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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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so ironwood was confirmed to be dead by Miles in a $42 cameo session, where the person who bought it had asked for "comforting words to soothe our anguished souls" bc she was an ironwood fan and wanted a pick-me-up after that devastating finale. miles' response was to essentially mock his fans (it really sounded like that, especially since he ended with "thank you jimmy, may you rest in pieces, crushed beneath the weight of the kingdom you tried so hard to hold up above your head."

apparently the VA, jason rose, confirmed it in DMs w the same fan who sent in the cameo ask. so like, quite apart from how rude and disrespectful it was of miles to make a mockery of james in a cameo where he'd been specifically asked for comforting words regarding the character, ngl but i think that if you have to confirm a MAJOR CHARACTER is dead outside of canon bc you failed to actually show it on screen.....you've failed as a writer. and also that kind of thing shouldn't be confirmed in an expensive and exclusive interview lmao like how hard would it have been to just talk about good aspects to james' character instead of calling him a dickbag and saying 'don't do a genocide, guys!!'

it reeks of unprofessionalism and also it just makes everything surrounding ironwood's character arc even worse since apparently 'his fate was sealed' from the moment he was introduced to the show.

Me, who received the first Moderna shot yesterday (🎉 🎉 🎉 ): Ugh I feel too crappy to answer asks today

Me, upon hearing this news: You know, I have suddenly found an untapped source of energy

Okay, all joking aside, I watched the vid and it’s definitely a lot. I don’t have any information about the request itself except for what Miles mentions in the recording, so I can’t speak to what the fan may have been looking for outside of that, but some highlights include:

“This is for the filth in my degenerate discord server” - Yeah, that’s how a lot of us (fans) talk about ourselves. It sounds like someone who really enjoys Ironwood and makes joking, self-deprecating comments about their love of a character. That’s familiar to me and speaks to the expectation that they hoped for something other than what they got. At least, if I’d sent in a request like that I wouldn’t be happy with the vid, but that’s obviously my own perspective and not this fan’s. I’d be very curious to know their own thoughts though...

“Sometimes a character we like doesn’t make it, does something we don’t agree with... or both!” - That is indeed how characters work! The real question is whether their death/actions make sense within the story, which is not addressed here. Many fans who enjoyed Ironwood don’t have a problem with him dying or turning into a villain — I’ve been honest about my acceptance of either/both, regardless of personal preference, provided it was written well — and that was always the issue. Not what happened to Ironwood, but how it happened.

“James Ironwood’s fate was sealed the moment his character was conceived many years ago.” - Personally, I don’t believe this. RT makes a lot of grand, sweeping statements about what’s been planned “for years” or “since the beginning” and too often we’re faced with writing that directly contradicts that. Though it’s unlikely we’ll ever know the truth, neither option paints the writing team in a good light. Either they’re straight up lying about what’s been planned (or twisting tossed out possibilities into assurances after the fact. For example, someone once suggested Ironwood might become a villain somehow at some point and now that’s presented as, ‘We’ve deliberately been working towards this specific ending for years’), or they’re being truthful and just... can’t write what they want to write. It doesn’t sound good when a writer says, ‘I’ve planned this the whole time’ and a good chunk of the fandom responds, ‘Then why couldn’t we see that planning this whole time?’

“When James was introduced we intentionally made him look like kind of a big dickbag, but then we realized that dickbag had a heart and was also half metal, and that was pretty cool!” - I don’t even know what to make of this. I’ve deconstructed his introduction before, but to summarize here, he’s presented as no more of a “dickbag” than Ozpin who may not be doing enough to protect the people, Winter who allowed herself to get taunted into a fight on campus, or Qrow who deliberately started that fight while drunk. Glynda is the only one who is arguably innocent here. The implication seems to be that obviously Ironwood became a villain because “we intentionally made him look like kind of a big dickbag” but then... does that mean Qrow will become a villain too someday??

The comments about them realizing he had a heart and was half metal just speak to that lack of planning. No, you obviously didn’t plan this downfall from the start if you “realized” something as basic as him caring for others partway through writing him and then allowed that care to drive his character for so long that the decent into villainy read as OOC, rather than inevitable. You obviously weren’t writing him with a backstory that influenced his character — of which his semblance is a major part — if you “realized” he was half-metal... whenever that happened. The fact that we never saw that backstory, or the semblance on screen, or returned to his half-metal nature outside of a ‘That’s coding for evilness’ theme again speaks to the fact that either a) none of this was actually planned or b) the execution is seriously lacking here.

“Let us all take a moment to thank General James Ironwood for his service to the Kingdom of Atlas, but... at the end of the day, don’t do a genocide [laughs]” - I’m having trouble articulating why I dislike this. I’m really too tired to be unpacking this right now (lol), but it has something to do with — as you say, anon — that mocking tone. Something else to do with the surge of purity culture in recent years. The tone feels like it’s tied up in an unsaid, ‘You like the character who tried to commit genocide?’ accusation when, you know, he’s a fictional character. People can like characters who do bad things. More significantly, he’s a fictional character Miles wrote. There’s something particularly distasteful about writers who feel like they’re laughing at fans for liking something when they created the thing with the intent that we would like it. And many did. So they gave attention, time, money, passion, etc. to the work and then when that part of the work finished, the creator appears to make light of that investment? Idk, I’m speaking about more than just this one line — the tone of the vid as a whole, really — but it feels much less like “You enjoy Ironwood! 😄” and more “You enjoy Ironwood... 😬” Like yeah, fans enjoyed the character that you wanted them to enjoy who you wrote to have a heart and then suddenly commit genocide instead. There’s definitely nothing complicated in all that.

“Thank you, Jimmy. May you rest in pieces crushed beneath the weight of the kingdom you tried so hard to hold above your head. Amen.” - All of the above x2 with the added issue that this was never shown on screen. Miles presents Ironwood’s arc like this seven year long plan when in fact they couldn’t even manage the basic move of telling the audience what happened to the character in his final hour. The fact that a fan had to pay to find out whether Ironwood is dead is not a gold star for the writing.

Every time the RWBY crew speaks about the story in supplementary material the canon itself gets worse. Hyping Clover/Qrow on social media pushes the canon closer to queerbaiting. We’re way closer to that with them hyping Blake/Yang. Long ago comments about Ozpin’s cane suddenly make Volume 8 a retcon. A Q&A about Ironwood’s semblance makes his arc a thousand times more confusing about how we’re supposed to read his character — to name just a few. Now this. When a friend first told me this info had dropped I thought, “Thank god. He’s not coming back then. I don’t want them writing Ironwood’s character anymore,” but really... can we believe anything the crew says? “Crushed beneath the weight of his kingdom” doesn’t mean Ironwood won’t show up in Volume 9 if it’s a spirit world type adventure. It doesn’t mean he won’t show up three years from now with even more metal in his body and a, “We said he was crushed, not that he was dead ;)” explanation. Hell, it doesn’t even mean he won’t show up with no explanation at all because, as established, what’s said in supplementary works and what happens on screen are two entirely separate things. Iffy as the vid may come across to those who did like Ironwood, I was initially happy that it at least gave us some closure... but now I’m not even sure about that.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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junhuiste · 3 years

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break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #hoshi #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hoshi fluff

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khaleesiofalicante · 4 years

Text

START OF SOMETHING NEW

“Tavvy, on your left!”

Rafael swivelled off the tree branch, landing gracefully on the floor and quickly wiped off the dust from his coat. They were in the middle of a fight, but his Bapa had taught him that one always had to look their best - especially during a fight.

“Rafe?” his parabatai called out, grabbing another seraph blade from his boot.

Rafael’s fingers pulled on the bowstring by instinct and muscle memory. The arrow slashed through the air and landed on the Shax’s demon’s forehead - or whatever that body part was. It was always so hard to tell with demons.

“Thanks!” Tavvy clasped his shoulder. “Let’s go find the others.”

Rafael nodded and they both ran toward the garden. Mina and his brother had been separated from them during the fight. He hadn’t applied a speed rune, but he didn’t need one when it came to Max.

His dad had taught him everything about what it means to be a good shadowhunter. But the first lesson was simple - always have your family’s back. Always.

They spotted Mina as soon as they made it to the garden. Mina, who was the youngest among them but probably the boldest, was fighting off a Shax all on her own. Rafael noticed another one creeping up behind her. He raised his bow and aimed his shot.

“Not my bestie, you bitch!”

A bolt of blue magic appeared from above and Max landed on the ground, his blue curls falling over his forehead. The Shax turned into goo as Mina skilfully took care of the other one.

“10 points for Ravenclaw for that reference,” Mina high fived Max.

“Nerds,” Tavvy chuckled as the two of them ran up to them.

“Nicely done,” Rafe told the team as he checked Max for any visible wounds.

“Hermano, no!” Max shooed him away. “There is something you both should see.”

Rafe stared at Tavvy, who shrugged and followed the others. They walked into mansion..or what was left of it.

“By the angel. What the hell happened here?” Rafe gasped.

“There were too many Shax demons,” Mina explained. “Max and I had to release a fireball. A big one.”

“Max, Bapa has told you not to do the fireball unless it’s an emergency!” Rafe sighed.

“Excuse me but if battling twenty shax demons doesn’t count as an emergency then I don’t know what does!” Max argued.

“Twenty?” Tavvy echoed. “There were only five!”

“The rest of them turned up after we got separated,” Mina pointed out. “I think they were hiding in the mansion.”

“Do we have any idea who the mansion belongs to?” Rafe asked, already calculating possible damage costs. “Is it a mundane?”

“We don’t know,” Max shrugged. “Can we go now?”

“We can’t!” Rafe said. “You just blew up someone’s mansion. Protocol says we need to do something about it.”

“Protocol is the worst,” Mina and Max mumbled.

“We need back up,” Tavvy looked at him.

“Oh no,” Mina pouted. “Not back up!”

Calling for back up usually meant the mission had gone out of control - and that usually meant no more missions for a while.

“If we call for backup, then they probably won’t let us go on a mission for another three months!” Tavvy grumbled. “Remember what happened in Shanghai?”

“Let’s not,” Max winced. “I think the only reason we got away with it is because of Uncle Jem.”

“Well, we can’t call him here now,” Rafe replied. “He already helped us last time!”

“Then what are we going to do now?” Mina asked. “We need help. But we can’t let the Clave know about this. No offence, guys!”

“None taken,” Max and Rafe said at the same time.

One would think that life would be easier when your dad was the Consul. But that wasn’t the case for Max and Rafe. Their dad was extremely protective of them and would probably take them off field duty for god knows how long.

“Alright, gang!” Max said as they stood in a circle. “We need to find someone who will help us handle this quietly without getting into trouble.”

“We can call Kit,” Mina said. “You know he won’t say a word.”

“But he is in the Moscow institute with Ty,” Tavvy groaned.

“We can call Uncle Jace,” Max beamed. “He is the perfect man for the job.”

“But he is in faerie,” Mina sighed.

“Anyone else borderline concerned that both our options are Herondales?” Rafe inquired.

“We need more Herondales goddamnit!” Max swore. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Well,” Tavvy rubbed his neck. “We are in a helpless situation and need someone to save our asses. Historically, there is only one person we can rely on.”

“Nope,” Rafael said immediately.

“Already texted him,” Max grinned as he put his phone away.

A blue portal appeared in less than a minute and their Bapa stepped out, striding towards them in a hurry.

“Are you all okay?” He started checking them for wounds, even Tavvy and Mina.

“We are fine, Bapa,” Rafe smiled. “But we can’t say the same for the mansion though.”

“Yikes,” his father said eloquently as he took in their surrounding. “Well, it looks like it was badly in need for a renovation anyway.”

“Uncle Magnus,” Tavvy gulped. “Why is the portal still open?”

Rafe turned around immediately to see the portal shimmering behind them.

“Um, about that,” his Bapa fiddled with his rings. “I might have bought some backup.”

“Dios mio!” Rafael gulped.

“It’s not my fault!” Bapa put up his hands. “Max texted 911! I freaked out! Besides, he was right there when you texted me! What was I supposed to do?”

Before any of them could answer, their dad, and the mother effing Consul, stepped out of the portal.

He immediately ran towards them and scanned them with frantic eyes.

“Is everything okay?” He asked. “I was on a call with the Alliance and they can get here-”

“Bapa, we are fine!” Max reassured him. “It’s just…well.”

“Just some collateral damage, darling,” Bapa chuckled.

The Consul looked around at that and gasped. The mansion was still slowly falling apart slowly.

“Paperwork,” their dad whispered, mostly to himself. “So much paperwork.”

“Darling, it’s just a little mess.”

“Little?”

“Alec, it isn’t like we didn’t blow things up and cause a mess back then,” Bapa said - ever the support of mischief.

“I have never blown up anything in my life,” his father said indignantly.

“True,” Bapa shrugged. “But I do recall you making questionable decisions. Remember how you almost ripped apart that vampire because he insulted me?”

“Wasn’t that last week?” Mina chuckled.

“Exactly,” Bapa grinned at her. “They are still learning.”

“Magnus, I get that. But they ca-”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Max bit his lip.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Mina said quickly. “We were outnumbered. We had to do a fireball.”

“Blueberry, I know fireballs are a cool aesthetic. But I’ve told you that strong magic must be preserved for serious situ-”

“There were twenty Shax demons, Bapa!” Max pointed out. “Mins and I got separated from the others. We couldn’t fight them all off on our own. We didn’t do it for the aesthetic. We needed to do the fireball to survive.”

The Consul, who was listening them intently, rubbed his beard. Rafe had told him to shave it off multiple times, but their Bapa apparently liked it and thus the beard stayed on.

“Twenty Shax demons isn’t normal!” He pointed out. “We need to launch an investigation.”

“Can we do it?” Max asked, already excited at the prospect.

“Max, all of you are too young-”

“We are almost the same age as you were when you battled Valentine,” Rafael pointed out defiantly.

He saw Bapa smile fondly but dad didn’t falter.

“We’ll be careful, sir,” Tavvy said in a way and that reminded Rafe so much of Julian. “We’ve been tracking the demons since last month. We can handle it.”

Alec looked at Magnus - they were clearly communicating in a way only married people could. Rafe looked at Max who just shrugged. Either of them had been able to break their parent’s secret communication code.

“Alright,” their dad finally said. “Octavian, you will lead the team. You must report to me directly. But I will be nominating one nephilim and downworlder adult to assist you in the mission. If something goes wrong next time, you must directly contact them.”

“Thanks, dad!” Max threw himself at their father. “I knew you are the best Consul.”

Their father only grinned and ruffled Max’s curls. Rafael slowly made his way to him and hugged him from the side.

“Sorry about the mess, dad,” he mumbled. “I promise I will watch out for Max next time.”

“You need to watch out for yourself too,” their dad whispered softly.

“Mr. Consul,” their Bapa said in a formal voice and their dad rolled his eyes. “I would like to volunteer as the downworlder representative for this Taskforce.”

“Hells yeah!” Max pumped his fist in the year.

“Not gonna happen,” their dad shook his dead.

“What? Why?” Their bapa pouted.

“You’re gonna sit this one out,” his father said sternly. “You have a pathological need to get involved in shadowhunter business.”

“No, I don’t!” their bapa gasped. “You’re the weirdo!”

“You will be working with Drusilla Blackthorn and Lily Chen,” their dad said. “Rafe, I need a report on today’s mission by the end of this week. Octavian, arrange a meeting with Drusilla and Lily immediately. And Max and Mina, try not to blow anything up in the meantime.”

“We have one more request,” Max raised his hand.

“We do?” Rafael questioned.

“This is clearly a serious mission,” Max said in a serious voice. “We need more manpower.”

“Maia and the others are busy with the Allia-”

“Actually, we were thinking of someone younger,” Mina pointed out.

“Someone whose last name might be Herondale,” Max grinned.

“No,” their dad whispered softly. “Not the twins.”

“It’s a dangerous mission that involves fighting demons and blowing things up. If we leave Alex and Charlotte out, we will never hear the end of it,” Rafe pointed out with a smile.

“Fine,” his father relented. “Only because they are excellent fighters and would actually be helpful.”

“In blowing things up,” their bapa chuckled softly.

“Oh oh!” Max put up his hand up excitedly again. “Can we ask George to join us too? And Becca?”

“Max, this is not a birthday party!” His father sighed. “You can’t just invite all your friends.”

Max looked Rafe with a sad face. Rafael had never really been able to say no to that.

“We get it, dad,” Rafael nodded. “So if aunt Izzy asks why we didn’t include her kids in our mission, we’ll just say you said no. Is that correct?”

Their bapa covered his mouth from laughing out loud. “They do have a valid point, Alexander.”

The Consul looked at all their faces and sighed tiredly. “Fine. But if one more person is added to this list…Magnus and I will handle the mansion. The rest of you are dismissed!”

“Dad, quick question,” Max raised his hand - again. “If we add Elyaas to the gang, does that count? Cause he is technically not a person-”

“MAX MICHAEL!!!”

A holiday gift for @crying-is-your-latest-fashion - for being pretty fucking amazing 💚

#tis a crack fic #hopefully I can write something better for you later <3 #rafael lightwood bane #max lightwood bane #mina carstairs #tavvy blackthorn #tsc snippets #my writing

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 24)

Pairing: JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Here we go!!!!! The final chapter to this series/rewrite!!!! Thank you to everyone who’s stayed with me and has left me with great feedback and compliments. I’m so grateful! I loved writing this series and I’m looking forward to season 2! As always I love you all and forever grateful for every single one of you!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter 23 Masterlist

JJ pulls me aside by Kie's car and lets me silently cry into his shoulder while he kisses the top of my head and tells me everything is going to be okay in sweet whispers. I let him hold me because I feel like I can finally breathe for the first time in weeks.

"I should have went with him," I mumble for the millionth time in his shoulder.

"Trust me, if nothing else kills him first, you would." I pull away and give him a confused look. He quickly explains with a small grin. "I think the reason you two lasted so long together was because the three of us were there to buffer most of your fights."

"It's not my fault he's stupid." I smirk.

"See?" JJ says like he just made his point.

I roll my eyes and look over at Pope and Kie when I finally hear them talking like friends again.

"I'm sorry for acting like a dumbass," Pope stammers. "I was just upset and I was acting petty..."

"Yeah," Kie agrees with him.

"And I just..."

"It's okay."

"...just wanna be friends again."

Another round of thunder rumbles above us and I know it's going to rain any second. But that's not what has my attention. It's the way Kie moves closer to Pope and how her hand gently caresses his cheek. Then their lips meet and they're embraced together as one.

My mouth physically drops to the floor and I cover it with my hand. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Only hours before, the two of them couldn't be further away from this moment. Pope hated her and Kie was adamant about being nothing but friends. I guess Kie did have a thing for Pope. She tried convincing herself otherwise and it didn't work.

JJ laughs next to me and squeezes me tighter to his side. He shakes his head but smiles proudly at his best friend for finally making his move.

Unfortunately, the moment is ruined by another wave of police sirens closer than I wish they were.

"Hey, guys, I'm sorry to ruin the party, but, uh, we gotta go right now," JJ says. Kie and Pope pull away from each other, both of them wearing delirious grins. "Come on!"

As we move towards the car, a round of about four different cop cars surround us with their red and blue lights and loud sirens. JJ backs up, making sure I'm right behind him by clutching my wrist behind his back.

"Pope..." Kie says worriedly.

"Move! Hands up! Hands up!" Officer Shoupe approaches us first with a mean scowl on his face. He looks at each one of us, no doubt looking for John B.

"Pope, hands," Kie says through clenched teeth when Pope hesitates to comply.

Shoupe's eyes land on mine and he holds my stare for a second longer than everyone else's. I make sure to keep my face stoic and unreadable even though I want to proudly smirk in his face and even say 'ha ha.'

"We're too late. He's gone. God damn it!" He says to his team. He speaks into his radio strapped on his shoulder. "Bratcher, have your guys stand down. Let me talk to these kids." Shoupe approaches us again and looks directly at me. "All right, where the hell is he? Where the hell is he?" When I don't say anything or even as much breathe in his direction, he looks at JJ. "JJ? I see you're living up to your name." Then he looks at Pope. "Pope, how about you? This isn't a fucking game! You can do the right thing now! Where'd he go?" Shoupe glances one last time at me before looking behind my shoulder. He pulls his radio up to his lips. "Suspect has just left Station 26 in a small boat."

The man on the radio responds. "Need marine patrol to respond."

Another crack of thunder strikes a new wave of nerves through my body. John B's barely out of here and I don't know if the storm is going to hold off long enough to give him a steady getaway.

Next thing I know we're being tossed in two separate vehicles. I keep my teeth clenched and my eyes forward. I pretend to look strong and committed when all I feel is nervous and scared.

The police bring us into a large tent set up to protect them from the rain. I'm literally in shock by how many people are here, working together to find my brother. Many men and women walk past us with rain jackets with the letters FBI on their backs in gold bold letters. I'm literally speechless by how important these people think my brother is.

Every word that comes from these people's mouths sound like a code I'm trying to decipher as they speak to one another.

"They're still trying to verify..."

"Mobilized..."

"Follow Plumb to that tent..."

"Wait for your friends..."

"...SBI on the scene..."

"They killed a person."

"This way." Someone physically tugs on my arm and pulls me to sit on a row of plastic chairs with my friends.

"...That's all you can say?"

Shoupe stands in front of me, temporarily distracting me from trying my best to eavesdrop on the other agents. "Sit down. Don't move. We got a lot to talk about." He looks at the agent who pulled me by my wrist. "Keep an eye on these kids."

I look up at the agent placed on babysitting duty. Younger, fit, brunette, stubble. He looks at each one of us like he's studying us, placing a mental bet on which one is going to break first. His gaze lands on me and he holds it longer than he did the others. They probably recognize my face as easily as they would recognize my brother's.

There's a lot going on inside and out this tent. Agents speak so fast with one another you might think they're speaking a different language. Every time thunder rumbles above us, I don't know if it's my heart or my stomach swirling with nausea. Rain is pouring down outside, each drop pelting against the concrete and drowning out the demands and orders of every superior agent.

The lights are bright against the dark wall that is outside. If I keep my eyes open for too long I think my head is going to explode.

I feel fingers interlocking with my right hand. JJ's looking at me like he's waiting for me to break like a fragile vase teetering off the countertop. I nod my head in a silent way of saying thank you and that I'm still confident our plan is going to work.

