of person to trifle with such things. 

Curling under his desk in the brisk morning air, autumn hovering just at the edge of winter, Tobirama was grateful to his second form for both its warmth and smaller stature at the moment. Naturally resistant to the cold and easily capable of hiding under the desk like a child, Tobirama closed his eyes and laid his head down atop crossed paws. Above him Izuna could be heard rustling around. Whatever today’s gift was it apparently required more space than had been left on the desk and clearly the remedy for that was to ruin several hours worth of careful organization rather than just leave it on the floor.

“Bastard probably heard me coming and scarpered.” The tone of irritation was almost more familiar than the sound of his voice. 

From his hiding spot Tobirama cracked one heavy eyelid in agreement. That was exactly what he’d done. Never had it been so convenient to be able to slip away from even the Sharingan’s detection. While there were definite limitations in not having access to chakra in this form, the fact that it left one nigh undetectable by sensors was a clear bonus that he was happy to take advantage of now. 

It took only a minute or two of patience before Tobirama found himself alone in the room once again, celebrating the much needed peace by stretching out his front paws and flexing each toe to watch his claws appear and retract. With a great yawn that curled his tongue he brought his paws back to fold underneath his head once more as though truly contemplating the notion of an early morning nap. He could use it. Even if he knew very well that he would never actually sleep when there was work to be done it was nice to pretend for a bit that he could be just as lazy as any house cat. Only after his sensitive ears heard the sound of another office door closing down the hall did he finally crawl his way out from under the desk, pausing to shake out his body and resettle any displaced fur. 

As he did so the motion of his reflection in the window drew his gaze and Tobirama blinked thoughtfully at the great snow leopard staring back at him from the glass. It had occurred to him, of course, that whatever Izuna was up to might not be a prank but he hadn’t considered before that it might have something to do with the Uchiha propensity for avian forms. Cocking his head to one side and watching his ears flop, he considered it now. How many times had he seen Uchiha flitting about through the forest collecting twigs and leaves and dismissed it without curiosity? So few of their clan had warmed up to him still and he’d returned such lukewarm sentiments with an utter lack of care for learning their ways beyond what tidbits he picked up from interacting with Kagami. Now he sat back on his haunches and wondered if perhaps he shouldn't sacrifice a little of his pride after all. 

Later, though. For now he had work to do. 

With today’s confusing gift already delivered, Tobirama was able to coast through the rest of his work without the tension of waiting for something unknown. By the time his desk was clear and the sun began to set behind him it felt as though he’d been able to get nearly twice as much done as the past week put together. It was amazing what he could accomplish when he was actually able to concentrate. He left the office with a surprising amount of energy left; just enough that he thought he might be able to deal with the humiliation of asking for help from his brother. 

For such a late hour the streets were still quite packed with people running a few evening errands and couples venturing out to meet for dates. Just in the time it took him to reach the Senju compound Tobirama passed three couples holding hands, two making out in places they probably thought were inconspicuous, and one in the midst of a proposal that did not seem to be very well received. Peace, it seemed, was quite the aphrodisiac for many people once they finally settled in to the concept of it. After that first uncertain year had passed and their peoples got used to sharing the same territory it was as though half the population was suddenly caught up in some unseasonal mating frenzy. Strange how priorities changed when one didn’t need to spend every moment of every day fearing for one’s life. 

“Tadaima!” His own voice echoed back to him when he stepped inside, mingling with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. As he kicked off his shoes he frowned and strained his ears. No sound. A quick sweep showed the building empty to his senses as well. Either he was home alone for the evening or Hashirama and Mito were not walking on two legs. 

Since the questions knocking about in his mind weren’t exactly urgent he took the time to stop by his bedroom and change his clothing, shedding the dust and sweat of a long day in favor of well-worn cotton soft on his skin, comfortable loungewear he would never be caught dead in outside the home. Then he wandered through the living room, the kitchen, the green room filled with plants where he often found Hashirama napping when he was meant to be doing so many other things. Nowhere was there any sign of life until he happened to glance out the back window and spotted two massive forms huddled together in the backyard. 

Unobserved, he allowed himself a moment to simply watch with a smile. It had always struck him as particularly funny that when human Hashirama was about as clumsy as they come but in the form of a bear he somehow managed to exude grace and calm. Even as he tore in to the strip of raw meat clearly serving as his dinner he looked more adorable than terrifying. The same could not be said of his wife. An empress in all but title on two legs, it had been a surprise to learn that her secondary form was also that of the bear until the first time Tobirama witnessed her tearing in to an enemy with tooth and claw. Hashirama might be a cute docile little sun bear but his wife was a brown bear ready to rampage the instant she perceived a threat to the ones she saw as her own. It was oddly fitting.

At the moment, however, the two of them were doing nothing more violent than partaking of a meal together and Tobirama was loath to disturb such a domestic scene. He contented himself with a plateful of leftovers from the previous evening’s dinner and ate alone at the kitchen table with fingers and chopsticks while he waited. The sun was barely finished setting and he had only just finished washing his dishes when the other two made it back inside. A whuffing moan greeted him, to which he rolled his eyes. 

