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ipaaciir · 4 years ago

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How do I get good grades?

[ID: A banner that reads "Study tips" in all caps in pale green color, with pale yellow background and a geometric pattern in pale green in the corners. End ID].

If there's something I've learned from getting straight A's at school and university is that it's less about what you know and more about what your habits and skills are.

Look, I have this classmate who is always reading advanced books, listening to podcasts, and watching conferences. She knows A LOT. But this adorable person doesn't do homework, when she does, it's late or poorly done. Her comments in class are lacking coherence and her essays are badly referenced. All of this just lower her grades.

So what can she do? How do I get good grades?

[Disclaimer: these tips are based on my own experiences and observations as I study a social science and some of the things that worked for my in high school, I've also helped my classmate but these tips might not apply to you].

1. Strengthen your language four basic skills.

If you study languages you know we have to practice four skills: reading, writing, listening and speaking. Well, it's not very different for your native language. After all, is with language that we're able to communicate, share ideas and knowledge. You know... like, everything we learn at school (and more).

a. Reading: If you don't know a word, underline it, search the meaning and write it at the margin of the text, on a post it, or in your notebook. Underline main ideas and take notes or write a summary. This will help you not only for better understanding or studying, but also to participate during class. If you need to, read out loud and/or try to explain each paragraph. This is helpful for very complex text. Doing a diagram works too!

b. Writing: Learning how to express our ideas in the written form is... weird. I seriously don't understand why on earth we can't write just like we speak. Why do we must write differently? Is it such a crime? (I mean, I know why, I just find it so interesting and funny). Anyway, must teachers' corrections are like "uSe sYnOnYmS", "bReAk YoUr PaRaGrApHs", "cOnNeCt YoUr IdEaS", "aRgUmEnT mOrE", "UsE aPa CiTaTiOn". So, yeah, follow those comments... I'll try to make a post on how to improve your writing.

c. Listening: Pay. Attention. To. Your. Teacher. I know it's hard, I know some people have a lot of difficulties because of ADHD or other learning disabilities. I can't speak for that, but what works for me is to doodle or embroider, sometimes being on Pinterest works too. Just doing something that requires low cognitive effort while I listen to the teacher keeps me on the class without getting lost in my mind. Even if you didn't do the reading, if you listen to your teacher (and classmates) you'll be able to participate.

d. Speaking. I think many people can imagine how frustrating it is to watch a presentation by your classmates and that they just... don't know how to present?? (it's even more frustrating when you know this people want to become teachers). Practice in the mirror, practice with your pet, practice in the shower, practice everyday. Remember the "explain each paragraph from the reading"? Yeah. When you can explain something it means you understand it. So try to explain everything you learn, everything you understand. Even just chatting with your friends, family, about it. This will also help you to participate in class. The other day a friend of mine just randomly shared her screen and started explaining the bacteria that causes tuberculosis to me... I don't know anything about medicine but I still learned a lot because she knows how to lower her knowledge. Practice. Practice 40hrs a day.

2. Organization.

a. Have a schedule. Set alarms for everything if you must. Look, I forget to eat, literally. I focus so much on what I'm doing that I tell my stomach to stop being annoying and he just... listens to me?? He's like "oh, okay, finish what you're doing and when you're done just tell me and we can go to grab some food". So, I set an alarm to eat, to shower, to have dinner, etc.

b. Color code!! Color coding is my best friend since I was in preschool. Assign a color to each subject. My notebooks or folders are classified by color. My schedule has the corresponding colors. My Trello has tags by color. My folders on the cloud and on my computer have colors. This way I don't mess up things.

c. Agenda. Write all of your assignments (with color code if you can) and everything on an agenda, to-do list, calendar, etc. Whatever works for you, but be conscious of all of your assignments. There was a point when I was in high school that I no longer used the agenda. I would write the homework and never look at it again, I just memorized (by accident) all of my assignments. I seriously don't get how no one noticed I had a big problem called anxiety. Before the modern plague I used a regular week by week agenda and it's what best works for me. I switched to a day by day agenda for a while... A nightmare. Fortnight by fortnight... Anxiety trigger. Now I use Trello since I have to do almost everything on digital.

d. Digital files. You must have well organized digital files on the cloud. I use my color code and my folders go like "university -> semester -> subject". I add a folder for each unit when I have many files. So inside "subject" or inside each "unit" folder I have "readings" and "homework". File names go like "1. Author - Title" for readings and "1. Type of homework (aka essay, diagram, synthesis, etc.) - Author/Title".

3. Discipline

If you don't do what you must when you must... It doesn't work, no matter how organized you are or how smart you are. As I said, my classmate learns a lot outside of school but she doesn't do her homework. I read just the absolute necessary (which I know is not ideal) but I have straight A's. To build habits is complicated, it will be hard but not impossible. Doing a bit is better than nothing. But keep doing stuff.