"Hey, we're back up. We got power," I hear someone announce.

My head snaps forward. I look outside the flaps of the tent opening. I can barely see the lighthouse, but the light circling around it is bright enough to light up the entire island.

"Shit," I curse to myself.

Ironically, power is all I wanted this summer. Mentally and, because of Hurricane Agatha, physically. But now, I dread it.

"That's them! There they are!"

Dozens of agents run outside with their binoculars, flashlights, and guns, and tasers. Immediately I stand up to follow, but just as quickly, I'm pushed back into my seat by our babysitter agent who isn't even cool enough to get an FBI windbreaker.

Kie's looking at me with as much fear as I'm feeling. My leg bounces anxiously and the hand I'm not using to squeeze JJ's is wrapped around the bottom of my seat tight enough to turn my knuckles white.

I try peering out through the plastic 'windows' of the tent which are just clear plastic tarps cut out in squares in the tent. Boats with red, white, and blue lights chase after another boat in the water - a boat that would be impossible to see if the lighthouse was still out of power.

"Subject is changing heading. They're heading south."

I look at our baby sitter's radio that's gripped tightly in his hand.

"Subject is attempting to escape to the south."

I look at JJ with wide eyes. "He's going straight into the storm."

I don't know if it's a second, a minute, or an hour later, but my name is being called. Another agent, this one more superior than the others, stands in front of me. He's tall, bald, has light brown skin, and bright hazel eyes. He's not smiling but he looks pleased with himself nonetheless and I don't know why because John B isn't captured yet.

"I think your brother would like to speak with you," He says.

My jaw tightens and I narrow my eyes in his direction. I don't believe him. John B wouldn't ask for me unless he knew this was the end. And it isn't. It can't be.

But if it is and I don't talk to my brother one last time, I will hate myself forever.

So I follow him despite the calls of disagreement coming from my friends. He and a couple agents behind him pull me into another tent where more important agents are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

People move out of my way like I'm Paris Hilton and they're the paparazzi. They look at me like I'm a celebrity and they're speechless with surprise and judgement.

But I don't care about the FBI, Kildare's cops, the rain or the storm. I care about the man sitting on the other end of the fold up table with a pair of headphones around his head and a fake look of concern on his face.

Ward looks up. When he sees me, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

"Ms. Routledge," The agent says to grab my attention.

I'm placed in a seat in front of Ward on the other side of the table. I don't take my eyes off of him for even a second. It's the first time I'm seeing him since our day on his boat. I hate that he's sitting here like he's a fucking victim and not the man who should be behind bars. I hate that he's being treated like an ally while my brother is being chased like a criminal.

But I love that he's looking at me like I can change all of that.

I take the headset from a woman agent next to me and place them on top of my head. I'm instantly met with rustling and whistling of the wind. A couple of disgruntled grunts swim through my ears and I know I'm listening to John B rolling through the storm on the Phantom.

"Don't listen to him. He's a liar!" John B yells into his radio. His voice comes out through the FBI's speaker so everyone can hear. Ward's lips press into a thin line and his hands tighten around the circular end of the headphones by his ear.

They must have tried to get Ward to talk John B down first. Maybe it's because Ward is technically still our legal guardian or maybe...

Maybe Sarah ended up finding him after all.

Ward finally rips his eyes away from me and looks down. "John B, I am begging you. Think of her and turn around." I'm met with nothing but heavy breathing from the other end. I hold my own breath and make sure not to move even an inch so I don't miss a single word that my brother has to say. My heart feels like it's being twisted, shredded, and torn apart by a wild bear. John B is in danger. Not by the cops but by mother nature herself. Out in the ocean where he can disappear forever. Just like my father did. And the thought itself is absolute torture. "John B, what are you doing?"

There's another long pause with seconds lasting as long as hours. My hear skips a beat when my brother finally speaks up again. "Ward Cameron, do you hear me?"

Ward looks at me again and slowly brings nods. "Yes. Yes, son, I'm right here. I'm right here. Please bring her back, okay? We'll work it all out when you get home."

I jump up from the table so fast, my hips bump against the table and shake the radio display on it. "You son of a bitch!" I yell at him, not caring about the hands pushing me by my shoulders to sit back down. Or the barks of other agents telling me to calm down. I want to rip Ward's head off his stupid shoulders and punt it into the deepest part of the ocean. Or a log shredder.

"You killed my father!" John B shouts through the speaker. It's the only thing that actually gets me to calm down and I glare straight into Ward's eyes. I don't pay attention to how the agents react to John B's accusation, because even with the truth out there, I don't trust them to move on it. At the end of the day Ward Cameron is Ward Cameron and my brother is just John Booker Routledge. "And you framed me for a murder I didn't commit. You took everything from me! You took everything from me! But I'm still here. And I swear to God, Ward, I will come back one day and take what's mine. So, you listen to me, all right? I'm coming for you." A small smirk tugs at the corner of my lips and a sense of pride runs through my fingertips from John B finally standing up for himself. "I'm coming for you."

For once, Ward Cameron looks shitless. Like he did when he realized his mistake on our fishing trip.

"You." The agent next to me points at the radio set and looks at me. "Talk to him! Talk to him!"

I look back at Ward Cameron and place the headset on my head. A crack of thunder shakes around me and I physically flinch away from it. "John B?"

Another pause. Silence that is deafening. "Marleigh? You okay?"

I can't help but laugh. "Come on, brother. You should know by now cops don't scare me."

I can actually hear John B laugh on the other end and it's the only thing that makes me feel better. "Yeah, I know."

"Are you sure about this, Johnny?"

I swallow the lump in my throat as I wait for his reply. "I'd rather die than go to jail for something I didn't do, Mar."

I feel the wall I put up when I was placed in front of Ward Cameron crumble within seconds. Tears cloud my vision at the realization that nothing I can do will stop John B from driving straight into that storm. And I hate that I understand him for it. Because I would do the same thing.

I look up at Ward as tears trail down my cheeks silently. I can tell he's calculating my next move, waiting for me to stop my brother.

"I'll take care of this, okay?"

"I know. You've always taken care of me." His voice cracks and another ripple of thunder rips through the sky. "I love you, Rocket."

A sob wracks through me and I push myself away from the microphone so he doesn't hear me feeling weak. When I gather my composure I push myself closer to the radio. "I love you, Bird."

The head agent slams his palm against the table in frustration. "No!"

I close my eyes and let the tears drown my vision. I feel like I've been placed in an ice bath. Frozen to the core, wanting to kick and scream my way out of it, feeling numb but also like I'm being ripped apart by something sharp.

Another agent walks out. "I wanna have Search and Rescue standing by."

"Any response?" A woman asks another agent.

That other agent shakes his head. "They're not calling it off yet."

Everyone's running around, talking into their ear pieces and looking at one another for any kind of clue on what to do next. I refuse to look at them because I know what's going to come next.

John B use to tell me that being a pessimist would be my downfall. He was always an optimist - hoping and aiming for the best. Believing Dad was alive kept him going where telling myself he wasn't helped me move on. Growing up, we would butt heads a lot. But as a team, we worked well together because he pushed me to go further in life and I helped him stay grounded when it was necessary.

But today, being a pessimist is my strength. Because I'm prepared when Officer Shoupe approaches me with a sullen and sorrowful expression. I don't even have to ask what's wrong because I know it's the last thing I want to hear.

"Marleigh," He says. I think it's the first time he's ever talked to me like I'm a person with feelings and not some teenager causing chaos on his island.

I'm nauseous. My heart is thudding against my chest so heavily I think it might crack a couple ribs. The blood running through my veins feels like it's been lit on fire and I'm on the verge of exploding. The dread and the devastation runs through me in half a second and then is suddenly replaced by a blinding white flare of rage.

"You!" I turn on my heels and try running up to Ward Cameron to wrap my hands around his throat, to pull a gun from the nearest agent and shoot him in the head with it, to tear his eyes out with my finger nails. But I'm easily stopped by the millions of agents that surround both of us. They physically pull me away, barely even flinching as I try clawing through them to get my hands on the entitled Kook in front of me. "This is all your fault! You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you! No - get off of me!"

I kick and scream until my throat is raw and my legs feel weak. Ward is pulled away from me so he can grieve the death of his own daughter. I only stop thrashing around when my body goes limp. My legs are rubber and my head is heavy. I fall to the floor and fold into my knees and cry the hardest I have ever cried before. I cry for the loss of my brother. For Sheriff Peterkin. For the justice my dad will never get. For the gold he's worked so hard to get live on without his name ever being mentioned with it.

I don't know how long I stay on the floor until someone helps me up. They place a windbreaker over my shoulders and walk with me to the tent where my friends are waiting for me.

My heart is a bloodless organ, my head a hollow skull. I can't feel anything from the thinnest part of my fingertips to the deepest emotion in my brain.

I follow Officer Shoupe and two other agents back to my friends like a zombie. I can't even look at my friends because I'm afraid they'll feel the same heated pain that I'm experiencing and I don't want that.

Shoupe looks at them the same way he looked at me.

"Did you find them?" JJ immediately stands up. He tries meeting my eyes but I keep them focused on the dirt ground below me.

"No," Shoupe says.

"So, they got away?" I hate the hope laced in JJ's voice.

Another crackle of thunder makes me flinch.

Shoupe sighs. "We, uh...we lost them." He looks up. "I'm sorry."

A deafening silence falls around us and I finally look up. JJ's brows are pinched together in confusion and anger, Kie's about to burst into tears, and Pope looks frozen in shock.

"What do you mean you lost them?" Pope asks. "Like they're gone?"

"What are you talking about?" JJ demands.

Again Shoupe sighs. "They took an open boat into a tropical depression, Pope."

"So they're dead?" Pope asks.

"We don't know."

JJ snaps. He takes a threatening step towards the set of officers and points an accusatory finger at them. "You drove them through the storm, man! Are you kidding me? Come here!" It takes two agents to pull JJ away from Officer Shoupe. "I'm gonna kill you."

I don't even react to the outburst because I can't. I can't feel anything other than my own teeth clattering together and my lip quivering with the threat of a new round of tears.

"JJ, stop!" Kie tries to calm him down through her own sobs. But even I know, she's wasting her breath.

"I'm gonna kill you, you bastard!"

"Hey!" An agent scolds him.

"You killed him! He didn't kill anyone and you know it!" Pope yells along with JJ. He doesn't try to attack like the blonde, but he makes sure to get as close to Shoupe as possible.

Shoupe sighs. "We're still looking for him, all right?"

"Pope. Pope, just stop!" Kie pleads. She grabs onto Pope's arm and pulls him closer into her body. "Please, stop."

When JJ proves he's calm, he pulls me into him and holds me tight against his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist and let myself fall apart for a second time. I cry into his shoulder, not caring about the snot or tears that will probably ruin his second best button down shirt. I grip onto him so tight that I wouldn't be surprised if my fingernails ripped holes into the fabric. He's the only reason I'm still standing on my two feet. I can't feel my legs.

"Pope...Pope!"

Mr. and Mrs. Heyward run into the tent followed by Kie's parents. All four of them run to their kids and pull them into their own family group hugs.

I watch even though the sight destroys me. Kie with her two parents. Pope with his. I observe the way they hold their children, kiss the top of their head, and tell them everything is going to be alright. Pope keeps mumbling about how sorry he is and Kie is weeping into her mothers neck.

They have that and I don't. Not anymore. It's all been ripped away from me like a toddler and chocolate they're not allowed to have.

But it makes me even more grateful for JJ. Even though I hate that he's in the same boat as me, I know I can always rely on him to be by my side. We have each other and even though it doesn't always seem like enough, it is.

There's nothing that I wouldn't do for this man. He's my light at the end of a dark and dreary tunnel. My guide in life to live it to the fullest without any regrets. My life partner that's going to make me the happiest girl on the island one day. I couldn't ask for anything more from the love of my life.

Mr. Heyward looks up from his family moment and holds out his arm for JJ and I to join. JJ and I take advantage of it and let Pope's parents hold us like a parent should, despite any hateful feelings they have towards us for leading Pope down this road with us.

My brother's gone and I don't know how to comprehend that yet. I don't know where life's going to lead me and the future went from being adrenaline inducing to absolutely terrifying. With Kie, Pope, and JJ by my side, I'm hopeful that I can get through pretty much anything.

JJ's my rock and my leader. I will love him until the universe physically pulls him away from me. With him, I'll take on life one day at a time. Each one will be a struggle, but I made a promise to John B that I refuse not to keep until the day I die.

I will take care of this. I will make sure Ward Cameron gets what's coming to him. And I will not let him take anything else away from me. Not even over my dead body.

Taglist: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @moniamaybank @realistic-breadstick @urbinoutfiters @jeeperky @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @buckysbcrnes @rochyu @itsagurl @dazzlingnights

#jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x oc #outer banks rewrite

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 4 years

Text

Separation AU Part 1!

Requested by @grant-likes-minecraft. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Impulse and Skizzleman have lived in the same world together for decades, and that’s just the way they like it. But all that will change when one day, Impulse is summoned (literally) to the Hermitcraft server...

(Based on Impulse literally canonically being brought to Hermitcraft via summoning circle in season 3)

...

“WHOAAAA!”

With a yelp, Impulse dropped into a shallow hole over where he had just been walking. He stared upwards as he heard laughter and spotted the grinning face of his best friend a few blocks above him.

“Skizz!” Impulse laughed indignantly. “This is like the oldest trick in the book!”

“Uh huh, and you fell for it,” Skizzleman replied through his laughter. “Skizz: one. Dippledop: zero.”

“Get me outta here and I’ll SHOW you zero,” Impulse snickered. “Got any ladders?”

Skizzleman dropped a single ladder into the hole. At Impulse’s raised eyebrow, he giggled and dropped a few more, before stepping back and letting his best friend climb out of the hole.

Impulse shook his head amusedly at the grin on Skizzleman’s face. “Have you done your chores yet? Or did you spend the whole morning setting up that prank?”

“Whaaaat? Does that sound like something I would do?”

“Yup.”

Skizzleman made eye contact with Impulse, causing him to giggle again. “Okay, yeah, I did.”

Impulse chuckled as he started walking back towards the house, letting his best friend fall into step beside him. “It’s your turn to harvest and replant, buddy.”

“Aww, but it’s so boring,” Skizzleman complained, flipping around to walk backwards so he could talk directly to Impulse’s face. “Can’t we just skip chores for today and go to the beach?”

Impulse scoffed. “Skizz-.”

“C’mon, just look at that ocean.” Skizzleman threw his arm out to indicate the sparkling sea, just visible through the trees. “Can’t you hear it calling you? Don’t you wanna just dive into the cool, refreshing water and just relaaaaaax?”

“You’re doing a great job of selling it, I gotta admit,” said Impulse amusedly. “Okay, we’ll go to the beach, but only if you do crops for the next two days.”

“Done.”

Skizzleman broke into a run, causing Impulse to laugh and pick up speed to catch up with him.

However, at just over halfway to the beach, Impulse skidded to a halt, realising his entire body had started to glow. “Uh, Skizz?”

His best friend stopped a few blocks ahead of him. “What? Oh…! Wait, what’s happening?”

As Impulse was staring down at his glowing hands, he felt himself be lifted slowly off the ground, the block around him glowing brightly.

“Wh-What’s going on, dude?!” Skizzleman yelped. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Impulse started to panic. “Skizz, help me!”

He reached out blindly and Skizzleman grabbed his hands. Impulse hung almost upside down in the air, as if something was dragging him upwards by his legs. He strained against the invisible force, focusing on holding onto Skizzleman’s hands as tightly as he could.

But the pull was just too strong.

“IMPULSE!”

Skizzleman cried out as he felt Impulse’s hands slip from his. He toppled face-first into the dirt, but by the time he managed to push himself onto his back and look up, Impulse had disappeared.

Impulse couldn’t stop screaming as he fell through a weird, terrifying vortex of swirling colours. He managed to angle himself so he was feet-first, but this did nothing to alleviate his fear.

And then he landed.

He stumbled as his feet hit the ground, but quickly regained his footing enough to not fall over. Blinking against the bright sunlight shining directly in his face, he realised he could see the slightly blurry outlines of three people standing a little way off, watching him.

Just as he registered them, one of the figures rushed towards him and grabbed him in a tight hug. “Impulse! Oh my god, I can’t believe it actually worked! You’re actually here!”

The person’s distinctive voice helped Impulse identify him immediately, and he was so shocked that he momentarily forgot his disorientation. “T-Tango?!”

Tango released him and stepped back, an expression of pure joy on his face. “You’re really here! I can’t believe it!”

“Wait, wait…!” Impulse frowned, his brain still trying to figure out what had just happened. He stared around and found himself in a brand new world, entirely different from the one he had just come from. “Where am I? And how did I get here?”

Tango beamed. “You’re on Hermitcraft, buddy!”

“And you got here through a… uh… sort of wormhole,” added an unfamiliar voice.

Impulse turned to find a person wearing green armour and a purple helmet.

“Hi, I’m Xisuma,” the person said, giving a friendly smile. He indicated the suited person behind him. “This is Mumbo.”

“Hi!” said Mumbo happily. “Welcome to Hermitcraft.”

“I…” Impulse blinked, hardly daring to believe it. “I really am on Hermitcraft? But- But why did you bring me here?”

“Because you belong here, Impy.” Tango gripped his friend’s shoulders. “I’ve been trying to bring you here for months and it never worked until now. I don’t really know what Xisuma did, but you’re finally here.”

“What about Skizzleman, though?” Impulse asked urgently. “You’re gonna bring him here too, right?”

Tango’s smile fell. He glanced back at Xisuma, whose shoulders drooped. “I… um… I tried to grab onto both of you and get you both here, but… it didn’t work for Skizzleman. There’s something in his code, something that didn’t let me latch onto him. I can’t bring him here. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Impulse stared at him, his stomach lurching. “So… I-I’ll never see him again?”

“Not never,” said Tango quickly. “Just…”

When Tango failed to come up with anything else, Xisuma said, “The borders between servers and worlds are rocky at best. We can’t send you back or bring him here, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good life here.”

“A good life?!” Impulse’s fists clenched. “How can it be a good life without Skizzleman?!”

Xisuma held out his hands to steady him. “Impulse, please, calm down a moment and-.”

“Calm down?! Y-You just plucked me out of my world without my consent! Forcibly separating me from my best friend! What gave you the right to make that decision for me?”

“Impy-,” tried Tango.

“Don’t Impy me!” Impulse’s voice cracked. “We’ve lived together for most of our lives; I can’t just abandon him!”

“You’re not abandoning him.” Tango grabbed his friend’s hands soothingly. “You’re moving on to a new life, a better life. If Skizz is truly your best friend, which he is, he can’t possibly resent you for taking the opportunity.”

“I…” Impulse hesitated. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him.”

Xisuma winced and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Impulse.”

Seeing how defeated Xisuma was, Impulse’s anger slowly ebbed away. He glanced back at the spot where he had been summoned, a lump rising in his throat.

“Impulse, this is the start of a new life for you,” Tango said gently. “And for me. Finally, you and I get to live on a server together. Imagine what we can do! The possibilities are endless.”

“But they’re not,” Impulse whispered. “Because Skizz isn’t here.”

“Listen…” Tango hesitated. “You two have been together for… for god knows how many years. This change will be good for both of you.”

“And I’ll keep investigating to see if we can bring Skizzleman here,” said Xisuma. “But in the meantime, your new life awaits you.”

Impulse cleared his throat. While part of his brain wanted to scream and cry at being separated from his best friend, he couldn’t deny that he was excited about the chance to finally be on Hermitcraft, as a member of their family. So many more things were possible on a server than in a simple world, from building materials to redstone contraptions. And it wasn’t as if he would be alone; he had Tango, he had Xisuma and Mumbo, he had many other Hermits whom he hadn’t even met yet.

“Alright, then.” A smile slowly spread over Impulse’s face. “What first?”

A spark ignited in Tango’s eyes. “Oh, first we gotta introduce you to all the other Hermits! Then we can talk about building bases. You and I could build one together! I’m thinking a giant underground base in maybe a nether style? There’s so many block palettes we can use and- oh, I think I might already have the perfect thing back at my-.”

“Whoa, buddy, slow down,” laughed Impulse. “Let’s start with meeting the other Hermits, okay?”

As Tango nodded happily, the phrase “other Hermits” reverberated in Impulse’s mind. He knew it would take a long time to get used to this change and wrap his head around the fact that…

...that he was a Hermit now.

…

After six long, sleepless nights in the big house all alone, Skizzleman had finally given up and moved. With his limited building skills, he had managed to construct a small shack near to where Impulse had vanished. His spark, his passion for life, faded a little more with every day that passed.

Skizzleman exited his tiny shack and harvested the small amount of wheat next to the pond, before replanting it monotonously. He then used the wheat to make a few more pieces of bread for his stock. It wasn’t much but it was enough to get by.

After his chores were done, he made his way slowly towards the beach. The sand and the sea used to call to him, urging him to rush down there and have some fun. Not anymore.

On his way, he passed the spot Impulse had disappeared from. No sunlight hit this block anymore. The small allium Skizzleman had managed to plant there was barely visible in the shade.

He lay down on the grass and stared morosely up at the sky, his hand resting on the dirt around the flower, his elbow bent slightly as if he had his arm over his best friend’s shoulder. Closing his eyes, tears trickled down his cheeks.

Skizzleman had never been so alone before.

#hermitcraft #impulsesv #skizzleman #tangotek #xisuma #mumbo jumbo #separation au #Vaunna writes

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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The Best Bad Idea

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey all! Here is a little something I made instead of being a responsible writer and finishing my other projects. I’ll be back to my other WIPs soon (God willing), but in the meantime here’s my 1000th attempt at writing a Captain Swan meet cute. I needed to get some words on the page, and this is the result. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, Thump. Steady, sure, and even. A solid pulsing sound with no inconsistencies and no delays or false starts.

In this particular patient, that fourth set of beats was the most important. Prior to his recent operation, Earl MacDonald’s heart had been weak and skipping needed pulses, then constricting far too harshly on every fourth measure. That type of arrhythmia had potentially disastrous consequences, but those worrying beats were seemingly behind them. The rhythm Emma heard through the stethoscope was a regularly circulating drumline, the tell-tale song of a heart that was working, and working well. Her surgical intervention had been successful.