“I do not speak bear, Anija. Such uncouth noises.”

“So mean,” Hashirama pouted as he flowed back to humanity with the seamless grace of someone who had made the change countless times before. “We were going to leave some for you but you never came outside so I ate your meat.” 

“Thank you, but I was content with stew.” 

Mito narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him but said nothing, only reached out to bring the tips of her fingers against his shoulder. He accepted the gesture with a nod before looking back to his brother. 

“Can I ask you a few questions? You would know more about the Uchiha than I do.” His should have known better than to be so vague. The words had hardly left his mouth when Hashirama froze in the act of searching out an after dinner snack, turning to look at him with an already exhausted expression. 

“Oh Tobi-” he started to say.

“I didn’t do anything!” Tobirama protested. “Not this time, at least. I just wondered if you could give me a little insight in to some of their habits. If you’re going to be a dick about it I can always find someone else to ask.” 

“No! I’m sorry! Please don’t ask anyone else. What, ah, what did you want to know?” 

Hashirama offered him a cute little smile but it fooled no one. They both knew all he wanted was to make sure Tobirama didn’t go asking the wrong questions to the wrong person and starting a fight with his habitual bluntness. Still, if it got him the answers he wanted right now he was willing to overlook the lack of faith this once. 

Just because his brother had a point didn’t mean he had to be so obvious about it. 

“If I describe a certain behavior that I’ve observed could you tell me if you know the reasoning behind it?” Tobirama waited until he received an attentive nod before going on. “Right. Say one person is bringing things to another and presenting them as if they’re gifts. Except all of these ‘gifts’ are pieces of scrap or garbage or even just leaves off the ground. Does that sound like any sort of Uchiha-specific behavior to you or just some kind of very elaborate prank?”

For several heartbeats his brother stared at him, almost like he was trying to determine whether or not that was a serious question, until finally he pulled off a signature personality flip by sliding straight in to a swoon. 

“Whoever you’ve been watching, they’re so lucky!” he declared. 

“Lucky?”

“Yes! It seems they’ve caught someone’s eye!”

Tobirama scowled. “You know I hate it when you make such poor attempts at humor, Anija.” 

“But it’s not a joke! I’m serious, that sounds just like how an Uchiha behaves when they’re trying to catch the interest of a potential mate!” Hashirama sniffled, wounded to be accused of making jokes. Or perhaps wounded that his terrible sense of humor had been so rightly assessed. It didn’t matter. Tobrama was much more interested in the utterly ridiculous bullshit his sibling was trying to feed him. 

“How does bringing someone litter off the ground or used rags translate as an offer to mate?”

Immediately affecting another swoon, Hashirama sighed like a woman from one of his trashy romance novels. “The gifts aren’t litter, they’re materials! Madara explained it to me once when his secretary kept trying to bring him twigs. When an Uchiha wants to mate with someone they bring them whatever materials they think could be used to make a nice nest for them both. Things like leaves and cloth might be the lining, wood and sticks might be used for the main structure, even pretty little baubles that might just be for decorating! I think it’s really sweet. They build homes together!” 

“Nests. That’s...they were all...nesting materials.” Swallowing felt suddenly three times more difficult than it should have been. “I need to sit down.”

“You’re already sitting down?”

“I need to lay down.”

Hashirama blinked at him, studied him closely. It took several moments but a slow grin began to form that stretched his face with a maniacal sort of joy. “It’s you! You’re the one who’s been getting these mating gifts! Someone is trying to court you!”

“According to you he is asking me to bond with him permanently!” Tobirama had never felt so close to a panic attack in his life. 

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” 

“Because I had thought his opinions of me to be mere tolerance! I had no idea he felt anything like this! What do I even do with this information, Anija!?” 

“Oh I don’t know. You could try accepting a gift or two? Going out on a date? You could tell me who it is! Is it that very pretty lad who works in the mission room? No! It’s that quiet man in the archives! I knew I saw him looking at your bottom that day! This is just so sweet, I am just so happy for you!” Hashirama’s arms struck like a pair of sun-browned cobras to wrap around his neck and squeeze tight. “My little baby brother is all grown up and finding a mate!”

It took squirming, yelling, and a smidgen of violence to extract himself from such an unwarranted embrace. By the time he struggled himself free Hashirama had nearly soaked one shoulder of his previously clean yukata with tears and snot. Delightful. Only years of training in speed and flexibility allowed him to escape the kitchen without being dragged in to another hug, hurrying down the hall to lock himself in to his bedroom where he staunchly ignored the whining coming through his door. Hashirama could be happy for him all he liked. That didn’t make it any easier to process the revelation that had just been dropped on him unexpectedly. 

So Izuna was attempting to court him with the intention of mating. Tobirama knew as well as anyone else who spent any amount of time around their clan that the Uchiha mated for life, unwilling to commit themselves to something of that magnitude unless they were certain it was what they wanted for the rest of their lives. Now that he had finally cottoned on to what was actually happening he needed to figure out how he felt about it before taking any action. 

Did he want this too? 