I have this friend who's very smart but procrastinates a lot, and she still gets straight A's. How? She does things when she needs to. Even 4 hours before the due date but she gets things done because she knows don't completing an assignment will lower her grades.

4. I don't want to do this specific assignment

When I don't find the energy or just want to avoid to do a specific assignment or advance on my projects, I... you're gonna call me nerd and you'll be on the right... I do other homework. Specially on finals. I just don't want to do a certain project and I go "well, what else do I have to do... Okay, this seems easy". And there you got me three days before the important due date with all of my homework for the day after done and the important thing just laying there... BUT, it does help!

That's it for now, I hope they help!

#studyblr #study tips #ipaaciir #college tips #school tips

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carelesscreativity · 4 years ago

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Ink’s Breaking Point: Gift for J_Demi_Creates On Twitter

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[Based on this post https://twitter.com/j_demi_creates/status/1383857865178316806?s=21]

[Set in FGOD Multiverse]

(SFW, Angst, Dismemberment)

Ink loved how they all acted like he didn't already know. He sat on the floor of the Doodlesphere, hearing Dream and Blue chattering behind him about how everyone had done very well in battle. Ink was tending to his wounds, painting back the limbs that Error had torn off his body. He'd painted back both legs and one of his arms, though it had been difficult. Error always lamented about how annoying it was that Ink wouldn't die. The glitch had seemed especially fired up today. He'd spat at Ink, telling him how all he did was get in the way. That he wasn't needed. That Ink didn't help with the balance in the slightest. He'd said it so vehemently and Ink scoffed to himself, finding it funny how Error thought Ink didn't already know all that.

"Ink?" Dream's voice brought him back and Ink held up his hand, silencing both of them. He continued to paint back his other arm in silence. He held it up and watched in quiet disappointment as his tattoos began to spread up onto the new bone, tainting it. He hated them. He finished off his hand and sighed. "Ink?" Dream had come over and knelt next to him. "You seemed upset when you came back from fighting Error. You were crying." Had he been crying? Ink furrowed his brow before the memory vaguely returned to him. Right. When Error had... reminded... him of his position. Ink had stared at him and he hadn't even realized there were tears running down his face. He hadn't felt anything. He never did.

"Yeah. Said some stuff to me. But nothing I didn't already know." Ink said quietly. That was usually how he shut down conversations like this, but it seemed that that wasn't good enough for Dream today. He sat down next to Ink, Blue coming over and settling next to Dream.

"What did he say? Because I can assure you that none of it is true." Dream insisted, his brow furrowed in concern. Ink glanced at him. It was always such genuine concern. It fascinated him in a way. Amused him. But that wasn't what he was really focused on. It was Dream's words. It was those lies that he kept fabricating off of that golden tongue of his. If he wanted to keep pushing when Ink had offered a way out, then that was his own fault. Ink met his gaze and his ever changing eyelights had faded into barely colored circles. Dream's smile faltered as Ink stood up abruptly.

"I think it's a little funny." A smile spread across Ink's face, but it was the worst kind. One without any cheer or joy. Any semblance of a positive emotion. Ink stared out over his Doodlesphere before turning to look at Dream with those pale eyelights, slowly tracing his fingers over the vials on his sash. "Dream, do you think I'm stupid?" The prince seemed taken back immediately and he began to protest that he did not. That forced, calm smile didn't leave Ink's face as he watched him. "Then that's another lie, isn't it?" Dream seemed lost and he opened his mouth. "I guess 'stupid' isn't the right word." Ink's skeletal fingers made soft clinking sounds as he dragged them up and down the vials. "Maybe 'ignorant' or 'naïve'..."

"I-Ink, I don't... I don't think you're any of those things." Dream stared at him in confusion. Blue didn't seem to know what was happening either. "Ink, what did Error say to you? I-It's clearly upset you-"

"He just reminded me of something. Something you definitely already knew. Y'see, when you greeted me for the first time as another balance-keeper, I just assumed you didn't know. But then you kept talking and it became VERY clear to me that you did know." Ink's voice was calm and he kept that smile on his face. "I think it's amazing you thought you could lie to someone who lies for a living. Who spends everyday pretending to be someone and something they're not." Dream stared at him and opened his mouth. Ink stopped him again by holding up a hand and there was an audible click as Dream shut his mouth.

It wasn't Ink holding up his hand that had gotten him to shut up. Ink had slid one of his vials from his sash. Bright red liquid almost seemed to glow inside of it. Blue gulped and stood up, Dream immediately following. He kept himself slightly in front of Blue. "He reminded me I wasn't actually necessary. That I don't actually influence the balance like he does. Like you or Nightmare do." Dream's shoulders sank as Ink met his eyes. "But you already knew those things." Ink tipped his head. Dream really wasn't liking that lazy grin. He really didn't like it. "You guys really are similar. You and your brother." Dream's gaze hardened and he began to protest. "Shut up." Ink summoned his paintbrush to his other hand and Dream did as he asked.