She gently released the breath she was holding, a sign of the stress that she carried while waiting for patients to recuperate. Emma never let the patients see her sweat, but she had been worried on multiple levels in this case. Earl was going on 80, and not a logical contender for intensive cardiac mediation, but Emma’s gut had told her he could handle it, and she was rarely ever wrong. Earl forged through the surgery like a much younger man, and his outputs post-operation had all been extremely encouraging. It was shaping up to be another win, another life saved thanks to the power of medicine, and that filled Emma with real joy. She always did her absolute best to create good outcomes, and this time there was so much more on the line than one life. This was a man who was loved and cherished by the people closest to him, and who would be sorely missed if something were to happen.

“Anything you want me to note for the chart, Doctor Swan?”

Emma bit back a witty retort at the pointed use of the word ‘Doctor.’ She was one of the few surgeons in this hospital who didn’t care what people called her, as long as they called on her early enough to actually save the patient’s life. But with Belle, a person Emma considered a dear and true friend, there was an added lilt of sass when using her title. Her friend was one of the nurse practitioners that Emma had been working with for years, since the day she landed here as a medical intern, but despite their differences in degrees, Belle was easily the most well-read and brilliant resource when it came to medical literature in this hospital.

“Just that Mr. MacDonald is healing nicely.”

“Did you hear that Lorraine?” Earl asked, with a Cheshire cat smile on his face, and the glint of true pride in his eyes. “Doctor Emma says I’m healing nicely.”

“Hard not to hear, seeing as I’m right beside you,” Loraine quipped, but she squeezed his hand affectionately, and offered a warm smile to her husband all the same.

“You know, usually being dubbed ‘nice’ is the kiss of death for a man.”

“Earl!” Loraine chastised, clearly not liking his word choice. Earl smiled wider, looking almost boyish in his delight.

“Well, so to speak. But I was going to say that I think we can make an exception this time. I’ve never been so happy to be referred to as ‘nice’ in my life.”

“Technically Doctor Swan was referring to your vital signs, Earl,” Belle taunted from across the room, holding back a smile Emma knew she was bound to let loose soon enough.

“Aw come on, you both know I am your favorite patient. I mean I’m not exactly pressed for competition. Have you seen the people on this floor? Good grief.”

“Ignore him, ladies. He’s all talk. He hasn’t left this room since we got here,” Loraine said, rolling her eyes, as if these antics were a constant occurrence. Based on her small window of experience with Earl, Emma would believe it. “Every meal, every visit, every moment has been within these four walls. Even his PT has been in here.”

“His PT has been here?” Emma asked, surprised that Mary Margaret, their head Occupational Therapist, had allowed for that. She was normally a by-the-book professional, and Emma never knew her friend to provide rehab consults outside of her studio.

“Yup. I told Miss Mary Margaret that I had a wife to keep an eye on and she relented.”

“No, actually what you said was, ‘Excuse me, Ms. Blanchard? You probably heard I just had heart surgery. Well, the thing is, my heart is sitting in this room. I’d like to be with her. Doesn’t seem right to be separated so soon, given what we’ve been through.’ Then you pointed at me, and used your puppy dog eyes on her. Next thing I knew, she had lugged enough equipment to fill the room here. No questions, just action.”

“I bet she ate that right up,” Belle said with a wink. “Mary Margaret loves nothing more than love itself.”

Belle and Mrs. MacDonald discussed Mary Margaret’s love of love, and Earl’s improved mobility, for a few more minutes while Emma continued checking his stats, but ultimately Earl’s patience was wearing thin. He really only had one thing on his mind, and he was now determined to ask about it. Emma was honestly shocked that he managed to wait this long. She knew it was only a matter of time and she was ready for the showdown.

“So, what do you think, Doc? Am I making it home in time for the party?”

“The one for your grandson on Sunday?” she asked, noting the three-day window between now and then. She had heard about this party non-stop, since the moment Earl woke up from the procedure. It was a central fixation for the old man, a celebration that would host his entire family, and a goal he had been carrying for over a week. Earl nodded and Emma hesitated for a few seconds, before smiling and giving the good news away. “Yes, I am confident that Jayden’s ‘Pop Pops’ will be in attendance when he turns four. But you know the rules…”

“I know, I know: no good food, no strenuous exercise, no having fun.”

“Earl.” Just the utterance of the old man’s name from his wife was enough to have him looking like a kid with his hand caught in the candy jar. Emma and Belle both chuckled at that child-like expression. It was hard not to; the old married couple was just too sweet.

“I’m sorry. I know this is serious, but what is life if you can’t have a little fun?”

“Fun comes in all shapes and sizes, Mr. MacDonald, and despite what you may think about your prescribed lifestyle changes, you’re forgetting two things. First, most of these less-alluring prescriptions will be temporary, and second, you’re a man who clearly loves a challenge.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you know that, Doc?”

“Well for one thing, you somehow landed a lady as remarkable as Loraine. There’s no way she came easy with these corny jokes of yours. You must have worked harder than you ever worked in your life to persuade her to give you a chance.”

The laughter from the older couple was boisterous and heartwarming, and Emma knew she was right on the money. At this point, she had the ability to sniff out true affection, and these two had it in spades. Many couples she saw facing emergency room disasters together didn’t have the same good luck.

“You got that right, Doc. You know the first time we met was at the -,”

Earl’s story was unceremoniously interrupted by the crackling of the PA system specific to this room. It buzzed for a few moments before a message was delivered in a saccharine sweet voice that sounded nothing like the announcer’s normal tone.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station, code 741.”

Emma waited for the feed to cut off and began to tell Earl to please go on with the story, but the call came out again.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, code 741.”

“You know she’s just going to keep doing that until she gets her way,” Belle murmured. Emma nodded. It was no use. What Ruby Lucas wanted, Ruby Lucas got. That just seemed to be the way of the world.

“Belle, would you mind telling Ruby I’m with a patient at the moment? I will be there when I can. She can always proceed without me.”

Belle snorted out a laugh, knowing that last part would never happen, but gave a swift affirmation that she would relay the message before waving goodbye to the MacDonald’s and promising to see them soon. As her friend headed out, Emma sighed, knowing there was no way Ruby was going to give things up that easily. She had a matter of moments before some new tactic would be deployed.

“I’m sorry about that. You were saying?”

“Eh it’s kind of a long story, and you’ve got places to be, Doc. Just know, true love won out in the end with me and my Loraine. It always does.”

Emma couldn’t deny that their love appeared true even after their fifty plus years together. She personally had never experienced a love like that, but she was wondering more and more if maybe it was out there, somewhere in the later chapters of her story. For years she thought herself above that kind of need. She found validation in herself and in her work. She dedicated herself to helping others, and that had always been enough. But the loneliness that became a constant when she was growing up in foster care still lingered, and she wondered if someone might ever come along who could inspire her to take a chance and risk her heart.

“You know, I actually worked as a nurse before my kids were born,” Loraine commented easily. Emma nodded and smiled as she checked the last of Mr. MacDonald’s IV drips. Emma was aware of the older woman’s solid medical understanding. Loraine had continued to demonstrate it the entire time her husband was admitted in this ward. “I’m trying to remember if I ever ran into a code 741.”

“Oh, uh, I think – well, erm, I mean you probably didn’t,” Emma said, hoping she didn’t turn beet red at the passing comment from the older woman. She was already stuttering, which was completely out of character and eighty shades of embarrassing. Loraine’s words feigned ignorance, but her eyes told a different story. Still Emma tried to play it off. “It’s really not a big deal. Just a non-emergent protocol.”

Another alert sounded, but this time it came through the ceiling unit reserved for announcements to the wider reaches of the hospital. “Attention to all surgical ward personnel. We are paging Doctor Swan to the nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, you are needed at the nurse’s station immediately for a code 741.” The talking stopped, but the air crackled signaling that the line was still live. “Immediately.”

“Sounds pretty urgent to me,” Loraine replied. The curiosity in her gaze told Emma that the older woman was onto them, but it was Earl’s comment that cut too close for comfort.

“When I was in the war, all of our numeric codes corresponded to letters. So 7 was H, 4 was D, 1 was A. H – D – A. HDA, now what could that be….?” Uh oh. Now Emma really had to get out of here before she accidentally admitted Ruby’s code’s meaning – Hot Doctor Alert. That would be the cherry on top of a full-blown mortification sundae.

“All righty, well like I told Belle, all your scans look good. Doctor Whale is on shift this evening during the next series of rounds, so I’ll make sure your file is ready for him.”

“Of course, dear, and good luck with your doctor, er – I mean – code.”

Emma stammered out something like an ‘okay thanks,’ while leaving. She tried to get her bearings once she was out of sight of the room, but she had nowhere to go. Everyone on this floor had just heard her page, and there were bound to be at least a few who understood the meaning. She was so embarrassed, and more than a little ticked at Ruby. She was supposed to be her best friend, but she was always pulling these crazy stunts. They were mostly harmless, but for Emma, who hated being the subject of hospital gossip, it was anxiety inducing to say the least.

“Please tell me that you did not just broadcast that to the entire hospital,” Emma said, arriving at the nurse’s station with a sense of urgency, and watching some of the other nurses scurry off to avoid the confrontation. Ruby, however, was unfazed. Actually, the nurse manager just rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and phone from her cubby, as if Emma was the one who was annoying and not the other way around.

“And here I was thinking we were the best of friends. Soul sisters, kindred spirits, friends for life. But no, ye of little faith, you actually believe I would broadcast the hot doc alert to all of Mist Haven? What kind of friend would do that?”

“But if you didn’t… then how did you…?” Emma’s questions trailed off, but her arms flailed towards the ceiling and the look on her face spoke for itself – how had Ruby used the hospital wide PA system without actually broadcasting to the entire hospital?

“You know Tink up in nuero?” Emma nodded, well acquainted with the nurse manager who had Ruby’s job on the fifth floor but with a specialization of the brain and nervous system. She was a tiny woman, but she ruled that ward with more than capable hands. “She and I bribed the IT guys to make the nurse managers an override. Now we can circumvent the PA software whenever we want. Bring some of you more stubborn Doctors to heal when it comes to answering our pages.”

“That’s… well, actually that’s genius,” Emma admitted.

“I like to think so,” Ruby teased, offering a genuine smile. The two friends laughed at all of this, and Emma felt so much better knowing that their secret was still relatively secure. The last thing she wanted was everyone knowing how she was spending her lunch breaks these days.

“Gus, you’re holding down the fort while I’m gone, right?” Ruby asked, her smile turning slightly wicked with the purposeful jest aimed at the new nursing aid sitting behind the desk.

“Me?” The new hire replied, suddenly white as a sheet. Emma had never seen the man so stricken, and as a new nurse he had plenty of high-stress moments to look alarmed during. “I – uh – well – I -,”

“It’s called comedic relief, Gus. Commonly referred to as joking. Do me a favor, learn about it by the end of shift, kay?” Ruby pivoted to the person she actually trusted to man the fort. “Thirty minutes work for you, Belle?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Excellent. We’ll return with a full report,” Ruby said, grabbing Emma’s arm and moving them down the hallway before Emma could even say goodbye. “Newbies – can’t live with them, can’t pawn off scut work without them.”

“You are terrible. And yet… the look on his face just now…? Priceless,” Emma acquiesced. “But seriously, Ruby, can we PLEASE find another way to page me for this? My patients are not stupid, and the code isn’t exactly original. It’s kind of…” Ruby’s grin was so big that it stopped Emma in her tracks. She was currently trying to hold her friend to account, but Ruby looked like she’d won the lottery. “What?”

“You are so totally into him! I mean listen to you right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Emma said, feeling her cheeks flush against her will.

“Exactly,” Ruby said. “You’re telling me to be more discreet when I send the bat signal, but you still want me to send it. Do you realize how unlike you that is?”

“Despite what you may think, Ruby. I’m a doctor, I’m not dead. I can appreciate a hot guy now and again.”

“Doubtful. Remember last month when all those pro hockey players were here after Ocheski collapsed on the ice? You had a room full of crazy sexy men. Like virile, hot, muscled men who get paid big money to beat each other up on the ice. Most women would die for that chance, and to make it even better, most of them were hitting on you. And what did you do? Nothing. You didn’t even blink.”

“They were not hitting on me,” Emma affirmed, but the words were hollow. They had been trying to flirt with her. A few had even attempted to get her number.

“They were hitting on you,” Ruby said adamantly.

“He was a patient, and the rest of them were essentially his family. You know I’d never cross that line. Doesn’t count.”

“Fine, then what about Dr. King? When he came for that conjoined twins case last year, you had no interest. Zero. Zilch.”

“King was an asshole, you know that,” Emma said, belatedly catching her use of profanity and checking that no patients were around. Luckily the coast was clear.

“So? You didn’t have to marry the guy. Hot is hot, honey. That’s just how things are.”

Emma barked out a laugh at even the thought of marrying someone like that. Arthur King was just about the worst person she could fathom to spend a life with. He was narcissistic and carrying around one of the biggest god-complexes she’d ever seen, and she was a surgeon, so she was an expert on god-complexes.

“Your face really says it all, Emma. I mean honestly, poker would be a terrible game for you to take up. Your contempt for King is obvious, but, meanwhile, as soon as I mention Doctor Jones… aha! See, totally shifted.”

Emma didn’t know what to say to that. She could try and protest, but her friend knew her too well for that. The best thing to do was say nothing, and she was saved by their arrival at their destination. The coffee cart in the center of the action, near the entrance of Mist Haven. Here was where the wards crossed paths. Her surgical wing met up with the specialties departments, the ER, the community clinic, and more. It was also swarmed with both hospital workers and visitors. Typically, this was the last place she wanted to be, but recently it had become a highlight of her day.

“Emma? Ruby? What’s brought you out here?” a voice asked. It was Mary Margaret, and given her street clothes and jacket, Emma would guess she was just starting her shift.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s fresh meat from the ER. Two showings a day, but we favor the afternoon delight.”

“Oh right,” Mary Margaret said, nodding, like Ruby’s words were totally normal, and for Ruby they were. “I heard about the new ER Chief. Doctor Nolan? I meant to get down there and bring him something to welcome him, but I’ve been so swamped this week. My caseload is crazy at the moment. I hope he won’t think too badly of me for being a bit late.”

“Mary Margaret, literally no one in a hospital brings people cupcakes as a welcome gift, especially not new guys in other departments.” Ruby was not wrong. Hospitals were hardly the most happy-go-lucky of places. At least not usually. “Believe me, the man will be grateful whenever they come. If he even eats them. He’s fit – like fit, fit. Keto diet and a personal trainer fit. The kind of fit that makes you -,”

“Careful, Ruby,” Emma teased. “What if Graham heard you saying that?”

“God, I wish. You know how worked up he gets, and how he works out his frustrations.” Ruby’s tone was dripping in suggestion. “It’s one of the many reasons I live to drive him crazy.”

Emma and Mary Margaret laughed at Ruby’s apt assessment of her relationship with her boyfriend. Ruby had been dating the fireman for almost a year now, since he came in on one of the ambulance bays with a victim he’d rescued from a fire, but Ruby was hardly the predictable type, and Graham seemed to love that about her. They were still going strong despite her willful, wild child nature, and Emma suspected they may be built to last.

“Doctor Nolan must really be something to get you out here, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, moving forward in the line, inching ever closer to the mediocre coffee the cart promised.

“Ha! Hardly. Emma’s not here for Nolan. She’s here for Jones.”

“Jones?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Girl, where have you been? Doctor Killian Jones, trauma surgeon extraordinaire. Chief Mills brought him here for a ‘collaboration’ with the ER, but she’s totally trying to recruit him for head of his own department. Turns out he and David Nolan are old friends. Same medical school maybe? I don’t know, no one’s gotten me those details yet. Anyway, Regina hardly leaves him alone. She only misses this little window because she’s hooking up with Doctor Locksley in the supply room on the 2nd floor.”

“She’s WHAT?!” Emma and Mary Margaret yelled at the same time and Ruby looked aghast for the first time today. Some other hospital staff in the area glanced over, but no one paid much mind beyond a head nod. Everyone was absorbed in their own need for caffeine, and no one was the wiser of the bombshell Ruby had just dropped.

“Oh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to say that. I promised Ella, damn it!”

“Ella, her assistant? I thought she quit,” Mary Margaret stage whispered.

“Oh she did. Made it a whole two months, which, you know, makes sense given the fact that Regina is a nightmare. But the last week she was here, she learned a crucial secret regarding her Majesty. She spilled last week at The White Rabbit, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell until she’s settled at her new job at GMH. So you did not hear this from me, and I did not hear this from her, capische?”

“I can’t believe the Evil Queen is dating someone,” Mary Margaret said, deeply disturbed by the idea. She shuddered at the thought, and this was someone who loved love. But love and Regina Mills didn’t really feel like concepts that belonged in the same sentence. Scratch that, they didn’t really even belong in the same book. “She’s just so…”

“Evil?” Emma responded. The nickname worked for a reason, after all. The hospital Chief was downright tyrannical.

“Exactly.”

“Well dating is a stretch. She’s screwing someone. But then again, who knows. Ella said she actually saw her smiling in those final days. And not that evil one she’s famous for. Like a real, genuine, I have a heart, smile.”

“No way,” Emma said at the same time Mary Margaret murmured, “Well would you look at that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on the case. The temp is a totally easy mark – Sydney something. I’m buying him lunch tomorrow. I’ll have the whole story before you know it.”

“Won’t Graham be proud,” Emma chuckled, but her joke fell on deaf ears as something caught Ruby’s attention across the way. Her friend’s countenance changed immediately, putting Emma on alert.

“Ooh, they’re coming! Act normal.”

Normally, Emma would have laughed at that command, but she was too busy feeling the spike of adrenaline at the impending arrival of one Doctor Killian Jones. He really was a world-renowned trauma surgeon, who was working on a number of cutting-edge techniques that saved lives and gave critical care patients better chances to recover. She had actually heard of him a few years ago when reading about a new procedure to treat arrhythmia in patients with traumatic injury. He engineered it in the field, while serving in the British naval forces, and his paper had been circulating in cardiac wings around the country, but she never saw the man before last week when he arrived in Boston. Suffice it to say she could not have imagined that this marvel of modern medicine would also be so roguishly handsome.

Spotting him today across the great hall, Emma was struck again by just how attractive this man was. She couldn’t even comprehend it really. All she knew was that she had yet to find a fault in him. Every day she’d stolen secret glances, and every time he proved better than her memory. It was crazy, and very reminiscent of schoolgirl crushes and teenage day dreams, but she couldn’t help the way she felt. It was intoxicating, and despite her best efforts, she was powerless to turn Ruby’s invites to the show down when she could witness this each and every day.

The first thing that she’d noticed about him was his general presence. His posture was strong and straight and assured. He looked ready for anything, but somehow laid back, like he was totally in control. People naturally parted when he walked by, as if he silently willed the flow of the hospital traffic. Ruby called it swagger. Emma called it… well something not quite safe for work. Couple that general aura of authority with the classically gorgeous features of his face, and Emma was lost. On that first day (and okay, maybe on the others as well), she actually felt her knees get weak. She always thought that was a bogus cliché, but nope, it was real, and she was the proof of it. From there she was hooked, and over time she’d chronicled more and more things to like about him.

Yesterday it had been his hair. As she watched him across the atrium, she noticed that the shade shone bright in the sun, but that it was nearer to midnight than any color brown. It was slightly longer than most of the other male doctors wore theirs, but not so long that it looked unkempt or unprofessional, at least not yet. She knew for a fact that the military never would allow for such a style, and it felt like a bit of rebellion, or maybe a lack of care for what others thought. Both sent a delicious thrill through Emma, even though she had no real confirmation one way or another. Maybe he was just lazy, but that wasn’t how she imagined him…

And oh boy did she imagine him. At first she hadn’t meant to. She just had these flashbacks to seeing him that she carried through the day. These visceral visions always started the same: he would walk by, looking downright delicious and impossible to resist, then he would turn his eyes her way here in the middle of the hospital hustle and bustle. She’d feel caught in his stare, sense the hunger even from the distance, and her heart would quicken to a maddening crescendo as he walked her way. The rest of the world would fade from view, and it would feel like they were the only two people alive. Her gaze would stay transfixed on his almost cocky composure and the hard line of his bearded jaw. The attraction in his blue eyes would light a fire in her, and then, without so much as a word like ‘hello’ or ‘nice to meet you,’ he��d pull her into his embrace and kiss her senseless. She could practically taste him on her tongue, and yet she’d never even heard him speak. People who had, who were later interrogated by Ruby, mentioned that he had an accent. British or Irish, or something along those lines. That tidbit had played oh so sweetly in Emma’s mind this week. God, she’d love to hear him say her name -,

“Emma,” a voice beside her said, but it didn’t pull her out of the fog. “Oh my God, Emma, he’s looking right at you.”

“He’s what?” Emma said, blinking back to reality before finding that Doctor Jones was looking this way. She’d been so busy fantasizing, she stopped paying attention to what was right in front of her.

In the middle of the room, the man who had intrigued her for over a week was standing totally still, disregarding the swarm of people on all sides. His entire attention had shifted from the task ahead of him, and he was looking at her, staring with a blend of intrigue and something Emma couldn’t describe. Doctor Nolan had stopped as well, but he was clearly confused as to the delay. He seemed to ask his friend what was wrong, and Emma watched spell bound, as the lips she’d envisioned kissing her moved in some kind of unheard reply. She couldn’t make out his words, but she shivered at the passion and determination etched across his being. David then looked their way, and Emma knew that Doctor Jones – Killian - had asked about them. No, forget that, he had asked about her. He was looking right at her, and that spark of heat and desire she’d always imagined was nowhere near as tantalizing as the real thing. He was looking at her with the same hunger she’d reserved for her wildest imaginings. Holy crap, what was she going to do?

“Ruby?” she asked, her voice squeaked out in alarm. She tore her gaze from the approaching object of her desire and looked to her best friend with overt confusion and mild panic.

“Took him long enough to spot you. It’s been almost a week. I thought I was going to have to hire a marching band or one of those giant arrow guys they have at outlet malls.”

Emma didn’t understand, and then it dawned on her – her friend had planned this. Emma looked at Mary Margaret, but she was still staring in the distance. Only when Emma followed her gaze did she realize that Mary Margaret wasn’t looking at Killian. She was looking at David.

“Hey, ladies, you looking to order, or what? I ain’t got all day!”