Waiting for sleep that night was made harder by the familiar chakra creeping up and down the hall to check whether or not his bedroom was still locked several times. His brother never had been able to understand proper boundaries. Either he finally gave up or Mito grew tired of him rustling about and tied him down somewhere but whatever the case Tobirama did eventually fall asleep. By his best estimate, however, when he woke again he had only dreamt for perhaps a little more than three hours. 

He made sure to avoid his brother on his way out of the house the next morning, detouring through the marketplace to pick up something to break his fast. For once in his life he was actually grateful to the swarm of people who mobbed him the moment he stepped inside the administration tower. Any other day he would have been annoyed to have so much extra work shoved in to his hands before he even made it to his own office but today it was nice to have something that demanded his attention, something to occupy his mind without the gnawing guilty feeling of knowing he was only avoiding the inevitable. With his arms full of fresh paperwork he marched his way up the stairs and buried his face in whichever scroll he was able to unroll without upsetting the whole pile. A distraction was only good if he let himself sink in to it. 

Of course, he’d known the moment he left home that he would only have so much time before the very thing he spent all night giving his deepest considerations to would come barging in and demanding even more of his attention. As he watched the door swing open Tobirama supposed that he should at least appreciate that Izuna had allowed him an hour or so of peace to settle in. 

“Morning!” Under the cheer of his tone Izuna’s smile was wan, almost false, though whether he was losing hope or if he’d simply not slept well the night before was unclear. 

“What do you have for me today?” Tobirama asked.

After a moment of startled blinking Izuna was quick to hold out the small bundle of cloth in his arms. “Before you ask, no, none of them have an uchiwa on them.”

Tobirama hummed and bent his neck for a closer look. Clothing, although different from the last similar offering. Before he had been offered well used scraps that - he understood now - would have carried a great deal of  sentimental value and made a very potent addition to any nest. These clothes were much newer looking and yet his sharp nose told him the other man had very carefully worn every item in that pile at least once to coat them with his scent. Not quite as important to avians but to a cat scent was everything.

When he reached out to accept the bundle he got the distinct impression that Izuna only barely stopped himself from fainting. 

“Since I won’t be wearing them,” he mumbled, “I don’t suppose it matters whose mon they have stitched on them.”

“You...took them. You took them? You took them from me. I think I’m asleep.” Izuna reached across himself to pinch his own arm without breaking eye contact. 

“If you had perhaps used your words I might have been inclined to accept your, ah, offers a little sooner.”

Tobirama’s hand twitched with the urge to scrub at the back of his neck with embarrassment, though he managed to keep himself from doing it. He would probably never admit it to the man but he owed Hashirama a great deal for explaining things to him the way he had. As much as he would absolutely be teasing Izuna about this it was a very good thing his old rival had never actually explained what his gifts were meant for. Having someone else clue him in gave Tobirama the chance he needed to panic in private, get past the instinctual need to run, and actually face the emotions he had apparently been repressing for longer than he wished to acknowledge. 

“Does this- you do know what that is, right?” Izuna asked carefully. He visibly held his breath when met with a slow nod. 

“Yes. I do. Well, now I do.” And that was all he hoped he would have to say about that. “You should probably know that snow leopards do not make nests.”

“No?”

“Our dens don’t require much personalization so I will need your guidance on how to go about this. If we’re both to be comfortable then I’ll want to make sure our nest is to your specifications.” Tobirama very much hoped his cheeks were not as red as they were warm. Romance and mates had never been something that took up many of his thoughts, never a subject he felt much of a need to pursue. It was lucky for him, then, that he seemed to have fallen in love with someone willing to pursue him instead. 

If Izuna had been blessed with four legs in his second form he would no doubt have begun purring raucously in the moment it finally hit him that this was real. Since his vocal chords were not shaped for that he instead broke out in to the toothiest, smuggest grin that Tobirama had ever seen. It was a terribly good look on him. 

A low, pleased trill echoed up his throat as he stepped forward until they were pressed together, chest to chest, and lifting his chin to nuzzle against the underside of Tobirama’s jaw. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture from someone whose usual method of showing he cared was a well timed insult aimed straight for the weak points. Even more endearing - and even more surprising - were the hands that brushed their way up the length of Tobirama’s abdomen to rest softly against his chest. Unassuming, unasking, reaching out yet still allowing space. How could a man do anything but pull him in to a loose embrace and close his eyes to bask?

“Mate,” Izuna whispered against the skin of his throat. “I’ve been incredibly patient for the honor of calling you that.”

“You have indeed,” Tobirama admitted. 

“I think I deserve a little something for my troubles.”

A smile lifted the corners of Tobirama’s mouth. “I might be convinced to compensate you if the request isn’t too ridiculous.” 

He was answered by another soft trill that plucked at his heartstrings in ways he never would have been able to admit if Izuna had not made the first move. Though finding a mate had never been a priority in his plans for the future he would have to give up his title of ‘genius’ to turn down an offer of happiness like this one. 

“Would you be willing to share a bit more of your nest building customs? I would hate to offend by accident so early in our bond.” 

“Before we worry about offending anything we should, oh I don’t know, maybe get busy forming the bond,” Izuna suggested. His tone by itself was suggestive enough even before he pulled away a scant inch or two to lock their gazes with a filthy leer. Tobirama tried to resist but it was no good. He smiled helplessly, the first of many capitulations to come. 

“I am eager to learn any part of you that you wish to share,” he said. 

And if perhaps under the suggestiveness of his own words he had cleverly hidden the softest parts of his heart laid bare, well, it was only right of him to share every part of himself with his new mate as well. 

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (11)

I have no regrets

---

After Marinette finished talking to Adrien, or Chloe rather, on the phone she got back to work on the present she had been making for Kagami. A mini-backpack in a white, red, and black color scheme with a patch of Pucca in the corner. The inside was lined with a noodle bowl pattern that she thought Kagami might find cute.

Marinette was sure that Kagami wouldn’t want to accept it since she was already asking a lot with her designing and constructing her fundraiser dress. But she had already been working on it so she was going to accept her gift whether she liked it or not!

She finished the backpack and stowed it away in her closet to give to Kagami tomorrow when she stopped by to start designing her dress. Strange there seemed to be more room in her closet. Maybe she just never noticed how much room she had before.

“Marinette!” her mom called up to her room the next day, “Kagami’s here!”

“Send her up!” she shouted back.

“Hey, Marinette,” Kagami stepped into the room, “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“Hey, Kagami. And trust me, the honor is mine. I rarely have an excuse to make formal wear.” Marinette picked up her measuring tape. “Take off the jacket and I’ll take your measurements.”

“Can do.” she shrugged off the coat and stepped on the little pedestal Marinette had set up. “This is so strange. I haven’t had anything tailored specifically to my measurements in years.”

“Really? You’ll be amazed at how perfect custom tailoring feels. Arms up, please,” She wrapped the tape around her bust. “Have you given any thought as to what style or color you want for your dress?”

“Not really.”

“Well you do have a signature color with the red if you want something like that.” Marinette said as she moved on to her waist and hip measurements.

“I have more red in my wardrobe than I know what to do with. I like it but I think I’d like to try something different for this.”

“Well then, we have a lot of options. You’re very much a winter. Did you want something warm or more cool tones?”

“Cool.”

“Dark or light?”

“Darker I’d say. I’m pretty pale so I’m worried that lighter colors would wash me out.”

“Not if you choose the right one but okay.” Marinette jotted down the last of her measurements, “I’d say something like jade, plum, mauve--ooh, royal blue would look fantastic on you! Hold on I think I got a swatch of it somewhere.”

“I do like this shade of blue,” Kagami said, pointing to the beautiful royal blue swatch Marinette had chosen.

Marinette held it against her skin, “I told you it would look good on you. Did you want this color or did you want to look at more colors?”

“Let’s see some of those purples you suggested.” The rest of the afternoon flew by as they went about debating colors and silhouettes.

“That’s too short!” Kagami whined as Marinette helped a measuring tape up to her middle thigh.

“What about this?” She went to just above the knee.

“Mmm.” Kagami wouldn’t stop making that pouty face.

“If you want a high-low silhouette then it needs to be high in the front.”

“Then scrap the high-low.”

“Okay. But I still think we should get a flash of leg. Maybe twin slits?”

“Just let my legs be hidden.” Kagami’s face was pink.

“One slit?”

“Maybe.”

“We’ll keep working on it.” They wrapped up for the day and Marinette started putting her materials away.

“This was nice.” Kagami said, “I didn’t think designing a dress could be so fun.”

“Now you understand why I like designing so much.”

“I guess so,” Kagami looked around at the other sketches and pictures Marinette had posted around the room. She stopped in front of a picture of Adrien and Marinette at the fashion show. Marinette caught her lingering on the picture, her face not giving anything away.

“Kagami?” Marinette approached her. “Is everything okay?”

“He really likes you, you know.” she murmured, “You come up every time we see each other at fencing practice.”

“He’s just a really good friend.” Marinette turned her away from the picture, “I thought we weren’t gonna be weird about this.”

“I’m not being weird about it.” Kagami sighed, “I thought you would have liked to know how much he thinks about you. Even more so lately it seems.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Adrien has been rather...distant lately. I can’t quite describe it. He always seems to be focusing on something else and that something else has something to do with you.”

“That is strange. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about though.” Marinette pinned the finale design for Kagami’s dress on the wall, “Besides, you are going to have his undivided attention at the fundraiser in this beauty of a dress. Forget all of Adrien’s attention, you’ll have the entire guest list fawning over you.”

“I think you give me too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little. Oh wait, that reminds me for whatever reason,” Marinette darted to her closet, “I started making this for you the day we worked on the utopia project.”

She pulled out the backpack and handed it to Kagami. “I was inspired by that character you liked.”

“Marinette…” Kagami clutched the backpack to her chest, “This is too much. You didn’t need to  make me this.”

“I figured you’d try and resist. Don’t worry about it though. I enjoyed making it and I want you to have it.” Marinette assured her. “Now you should get going before your mom starts panic calling you.”