The three of them jumped at the barista’s interruption and Mary Margaret surged ahead to the line. She rattled off an order, giving way too much money to the attendant while grabbing her cup with shaky hands. Then she looked at David and back to Emma with an expression that said Mary Margaret may just bolt. Ok, what the actual hell was going on?

Before she could begin to answer that internal question, Doctor Jones and Doctor Nolan were within ear shot. Emma wracked her brain for something to say when they finally got here, but was spared when David broke the ice.

“Doctor Swan,” he said with a head nod and a polite smile. They knew each other peripherally at this point. Emma had consulted on numerous ER cases since Doctor Nolan started his new position. But she wouldn’t call them friends. They were very much acquaintances. “I heard Earl MacDonald is recovering nicely. He most definitely has you to thank for that.”

“And you too,” she said, offering credit where it was due. “A quick diagnosis makes all the difference. I’ve noticed the ER is filled with them since you started.”

“That’s kind of you. I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Doctor Jones.”

“Killian,” Doctor Jones said immediately, before offering a heart stopping smile of his own. Emma had yet to see the man smile, and her heart skipped a beat, the rhythm of her pulse skittering in an almost blissful way. “A pleasure to meet you, Swan.”

He offered his hand to her, and Emma took it, shaking in greeting even though it was uncommon for doctors or nursing staff to do so. Chief Mills stressed that germ management was a top priority at Mist Haven, and she’d come as close to banning the practice as was legal in the state of Massachusetts. Usually Emma didn’t mind, but germs were the farthest thing from her radar when their fingers touched. Instead, Emma was filled with the zapping sense of promise and a thrill of warmth that made her head swim.

“Emma,” she whispered. A beat passed between them, and Emma lost herself for too long. Only the clearing of a throat beside them brought her back to the moment. She let go of his hand, but tracked the slight disappointment on his face when she did. It filled her with a rush of something long forgotten. A sense of peace and elation she hadn’t tasted in years. “Um these are my friends, Ruby Lucas and Mary Margaret Blanchard. Ruby’s the head nurse in the cardiac unit. And Mary Margaret runs OT for the surgical division.”

Emma tore her gaze from Killian, watching her friends make their greetings. Ruby handled her own completely, and Mary Margaret seemed to have gathered her courage, but now it was David who looked shocked and spell bound. Everyone appeared to be thrown off kilter, and it was only Ruby in control of herself. To say her friend was positively delighted with these new developments would be an understatement. That glee rang out clear as day in her invite to both the attending doctors.

“So… Doctor Nolan, Doctor Jones, any way we could convince you to join us? The coffee’s just all right, but the company’s not half bad.”

Both men agreed immediately, and Emma fought her hardest not to blush. It was hard though, and her pulse was racing in the face of this development. Killian came to stand by her, the space between them so small but still too much to bear. She tried to get her bearings as the cranky barista handed her a latte. She struggled to think of something – anything – to say, but she was tongue tied. Instead, she looked at Killian, finding an openness in his expression that said he felt the same exact way. That gave her comfort and removed some of the tension from the moment.

“The hospital’s been buzzing since you got here,” Emma offered, waiting with him while he ordered a no nonsense coffee of his own. “A lot of people are hoping you’ll stay on past the month.”

“And you, love? Have you such hopes?” his words were earnest but laced with an almost cocky easiness that sent Emma’s mind humming in delight. Still, she played it cool. At least she hoped she did.

“Jury’s still out,” she replied, smiling when he looked a little crestfallen. “Well can you blame me? I hardly even know you. Still haven’t seen what you’re capable of.”

“Only a matter of time, Swan. You can trust in that.”

His words may seem benign, but they were loaded with hidden meaning, and Emma knew he meant each one. She swallowed harshly, thinking of the things he might be capable of. Damn, was it hot in here? Or was it just the devil on her shoulder spinning another one of those dirty dreams of hers?

When they’d all gotten a coffee, the five of them moved off to the patio just outside, reserved for hospital staff. The grounds were manicured beautifully, maintaining an oasis that seemed totally disconnected from the hectic nature of the hospital. This was one of Emma’s favorite places here, and she was surprised to hear that neither David nor Killian had been here yet. They all spent a few minutes making non-threatening small talk, with mostly Ruby moving the conversations along. But despite the fluttering feeling she was grappling with, Emma couldn’t say she hated this building anticipation. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. She was seated next to Killian, fully aware that all of his attention was devoted to her, and she reveled in it. At one point, while the others were talking about something with the OT department, Killian whispered to her and her alone.

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…” His eyes looked from hers down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from him. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across the summer sky.

“We could…” she continued, hoping he would elaborate and put into words what she herself was wishing for.

“That we could -,”

“Paging all staff to the ER. All staff to the ER for an incoming trauma, category 4.”

This time the PA was most definitely broadcasting a hospital wide announcement, and the irony wasn’t lost on Emma. Ruby looked positively forlorn at the interruption, but it was somewhat poetic after how they’d gotten here.

“Category four,” David repeated, standing immediately, prompting all of them to do the same. “We haven’t had a four since I started. We’re gonna need all hands on deck. Killian?”

“Aye, mate. I’m with you.” He looked back to Emma, and only had time for the swiftest goodbye. “Until next time, love.”

Emma and her friends watched them go, running towards the ER. Belatedly, they realized that if a trauma of that magnitude was coming into the hospital, there were bound to be surgical cases flooding their ward soon enough. They hustled back to their wing, focused once more on their jobs and the lives on the line that they were sworn to help heal and make better. But Emma still carried that moment with her for the rest of the day, and when the shift was over and done, and she’d done all she could to help the people in her care, she was left wondering what exactly Doctor Jones was hoping to ask, and when, oh when, he may try to do so again.

Post-Note: So there we have it. This was originally going to be a oneshot for my CS mixtape series, but alas, the muse wants what she wants, and this time that’s a three part mini-story for all of us to share. Hope that you guys have enjoyed so far and I would love to hear what you think! As always, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you are all staying well in this crazy time! xE

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan au #cs fic #cs #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #cs meet cute #captain swan meet cute #emma swan #killian jones #ruby lucas #snowing fic #the best bad idea #the best bad idea 1 #cs doctors au #cs medical au #once upon a time

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.3

Type: (mini)-series, Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6420 + 280 (you’ll see)

Summary: Graduation day, yay! Says no one, ever.

Except for Penny, who practically drags you to enjoy one of the most important days of your lives. You go along, just because. Hell, who knows - maybe you’ll like it in the end.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the Attached series. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: mentions of name calling and humiliation,swearing, some angst and lots of talking and maybe... ;)

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had been through several phases of dealing with what happened and they came and went and came and went, one blending into another, other times changing so sharply and quickly as if you flipped a metaphorical switch.

But what stayed for the majority of the time was that you simply had no idea what should you do.

One moment, you were certain that this was a sign from above telling you to break things off with Steve, because no matter the beautiful moments you had shared, continuing the relationship was an epitome of asking for more trouble and even though you had never met a guy so close to your dream man, you wondered if it was worth it.

The next minute, you mentally yelled at yourself and called yourself a dumb ungrateful bitch, convinced that this was in fact a trial, an ordeal by fire; a test you had to pass so your relationship came out stronger from it. Your faith was rock-solid that Steve was it, because after all, he was the closest guy to your dream man that you had ever met.

Your emotions were bubbling, the order of stages of grief all messed up, a mixture of self-pity, anger, resignation, denial---shame.

And shame seemed to be a theme that stuck, because the longer you were stalling and leaving Steve’s kind supportive and pleading messages without reply, the worse you felt, ashamed to reach out now, after such a long and pointed silence. Because Steve hadn’t relented, keeping in touch and very obviously staying convinced that you two could push through; the stark contrast of your doubts and his unshakable belief was breaking both your heart and mind.

How did you even deserve him? He stood by your side, at least as much as he could… while his name was in the poem too and he was probably dealing with so much shit right now and yet he didn’t cease reaching out while you left him in a lurch and really, you must have been the worst girlfriend ever.

If you even still were a girlfriend… though Steve appeared to still consider you one and it was making you want to tear your hair out, frustrated with your own stupid overthinking ass.

Penny, bless her, was there the whole time, loyal by your side instead of drinking herself into oblivion in a celebration of her bachelor degree. She was there as well when you received a text yesterday morning, followed by longer-than-usual silence.

I know this has little chance of reaching you, but know this: say the word and I will leave you alone to the point of not going to the ceremony at all despite my presence being formally half-required. Or I’ll be there and stay away. Anything you want, anything that helps you to enjoy your special day. You deserve to celebrate such a great success and I’d hate to be the reason for you to miss out on a memory that will last a lifetime. You deserve the world, sweetheart; and if you don’t want to me to be the one who gives it to you, I’ll have to accept it. Congratulation.

The text had to be split into three separate units, but the message was clear and you had a good thorough cry at it, your shaky conviction growing firmer and earning a solid base.

He had hit a nail on the head – you had been considering not going and then definitely going and then not again, back and forth for various reasons, but mostly because of him; too excited, too hopeful and too scared to meet him.

And to think you had been once afraid of facing him after you suspected that he had read your smutty story about him… this was so much more terrifying than that and now you were biting on your lips, slightly redder due to the lipstick you had applied for the ceremony, and you glanced up to meet Penny’s narrowed eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t you bail out on me now. You promised yesterday that you’d go,” she reminded you, half-concerned, half-strict.

You sighed, knowing fully that she spoke the truth.

“I know. It’s just…”

It’s just that I haven’t replied to Steve, AGAIN, and I don’t know if he’s gonna be there. And what I am going to do if he is.

And what I’m going to do if he isn’t.

Penny charmed a supportive grin, walking to you and putting her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it in comfort until you managed to swallow your nerves for a brief second and return the smile weakly.

She squealed and pulled you to her side, a happy twinkle in her chocolate-coloured eyes.

“We did it, girl! We fucking made it to the end of bachelor studies! And we’re gonna enjoy every moment of that mummery that comes with it!”

You couldn’t but snort, amused at her exclaim, while tears burned in your eyes, a mixture of nerves, grief and happiness.

“Yeah. I guess we should.”

“That’s my girl!”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

For all you wanted to enjoy this day with your friend since your family wouldn’t be able to make it, the first thing your eyes searched for in the crowd getting ready for the ceremony was a broad figure with blond hair, a beard and the most beautiful eyes you couldn’t but fall in love with.

Your stomach, tight from nerves and anticipation, dropped to your feet and you had to focus on keeping the tears at bay.

Steve wasn’t here.

The professors were always seated together, expected to hang out in a group – which somehow provided them safety from both students in the gowns and the few individuals who didn’t understand the dress code and arrived in jeans and sweatshirts – and you couldn’t see Steve among them. You even caught a sight of Bucky; and if Steve wasn’t with him, well, then it was clear that he decided to stay home.

Home. You had felt at home with him too, but that was over now.

What did you expect though? You ignored him for almost a week and even a guy like Steve, so amazing and understanding, would lose his patience with such inconsiderate and downright bratty attitude.

Your heart weighted a ton, heavy in your chest, pounding anxiously at the thought.

Was this how you parted ways? Just… fading away? Two lovers, two people in love – and you had realized over the past few days that Steve must have truly loved you – falling apart for the lack of communication? What a cliché.

But really, how could you have kept your hopes up that he would show up? Because it was sort of expected from the professors? Please. Because he had asked you to let him know if you didn’t want him here… and you hadn’t responded? Again? Right.

Yes, you hadn’t requested that he stayed away – then again, you hadn’t exactly begged him to come either. All that because you let yourself fall into the pit of doubts and allowed them to eat at your soul and ruin your relationship with the best man you had ever met instead of holding onto him for a dear life.

You guessed it served you right, more so now, in this very moment.

Because right now, your resolve and faith that you had been meant to be with Steve felt more solid than ever. By the laws of human nature, by its very essence, you were certain of what you wanted the moment you understood that you lost it.

A tug at your hand snapped you from your gloomy self-depreciating thoughts, your head automatically turning the direction the intrusion came from. Penny’s face came into view and she frowned as she saw you blink away tears.

“Hey! No brooding today! Today is a great win of our lives. You hear me?” she scolded you lightly, her eyes twinkling with true happiness and you gulped, nodding obediently.

“Right. Sorry. You’re right of course.”

“Damn right I am.”

You charmed a pathetic smile for her and looked at the other students in the black gowns to distract yourself from one single thought – Is it a win? Or is it the final prove of my loss?

You desperately tried to believe Pen and forced yourself to focus on the bright side, on what you were supposed to be delighted for; you finished your bachelor studies. Yay!

Yet, despite your best efforts, the ceremony and the speeches from the professors and the officials of your university, all the ‘mummery’ as Penny called it, happened in a strange haze.

Perhaps that was how everyone felt, drunk on euphoria instead? You guessed. You thought you might have smiled at some point, fuelled by a brief moment of true victory.

You stood there among other students, your eyes on the stage where Sharon Carter, a student at the top of your class, walked to the stand to give a speech.

You weren’t exactly friends with Sharon – you talked sometimes, more of a common courtesy exchanged simply because you were classmates. Still, you were mildly curious about what she had to say; she was marked a great student for a reason and she tended to have the ability to catch attention and awake something in others when she talked. An excellent choice for the speech – however, you caught yourself nervously toying with the cap of the case with your diploma, feeling fatigue of the past days catching up with you.

God, you wanted to go back to your whining and misery, not because you revelled in it, but because in the safety of your dorm room, you didn’t have to put up a front of a student excited to graduate. Not that you were any good at the pretence.

“Good morning, everyone. Mr. President, Mr. Dean, Professors… and most importantly, students. For some of us, the journey ends here – we are about to leave the not-so-safe space of the university and try our chances out there, in the open and much more dangerous world,” Carter started, a mild smile on her lips. “That said, it doesn’t mean that our school days were exactly easy.”

“Oh, you had no idea,” you mumbled under your breath, a pang in your ribcage reminding you just how harsh university space could be – not just because of the professors and their impossible tasks.

And they said high-school was the nightmare.

You noticed several people muttering under their breath too, for various reasons. For a brief moment, you felt shame – the pain others had been through could have been even worse, because illness and death had little regard for waiting for when it was more convenient. Who were you to complain?

Then again, you felt like you suffered enough too, your pain just as real as theirs.

Sharon looked around the audience and took a deep breath, her smile turning almost wistful as if she could hear your thoughts.

“While I’m up here, I would like to do something… a bit unconventional. I know this day shouldn’t be dedicated to one person and that is not what I want to do, but I have to speak up. After all, that is what history taught us – that we have to speak up. I want to talk about something everyone who stands here know – sadly, because it was perfectly wide-spread at the university.”

Whispers rose in the crowds along with your pulse skyrocketing.

Fuck. Fuck, she wouldn’t.

Right?! This was something else she was talking about, something you had missed, because you were too busy sulking.

You grabbed Penny’s hand at your side, squeezing harshly and shot her a panicked look, wordlessly pleading her to tell you this was not happening and you were just projecting, imagining this was some nightmare coming to life.

She gave you a side-eye and beckoned her chin to the stage again. Your breathing picked up, your knees feeling weak.

Oh my god, oh fucking shit this was happening.

Why the fuck Sharon wanted to open this can of worms publicly?! Did she hate you?

Granted, you weren’t paying much attention to other people’s faces, but you were hopeful that the mess was slowly dying down and people weren’t necessarily staring at you.

Now, the small circle of people around you who obviously knew where you were, glanced at you pointedly.

Hadn’t your ears been ringing and your panic rising, you might have found it weird that they were smiling at you – and not in a condescending or malicious way.

“Come on. Listen to what she has to say,” Penny whispered to your ear and you eyed her, shocked to find her smiling as well.

A terrible realization hit you like a train.

“Wait, you knew about this?” you hissed angrily, your stomach somersaulting. The actual FUCK?! “You knew she was gonna talk about that? What the hell? Why?!”

Was that why she made you come here?

“Oh honey, you have no idea what was happening these past few days, do you? Just listen.”

Huh?! What the fuck did Penny meant by-

“I just want to remind to the people feeding bad blood that the girl I’m talking about – a smart young woman who had accepted her diploma today, one of us – she earned her degree. In fact, she probably had to work even harder, because that’s the policy, a sort of a reverse favouritism. The records of her exams are much more detailed and she was under scrutiny, she had to prove that she was nothing the self-proclaimed experts were calling her.”

As outside your body as you felt, in this surreal moment where Sharon Carter talked about your dirty laundry during your damn graduation ceremony, the word ‘whore’ still popped in your mind in angry red letters and chased tears into your eyes, the humiliation you had felt when you first spotted the poem overwhelming you again.

“She had to face every evil glare people sent her way, glares she faced for something as simple as being in love. And just so you know, I have it from a reliable source-“ she pretended to cough while saying Penny’s full name, “-her roommate, that for the long months she’s been with her favourite man, it was in fact Professor Phillips whose name she was whispering in her sleep, because we all know he’s a real hard-ass; my condolences to Professor Rogers.”

Chuckles erupted in the crowd and you felt your lips twitch involuntarily. More and more people were turning to you as their colleagues elbowed their ribs to subtly point in your direction.

You lowered your gaze, embarrassed by so much attention – a positive one, it seemed.

When the hell did that happen?

“Also, all kudos to Nelson and Murdock, who accepted our request and are now suing the hell out of the Expert One and Two, possibly Three, for defamation and possible attempted assault.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

A breathy “Wait, what?!” fell from your lips.

“They offered to do it for free, but I think that a small donation never hurt anyone. You’ll find the link on the forum dedicated to our girl. You’ll find the link to that forum in your inbox if you haven’t already.”

There was a forum dedicated to you?! To hate you or to support you? How could you… not know about that?

Probably had something to do with how you shut off the whole world… social media included. Hell, especially those.

And the people who wrote the poem and sent it to everyone on uni could actually… be sued? It was that serious? From the legal side, not yours, you were sufficiently ruined about that you had no doubt-

“Let’s clap for Nelson and Murdock as they wave at us. Thank you, gentlemen!” Sharon called out and everyone’s head turned to a pair of lawyers you couldn’t hope to see – but you really had to in the future, because what?!

However, you did reluctantly join the deafening applause the people present dedicated to them.

Seriously, what was happening?

“Why I’m saying all this… I know she’s here with us today, because she deserves it just like everyone else. I would like to invite her to stand to the very left of the crowd. Please, come on, our brave soul.”

Sharon’s eyes unmistakably found you as if she knew where you were standing the whole time – which she probably could. Because of Penny. And obviously, few others.

Penny nudged you with a grin and you gulped as several onlookers sent you encouraging smiles.

You felt your face burning with all the eyes on you, your head spinning.

Oh god, oh god-

“Go,” Penny whispered to your ear. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

I’ll like what exactly?

“Uh-huh, sure,” you mumbled but gave in, your shaky feet carrying you outside the line of chairs to your left – it was probably no coincidence that you didn’t have to cross the aisle, already standing on the left half.

Everything was planned, that you were starting to understand… but to what end?

“You see, I want her to understand that maybe two or three people in this damn school made a fuss, but there’s quite a lot of people who don’t think any less of her, of people who are in fact happy for her and Professor Rogers. Also, I want her to be easy to find for later purpose,” Sharon explained as you reluctantly approached the aforementioned spot.

For later purpose? Easy to find?

A hunch slowly crept up your back and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted it to be true or not.

What were the chances it was something else though?

Pretty big, in fact. Because you had no clue what a surreal world you had found yourself in and how, but it seemed like everything, even the most absurd thing you wouldn’t even dare to think about, came to life here.

“You know, the best thing about her story is that… it’s a story of all of us. I mean, not in such a great detail, gosh, we wish to own a heart of such fine man, but…” More laughter erupted from the crowd and you choked on the sound ripped from your throat, something between a chuckle and a sob.

Wasn’t that the truth…

”But in the end, there is no great difference. We’re standing here today, because we pushed through. We stand here today, because this is our story of love and passion – for things, for people. It’s a story of working hard and losing sleep for something that truly matters to us. It’s a story of fighting off sticks and stones and overcoming obstacles, of fighting for our future,” Sharon said ceremonially, her voice fuelled by true yet not theatrical passion. One corner of her lips rose in a sad smile as she lightly shook her head, sending her blond hair flying. “And folks, I hate to break it to you, but it ain’t always gonna be easy. But the fact that we’re here today, in these ridiculous outfits we secretly love because they are a testimony to our success… it tells me that the future might not be the worst either.”

Sharon Carter made a pregnant pause, eyes searching in the sea of faces watching her, until her gaze fell at someone near you and her lips spread in an almost cheeky smile, one you hadn’t know she was capable of.

Before you could try and see what was the cause – even if the rapid beats of your heart already seemed to know the answer – she delivered an explanation.

“Isn’t that right, Professor Rogers?”

Hushed voices and shocked exclaims reached your ears, but you couldn’t quite hear them over the pounding of your pulse in your temples.

A tall figure with broad shoulders cladded in an unfamiliar hoodie was making its way to you, the crowd parting like a sea with each step he took. Even though he did, he didn’t have to lose the hood for your benefit – you had inspected his body thoroughly on many occasions, you knew his gait, and until now, you had believed that you were aware of every hoodie he had in his closet, because you had borrowed each and every one of them at least once when staying at his place... often.

Ruffled blond hair appeared first and then everything you had eyes for was his lips, curved in a hesitant smile and the beautiful eyes, so deep you could drown in them.

Your fingertips tingled with anticipation, your chest heaving in quick shallow breaths full of anxiety.

The expression on Steve’s face was unreadable – and yet, just seeing his face after the series of unfortunate events, was enough to chase tears into your eyes and for your feet to twitch with the unstoppable urge to run to him.

It was only the fear of his reaction that prevented you from making the tinniest move.

A pointed clearing of a throat sounded through the microphone, but you couldn’t tell if it worked on people, if they turned their attention to the person on the stage or kept watching your reunion. Reunion with Steve – who naturally hogged all your attention and as he approached you, his presence assaulting nearly all of your senses.

A sight for your sore teary eyes.

The barely audible yet deafening whisper of your name.

His natural scent mixed with his cologne and the detergent he used – even standing two feet away, you would swear you could smell it, perhaps a mirage created by your wishful memories.

The ghost of his skin and hair tickled your fingers as you had been running your hands through his hair and beard and roamed his body so often that you could practically feel it even now.

Half of the things you sensed must have been a figment of your imagination; yet, they felt very real, as did the rapid staccato of your heart hammering in your ribcage, the butterflies both pleasant and unpleasant occupying your stomach.