“Thank you, Marinette.” Kagami slung the little backpack over her shoulders. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Kagami!” Marinette waved as she left the house.

Now that that was finished all Marinette needed to do was go out and buy the material for the dress. She texted Alya to see if she wanted to come with. They had been apart for so long Marinette wanted to catch up on the hang out time they lost.

After a minute she got a response.

You know I’d love to girl but I got a major group project going on that’s due at the end of the week. I promise we’ll hang out after! Love ya!

“Well that stinks.” Marinette frowned, “Guess it’s just you and me, Tikki.”

She headed out for the store. The fabric shop was one of her favorite places to visit. Not only did it mean she was working on a new project but she adored seeing all the materials and envisioning new garments.

She found the perfect shade for Kagami’s dress and moved onto the aisle full of buttons and zippers. Turning the corner she froze when she saw someone else in the aisle. They looked up and smirked. “Hello, Marinette, fancy seeing you here.”

“Lila.” Marinette made a point to ignore her as she maneuvered around her to get to the zippers.

“What? No friends to hide behind today?” Lila remarked, “Or did they realize how annoying you are and ditch you too?”

Marinette ignored her.

“You aren’t even gonna put up a fight, are you?” Lila laughed, “Is that how far you’ve fallen? From your class’ precious everyday Ladybug to the spineless little nobody you really are. I’d pity you if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

They’re just the words of a deranged brat. She’s not worth the time.

“Come on,” Lila edged closer, “It’s no fun if you don’t react.”

How come this zipper was so hard to find?

“Whatever. I’m through with you. I’ve moved onto bigger fish. Mainly that little blogger friend of yours.” Marinette’s head shot up and Lila smiled wider as her comment hit its target, “It’s sad really. I liked Alya. Up until she came crawling back to you that is. Thankfully it won’t take nearly as much to drive her out of the school as it did you.”

“Why?” Marinette couldn’t keep it in any longer, “Why are you like this? What do you gain by doing these things? What hurt you so badly that you have to ruin the lives of everyone you come in contact with?”

“I only ruin the lives of my enemies.”

“That’s the thing, Lila. The second someone does something that doesn’t match up exactly with how you want they’re your enemy. You tell people things that you think they want to hear and spin tales that you think will make you look cooler and for what reason? So that you can feel justified in your horrible behaviour towards your peers? Are you even happy? Happy living these lies? Happy that no one will ever like what you really are because you keep that mean, envious, and scared gremlin that is the real you behind your grandiose stories?”

“Are you finished?” Lila rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m done caring about what you do. You are going to get yours, Lila. Karma is coming for you and when it does you will not be able to salvage anything from the wreckage.” Marinette grabbed the zipper she needed and shimmied past her.

“I’d pity you if it wasn’t so pathetic.” she spat the words back in her face before racing to the checkout counter.

She paid for the materials and meandered back home. Lila could do whatever she wanted in terms of trying to torture Marinette but threatening Alya had been one step too far. She was not going to let her ruin someone else’s life.

---

“Geez,” Alya looked around at the mess of papers scattered around Chloe’s room. “I see now why Sabrina does all your assignments if this is how you organize.”

“Less talky, more worky,” Chloe shuffled some papers around, “I need to figure out how to sort all of this into a cohesive narrative by Thursday.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before the due week.” Alya sighed as she booted up her laptop.

“Maybe you should stop with the attitude. You’re lucky I’m letting you anywhere near this, Cesaire.” Chloe sniped.

“She’s my best friend! I have more of a right than you!” Alya growled back.

“Girls!” Adrien hushed them, “Please keep it down, I’m on the phone.”

The girls muttered their apologies and went back to the project. Adrien stayed on the phone hashing out the last details for the fundraiser with Nathalie. As events got closer it was taking a lot more work to keep their plans underwraps and running smoothly. They had one shot at this and if it went wrong then that was it. Improvisation was not Adrien’s strong suit. Which considering that he needs to improvise excuses to run off and be Chat Noir says a lot.

“Yes, Nathalie,” Adrien repeated, “I am aware how important this is. I can assure you I have planned for every contingency. Okay. I understand. I promise it’ll all turn out fine. Alright. Yes. Yes. I’ll be home within the hour. Goodbye.”

Adrien turned back to the girls. “Okay, we gotta work quick cause I need leave soon.”

Chloe downed the rest of her coffee and slammed the cup back on the table. “Then let’s get moving cause I am not doing all this by myself.”

“The Case of Dolos and Aletheia.” Alya typed into the slideshow title card, “A Modern Retelling by Chloe Bourgeois.”

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (12)

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(tagged)

@northernbluetongue @heredemaquam @zazzlejazzle @lady-flora-of-slytherin @ladylb @immatureidiot101

[phobiadeficient]

all of your works are sooo good. thanks for consider: sniper is distracted with some on-going shit and not paying enough attention to scout, so our lanky runner starts to tease him during battle. then gets shoved into the mattress becouse of doing so, obviously -🦂

i honestly could’ve run with this a while longer but already this is 3,000 words and i feel like that was a nice, organic place to end it. scout is a needy, attention-loving sonofabitch, but i feel like he doesn’t understand how patient sniper is. that’s on him, though

-

“Hey, Snipes.”

He looked over his shoulder as Scout clambered the remainder of the way into the watchtower, the task clearly taking very little effort from him. Scout was out of much of his work uniform, hands bare and headset missing. The rest of his clothes were as usual, albiet somewhat ruffled from climbing a ladder. “I’m working, Scout. Leave me be,” was all he said.

“Aw, c’mon,” Scout complained, fixing his shirt and giving Sniper puppy-dog eyes.

Sniper sighed. “Alright, fine, then get over here,” he said, leaning a short distance to pick up his knife.

Scout’s expression fell. “Woah, what? Why?” he asked, eyeing the weapon.

“So I can Spycheck you. C’mere,” he said, gesturing him over with his blade.

Scout did so warily. Sniper held his free hand out as if for a handshake, and Scout took it slowly. Sniper moved to shift his grip on the knife, reaching forward and pinching him on the arm, hard.

“Ow,” Scout said, a little grumpy, flinching.

Sniper nodded, satisfied, moving to take his seat again. “What did you want?” he asked, picking back up his rifle and trying to find the position he’d been in previously.

“Well,” Scout said, hesitated for a second. “I’m fuckin’ bored, first off.”

“Now’s not a good time,” Sniper replied. “I’m on shift here until the middle of the night. Meant to watch this road and make sure nobody gets anywhere near our base.”

“Why?”

“Local authorities might be onto us. If they find the base, that’s game over. Anyone comes by, I’m meant to take them out. It’s important. So,” he shrugged, “not a good time. Run along now.”

Scout sighed, sidling up behind Sniper and draping arms around his shoulder. His hat was knocked into his eyes, and he straightened it, scowling. “You haven’t paid any attention to me in ages, he complained.

“We hung around each other this past weekend,” Sniper corrected him, eye still firmly down his scope.

“That was with the other guys around. I meant attention attention,” Scout specified, lips finding the back of his neck to punctuate his sentence.

“Not even a full week and a half counts as ages to you, then, does it?” he asked, tone dry.

“Yeah!”

“Thought I left a pretty lasting impression last time. You sure complained enough about it,” Sniper muttered, remembering how much Scout had whined about soreness until the next time he fell under the beam of the Medigun.

“Well, now I’m back for more,” Scout said simply, kissing him a few more times. When Sniper didn’t react in the slightest, Sniper could feel him start pouting. “C’mon, Snipes. You’re really gonna leave me hangin’?”

“Yeah. I have a job to do,” Sniper agreed, not hesitating for even a moment.

“Aw, c’mon. I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” Scout goaded, one hand dropping to slide up Sniper’s thigh, finding and cupping the front of his pants.

All he got was a small jolt in the muscles of Sniper’s back. “I said no,” he replied pointedly.

Scout pouted further, moving his hand away again. “You serious?” he whined.

“Yes. Go have a wank over it, mate. Let me work,” Sniper said.

Scout paused for a few long moments. “Fine,” he replied, starting to sound a little annoyed now, and Sniper’s eyebrows furrowed as he heard the sound of a zipper directly behind him, then shot up as a series of different sounds followed.

Scout kept one arm draped around him, using it to keep his balance as he started pushing down his pants, presumably to hand around his knees since Sniper didn’t hear the belt hitting the floor. Scout raised his free hand up to his own face, spitting into his palm, the noise loud so close to Sniper’s ear and just barely visible in his periphery, and then it was gone, and he heard a series of slick sounds along side a shaky exhale from Scout.

He kept his eyes forward, watching the road.

Scout’s breath was damp and warm against his ear, only getting warmer. Soon enough he shifted a slight bit closer, nosing into Sniper’s hair as his breathing picked up, catching on an exhale, a hard swallow, catching again.

“Fuck, Snipes,” Scout breathed, tone an echo of the whine from earlier, but completely different in a new context. Sniper kept staring straight ahead. “God, fuck.”

Similar sounds and noises followed shortly after, his breath hitching on quiet, barely-there moans. Apparently, Scout was a bit quieter when he was jacking off than when he was getting fucked. Sniper blinked once, hard, clenching his eyelids with force, and went back to staring out of his scope. He shook off the thought with a great deal of effort, shutting down the mental image of Scout lying alone in his bed, panting and moaning softly. It was made harder by the fact that those sounds also existed in real life.

“God, Snipes, I want you to fuck me,” Scout moaned, lips moving against the space just behind his ear, and Sniper had to blink hard again. “Ain’t anyone on the planet who can fuck me up like you can. You always just wreck me, I can barely even walk after, but it’s so good. Can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Scout took a brief moment to latch his lips onto Sniper’s neck, just barely scraping over the skin with those big teeth of his, before he had to pull back again to breathe.

“Fuck,” he panted, voice broken. “I just want your dick real bad, babe. Up my ass, in my throat, it doesn’t matter. Anything. I just fuckin’ want you.”