“Now, let the lovebirds figure it out and listen up, people…”

“Hi,” he greeted you softly, a single caress of his voice encouraging the flipping of metaphorical wings in your stomach.

“Hi,” you replied automatically, unable to think about anything better to say.

What were you supposed to say?

You had already made your peace with him not coming… to a point. You forgone all hope; so now you were desperately unprepared for him showing up, all casual-looking in jeans and a hoodie and so damn gorgeous as always.

An attempt at a smile graced his lips, his hand rising to the back of his neck in his typically bashful gesture as he self-consciously looked around.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea they would make such a fuss. I just followed the instructions and showed up-“

You heart sank to your gut; your body, warming up in his presence alone as he was your personal sun, suddenly felt cold with the metaphorical bucket of icy water his words provided.

He came here because someone told him to – someone who planned this stunt, this ridiculous and utterly stupid show. What was next? Were you supposed to kiss for the audience?

The same nausea you remembered feeling when seeing the poem hit you all over again; Steve didn’t want to be here.

He wasn’t here for you, he wasn’t here because he wanted to set things right.

The pain erupting in your chest was shocking and burned like a flame fed on gasoline. You truly were over and his words-

“No, wait, that came out wrong!” he hurried, crossing the short distance between you in three long steps and you would have taken a step back, hadn’t your feet rooted into the ground. “I came… I’m here because I wanted to see you. I missed you, sweetheart.”

Tears rolled freely down your face, the endearment sending a shiver down your spine, the admission sparking a warm light within you again.

You met his gaze, your knees shaking slightly in weakness, threatening to give out as you feared what exactly you would see in his eyes.

You could melt right there when you were met with the same softness he always observed you with, a blue-green sea of wonder and love, tainted with reluctance and regret.

You pressed your lips together in effort to stop your jaw from quivering.

Regret you were more than familiar with; conflict, sorrow, self-pity, anger, resignation, shame… those were the other emotions which you guessed he could read on your face.

His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I’m not here to guilt trip you. Actually-“ Steve started again and finally, as his hand disappeared in the front pocket of the hoodie, you found your voice, interrupting him.

“I missed you too,” you sobbed, covering your mouth as soon as the pathetic sound left your lips.

Steve’s own lips parted in awe, his gaze somewhat lighting up with a new hearty emotion.

But once you started talking, finally, finally speaking up, the dam broke and the waterfall of words couldn’t be stopped.

“And I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so sorry for shutting you off like that, you didn’t deserve that and you were probably in a small personal hell too, I don’t even know if your job was affected and how are doing and it’s not right, I wasn’t supposed to ignore all your calls and texts, I was supposed to-“

“-reach out when you’re ready,” he finished for you, completely differently than you had intended.

It shut you up effectively.

“Look… I understand. It was tough and it still is and if you want this to be the last time we ever talk-- then it will,” he rasped, his voice breaking towards the end of the sentence, your heart squeezing painfully at both the premise and at hearing him hurting.

God, how much he must have been hurting for the past few days and now he was talking about understanding you and forgiving you for ghosting him and still offering you an out and--- Jesus fucking Christ, you were going to drown in your own tears.

And Steve reached into that damn pocket again and even if you had no idea what was there, you had a hunch it was some kind of a gift – either a parting gift or something for your graduation and you simply couldn’t--- you didn’t care for some materialistic shit right now-

You just needed to feel him again.

Taking one single step at a lightning speed, you let the diploma case fall to the ground and threw your arms around Steve’s neck, burying your face in his chest, drawing a surprised huff from him.

A box dug into your stomach, the content of the front pocket, but you didn’t give a fuck.

Not when Steve’s arms sneaked around your waist and shoulder with no hesitation, engulfing you, his nose burying into your hair—and cursing when the cap got in his way.

You chuckled madly into his hoodie, your fingers clutching the fabric when his daring lips awkwardly found a way to your temple.

You felt like you were touched by an angel, delighted laughter that shook both of your entangled bodies ripping from your throat along with a sob.

“Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry, I missed you so much, please forgive me, please, please, please-“

“No way. Nothing to forgive-“

“Like hell it isn’t-“

“It hurt, but I get it. I truly do,” he whispered frantically, his hands moving to push you away just enough to frame your damp face with his big warm palms. “You just needed time to process what happened.”

You nodded and then lowered your gaze in shame – because you were incredibly embarrassed for your further cowardice, sobbing like a stupid five-year-old. “And then I—I was scared that you wouldn’t care anymore- that it was too late-“

God, now when you said it out loud, it sounded even more pathetic, but that was now, in his arms, when everything made so much more sense-

He shook his head, causing you to look up again just in time to see the flash of hurt in his brilliant irises disappearing. With a brief smile passing his lips, he held your face more firmly in attempt to maintain eye contact.

“No. It would take a whole lot more for me to stop caring and there still would be no guarantee it would work,” he promised, gaze so intense that you couldn’t but believe him, no matter how unreal his words sounded. “You are not what they called you and you are mine, as long as you want, because I love you. Okay? I love you, because yeah, I still think you’re really freaking amazing.”

You chuckled at his choice of words, your heart bursting with their message. The heavy burden resting upon your shoulders dropped at last – and you felt as light as a feather, bound to the man staring into your eyes as if they were the last thing he wanted to see should he turn blind the next second.

He still loved you. Steve still loved you and both your heart and mind were enamoured of him, overwhelmed with his declaration.

You were not good with your words – in fact, in that moment, you were certain you forgot all the words in English language and in every other language you had ever tried to learn too.

There was only one language left to use then; the universal one that could fit thousands of words into one single second.

You let go of Steve’s hoodie, grabbed his face instead and pulled, rising to your tiptoes in hope to reach his lips with yours.

Luckily for you, he got the message before you could pathetically kiss only the patch of skin under his chin and allowed you to move him as much as you wanted.

And by Gods, did you want, finally adding the fifth sense into the play. Taste. You missed how he tasted and how his beard scratched against your sensitive skin-

Your tears spiked your kiss with salt, but neither of your cared as you pushed through the seam of his lips, letting him know what you desired before passing on the lead to him, an open-mouthed kiss full of desire, longing and raw emotions causing you to forget all about your surroundings until a low wolf-whistle sounded on your right, bringing you back to reality.

You parted involuntarily, foreheads resting against each other, warm tears still rolling down your cheeks, but now getting lost in your content smiles.

“I love you, Steve. I love you and if you love me too, then we belong together and whoever thinks otherwise can shove their opinion where the sun doesn’t shine,” you echoed his words from almost a year ago, words that stuck with you, because they were true.

You and Steve, you were the ones who mattered. These were your lives, your relationship, and you had done nothing wrong.

Because you loved each other.

Steve’s mouth caught yours for a short moment, nothing but a nip at your lips – a silent agreement followed by a warm smile, mirroring your own.

“Will you let me give you a little something now?” he whispered, sounding slightly amused as that would be the third attempt that day and the urge to slap his arm for being cheeky felt like a surge of pure life into your veins. The familiarity made your heart sing.

You glanced up at him, retreating and eyed him from head to toe in an appreciative and yet teasing matter. “Haven’t you already? How do I unwrap you, mister?”

Steve chuckled and pulled out a rectangular box, holding it out for you.

“Here. Congratulation to your bachelor degree. And know that if you don’t like it, we can always pick something else.”

You were only human – and curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and the curiosity was killing you now as well. You bit down on your lip, not quite succeeding at masking your excited smile; even if you weren’t exactly deserving of a gift from Steve at the moment, which he would probably argue with, you couldn’t deny that you were touched by the gesture and who were you kidding, you did enjoy receiving a gift. And it was your graduation ceremony, you deserved to celebrate in every way imaginable.

You carefully took the box from Steve, tender fingers caressing the bow stuck on top. Hesitating only a second, enjoying the brief intoxicating anticipation, you lifted the lid.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as you revealed the necklace.

The chain, probably silver, was very delicate, carrying a simply decorated heart with a winding line in the middle, as if the heart was broken. Despite the symbolism, you couldn’t but revel at its beauty.

“Steve,” you breathed out shakily, unable to tear your gaze away from the jewellery, tears, dried at last, threatening to escape your eyes again. “This is… so beautiful. So much-“

You lifted your gaze, only to meet his twinkling eyes. “You like it?”

You nearly choked at the absurdity of the question. Liked it?

“Steve, it’s—like it? It’s breath-taking. You shouldn’t have- that’s-” Shit, this must have been so expensive- but you had seen it now and you loved it and you didn’t want to part with ever. “-but I absolutely want to keep it now.”

Steve chuckled lightly at your antics, but you took no offence since you were being a bit greedy.

You reached out to brush the pendant with the softest of touches – and sucked a breath in fright when it fell apart, causing you to realize for the first time that the heart could be divided in two, each part having its own loop on the chain.

“Oh,” you let out in surprise, your mind racing. Now that definitely was symbolic. Not a broken heart. Two parts of one heart. “That’s… does this mean one half is for you?”

As you asked the question to make sure, you looked up to Steve’s face, only to find a blush creeping up his neck.

“Uhm… I mean-“

“That’s so cute! And cheesy. So sweet though! I guess we do fit…” you mused, a goofy smile from the swirl of emotions today a testimony of how mushy the lovely and meaningful gift turned you. Steve’s blush deepened, but a delighted smile spread on his lips, eyes soft, so you assumed he was simply happy you liked it. “And we do complete each other.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Steve whispered, clasping your free hand in his, caressing tenderly before bringing it to his lips and dropping a barely-there kiss on its back.

“Would you wear it?” you queried, slightly nervous. “One of the halves I mean.”

It might have been his idea, but did you read him correctly?

“If that’s what you want. Give me your half and keep mine,” he offered, one corner of his lips higher in a cheeky and yet tender smile.

“You got a deal, Stevie. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. I was going to give you a key to the apartment officially, kneel on one knee and all that-“

“WHAT?!”

He wanted to do what?!

“-to ask you if you want to move in permanently, but I understand that we’ve been through a lot, you’ve been through a lot, so while the offer stands, I don’t want you to feel pressured or-“

Oh really? Then why did he even tell you about it?

Your heart felt like beating its way out of your chest, the widest grin spreading on your lips. Staring at Steve as he was stuttering, you couldn’t decide whether he was nervous about asking, trying his luck, or was teasing you, knowing all too well what you were about to say.

Oh god, your head was spinning, again-

“Yes!” you blurted out before you could think twice, shocking the stammering mess of Steve into silence.

“Really?!” he shot back in awe, his lips left parted in genuine surprise – and his expression was pure relief.

“Yes. If you mean it – and God help you if you don’t-“ And you were serious, if he was messing with you now— he wouldn’t, right? Steve wouldn’t joke about such important topic, about your life together.

“Of course I mean it-”

You squealed, closing the box you had nearly dropped in shock and hugged Steve as tight as you could, causing him to huff for the second time that day. Oh you were never letting go of him!

The crowd you entirely forgot about cheered and you jumped away from Steve as if burned, horrified that they had been following your reconciliation and displays of love this whole time-

And then you noticed the graduation caps in the air, a tradition celebrating the success of your year. You grinned at the image, catching Steve’s gaze.

“Go on,” he encouraged you, mirroring your grin when you reached for the square cap, swinging and sending it high in the air.

A yelp escaped you as you found yourself in the air as well in a blink of an eye, nestled in Steve’s arms as he laughed madly, pure delight shining from his eyes; and love. So much love.

You barely caught the cap, not really caring for it when in the arms of your man. You dropped a kiss to his lips, earning one in return and a few more, as you couldn’t get enough for each other after such a long time apart and so much unnecessary heartbreak.

You rested your foreheads against each other, tender meetings of lips, brushes of noses-

Steve winced and hissed in pain, causing you to withdraw and frown as you studied his face.

“Sorry, just… my nose…” he mumbled, seemingly embarrassed, “...tender.”

“From…?” you questioned, absolutely baffled. Steve sighed, but just one glare from you told him that you were not letting it go. You didn’t want him in any pain – you both lived through more enough of it in the past few days.

“Bucky punched me.”

“What?!” you blurted out, shocked to the core, and you braced yourself on Steve’s shoulders, your gaze automatically flickering through the crowd to find the culprit.

Why the heck would Bucky-

“Long story, tell you later,” Steve promised with a peck to your lips, signalling that the conversation was over. For now.

You had better things to do after all. So you only smiled in agreement – you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for some reason.

Wonder what that could be? Maybe because it finally feels like today is a win?

“I’m sure you will.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦- Bonus: -◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was the day after her own graduation when the blond was sitting on a park bench, light summer dress with cherry blossoms gently swirling around her knees, absentmindedly swiping through the apps on her phone, looking up every now and then to smile at the image of families enjoying the weather and freedom of summer.

She merely paused in her idly actions when the redhead woman she was waiting for seated herself next to her on the other end, sliding an envelope with a promised reward her way.

“As promised,” the redhead said disinterestedly, barely on a lower volume than a normal conversation would be and tugged a loose strand of her hair behind her sunglasses. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

The blond smiled softly, reaching for the envelope and subtly hid it in her purse. “Same. It was rather fun, actually.”

This time, a smile broke on the redhead’s lips as well, cocky, satisfied, but by any means false.

“Well, I heard you’re staying for your master’s. You contact Danvers if you want any more of that fun, da?”

“You better count on that, Rushman.”

“It’s Romanoff, actually,” the redhead smirked, side-eyeing the blond as she rose to her feet again, ready to go where her orders would take her. She spent one more glance at the other woman though; she had carried out her task perfectly, in a way that seem very natural. She’d make a good addition to their growing team and since Natasha was anything but unpolite… “Looking forward to working with you in the future, Carter.”

Sharon Carter felt a surge of pride and couldn’t but return the courtesy before the woman would walk away from her life for god knew how long.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

Attached: Words Lost in Translation

S.R.masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading ♥ We’re over 40k into the series, so thank you if you stuck around :-*

Lemme know your thoughts?

You might have noticed a to-be link for another addition to the Attached series called Words Lost in Translation. It’s more of an idea in my head, very little of the actual story written, but it will hopefully involve a bit jealousy… and smut. Just FYI.

Stay happy and safe!

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talontarget · 3 years

Text

It Must Be Nice Up Above The Lights (And What A Lovely Life That I Made) Day 1 - Max, Fang, and Iggy #maxridehcpromptweek

content warnings: canon-level gore, body horror, canon-level child abuse, and neglect

title cred: self care by mac miller

Max doesn’t know what the fuck to do. She’s only eight, and for all of her life, she’s lived in a dog cage. For all of her life, it’s been the three of them. Maximum. Fang. Iggy. The Flock. She’s always been the oldest and Jeb, the nicest Whitecoat, tells her that means she’s the leader. She has to take care of her flock-mates. She has to protect them.

How is she supposed to take care of two more eight-year-olds? They’re all the same age, for God’s sake. She kicks at her dog cage and crosses her sore arms. Jeb would be mad if he saw her letting her anger show, but he’s not here right now. She’s lucky they haven’t figured out a way to tap into her mind, otherwise, she’d receive punishments for thinking things like fuck and dog cage. They don’t like it when she curses, or when one of the Flock verbalizes that they’re being mistreated.

She doesn’t know a lot, but she knows that kids aren’t supposed to grow up in cages. (Max supposes kids aren’t supposed to have fucking wings, either, but this is how she was born and she can’t exactly help that.) She kicks the side of the crate again, and Fang whistles at her. “Stop.” He says. Max sneers and bares her teeth at him, but they both know she’s only worried. Fang doesn’t say anymore, pushing further into the corner of his cage and wrapping his dark wings around his skinny body. He’d only come back from the Races a few hours ago and Max feels bad. She turns away from him and looks at Iggy’s empty cage.

When Fang had come back, they’d taken Iggy. He’s the youngest, the one that Max has to protect the most. He’s the most successful experiment out of all of them - the first with any working night vision. Max and Fang can see well enough in the dark, but Iggy tells them that being out at night is like walking through the afternoon sun, for him. She thinks that’s what the Whitecoats took him to explore because they had been talking about it in low tones during her Inspection earlier in the day.

Her lower lip wobbles. There’s a flurry of feathers as her wings twitch, wrapping protectively around her body. Inside of her own wings, it’s warm and safe. Max can pretend that she’s somewhere else. She fantasizes about living with her Flock somewhere like in those houses they show her while they scan her brain. Somewhere in the country, with horses and cows and rolling fields that she can fly over. Max is only eight. She believes that one day it might happen. She peeks over her wings when the door opens, but it’s just a Whitecoat rolling in another failed experiment. This one is sickly green with too many arms and not enough eyes. It’s breathing through a mouth that is morphed and nearly fully on the thing’s throat.

Max clenches her teeth and turns back to Fang’s cage. Their eyes catch and his mouth pulls down. He doesn’t say much anymore. She knows it’s because he’s not used to the hardware being off of his face, and that his jaw still aches when he talks too much, but Max wishes that he would go back to the old Fang. The one that had a snarled remark before every test, the one that would whisper to her when she woke up crying, the one that would tell stupid jokes with Iggy when he came back from a grueling Race. She knows that Fang is gone. They’d kept him locked in a sensory deprivation helmet for nearly three months, and she can’t imagine what that would be like. Hell, probably.

Although, Max thinks that they’re probably already in Hell, especially when the Whitecoats wheel Iggy back in. She pushes to the front of her cage, and so does Fang. Max sees Iggy’s feathers, first. They had always been so pretty, such a light color that was once described by a Whitecoat as a “warm, off white.” Now, as he’s wheeled in on a flat dolly, they’re red. There’s so much red that it makes Max’s throat catch. She can’t say anything, can’t say his name. If the Whitecoats know they’ve given each other names they’ll be separated. She can’t reach for him, because then she’ll get a kick.

Max can only watch as Iggy, covered in blood and gasping for breath, is dumped into the cage next to her. He has bandages over his eyes, but the blood is already peeking through them. His gown is covered, too. There are scratch marks on his neck and his arms. They look like he had clawed at himself like the Whitecoats had done something so awful to him he couldn’t do anything but claw and scratch and hope.

Max doesn’t know what the fuck to do. She’s only eight, and for all of her life, she’s been told she’s supposed to protect her Flock. The fear inside of her reaches a fever pitch and boils over into anger. Suddenly she’s screaming profanities, rocking her cage as she launches herself around it, doing her best to escape. Max pushes off from the back and crashes into the door shoulder first, and it breaks open. She clips her wings on the top of the door on the way out, but she’s free.

Max pushes herself to her feet and faces the six stunned Whitecoats. One of them calls a Code Red, but she’s already launched herself onto the closest person wearing a white coat. She’s screaming, but it doesn’t reach her own ears. Max smashes her fist into the scientist’s face again and again and again - she doesn’t stop until Jeb bursts into the room and hauls her off. Max knows she’s stronger than him, but he’s nice and he makes her hot chocolate and he lets the Flock out to groom each other’s feathers and- and- and-

Max is crying when Jeb wraps her up in her wings and cradles her. Fat tears are rolling down her face and she’s sobbing as he orders the rest of the scientists out of the room - even the one that’s groaning on the floor and bleeding everywhere. “I’ll take care of this.” He says.

This, Max thinks through the haze in her head, I’m not an It to him. I’m a this. That’s better. He would make a nice Dad.

Jeb lets Fang out of his cage, and he rushes to Iggy’s side. He gently pulls Iggy out and they curl up in front of the dog cage where Jeb sits down next to him. When Max realizes how close she is to Iggy and Fang, the people she’s supposed to protect, she clambers from his arms and sets her tiny, chubby hands on the side of Iggy’s face. There’s blood everywhere and the only clear spots are the tear tracks.

She whimpers and Jeb scratches the place on her back where skin meets feather. “Iggy,” Her voice cracks and he turns his head toward the sound, “What happened?”

“I was awake,” He babbles, “I was awake and I saw it until I didn’t, and now I can’t see and there was so much blood and I’m blind-” Iggy’s voice breaks again and he starts sobbing. Max and Fang instinctively curl around him, playing parents even though they’re the same age.

How is he supposed to come with them when they figure out how to escape?

#maximum ride #maxride hc prompt week #fang #iggy #mr fang #mr iggy #max ride rewrite #max ride hc #maximum ride hc #my writing

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akkalatechlabs · 3 years

Text

Attack at the Akkala Citadel

Summary:

Robbie and Purah had to split from the Royal Tech Laboratory when the Yiga Clan snuck in. Barely making it out alive, the two had to separate; Robbie to Akkala Citadel and Purah to Fort Hateno. Filled with worry and paranoia, Robbie hopes his last moments here means all the threats are to him. Meaning Purah is safe from any danger...

Notes:

After MONTHS of thinking of this Robbie POV for the mission in Age of Calamity I finally finished it! Here's to hoping it was worth the wait! There WILL be a Purah's POV but will be written by my fiancée as a collab thing. I'll be posting it here when she is finished. This is just a big ol’ PuRobbie drabble. A long one at that. This was months in the making, hope you enjoy?

Akkala Citadel; The last stand against the Calamity some say. Perhaps... in another timeline. Here however, it still stood tall. Cannons ready for fire. Soldiers gathered all around inside and on top. They scattered around like frightened mice stuck in a cage as monsters from all sides surrounded the citadel, battle cries from the soldiers were heard echoing and there he stood at the top of the tower waiting. Watching...

Praying.

Robbie and a couple of Hylian soldiers stood on top watching cannons go off, hitting and missing monsters. Some stayed down - more came along. It looked like it the course was set - they were going to die here. Placing his pen under his chin, Robbie frowned. Swallowing nervously, he watched in silence, the usual upbeat Sheikah was focusing on the view. Hoping to Hylia herself someone would help them. The divine beasts perhaps could fix this? Where were they? Millions of thoughts going through his head all at once.

The fate of Hyrule.

The Calamity.

Her-

Purah.

She was at Fort Hateno. Gods, he knew she would be safe, or so he told himself as such. He wanted to go with her, he truly did. But he knew he couldn't. After the ambush in the Royal Tech Laboratory, it would be unwise to stay together. They barely escaped there together as it was, having no choice but to split up... If only he was more careful. This was his fault and he knew that. He let the Yiga sneak in - he was so damn careless and it pained him.