Sniper swallowed hard, feeling very much overheated in all of his layers. He was sweating. But he was pretty sure Scout wouldn’t notice—he felt Scout’s cheek against him, and it was damp too.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Scout breathed, unsteady, leaning hard now. “It’s fuckin’ killin’ me. Fuck, please, fuck—“

“If you get cum on my back, I’m throwing you off this tower, teammate or not,” Sniper warned lowly, having heard that particular voice crack before and knowing what it meant.

Scout gave a desperate whine against the space under his ear, but his weight shifted slightly nevertheless. He made a choked-off noise, quickly biting down on the collar of Sniper’s vest, keening into it softly. He heard the sound of a drip behind him, liquid hitting the floorboards. Scout breathed heavily through his nose for a few moments, then finally detached, panting hard. He laid a few more kisses against Sniper’s neck, humming and contented.

Except not too contented, apparently, because he spoke once he had his breath back a bit. “You know I’m good for more than one round, you want in on the second one?” he asked suggestively, his grin in his voice and against Sniper’s skin in equal measure.

“No,” Sniper said calmly. “If you’re done here, run along. You’re heavy.”

Scout straightened up, scoffing, all of that irritation coming back all at once. “You fuckin’ serious right now?!” he demanded. “All that, and you’d still rather sit here and stare down a scope—“

“And do my job, which is what I’m here for, and getting paid to do, yes,” Sniper replied easily. “And I’m here for the rest of the night, so you’d best just get a move on.”

Scout made an annoyed noise, and Sniper heard him shuffling his clothes back into place, no small amount of roughness involved by the sound of it. “Fuck you, Snipes,” he all but spat.

Sniper hadn’t previously known that it was possible to stomp down a ladder. Apparently it was.

-

In the middle of battle, arms around his shoulders again.

He jumped, but managed to keep from lashing out just barely, and he promptly recognized who it must be and reasoned that the enemy Spy would’ve just stabbed him between the shoulder blades and wouldn’t be playing a dumb game like this. “Bad time, Scout,” was all he said, tone clipped.

“Nah,” Scout said, “match is almost over.” Then he promptly put his mouth on Sniper’s neck again, exactly the same way he had last time.

“Mate, besides the fact that I’m working, anyone could come up here and see this,” Sniper said, tone even more clipped.

“Nobody ever comes up here,” Scout scoffed, breath hot against his earlobe, which he promptly nipped at.

“Enemy Spook does,” Sniper said sharply, and a moment later he fired his gun, the kickback shifting Scout away from him for a second.

“And he’s pissed off at Engie today,” Scout replied, reaching up to tap at his own headset. “Nobody’s gonna come up here. Seriously.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Another fire. “You can sit yourself down again and have a wank, I don’t give a damn. But you already know that trick won’t work on me, and if you get caught with your cock out that’s nobody’s fault but your own.”

“Yeah,” Scout agreed, much too smug. “I know all that.”

The sound of a zipper again. Sniper scowled. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe,” Scout shrugged, and moved around Sniper, and within a moment he was under the window Sniper was sat in front of, knelt down between Sniper’s legs. Sniper kept a warning on the tip of his tongue, waiting for Scout to try reaching for his zipper, but Scout didn’t, just worming his own pants and underwear down his legs. The sound of something clicking open, then something squirting lewdly, then further slick noises following just behind as Scout started jerking off.

“Tug off all you want, all you’re doing is giving the other team time to kick our arses,” Sniper drawled. “Won’t make much difference to me.”

“Yeah, clearly you don’t care if I jack off,” Scout said, voice only a touch breathier.

Sniper frowned at how oddly that was phrased, then his eyes widened as the sound of Scout jacking off slowed, a different slick noise starting up in its absence.

“Mmh,” Scout hummed, leaning his cheek on Sniper’s thigh, and Sniper only ever heard Scout make that exact noise in one situation, and he swallowed hard.

It had occurred to him previously that Scout rarely needed the amount of prep that he thought he would before getting absolutely railed. Only now did it occur to him why that might be.

Scout teased himself open with soft noises against Sniper’s inseam, jerking in steady motions to stay comfortable.

Scout had a really high sex drive, Sniper was aware. He probably got himself off practically on the daily.

Scout moaned, and it sounded an awful lot like his name, and Sniper had to swallow hard. He did so again a second later at Scout’s soft, barely-there pleading. “Fuck, harder, Snipes, harder,” he gasped, unsteady and desperate, and it made Sniper’s pulse stutter in sympathy.

How often did he finger himself open? How often did he do this, fucking himself and moaning Sniper’s name? Did he have toys, whole fantasies?

His hands shook enough that when he took a shot a moment later, it collided with the target’s neck, not the forehead. And from the spray it created it would make no difference, they’d die in a few seconds anyways, but it was sloppy. Very sloppy. The gunshot made Scout jump slightly, gasp into the fabric of his pants, leaving them warm and just slightly damp, but he didn’t slow his motions in the slightest.

Sniper was getting hard. Of course he was getting hard, how on earth wouldn’t he be getting hard? And any moment Scout would notice, and would taunt him, double down, start begging to be fucked, and that might very well be enough to snap Sniper’s self-control.