Suddenly, the Hylian soldier captain chimed in, "We don't stand a chance of defeating them, and what's more-"

Robbie interrupted him immediately, "Our chances of rescue is slim to none and it's likely for the rest of Hyrule?" A pause. He needed to bring some light to this situation. "...Rule one of the researcher's code is to never give up."

Another pause, in the distance he swore he saw a divine beast, "Personally? ...I think our chances are higher than you think."

The soldier looked over at the scientist, "Huh...?"

Suddenly as if by a miracle, another soldier comes running towards the two and falls over in a panic, "Report! A divine beast from the western waters!"

Robbie couldn't help but to grin. They were right on time.

"Hm! Well..." the Sheikah turned to the Hylian soldier captain beside him and pointed his pen at him, "See that? What did I tell ya?" He turned back to his place, sighing to himself. Looks like Hylia was on their side. His side to say the least.

The Hylian solider captain turned back to Robbie, "We should head inside, it is getting dangerous out here, Master Robbie." He drew out his sword ready to escort Robbie inside the citadel. The scientist turned to look out once more, hoping this wouldn't be the last view of Hyrule he had. Turning back to the solider he nodded, following after him and a couple of other soldiers. They headed into the building into a giant room with a bit of shelves loaded with books and notes from the history of Hyrule to ancient technology. It wasn’t as broad as the Royal Library in Hyrule Castle, but it was good to get lost in nonetheless. In the front of the room there were two giant desks, led by simple small steps. On each side there was giant torches that were still burning brightly, lighting up the room slightly as the sun quickly set – darkening the room with the use of sunlight they had.

Lastly, there was a single large table lit by a lone lantern in the middle of it. Robbie walked to the table, turning to look back at the soldiers. Watching them close the door – leaving him alone.

The Hylian Captain stood outside the front doors along with the other soldiers. Robbie kept himself busy stacking up some books that he knows he has read multiple times already. Clicking his pen nervously he couldn’t focus. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t do anything.

He wanted to know if she was doing alright. The thought of her being in danger because of this... because of him. That damn Yiga clan. Even if he was more careful about their separation... would it still come to this? The monsters invading here. Him and Purah becoming separated...

Robbie slammed his fists on the table, knocking books over onto the table and some onto the floor. He stood up pacing around the room. Never in his life has he felt so...

Lost. Scared. Useless.

Worried.

“Uh, Master Robbie, sir, are you okay in there?” A Hylian soldier spoke from the other side of the door. Robbie paused.

“I am fine!” Robbie lied however; he used his over euthanistic voice as a simple cover up.

“Alright.” The soldier replied and it went silent again.

The scientist needed to calm down, he couldn’t lose hope. Sighing he looked out of the window, watching the soldiers fight against the monsters outside. Wait.

There!

He saw them.

He saw Zelda, Link, and Impa... A wave of relief hit him suddenly. Sighing he sat back down at the table, clicking the pen again. He could finally calm down a little.

Just a little.

“If they are here then...” Sudden panic flared up again, “...No one is at Fort Hateno.” He told himself.

“Guards! Prepare your weapons!” The Hylian captain yelled from the other side of the door, Robbie stopped and looked over at the door. He ran over, locking it now. Robbie couldn’t let anything come in if monsters broke into the citadel.

The scientist leaned against the door, slowly sliding his back down and fell onto the floor, covering his face. This was going to end badly, wasn’t it? Maybe if the worst was here, Purah would be safe at Fort Hateno. He’d risk his life if it were to save hers – any day. She was... She is – the most special person to him.

“Stand your ground, soldiers!” There was a scream with a giant slam of something right after. Monsters. They were drawing near. The sword of swords clashing, footsteps running on the hard floor. Stomping of what he could imagine; Moblins. More screaming. Roaring. Soldiers screaming for help; for more backup.

He couldn’t take it. The Sheikah covered his ears, holding his head down. Trying to drown out all the chaos on the other side of the door. Robbie swallows nervously and pulls his legs close to his chest, his back against the door.

Quietly.

Trying not to listen.

Humming to himself, drowning out everything else.

This was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. He was sitting here, scared out of his mind and couldn’t do a thing to help. He wanted to help but he would get in the way...

Robbie slowly stands up, back still against the door. He was going to do something.

He had to.

Pacing back to the table, he ripped a piece of paper out of a notebook and quickly writes something... A plan.

“If the monsters are getting through here from the bridge... we could destroy it with the cannons and there would be no way for them getting in...” If his calculations were correct, the cannons could fire straight down all at once with extra power.

Eureka! That would work!

If the others got to the citadel, he would tell them personally. That was a huge “if.” There were so many monsters out there, many guardians that were going haywire. He knew the dangers in this situation. Everything he put his life’s work into all fell right in front of him. The guardians losing control, attacking his comrades... This wasn’t what they were built for...

Robbie clenches his fist just by the mere thought of all his research wasted... all for nothing. If he could, he would grab the nearest weapon and attack one on his own. He was furious. Rip it apart. Part by part...

He slams his fists on the table again, his arms trembling as he slowly moves his goggles onto his forehead, letting the tears building up in his eyes finally just drop down.

He was just so... angry. Everything was wrong.

Wrong!

He should be at the lab with Purah... Wait... No.

He should be with her at Fort Hateno. She could be dead for all that he knows...

He cannot do this to himself. His paranoia creeps up on him, the thought of her dying out there...

“Oh, Hylia... No... No!” Robbie covers his mouth, doubling over as he sinks slowly onto his knees, resting his head on the table in front of him. He couldn’t stop thinking of her... He was going to lose her.

He was going to lose her, wasn’t he...?

“Robbie! We are here to save you!” Impa’s voice broke Robbie out of his panic attack. His head jolted up from the table and he put his goggles back over his eyes. Wiping the tears from his cheeks.

No one would be able to notice how weak he was just being just now. He takes a deep breath and straightens himself out.

“Oho...! You’ve come to save me!?” There was his over enthusiastic voice again, “Hang on...” Robbie rushes to the door, “Opening the door!”

He unlocks the door, opening it and sees Link, Impa, Zelda... and even Mipha there. Relief washed over him – not for long though. Something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Whew...” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck and looks at the rescue group in front of him.

“...You really saved my day!” He snaps his fingers happily at them.

There was that feeling again and his ear twitches. There was something above them.

Something...

“Although...” He slowly looks up, “I feel like something coming nearby...”

“I sense it too...” Impa nods, gripping her weapon tightly, looking at Link. He nods and stands his ground quietly and intensely. Impa nodded her head towards Zelda’s direction and without a word, Link holds out his shield and sword ready to defend Zelda for whatever was coming. Impa walked closer to Robbie and Mipha.

Mipha frowned, holding her hand to her chest as she looked up, preparing her trident.

It was suddenly quiet. A deafening silence. Not even the cannons or the battle cries of the soldiers and clashing weapons were heard.

Robbie could hear his own heartbeat as the five in the room all looked up. Waiting – listening.

Suddenly without warning, a guardian came crashing from the ceiling in front of the five of them. This one was different from the usual guardians Robbie worked with... it was drenched in malice. The magenta and black ooze poured from it all around them.

“No!” Mipha gasped, “How did it get in here?!” She rushes in front of Robbie, looking up at him, “Robbie, stand back!”

Robbie gasped, jumping backwards and there they all were – the four of them defending him. Even the Princess was there risking her life for him. Ridiculous...

Robbie shook his head; he wasn’t allowing this. He pushed them aside and rushed towards the maliced guardian about to punch it when Impa pulls him by the backpack and shoved him onto the ground, standing over him.

“What are you doing, Robbie?! Stay over there while we deal with this! Go somewhere safe!” Impa quickly drew her attention back at the corrupted guardian, leaving Robbie there on the ground. He watched them all fight the guardian while he just sat there.

He shook his head, snapping out of the thought and crawled over behind the table all the way in the furthest wall away from the guardian. Poking his head up time to time to watch.

They were all fighting, giving it their all over there. Link dashing up on the guardian’s legs and as if all time stopped, he drew his bow hitting it right in the eye just like Robbie taught him to do with guardians. The fact Link listened to him back at the Royal lab made him proud... Freezing the guardian with multiple arrows to the eye.

Then as quick as a shadow - right behind him, Impa rushes in with her duplicates all attacking all at once. Cutting at the legs while it is still collecting itself from Link’s arrows. A fantastic strategy! Robbie snaps his fingers happily just watching them.

Mipha and Zelda tag teamed their attacks – with a swing of Mipha’s trident, casting a wave of water towards the guardian. Zelda uses the cryonis quickly after, climbing up on top of each block of ice to get closer to the guardian. Zelda taps away, using the stasis - freezing it in place as it twisted its mechanical body about to shove Mipha and Impa’s copies away. With the help of Mipha’s wave of water, it scooped up Zelda to land safely back on the ground. Zelda nods at Mipha as a thank you, Mipha nodding back at her with a gentle smile.

The stasis was running out – However Link ran in yet again, jumping up and slams his sword into the maliced guardian’s eye, piercing through it and twisted the sword, making sure it hurt.

Link back flips away from the guardian as its head quickly turns left and right, stomped all its feet in a frantic state. The malice quickly poured out of the eye and it began to glow and shoots multiple beams.

One. Two. Three.

Each beam destroyed the ceiling above them, walls quickly crumbling around and above them. The citadel was falling apart by the seams.

“Zelda! Stasis, quick!” Robbie yelled from behind the table as he stood up pointing at the guardian as it’s beam was aiming at him.

“Wait-” Zelda screamed as she tapped away too late as the beam fired straight at the Sheikah. Robbie covered his face subconsciously – as if that could block a beam from a guardian alone...

All time froze.

Robbie expected his demise yet he slowly looked over at the Hylian, parrying the beam just by his shield alone. His eyes widened in sheer awe as Link looks back at Robbie over his shoulder – his blue eyes filled with determination. Link gave a simple nod as he ran back to the others.

Robbie swallowed nervously, processing how fast that went. Link was fast. Too fast. How did he make it on time like that?

The scientist smiled to himself, shaking his head – He was the chosen one by the Master Sword, of course he would be fast to the rescue...

“Princess Mipha!” A Zora soldier captain yelled, rushing in with several other Zora soldiers all ready to attack the guardian, “We apologize for delay!”

Mipha jumped back from a swing from the maliced mechanical beast, pausing to look at them, “Thank you for your service, all of you! Let’s all work together, shall we?” There was her gentle smile as she ran to them, healing their wounds.

All of them now, fighting this one guardian while Robbie just stood there.

“This is getting ridiculous... They are all going to die at this rate...” Robbie mumbles to himself as he looks around for something to do. Getting out of their way wasn’t good enough in his mind, he wanted to be helpful.

“Aha!” He snaps his fingers and points.

He grabs a chair and slams it against the table, breaking the legs off of it. Yeah, a piece of would will definitely help... to distract it! Robbie rushes over to the torches and lights the piece of wood on fire and waves it around, screaming on the top of his lungs.

“Robbie what are you doing?!” Impa turns to look at him, her attention off the guardian for a moment.

The guardian stops and looks at Robbie, quickly crawling towards him.

“Link! Now!” Robbie yells as he looks up at the guardian aiming its beam at him once more, hoping Link would get the hint of his plan. Link without hesitation hopped on top of the table, jumping over Robbie with a quick movement he took out his bow, drawing it.

“...Tsch!” Link muttered as he put his bow away, changing strategy last second. Drawing out his sword again he focuses all his inner strength as he thrusts his sword into the guardian eye, twisting the sword deeper, watching the sparks and malice fly.

“You saved my skin! Thank you very much!” Robbie grinned as the guardian lost its momentum and fell, the light of the sword glowing bright through it as it quickly explodes. Robbie smiles at Link, he was truly a wonder. The Hero Hyrule needed... Perhaps if anyone could destroy the Calamity it would be...

Link grabs the sword and jumps back, breathing heavily staring at the parts of the beast flying around them.

“You are a wonder, Link! I will do all I can to live up to the example you set...” Mipha smiled as she closed her eyes to heal him.

Impa sighs, walking over to Robbie and punches his arm, “You almost got yourself killed! We were here to save you and you... You!” She grumbles, trailing off as Zelda walks over, smiling at Robbie.

“Oh! I have a plan-” Robbie holds up his finger pausing in thought, running over at the window and gasps at the hoard of enemies manifesting, all scurrying towards the Akkala Citadel.

Zelda runs beside him, gasping at the sight, shaking her head, “Enemy reinforcements... again? And to top it off...” she swallows nervously, “Guardians...” Zelda glances back at everyone, “A lot of them...”

Robbie smiles to himself, this was perfect. “Right- If you draw the enemies to the bridge...” he points at the monsters and guardians out the window and points at the ceiling, “We’ll destroy enemies on it with the citadel’s cannon!”

Everyone fell silent, thinking it through. Robbie looks at everyone and sighs, shaking his head as he points outside, “Come on guys, we are timed here! The citadel is all we have right now.” They couldn’t see it, but his eyes were tearing up, he was desperate. He needed them to listen to him. He needed them to. The faster they got rid of these monsters, the faster they could get to Fort Hateno...

Zelda nods and glances at the others, “Yes. Let’s go defend the citadel, everyone. With Robbie’s plan we may have an advantage!”

“If you guys can get the enemies to draw back from the door and we have a clear shot of the bridge? We’re stellar!” Robbie snapped his fingers, grinning widely. This plan had to work... it was their only shot.

Mipha nodded, drawing back from healing Link’s wounds while everyone was going over the strategy, “Very well...” the Zora made her way to the door and turned towards everyone while holding onto her trident tightly close to her, “I will combat their force to the south...”

“Let Link and I join you, Mipha.” the Princess nods as Link was already by her side, nodding, “You cannot face them alone...”

Impa nods along, “I think Daruk is by the bridge as well. He will definitely be a huge help! I think I’ll stay here in case any other monsters show up. Is that alright, Your Highness?”

Zelda smiles, nodding, “I’ll be alright Impa. Please support Robbie while we get the enemies away from the main door and clear out the bridge... We’ll get it ready for the cannons.”

Link glances at Robbie while Zelda spoke to Impa, something made him want to say something to the scientist but held his tongue. Robbie caught a glimpse of Link’s gaze for a moment as Link turned away. He tilted his head curious but... there was no time to linger about it.

“Okay, we’ll be as quick as we can!” Zelda smiled and runs out alongside Mipha and Link. Impa sighs shakily while she stood in the large room with Robbie. Turning around she looks at him.

“I hope your plan works...” Impa whispers quietly enough for Robbie to hear, “I know the Princess is strong but I just...”

“...Purah’s at Fort Hateno right now. Alone. Probably fighting for her life as we speak.” Robbie cut off Impa’s thought, “If Purah’s out there... without us, then Zelda can manage with Link, Mipha, Daruk... all of them by her side. Stop worrying.” Robbie’s tone was almost snappy – he didn’t mean to sound so bitter but his paranoia took over.

“The Princess is okay – she will be fine. I believe in her and everyone else, Impa. You need to believe in her too.” He looks over at Impa, smiling slightly, “You cannot be by her side all the time. Just like I cannot be by Purah’s... We both need to believe in them.”

Impa’s eyes widened, “Purah’s at Fort Hateno...? I was hoping she would be here with you...” Impa’s voice was shaky again, “We need to make this quick and hurry to Fort Hateno.”

Robbie nods, looking down at the floor while crossing his arms, “When this is over, please... please bring Purah back safely. I know it’s stupid asking you; Purah’s sister that but I-”

“I will. I promise you that.” Impa interrupted Robbie, “She’s family. Our family. I know that she means a lot to you as well...” Impa walks over to Robbie, looking up at him, “She’s all you have, I know...”

Robbie’s eyes widened behind the goggles – did Purah tell her about them? Or was he just that obvious?

“... But enough talk. Let’s head for the top, alright? Get the cannons ready for when they clear the bridge.” Impa smiles reassuringly as she walks towards the door, “We shouldn’t keep Zelda or Purah waiting...”

Robbie felt a wave of relief for a moment, nodding back as he quickly followed Impa to the top of the citadel.

Soldiers came running towards them, shaking their heads side to side and waving their arms, “No! There are guardians and more monsters on the roof!”

Impa immediately clicked her tongue, “How did they get up there so quick?” She turns to Robbie, “Stay here for just a moment while I get rid of them on top!”

“Mipha is already there fending them off, she needs backup!” a soldier spoke, running back over to where he came from. Impa nodded and ran off to the south where some of the cannons were.

Robbie bit his cheek – once again having to sit out on this one. Shaking his head, he looked out a nearby window, watching more monsters crossing the bridge.

“Yikes!” Robbie yelled while poking his head out now, “Enemies are making it over the bridge!” Link’s attention from the bottom of the citadel caught Robbie’s voice and looked up.

Robbie waved his arms and pointed down at the bridge, “Hurry and stop them!”

The silent knight gave a quick wave to Robbie as he rushed back to the bridge, fighting off the multiple monsters crossing the bridge. Robbie clicked his pen nervously as he watched from the window. Seeing Link fight them off one by one. He was great at what he did, sure... but at the end of the day – that boy was younger than him. He was just a kid out there fighting and could easily be killed right then and there.

Robbie felt sick to his stomach thinking about that. Zelda and Link were just kids and there they were fighting guardians, hinoxs, moblins... He looked away; he couldn’t watch anymore with that dreadful thought in his head.

Breaking his dreadful thought and the other noises of the monsters and battle cries; he hears the mighty roar of Vah Ruta – along shortly after, the citadel shaking. Robbie holds onto the window's ledge as the soldiers behind him use their spears to hold themselves. He looks around frantically then back at the soldiers who also look troubled.

“Was that...?” A soldier pauses while the other one beside him speaks, “Vah Ruta – Sidon is piloting it while Mipha is down here fighting...”

Robbie nods and looks up. Did he use Vah Ruta to strike some of the enemies down in the south? That would be a huge help for them for sure – but another strike like that and the citadel itself could fall. After the maliced guardian’s beams from before, the citadel was in rough shape inside and out. The floor could crumble at their feet at any moment given if the hit is strong enough. He really needed to be careful.

Robbie swallowed nervously as he tightened his grip on the ledge of the window, trying not to fall over from the aftershocks of Vah Ruta’s attack. Looking up, debris of the wall crumbled above them. He inhales between his clenched teeth – the citadel was really holding on by a thread at this rate....

Mipha’s voice chimed in as she runs down with Impa right behind her, “All clear in the south!” She smiled, “All thanks to Sidon and Vah Ruta...”

“Without him it would have taken longer. There were multiple flying guardians over there.” Impa added as she nodded to Mipha while she ran to the front gate to help Link, Zelda and Daruk. Impa as she said she would – walked over to Robbie to stay with him and the two other soldiers, nodding her head as thanks as they nodded back.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Impa... I’m fine.” Robbie crossed his arms as he leaned against the spiraled hallway. Sighing she also crossed her arms.

“Do you realize the mouthful I’d get from Purah if she found out you were hurt and I was there with you and didn’t help? You think I’m bad when I vent? She’s worse!” Impa cracked a small smile and punched Robbie’s arm a little too hard – but all in good, playful nature.

“I want to make sure you’re okay. Plus, the Princess has Link and the others on her side... I’m all good here.” She looks up at Robbie for a moment and spun on her heels, pointing towards the south, “... and don’t forget. We got cannons to set off. Your plan, remember?”

Robbie smiles and tilts his head to the side; he saw a bit of Purah in her at that moment. It was a nice change of pace...he shook his head to snap out of the thought as he saw the soldiers already heading to get the cannons ready.

“Let’s get this plan in action!” Robbie happily snapped his fingers, running towards the south where the cannons were. Impa quickly followed him.

Making his way outside he looked down below. There was a giant hinox by the bridge while his friends were down there fighting it all together. A soldier walks over to Robbie, “The cannons are just about ready to fire!”

Robbie winces at the thought, knowing they are still all on the bridge down there.

The soldier yells from above, making sure the others heard him, “Everyone! Fall back to the citadel!”

As the soldier moves back from the ledge, more maliced guardians scurry towards the bridge – at Link and Zelda. Robbie gasps and leans over the ledge himself, slamming his fist on the cold, hard stone.

“It’s dangerous for you to hang out there!” He grits his teeth, they needed to get out of there... why were they just staying around there? Was something wrong?

“Quickly!” Robbie screams again, hoping Link will hear him again at least, “.... return to the citadel!”

Link, a little spec from all the way down there looks up at Robbie once more, shaking his head as he draws out his bow, quickly shooting at the hinox and the guardians. Falling back, he grabs Zelda’s hand and runs east, where the door to the citadel was. There was no time to keep fighting and Link realized it while more enemies drew closer – it was overwhelming even Link.

“Come on little guy!” Daruk’s voice carried from the door, Robbie looks down at Daruk and Mipha watching the two Hylians nervously as they rush back towards the citadel with three guardians and a hinox right behind them. There was barely any time. Robbie quickly snaps his attention to the soldiers.

“We need to fire, now. Right now.” Robbie thought to himself and snapped back to looking at the bridge. Link and Zelda made it to the other side.

Robbie holds up his finger and grins, “Looks like we got them in our sights! And...” He snaps his fingers, points at the soldiers, “...FIRE!”

The soldiers immediately pulled fire as Robbie yelled fire. Robbie, covering his ears watched the cannonballs fire down on multiple monsters, crumbling the bridge along with them down. All of the falling all the way down. The hinox grabs onto the edge of the crumbling bridge for a moment until debris of the bridge cracks, making it fall to its demise along with the rest of the monsters.

Impa runs over, skidding to a stop and gasps at the sight.

“You did it! You really did it, Robbie!” Impa’s eyes beam while looking down at everyone cheering and celebrating from below.

Robbie grins, looking at the broken bridge, “The results are astounding!” He leans over, looking more closely, “They are mere fish food now!” Cackling to himself, Robbie takes a long, deep breath and sighs in relief. His plan really did fall through...

Zelda’s voice chimed in, “Time to strike down the remaining enemies. Let’s glide down the cliff into the exercise yard!” Zelda, about to run down was stopped by Link. Quietly nodding he went alone this time to finish off the monsters that survived the drop.

Robbie slammed his hand on the stone again and grinned, “Come on Link... you can do this.” Holding his breath as he watched Link run and jump down, gliding down with the paraglider Link without any effort – finishes off the remaining guardians that survived the drop. They did not have much left in them since they were already highly damaged from the sheer force of the drop. Most of the were on their sides unable to get back on their legs.

Link, drawing his sword focuses all his strength and slashes through them leaving that same blinding light from before with the first maliced guardian. Something about that sword made malice react to it...

Robbie, smirks as the last corrupted guardian explodes by Link’s sword work. He was quite the knight.

Zelda looks down, watching Link climb back up to where they stood, “With this... we were able to defeat all the enemies...” she pauses and glances up at the top of the citadel where Robbie and Impa stood, “I’m so glad we succeeded in defending the citadel.”

Mipha chimes in quietly, “Commendable, Sidon!” the Zora looks over at Vah Ruta’s direction, “You deserve our thanks... As Vah Ruta, of course.”

Robbie and Impa make their way down to the east gate, meeting up with the others. Link walks up to Robbie, looking up at him. There was that look again – as if he wanted to say something. Robbie blinks behind his goggles and tilts his head, “Link, you got something to tell me?”

Link glances down for a moment, pausing to think. He looks back at Robbie, glancing at Impa and Zelda smiling at each other then back at Robbie, “...You’re amazing.”

Robbie froze.

“... You are quick to plan things and while some doubted you, I knew exactly what you were doing. You’re amazing.” Link smiled slightly and nodded, walking back to Zelda and Impa’s side.

Robbie fell silent, that boy barely spoke at all and hearing him say that to him hit him hard. His words were so much more impactful that way...

Wait... Wait!

Robbie runs over to them, “Guys there’s no time to celebrate just yet. While the citadel may be safe and all, Purah... She needs your help. Please.” Impa turns to Robbie and looks back at Zelda, “That’s right! Purah’s at Fort Hateno. She needs out help right away.”

“We were separated when the Yiga Clan attacked the lab. We barely managed to escape... I’m glad you guys came to save me but... we need to save her, if she is gone... I-”

Zelda reached her hand out gently patting Robbie’s arm, “We’ll save Purah. We’ll bring her safe and sound, Robbie...” Her voice was calm, gentle. Robbie looked at her, tearing up being his goggles. Looking away for a moment he quickly lifted up his goggles to wipe the tears away as fast as he could.

Zelda held out her hand more for a mere moment and drew her hand back, turning towards the other as her expression changed. “Let us make our way to Fort Hateno. Our mission is to save Purah and bring her back safety, for everyone’s sake and... his.” Zelda took one final glance at Robbie while his back was turned.

Everyone nodded.

Robbie gasps under his breath while adjusting his goggles back on. He shouldn’t show so much weakness like this... Taking a deep breath he nodded.

“Please bring Purah back to...”

Me.

Me, safely...

Oh, how he wished he could say that. Perhaps once all of this was over, he could. Until then, Robbie continues, “...to us safely.” Robbie finally spoke again in an almost defeated tone.

It killed him.

The others nodded and started to make their way to For Hateno.

Taking a deep breath, he watched the sunrise peeking from the horizon.

Akkala Citadel; The last stand against the Calamity some say. Perhaps... in another timeline. Here however, it still stood tall even with the bridge completely destroyed. Cannons all fired out. Soldiers barely making it from the citadel, all were left were limping soldiers left and right. They stood triumph as monsters from all sides collapsed defeated around the citadel, cheering from the soldiers were heard echoing and there Robbie stood at the top of the tower waiting. Watching... as Link, Zelda and the others made their way to Fort Hateno.

Praying for Purah to come back safely...

#purobbie #purah #robbie #mipha #impa #link #zelda #legend of zelda #hyrule warriors age of calamity spoilers #Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity #age of calamity #my writing.txt ;;

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mallowstep · 3 years

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I’m thinking about writing a short OC piece about Windclan and I’d love to see your notes about its culture and the hymns you’ve written so far, everything you’ve done for Windclan appreciation month has really inspired me :)

hello anon!

alright, first things first: please send me ur piece when ur done if you're comfortable doing so! i will publish it from you, or if you don't want to be associated with it in Any Way, i will also just read it and add it to the queue with no indication why it's there. or if you don't want me to share it at all, i'd still like to read it.

as for your ask,

hymns?

i'm working on it. however, underneath the read more, i'll include a few snippets for u.

culture

alright, i'm just going to post links with some commentary as i go. feel free to ask any more questions you have.

windclan (search) | windclan (tag) | wcam tag | five clans (narrative essays)

i would link the elders den, but there's no windclan stories in there ATM.

moving on, i'm just going to go through posts in reverse chronological order.

tallstar taking a mate admittedly, this is more about cats and sexuality than windclan, but i provide the commentary that windclan...has a particular view on sexuality and fluidity. one thing i haven't explored but should is the role visiting cats have in windclan.

whoops that's a code word, my plug for solacefruit has been activated. okay, as you may be aware, based on the fact that i have a whole tag for it, i'm obsessed with solacefruit. now, i love everything they do, but i would like to point you particularly to "make a mighty sound" for a fantastic exploration of this idea.

i don't want to spoil anything, but i do think windclan, and maybe cats as a whole, but windclan has a certain view towards relationships that very much breaks them into pieces. i'm a "love is a verb" person, so the idea that you can grow to love someone romantically by going through the actions of love makes sense. not to say you will, but you can.

(to be clear i'm not out advocating for arranged marriages just saying that they can work, they're not destined to be bad, and there's a difference between forced marriage and arranged marriage.)

anyway.

this was a lot of words to say, cats do not have a human (and particularly, western/american) understanding of relationships, which makes analyzing them in those terms difficult.

early hymn talk i'll probably say more below, but it is here.

general ibtwicm notes might get you into the headspace for some of my choices in ibtwicm.

i don't have a ton to say because this pretty much all holds, but uh, yeah.

poetry and language this isn't strictly about windclan, but it does explain some of what i think about when writing hymns.

obviously, i'm writing english translations, but these general themes are what i have in mind. it's also part of why i say i don't think i'll ever release a "full hymnal" for windclan, because i don't know if my weak worldbuilding heart could take it if i only had translations.

names part two very much not about windclan, but just some thoughts on names. as i've said before, i support all names and worldbuilding equally, but if you want my thoughts on names, go buckwild.

clan culture fic rec list just stuff i think does a good job, if you want other sources of inspiration.

general clan culture notes this is really old, but it mostly holds.

i've obviously expanded a lot on windclan since i wrote it, so shrug? idk man.

alright, i'm going to move into hymn discussion below the cut, but best of luck! and i hope u have a good time. it makes my brain shut down to read that i inspired you, straight up got brain juice pouring out of my ears, but i'm really, really happy to hear that.

windclan holds a special place in my heart. (i know my oc avatar is from skyclan shhh it's because of the backstory he sees ghosts.) but i grew up in this super sporty household as a lil asthmatic klutz, and running was a sport i couldn't mess up, so of course windclan appealed to me.

they're actually third on my list of favorite clans, but they. it's a special place in my heart that they hold, especially after reading dawn of the clans and moth flight's vision, where i got an asthmatic cat and an adhd cat, both in windclan.

god i should reread dotc it's good.

alright, here's the deal on hymns: i am not going to fight to get duets to post correctly. there's a 0% chance i can in tumblr's wonky ass new editor with no markdown, not to mention how difficult it would have been in the old editor. so i'm going to talk a lil about what i've got, and post some stanzas that i think don't get explored a lot in ibtwicm.

we're discussing these in the order that they go in. a reminder that these are all sections of one epic poem. that said, i don't know where the gaps are. like, i don't know what's between these, if that makes sense.

the wind

the wind, the very first hymn. this is an ode to, well, windclan. it's a song about everything that makes them them. it's filled with poetry about the wind, about the seasons, and it's just...well, it's a bit of a genesis, in a way.

The wind — like the rain, like the river — calls the name of each star in its breath. The wind — like the earth, like the stone — anchors us to our home. The wind — like the sun, like the sky — is knowable only by name.

i wanted to share this stanza because the last line doesn't show up in ibtwicm (at least so far, i cut the reference), and it really, really, makes a difference imo.

anyway, windclan is basically tying the wind in with every other fundamental part of their life here.

they are the wind, and that's that.

the hare

okay, this one has a line that comes up a lot in ch1, but i already talked about that, so instead, i'm going to talk about this stanza

Speak of the earth and the dens, and you will be answered: By the call of the howling gales, the open earth singing in response. But speak of that which grows above, of the grass and field, And you will be answered by the softness of the buds and the roots.

okay, we get deadfoot thinking about this when he's talking to yellowfang.

i like this stanza because it really tells us what the hare is about. now, hares are not something windclan catches. hares are huge, y'all, there's no way they take one down. i take liberties with ecology, but not that many.

(i.e., a team of cats definitely could take one down, but i know too much, and would prefer letting team hunting stay a plot thing, and not fundamentally alter the environment in the way it would.)

now anyway, all of these hymns come from the time of the tunnelers. and the point of this is, even though the work of tunnelers and moor runners is disconnected, they fundamentally affect each other.

a moor runner must trust the hollows of the earth beneath them won't collapse, and a tunneler must trust that the prey they chase up will be caught.

it's all very symbiotic and is, well, in a way, a love poem. plus i really like the line "the open earth singing in response"

of the warrens

so this has one line, one you might not even know is a hymn, in ch1, but i'll share the whole stanza.

And as for the subject of fallow fields: Fallowed fields make for hungry prey, Yet hungry prey makes desperate rabbits, Who leap into our claws.

and ig my big point is, the hymns are a cultural artifact. just like many of the rules in the old testament have to do with hygiene things being codified into religion, this whole hymn is about hunting advice.

the moon on the river

okay, out of all the hymns, this is the most complete, and because ashfoot and deadfoot sing it together, and deadfoot discusses it, i only have one stanza to share.

Under the coldness, you shine back at me, And I do everything to keep the clouds from threatening you.

now, this poem is about love, grief, and being separated. it's a particular kind of grief, and windclan discourages grief, so this is one of only a few ways to really, fully express it.

and this section, in particular, is about love in times of hardship.

i don't have. a lot to say here. but the way hardship changes how you love someone can be particular and intense.

(temporarily, this happens sometime before "Spare for my chosen few / All I have is given towards the distant ground.")

the gorse in the wind

oh shit! i have so fucking much to say okay first.

the series title does not come from this hymn.

second, this is a challenging hymn okay. fuck. i have so much to say. where to start so! moors are actually relatively wet. think british countryside, not, like, a cool desert.

this is something i always knew? i read the secret garden a lot as a kid. but. i've seen stuff about moors being dry, and it's just one of those things that really...starts to eat under your skin. anyway.

okay, so. gorse is a dry plant. it does not like rain. it grows in sandy soil, etc etc, and yet. aside from everything we know about gorse and warriors, it also grows in this moor. because i say so.

okay, so. so so so. the lines quotes here are really deceptive, and i bet no one understood why, and that makes me just a little sad, but i couldn't find a good way to explain it in text, so uh, yeah, anyway. there's an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot: "THE GORSE: You called me the heather and I grew stronger. / THE WIND: I called you the heather and brought rain for you to grow."

so...so do you see? do you see the point? it's about communication, needs, challenging each other. fadskj;l i love this. okay, so. the point is that heather is fragile, soft, pretty, and gorse is the opposite. the part of the wind is trying to be kind and complimentary, but the gorse is saying, fuck that, you are not being kind to me by undercutting my strength.

anyway, this passage is sung by the gorse:

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower. You called me the heather and yet I've weathered, Far more than your sweet-named love.

so uh, yeah, this adds context. gorse! gorse is a hardy plant that continues to flower basically all season round. it's cool. it's cool. gorse is super cool. fuuuck y'all it's such a small thing and i've contained talking about it until now, but now it's too much. the floodgates are open, and i thought about this small detail too much.

okay. deep breath. gorse is a really easy plant to grow, but it's still adapted for dry environments. so the "even through snow fall I flower" part is a little tongue in cheek: gorse itself will flower in the cold, but snow is a type of precipitation, which as we've covered, is not gorse friendly.

then we have some rhyming and puns in the next line, and finally, "yet I've weathered, / Far more than your sweet-named love." like. yes. love as a form of softness is not necessarily helpful.

i mean, consider the damaging "soft trans boi" problem. same energy.

right. okay. so we've got all that? now if you remember, this is sung when deadfoot thinks ashpaw doesn't respect him, and ashpaw says she'll sing with him if she can sing the gorse, so in essence, she's telling him...not to back off, per se, but that...she is the "hard part" of the relationship. like, okay, i refuse to even bring up gender roles in human relationships, but uh, her point is very much, "i am the gorse, and you are the wind," and it's a very monumental moment.

it's anchored, i believe, in the other scenes, but this is a small thing that matters a lot to me.

like a lot.

okay, now that i've talked about like four lines for the length of this entire post, moving on.

the heather and earth

okay, this is the last hymn i have in concrete terms, and i cut a bit of it from the latest chapter, so yeah. it's also, uh, okay everything i have for it is only a line or two, but i wanted to share this closing line (sung together):

Sing a song of forgiveness, of growing together, and we will make madness, And madness from hence will everything beautiful grow.

and i just like these lines. they got cut, it was initially part of an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot, but i can't share the part of it they talk about, because i'm reusing it for a later chapter and i'll 100% spoil shit if i try to talk about it.

but these lines? mmm they speak to me.

i don't have a ton to say about them, but i just. i like it.

if we apply the same ecology discussion from the gorse and the wind, we see heather is a plant that grows in acidic, infertile soil, and heath (which is not the same as a heather, but also kind of is) is a defining quality of heathland, which is...i'm not kidding, it's hot discourse about the difference between moorland and heathland.

i'm not getting involved, but my point is, if the gorse in the wind is a hymn about finding a working relationship, about mutual respect, etc., then the heather and earth is a hymn about working well together in a terrible situation.

god.

uh, wow! can you tell i like plants? because while parts of my ecology are dubious (see: everything regarding the rabbits in ch1), the plants part are well thought out. this shit is carefully detailed metaphor.

and that's why i won't be releasing a full hymnal. it's hard to as on top of this as i want to be. i'm not kidding, writing even four lines of a hymn usually takes me about twenty minutes, because i pull up a lot of research about how things work, how they interact with each other, etc., and then there's wordsmithing, cat worldview filter, etc.

but i hope this overview of what i've got is a good insight into my general thoughts. and i will eventually release more and more of the hymns i've got written.

#ask #anon #mine #txt #windclan #wcam #essay #long #warriors #warriors worldbuilding #windclan hymn project #mateo fanboying over solacefruit again

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sartorialadventure · 5 years

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(Head to the link above for bigger versions of these photos!)

^Belinda Qaqamba Ka-Fassie, a post-graduate student in education at Stellenbosch University, wears a dress that resembles the white blanket typically worn at a male circumcision. Her headpiece and beaded stick, both handmade, are traditionally part of a bride's ensemble. The 24-year-old designs her dresses, often choosing local fabrics. (photo by Lee-Ann Olwage)

When Belinda Qaqamba Ka-Fassie dresses in drag, she doesn't typically go for on the sequins and feather boas worn by performers on RuPaul's Drag Race. A post-graduate student of education at Stellenbosch University in Cape Town, South Africa, Ka-Fassie might put on a dress that resembles the white blanket typically worn by boys at a traditional male circumcision ritual, called ulwaluko, and she might add a multi-colored headpiece and beaded stick, both handmade and used by brides.

It's a very deliberate choice made by black drag queens from townships who are celebrating their roots and challenging dress codes for men and women through their traditional apparel. "We cannot separate our queerness from our Xhosaness," says Ka-Fassie, a drag queen and activist.

^Mthulic Vee Vuma, a 21-year-old studying public management at West Coast College, wears traditional Xhosa clothing and jewelry in front of a shack in Khayelitsha. "The meaning of the clothing I am wearing is to love and accept our culture," Vuma says. Her family initially struggled to accept her as a trans woman, believing it was a curse, but she says they now give her total support. (phoo by Lee-Ann Olwage)

Yet even as they embrace their culture, township drag queens outside of Cape Town, as in other parts of the world, face grave risks. They must often suppress their queer identity in their communities for their safety — traveling into the city for pageants and parties, then de-dragging before they go home.

The limbo they live exists even in the terminology for their identity. There is no word to describe queerness in Xhosa, the indigenous language widely spoken in South Africa. The words that do exist are often insulting to the queer community, describing sexual behavior and denying queer people dignity. "When I came out to my family, I couldn't find the appropriate word in Xhosa to explain my queerness," Ka-Fassie says.

^Belinda Qaqamba Ka-Fassie poses at a community space where women cook and sell meat. She started drag as an escape from oppression she felt at Stellenbosch University for being "black, Xhosa, poor, queer and effeminate." "It is through pageantry and performance that I became more inclined with my queerness and how boundless expression should be," she says. "Drag became the therapist I never had." (phoo by Lee-Ann Olwage)

#BlackDragMagic is the name of a photo project in collaboration with Ka-Fassie – a series of portraits showing how drag can be an art form in Africa that differs from mainstream aesthetics in the West.

All of the portraits were taken on a single afternoon in August, with a pickup truck serving as a makeup station and changing room. The subjects — queer, black, gender-nonconforming and trans — were photographed throughout the township of Khayelitsha, which means "new home" in Xhosa. The township is located on the Cape Flats, about 15 miles southeast of Cape Town.

^Shakira Mabika, 24, emigrated to South Africa from Zimbabwe, where the former president "has referred to people like me as 'pigs' and un-African." She asked to be photographed by dilapidated shacks where pigs were kept behind a fence. "I moved to Cape Town in search for a space where I could live my truth," she says. But she says she has faced transphobia and still hasn't found a job. (photo by Lee-Ann Olwage)

The girls walked down the streets that day in a group, proudly and unapologetically. "I carry my African-ness and my queerness on my sleeve because it is who I am," says Mandisi Dolle Phika, one of the photo subjects.

^Mandisi Dolle Phika, 27, asked to be photographed by a church, an important place to her family but a place where she says she has faced anti-queer bias. At Catholic school, she remembers, "I once overheard a conversation where it was said I have a 'gay-demon.'" Now studying LGBTQI political leadership, she believes in "a colorful God" that "celebrates diversity in all its manifestations." (photo by Lee-Ann Olwage)

Discrimination is a part of everyday life for queer people in the townships, especially at taxi stands, churches and schools. In the Western Cape alone, a 2016 survey of 112 LGBT participants age 16 to 24 by Love Not Hate, a national campaign addressing anti-gay hate crimes, found that about two-thirds of LGBT people between the ages of 16 to 24 reported experiencing discrimination at school. Reliable statistics are rare, because queer people in townships often choose not to report harassment or violence out of fears for their safety and distrust of local law enforcement.

^ Unathi Ferguson, left, was outed by a teacher in 11th grade but eventually saw the moment as a chance to "embark on a journey to sanity and complete acceptance [about] who I was." Shakira Mabika, right, emigrated from Zimbabwe to South Africa in 2013. Olwage says the women told her they had forged "a newfound sisterhood." (photo by Lee-Ann Olwage)

Black queer people here, as in many other parts of the world, also struggle to be understood by their health care system. Some studies have found that LGBT patients have been subjected to discrimination, with health care providers refusing them care or doling out moral judgment. Long lines of people waiting for free treatment at clinics or state hospitals in impoverished areas can lead to a lack of privacy for patients. As a result, many avoid medical care or receive poor care.

But the picture doesn't have to be bleak. "Living in a township has taught me to be strong and strive. I have dealt with the stigma and hate, and now am stronger," said Liyana Arianna Madikizela, a 17-year-old who posed for photographs.

^Liyana Arianna Madikizela, 17, is a drag artist from the township of Kayamandi. She poses near a string of drying clothes to challenge traditional gender roles. "I realized I was different when I didn't want to do the stereotypical manly duties," she says. "I was always keen to do house duties such as washing dishes, doing the laundry, cleaning the house and cooking." (photo by Lee-Ann Olwage)

Madikizela embodies the strength and resilience the drag queens have shown in the face of injustice and oppression. "I want to become the role model I never saw in the streets of Kayamandi," she said. "Someone who is unapologetically gender non-conforming and who navigates their lives against all the hostile odds of living in the township."

Lee-Ann Olwage is a South Africa-based photographer. Sasha Ingber is a Washington, D.C., freelance writer. Belinda Qaqamba Ka-Fassie, a drag artist and advocate, collaborated with Olwage on this project.

#fashion #lee-ann olwage #BlackDragMagic #gender nonconforming fashion #drag #south african fashion #african fashion #subsaharan african fashion #south africa #subsaharan africa #fashion photography

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orionsangel86 · 5 years

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what are your thoughts on the deancas endgame.. how will they resolve the Empty.. any thoughts?

Ah that old question! How it pains us all! :P

What are my thoughts on DeanCas endgame now? Honestly it changes everyday!

When Cas first made his deal with the Empty, it seemed so damn obvious to me that it would be a lead up to overt canon Destiel. At the time I was pretty sure that there was nothing else that could bring Cas that level of happiness. Now I’m not so sure. Cas’s devotion to Jack has only grown, and the fracturing of the Winchester family at the end of Season 14 was a huge hit to him. I can now easily envisage something as simple as Cas being invited to carve his name on the bunker table being the trigger point, so long as Jack is alive and well. Being part of the Winchester family has definitely been the principle factor the writers have built on for Cas over the past season. I therefore think that if the Empty does come for Cas, it will be from something familial, something like Jack and the Winchesters all sitting around and them paying specific attention to Cas for doing something great, like actually stopping a monster, saving a ton of people, and doing it all the human way, leading to a very impressed Sam and a loved up Dean beaming at him and telling him to carve his initials, and making sure he adds the W.

As much as I would love it and ascend to fandom heaven if it happened, I don’t think the empty deal is gonna be triggered by Dean grabbing and kissing Cas up against his bedroom door, or even actually saying a very clearly romantic “I love you”. Not that I don’t think that will happen at all, but I feel the Empty deal will need to be addressed very soon, and I just can’t see any overt confirmation of Destiel in text before the very end (if at all) at this point.

Please let me explain my thought process on this before anyone get’s upset or jumps on me.

Season 15, imo, has done a lot for Destiel. Since the very first episode we have had a clear emotional storyline specific to Dean and Cas. Their relationship drama has basically fuelled the emotional heart of the season so far. It has lead to journalists, interviewers, and plenty of check marks on Twitter agreeing that whatever Dean and Cas have, it’s something very special, and important to Supernaturals beating core.