He put the rifle down.

Scout looked up at him through his eyelashes, flushed and with parted lips, and Sniper seized him by the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet.

Two damp hands at his wrist, Scout gasping as he was hauled across the small room to a few crates serving as a table and promptly shoved down onto them. Affirmations fell from his lips as Sniper leaned down to kiss and bite at his neck, hard, hard enough that it would certainly be leaving a mark, and only sped up when Sniper took his wrists and pinned them up above his head on the table, blindly scrabbling for the rope he had left there.

Within a few moments he had a Scout tied there, grinning and panting and hard and with rumpled, mostly-open clothing, staring up at him triumphantly. “Gonna fuck me, Snipes?” he asked, very taunting, very proud of himself.

Sniper grabbed him by the chin, tilting his head to one side so he could press a kiss to his cheek, nip his earlobe, and speak into his ear. “No, I’m not,” he replied simply, and straightened his hat, and walked back to his window to sit right back down and pick up his rifle.

Scout yelled at him for about five minutes. Sassed him for about three more. Sulked for two, started asking nicely to be untied, and begged with increasing desperation for about twenty minutes after that before he apparently realized that Sniper wasn’t going to let him out any time soon.

He asked, very quietly and sheepishly after a few minutes of silence, if Sniper could at least hide him better. Sniper picked up the blanket he’d been sitting on for comfort and tossed it over Scout. That got him yelled at for about two minutes before Scout went quiet again when Sniper pointed out that the blanket wasn’t as good at hiding him if he was making noise.

The match ended an hour and a half later, and they won, albeit barely, largely carried by Heavy and Medic’s extraordinary teamwork and good build placements by the Engineer. Sniper packed up everything he had, emptying jars and his long-cold cup of coffee out the window when he was sure his teammates weren’t beneath it. He then sat and waited a few minutes for the hooting and hollering to fade before he walked over and tugged the blanket off of Scout’s face.

Scout was pouting at him. “Can you please untie me now?” he asked, voice quiet and a little pitiful. Sniper almost felt bad. Almost.

“That depends. Everyone on the team gone off the field?” he asked, tapping at Scout’s headset.

“Yeah. They started askin’ where I was. They think it’s another situation like that time Spy’s head got chopped off and the other Medic kept him for a week or two,” he replied, thoroughly subdued.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” Sniper asked, tone joking, pinching his cheek.

“You fuckin’ tied me up and left me here under a blanket for like two hours,” Scout replied, tone containing a very minimal amount of sharpness.

“Would’ve let you up if you said the safeword,” Sniper replied, eyebrow ticking up.

Scout looked away from him. “Wasn’t sure that you would,” he said quietly. “And it would’ve freaked me out even more if I did and you wouldn’t.”

Sniper’s expression fell in an instant. “Scout, of course I would’ve. Why do you think that I wouldn’t?” he asked, very serious.

“Because…” Scout trailed, stopped for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was even quieter. “Because you keep ignoring me. Don’t you want me?”

Sniper was incredulous. “Mate, of bloody course I want you. You wouldn’t believe how hot and bothered I’ve been. But I need to put my job first, and so do you. If it’s that big a deal, we can try and meet up more off the clock. I can try and make more time. But I’m not going to stop doing my job just to get off, awright?”

Scout nodded, apparently slightly pacified.

“What do you want now?” Sniper asked.

“I want you to fuck me, I think I made that pretty fuckin’ clear,” Scout snapped. “And my shoulders are startin’ to hurt. Could you—?”

Sniper was already up untying him before he could even finish asking. He moved Scout’s arms down to his sides, kneading at his shoulders in strong hands. “That feel better?” he asked gently.

“Yeah.” Scout got up, shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds, fixed his clothes, wincing. “Jesus.”

“Sorry, mate,” Sniper said, the guilt starting to set in.

“Whatever, man,” Scout said. Once he was all situated, he looked up at Sniper, eyes narrowed. “So you… do still want me?” he asked, a little hesitant.

“Yeah,” Sniper agreed.

“You free?” was his next question, hopeful.

“I’ve got chores that need doing, but they can wait,” Sniper replied easily.

“My place or yours?”

“Mine,” Sniper replied, tugging Scout the few steps in to close the distance between them. “Your walls are thin. And after two displays like that, you’re gonna let the whole base know who you belong to if we’re in your room.”

Scout shivered, melting against him. “Fuckin’ please,” he all but groaned.

Sniper nosed in at his neck, teeth dragging lightly across his skin in a way that made Scout gasp. He was clearly all keyed up, and Sniper grinned at it. “First, I might just sit you down and watch you for a while, though. See how you get yourself off. Didn’t exactly get a good look, and you sounded—“ A pause to nip at him, and Scout made another desperate little noise, hips jerking forward into his thigh. “—bloody gorgeous.”

“Anything,” Scout agreed too-fast, panting against him, starting to roll his hips forward.

Sniper grinned again, pulling back to look Scout in the eye, tilting his chin up with one hand. “Oh, darl, you’re gonna wish you didn’t say that.”