The fact is, Dean and Cas are already being written as a romantic couple. They are being written as two people who deeply love each other, to the point that they get ridiculously overly emotional around each other and when the other hurts them. Their relationship is constantly called out by other characters (Belphegor, Rowena) and mirrored to the more overt (however unfair that is) heterosexual relationship in the show (Sam and Eileen).

If we were still living within the era of the Hays Code, if this was The Celluloid Closet, then we would already be championing Destiel as an epic example of queer romance. It IS a queer romance after all. Destiel is real, it exists within the Supernatural story, and the SPN writing team including actual queer writers are 100% on our side and writing Destiel as best they can. This I am 100% certain of at this stage. As a meta writer, I am already validated that my reading of the show and of Destiel as a queer romance in the show is correct. Destiel isn’t something anyone can justifiably call us delusional for seeing anymore. We have come way far beyond that point here. If you see Destiel as a romantic love story, your reading is a correct reading because that IS the story the writers are writing. Season 15 has confirmed that with the Destiel break up story arc and Dean’s prayer. This I say with absolute certainty. Your reading of Destiel as valid and an actual queer love story is correct. It is the story they are telling. People can’t deny Destiel anymore because it is those deniers who at this stage look pretty damn delusional ya know?

I have bolded several lines above because they are important and I really want to stress that this is my stance on the matter. Do not let anyone try to convince you that I feel differently here. If you are a young queer person who sees yourself and your relationship in the DeanCas love story you are valid in seeing that. Exactly as it is, right now, without any need for further confirmation within the story. I am in no way trying to invalidate you by what I am about to say next.

I mentioned the Hays Code and the Celluloid Closet. If you haven’t seen the Celluloid Closet I urge you to watch it as it is a fascinating look into queer coding within the Hays code era. Also, quickly, if you aren’t aware of what I mean by the Hays Code it’s basically the code that Hollywood had to adhere to, setting out rules of what could and couldn’t be portrayed in cinema at the time. Here’s a link to the Wiki article on the history of queer cinema. The introduction of the Hay’s code also meant the introduction of queer coding and subtext rather than explicit dipictions of queer romance in cinema. When I refer to this in relation to Dean and Cas, basically what Supernatural is doing with Dean and Cas is exactly what was done to dipict queer romance in order to get around the Hays code during the era when it was enforced.

So when I say that Destiel is real and valid and being written as a love story, I mean that the writers are basically doing with Destiel what savvy filmmakers had to do to circumvent the Hay’s code during Hollywoods golden age.

Do you see the issue yet?

It is 2020. The Hay’s Code has been abolished for around 50 years.

I fully respect the SPN writing team for trying to tell the Destiel love story as best they can, but at this point in time, even with everything they have already given us, it is still subtext.

Subtext IS a part of the text. What is Canon? What isn’t Canon? Honestly? I’m done with the arguments about it. Believe what each of you want to believe. What I will say is that I don’t think we are going to get anything more overt from the show at this point. The reason I say this is because the writers have now had plenty of ideal opportunities to actually bring the Destiel love story into text. They could have had a single line in 15x07 that confirmed Dean and Lee had a romantic relationship when they were younger. It would have been so easy to do. But they didn’t. Dean’s prayer to Cas, in all it’s glory, could have given us one line more as well. We could have had a love confession. They could have taken it there. Again, it would have been so easy, and it was the ideal opportune moment for Dean to confess. But they didn’t.

I have gone back and forth on this particular question over and over again. The question being will Destiel be brought into explicit undeniable text by series end?

Again, I stress, this question is completely separate to the question of the validity of Destiel already within the text and I swear to God if I get a single argumentative person in my mentions coming at me because they’ve been brainwashed by *people* trying to twist and blur these lines I am going on an even bigger blocking spree to the one I’ve already been on.

In my opinion, the answer to this question resides not with the decisions of the writers (who I fully believe would make it overtly canon in a heartbeat if they could) but with the CW execs. I have my own theories about what goes on behind the scenes, and what I think Dabb has been fighting with since he first took over as showrunner in season 11, and I just really hope that at some point once this is all over we will get a big expose on the truth about Destiel which confirms my speculation and slams the CW execs for not wanting to go there with Supernatural in particular (something I have previously talked about here). I would love for the execs to have given the green light on Destiel being overt by season end, and I am still hoping they have been more lenient this season even if the okay is only for one small moment. Whatever we get or do not get, it will be at the hands of the CW execs and not the writers. That’s the one thing I ask everyone to please keep in mind whatever happens in the end.

As far as what I think may or may not happen...

I would love for the Empty to take Cas because Dean confesses his love and kisses him. Or even if the Empty takes Cas because of other things, having Dean then rescue Cas from the Empty in a poetic reverse of Cas rescuing Dean from Hell, with the big reunion being their overt textual getting together. I feel like the story could go in so many different directions right now as I don’t actually feel like the plot of season 15 is all that coherant so far. The main key notes were Dean and Cas’s relationship drama, Sam and Eileen’s reunion, Chuck messing with the boys and Jack’s return. I think that things will ramp up pretty quickly in this final run of episodes from mid March to the finale, and I think a lot of storylines will get addressed and resolved in a short space of time, at this point, if anything overt does happen for Dean and Cas, it will happen quickly, and the story will move on, or it will be left in the subtext until the very final episode, or it will remain in subtext completely.

Personally, I think that Dean and Cas’s love story will remain subtextual until the very end, with potentially an “I love you” from Dean that will be interpreted as platonic by all major media sources much to all of our frustrations (a repeat of the Season 12 Cas “I love you”) (As Dean needs to tell Cas he loves him as a plot point at this stage, regardless of whether it is romantic or platonic the story basically demands it be said). I am still quietly confident that Dean and Cas will end the season together in some way, either living or dead, I don’t think that their story or their individual story arcs work if they are separated, and I will be stunned and hurt the same way I was for Game Of Thrones if the show does take a different route.

Therefore, since I see the show ending with Dean and Cas together, I can potentially see them taking each others hands in one final shot that basically subtly confirms that they are an item without ever actually textually stating anything more or giving us a kiss or anything. I personally, would be very satisfied with this. If it doesn’t happen though, if I’m totally honest, I would also be satisfied so long as they are still together by the shows end, as I have continually stressed, Destiel is already a real and valid love story that totally validates me as a meta writer, even if it isn’t technically “canon” by all major definitions of the term. (Again I stg if anyone comes at me for saying this I am blocking without devoting a second of my time to arguing with you I am literally at zero tolerance on this ridiculous argument right now and refuse to be dragged back into the bullshit).

Whatever happens, I am loving what we are getting so far. I’ve really been enjoying this season especially the Dean and Cas storyline because it has been so intense and emotional and I LIVE FOR IT! :D I know I’ll be a puddle of tears whatever happens and I just hope that it keeps up this excellent trajectory because so far I’ve been really pleased with everything else we’ve got even if I was slightly disappointed by the show not pushing 15x07 and 15x09 just that tiny bit further into overt canon confirmation of Bi!Dean and Destiel. We’ll see. As I have already said several times, I am feeling pretty validated by my interpretation of Dean and Cas’s relationship over the past so many years I’ve been writing about them. I am confident that I will continue to feel validated as we reach the final run of episodes, and I will continue to be optimistic that Dean and Cas will get a satisfying ending together, whether that includes overt textual Destiel confirmation or not.

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn meta #castiel #dean winchester #spn speculation #season 15 #destiel dreaming #spn endgame speculation #destiel endgame speculation #my meta #the great queerbating debate #queercoding #hays code #asks #anon #Anonymous

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fanpom-imagines · 4 years

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Request by Anonymous: hi, could you do a imagine on mick rory (from legends of tomorrow) where he and the reader confess their feelings for eachother (even though mick always thought that the reader had fallen for Gary Green) and they get caught making out in the library (on the waverider) after sharing their first kiss and becoming a couple!

Imagine Mick confessing to you because of his jealousy towards Gary.

Masterlist

Fandom: DC’s Legends of Tomorrow

Words: 1470

Warnings: like a max of two cuss words, gets a little steamy at the end, and maybe OOC Mick, but I do honestly think he’d react like this when confessing as I believe he would be scared of admitting he’s in love.

(Gender Neutral Reader)

“How?!” I yelled in frustration as I abruptly stood up and started frantically gesturing towards the screen.

“I’m just that good,” Zari said as she leaned back in her seat all cocky, slowly placing her hands behind her head for extra effect.

“Some would say too good,” came a voice from the entrance of the room. The two of us turn our heads towards the voice and my face breaks out in a smile.

“Sup, Gary, what have you been up to?” I asked as I placed the controller down and made my way towards Gary.

“Oh you, know Time Bureau...stuuuuf,” he mumbles out nervously.

I chuckle at his reaction before bidding Zari goodbye and dropping an arm over Gary’s neck as I started to lead us down one of the halls of the Waverider.

“Oh come on it’s gotta be more exciting than that. Plus don’t we got our DnD session coming up? You know this campaign is going really well, you’re a really good DM,” I tell him as I guide him through the Waverider my arm still around his shoulder and lead us into the kitchen.

“Yes, actually that’s why I’m here, we’re starting up another session, and I was wondering if you wanted to come over-“ Gary was cut off by a scoff coming from the opposite end of the room.

“What is it Mick?” I grumble out at him as I take my arm off of Gary and make my way to the Waverider’s magical fridge thing, which I refuse to call anything else, to get mac n’ cheese.

“So you and your boyfriend goin’ out again to one of these “DnD sessions” Mick emphasizes with air quotes.

“First of all he’s not my boyfriend, and for the last time these “sessions” aren’t code word for sex,” I tell him as I take out a spoon and start eating. I pat the seat beside me to motion for Gary to sit down. Gary takes a step closer towards my direction, but stops as a growl, a literal growl, comes from Mick’s throat.

“Mick, you serious? Leave him be,” I say in exasperation at the hot head.

“You know what (Y/N), the session isn’t starting till like another hour, plus you have a time machine so you can drop by then. I have to setup everything anyways,” Gary said in a rushed tone as he looked between Mick and I. With Mick standing somewhat behind me I wasn’t able to see the threatening looks he was throwing above my head to the more sheepish man.

“You know I can help-“ I started.

“NO!” Gary coughs, “I mean, no, there’s no need. Just come by when it’s time,” Gary said hurriedly as he quickly left the kitchen to scurry off back to his house. I closed my eyes and groaned in frustration as I turned towards Mick.

“Really Mick?”

“What?” He asked, playing innocent.

“You literally just scared him off. Him and I were having a perfectly good conversation and you bared your teeth at him.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Mick you practically did, and it still doesn’t explain as to why you had to literally growl at him,” I asked him as I took another bite of my mac n’ cheese before turning back to him and pointing my spoon at him accusingly. “What is up with you?”

“Nothing,” he says stubbornly.

“Bullshit, what’s wrong?” I say placing the spoon into the bowl and fully facing Mick in my chair as I cross my arms.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” he grumbles out trying to turn his head away to break eye contact.

“Mick quit trying to get out of this conversation,” I tell him standing up and getting into his view once more to catch his eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“I…,” he hesitates before once again shaking his head and trying to step past me. I grab his shoulder and push him back towards the counter. Now having him sandwiched between me and the counter I stand in front of him with crossed arms and a defiant look.

“Mick, seriously, what is wrong?” I tell him as we once again lock eyes.

“It...I…,” he struggles as he looks from one eye to the other before his eyes and face harden again, “It doesn’t matter, go play whatever with your boyfriend.”

He tries pushing past me and I once again push him back against the counter, “Is this about Gary and I hanging out? If you wanted to hang out more you could’ve just said-“

“No, no it’s not that. I…,” He once again cuts himself off not being able to say what he wants and looks down to the ground.

“Hey, Mick, it’s okay, you can tell me,” I say to him as I once again am trying to get our eyes to meet.

“I…” and then Mick’s words become more mumble. Too incomprehensible for me to understand what he was trying to say.

“Mick I can’t hear-“

“I said I love you!” He yelled at me as his head whipped up and his eyes blazed in anger before softening. My eyes were wide open as I stared at him in shock.

“I understand that you’ve got a thing for that scrawny little rat, but I just hate feeling like this,” he said as his eyes once again turned back to showing his anger as he once again pushed against me to leave.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I took my hands and cupped his face with them as I pulled his lips towards mine. It took him a second to realize what I was doing before he pushed back onto my lips and started to kiss back. What seemed like forever, but was only a few seconds of a blissful kiss I pulled away from him.

“Love you too, big guy,” I gave him a cheesy smile as I lean in for another kiss, which he gladly reciprocates.

As the kiss got more heated he got bolder and placed his hands on my waist before pushing me backwards and making us step back together. Once I felt the bump of the table we parted and he dragged his right hand down my side then to my thigh and squeezed it. I took that as a que to slightly hop back onto the table. Mick gave me a once over before giving a slight huff in satisfaction and pushing me further onto the table as he kissed me again.

“Gary’s cute, but he’s not you,” I told him as we separated once again.

“Don’t mention another man’s name while we’re like this,” he said leaning into me once more as our lips locked and he bit on my lip. I chuckled at him as he groaned at me not opening my mouth and he punched my butt, and in turn I opened my mouth letting in his eager tongue.

“You taste like cheese,” Mick grumbled out as the two of us pulled away panting as the air around us seemed to get more humid.

“But it tastes good doesn’t it?” I asked him jokingly.

“Mhm,” he agrees as he leans in once more.

Too distracted with what we were doing neither of us could hear the pair of footsteps making their way towards us. As I felt Mick’s hand make their way to the hem of my shirt and under it I heard a gasp come from our right.

“Oh my God,” I heard Ray’s voice say as Mick and I abruptly pulled apart and stared at the pair in the doorway.

“Oh hey guys,” I sheepishly say as I have them a small wave and feel Mick slowly take his hand out of my shirt.

“I’ve seen many things in my time, but I’m starting to think that it’s become too many,” Nate said as he donned the same wide eyed look as Ray.

“Haircut, Pretty,” Mick snapped at the two drawing their attention instantly.

“Yes?” Ray asked dumbidly.

“Get the hell out before I make you both bald,” at Mick’s threat the two quickly stumbled back out of the room. Mick turns back to me and tilts his head and starts to lean in, “Now where were we?”

Right before our lips touch Gideon’s voice comes over the intercoms, “The Captain would like to remind the two of you that people eat here.”

Mick groaned out in frustration as I let out a small laugh and got off the table before pulling him out of the room with me.

“Ms./Mr. your mac n’ cheese will get cold,” I heard Gideon’s voice.

“I’ll get back to it Gideon,” I yelled back as we finally made it to my room and I pulled Mick inside with me.

#mick rory imagine #mick rory x reader #legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow x reader #legends of tomorrow imagine #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader #dc imagine #dc x reader

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acedesigns · 4 years

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Triage [FF7: Rufus/Reader]

A/N: This is based more on the events in the original FF7 and NOT Remake! The guard dog with Rufus is named Dark Nation in the original game and can be killed. Dark Star is in Remake~

Word Count: 1730

Right when you clicked the button to clock out, the doors burst open. A man was covered in blood. Some of it looked like it was his own, but most of it looked like the guard dog in his arms. Your hands shot over towards the phone.

“Triage: code red. Gurney needed!” you exclaimed over the intercom and slammed the phone back down.

You ran through the doors separating you from the front desk and the rest of the lobby. You were about to try and take the guard dog away from the man when the vet techs burst through rolling a table. The dog was placed on the gurney and quickly rolled back towards treatment.

“Sir, let me get some information from you,” you stated and leaned over the counter to grab a clipboard. “We’ll go to room 2 to wait.” You quickly led him away from the lobby that had large puddles of blood.

You opened the door to an examination room and had him sit on the bench. He silently took the clipboard and pen from you. With one glance, you noticed he was indeed bleeding. Large lacerations covered different parts of his body.

“Shit. I’ll be right back with a first-aid kit,” you shouted as you ran out of the room. You nearly slammed into the door leading behind the front desk. Quickly, you opened a cabinet and grabbed the first-aid kit. You sprinted back, avoiding the puddles of blood.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” you gasped out and placed the first-aid kit on the examination table. You quickly washed your hands at the sink and then slipped on a pair of surgical gloves. “My name is [Y/N], I’m certified in first-aid. It looks like you have several lacerations, can I treat you until you can get better care?”

The man was silent as stared down at the form. There were some bits and pieces of information, but his hand was shaking. He couldn’t make anything he was writing to appear legible.

“Sir?” you asked softly and approached. “I can fill that out for you. But first, you need to get your wounds treated.” There was more silence. Slowly, you approached him and knelt down so you could look up into his eyes. “Sir, can you hear me?” Your mind was racing, thinking that he could possibly be in shock.

“Yes,” he stated in a soft tone. “I can hear you.”

“Okay, can I treat you?”

“Fill out the form first.”

“But—”

“You do not have my consent until that form is filled out and given to whoever needs it.”

You hesitated, but nodded and grabbed the pen. “Okay. What is your name?”

“Rufus Shinra.”

You blinked and looked away from the form and back at the man. He did look like the president. But no one has really seen Rufus for a few years while he was away on a business trip. Shaking your head, you continued to collect information on him and his guard dog.

“Dark Nation,” he stated when you asked for the name. Though, his voice broke ever so slightly when he gave more information on him.

“What happened to him?” you asked just above a whisper, not wanting to further upset the man that was struggling to keep it together.

“A fight ensued between us and an individual from the terrorist group, Avalanche.”

“My god,” you whispered. “Alright, the form is filled out. I’ll just take your signature to consent to treat and our critical care with CPR.” You handed him the form which he quickly signed. “I’m going to run this back and then I’ll be back to patch you up, okay?” He didn’t respond, just looked down at his hands that were covered in Dark Nation’s blood. “Do you want me to grab you some water or tea or something?” He shook his head.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly left and swiped your card to get into the treatment area. A vet and a tech were already in surgical garments. They glanced over to you and nodded their heads in approval when you flipped through the forms to show them that they could continue.

You walked away from the surgical area and towards the back with foods and medications. There was a wire shelf that held dozens of blankets. Most of the time, they were for euthanasia clients to help comfort them and the animal. But now, you figured that the man who no one has ever seen cry or bleed, the man who was starting to break down could use one.

“Alright,” you announced your entrance into the examination table. “They’re working on Dark Nation right now.” You walked over to the man and placed the blanket next to him. “Now, can I patch you up?”

Rufus didn’t meet your eyes. He only nodded his head numbly. Taking a deep breath, you disposed of the gloves you were wearing, washed your hands again, and put on a fresh pair of gloves. It was a waste, but the risk of infection was too great.

You quickly opened up the first-aid kit and grabbed disinfectant, butterfly bandages, gauze, and wraps. While you were organizing everything, you asked him the necessary questions: was he allergic to anything, what medications was he taking, what his medical history was, when did he last eat or drink, and what were his injuries? You started to work on the cut on arm. It was the one bleeding the most. Though, you had to help get his coat off and used scissors to cut off the sleeve.

“You’ll probably need stitches,” you muttered more to yourself than him. You grabbed the disinfectant. “This might sting a little, sorry.” You poured some of the disinfectant on a thing of gauze and gently dabbed at the wound. It bubbled ever so slightly, but Rufus didn’t even flinch. Taking a fresh thing of gauze, you held it firmly against the wound with one hand and awkwardly wrapped it.

“I’ll apply butterfly bandages in a little bit, but I’m going to work on your other wounds while the bleeding slows.” You were met with silence. You looked at his face. He was biting his lip tightly. So much so that it was starting to bleed.

“Hey, hey,” you whispered and took a hold of his shoulders. “Don’t hurt yourself more. We have some very skilled vets here that will do everything they can for Dark Nation, okay?”

“My father died tonight.” You looked up at him with alarm, but he continued. “My mother’s been dead. Same with my older half-brother. Why would this be any different?”

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed another gauze of disinfectant and started to work on a cut above his eyebrow. “I don’t know if this will be any different,” you stated honestly. “But I’ve seen some animals come back from a lot worse.” You moved some hair out of his face. “It might not be much, but I’ll stay here with you, okay? I’ll help you get through this.”

He was silent once more, but his lip wasn’t being abused. You continued to clean and dress his wounds. He’d need to see a doctor, but he would refuse to leave the veterinary hospital. The wounds would scar, but he’d live. There was also the matter of the blood from Dark Nation that you had to clean up. You did your best to get it off of his skin, but his white suit was stained.

“All done,” you whispered and went to take off your gloves and wash your hands. You moved back over to him and draped the blanket around his shoulders. With a sigh, you sat next to him.

After a moment or two, he finally spoke. “Don’t you have other work that needs to be done?” He was quiet. It was almost as though if he spoke any louder, he’d break down into tears.

“I clocked out just before you came in.” You closed your eyes and listened to the clock ticking. It was a ten-hour shift that you clocked out of, so you were exhausted. But now it was nearing eleven hours that you were at work. With what was going on, you’d probably be here for a couple more.

“Thank you.”

You looked over to the man. His hands were shaking again. Hesitantly, you took a hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze. He turned his hand over and returned the gesture.

A knock on the door caused him to quickly pull his hand away. You looked up seeing the vet come in. She held a clipboard and was free of the surgical gown she was wearing a while ago.

“How’s it go--? [Y/N]? Shouldn’t you be home?”

“It’s fine. I clocked out. He’s a friend, so I’m just staying here to make sure he’s okay.”

“If you say so.” She eyed you with suspicion. “Anyways, we believe Dark Nation is currently stable. We did, however, had to do a blood transfusion. With the amount of blood he lost, we want to keep him on a twenty-four-hour hold to keep an eye on his condition. We also want to place him on antibiotics with how many cuts he had and possible exposure. He’ll also do better if he’s on pain medication for a while. We’ll need about three weeks before his stitches can be removed, so you’ll need to keep a close eye on them.”

“That’s fine.”

“Alright, I’ll just have you sign here and we’ll need to collect the low-end estimate as a deposit. You’ll be good to go after that. We’ll call you with updates. If you have any questions, you can always call us, too.”

Rufus pulled out a card and signed a consent form. Though his signature wasn’t too legible, it was more than his earlier one. The vet left with the card to run the charge and quickly returned. With a brief farewell, she was gone.

You were about to stand form the bench to go home, but froze when you heard his breath stutter. Glancing over, you saw his face was in his hands. A clear drop fell from a gap between his fingers. With a soft smile, you turned your body towards him and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered and continued to quietly weep.

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