"You're both smart. Calculating. You both like to plan for every outcome. Look ahead into the future. That's the reason you befriended me, isn't it? It was your failsafe. You didn't befriend me with the actual intention of having me as a friend, you befriended me because I could be a real problem for you in the long run." Blue didn't understand. He knew he was uneducated when it came to the balance, but he'd always thought Ink was the one to balance out Error. Dream had told him that. And all these things. All these things Ink were saying couldn't have possibly been true. He turned to Dream to ask and froze up.

Dream's eyelights were shrunken and he couldn't seem to look at either of them. There was a pop that made both Dream and Blue jump, looking back at Ink. The cork of the vial clattered to the ground. Ink smiled at them, a facade of tired amusement. "I-I can't deny I knew... And I can't deny the reason I befriended you." Dream managed to say. "But I do care for you. I do care for you as a real friend now. Nothing I did or said was with malicious intent." Dream's voice was shaking. Blue seemed shocked as he stared at Dream. The prince glanced at him before immediately looking down, but Ink had already seemed to notice.

"So you lied to him too?" The words bit into Dream like flames. He looked up to see Ink's calm smile still plastered on his face. It had grown wider, but his eyes were white pinpricks. Dream was shaking quietly. He didn't know what to do. His entire plan, which had been formulated long before he'd actually started thinking of Ink as a true friend, was based solely on Ink not knowing that he was not a cog in the machine. It was falling apart.

"I-I did. I'm sorry, I didn't do it with malicious intent..." Blue was a little disappointed in Dream, but he was also confident Dream wouldn't have lied to him without a good reason. He just... wasn't really sure what that reason was.

"You seem confused." Ink almost cooed and it took Blue a second to realize that Ink's attention had shifted to him. For some reason, his entire body felt frozen. Why was he so tense? This was Ink. This was... This was his friend... right? Blue didn't know what to say and Ink gave an empty scoff. "Quietest I've heard you." Blue was momentarily taken back. Ink traced small circles in the air with the vial, careful to not let any of it spill out. "You know why Dream lied about everything?" Blue realized he was trembling and shook his head. Ink's grin became something sharp. Something that could cut like a knife.

"I may not be important, but I can tell I'm quite a nuisance. Error tells me that a lot. He says I'm a bitch to fight. Dream lied because I'm DANGEROUS. Isn't that right?" He gave a tiny laugh like he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "I'm a threat to the Multiverse unless I'm leashed. Right, Dream?? You just want to keep the Multiverse happy and safe. A true hero." He sighed, his smile still not leaving his face. Blue gulped. He had his hands clasped in front of him quietly. Ink hummed softly, but it wasn't a good sound. It sent ugly prickles up both of their spines.

"I'm tired of humoring you two." Ink said bluntly. He tipped the vial into his mouth and Dream immediately began to protest.

"No!! Ink, wait, please!! We can talk about this!!" He begged, his eyes wide. Blue yelped as Dream shoved him behind him. Ink finished the vial and sighed, his arms falling to his side. He loosely gripped his paintbrush in one hand while the empty vial slipped out of his fingers in the other. The clattering sound it made seemed unbelievably loud as it echoed around the dome. Ink was panting and his tongue, which had been white the entire time had red starting to bleed through it. Ink scoffed and gave that grin.

"Talk about it??" Now Ink's voice had some emotion to it, but none of it was the good kind. “You want to talk about it? Dream, that’s INCREDIBLE.” He sounded incredulous. He gave another short burst of laughter. “Dream, you used me. I mean, I suppose not since I knew from the beginning, but you used me to help play your silly little game with Nightmare!” He snickered and shrugged, his eyes changing to those glowing red rings. One began to morph into a target. “I figured if anyone would know how it felt to be used, it would be you.”

Immediately, Dream froze up and before he knew it, Blue had pushed in front of him. “Ink, I get you’re upset, but you know how Dream feels when it comes to stuff like that!!” Ink rolled his eyes and glared at him. “Ink, please-” Out of all the things that Blue was expecting, the sharpened bone crunching through his shoulder wasn’t one of them and the force of it knocked him back. He stared at the bone in shock and he looked back up at Ink, who had formed a few more. They hovered around him menacingly.

Dream was next to Blue’s side in an instant, but Blue was already trying to get up. “Ink-”

“Nothing YOU say matters to me. We replace you every time your AU goes through a Genocide Route. I didn’t care about anything you’d said the first time and I’m sure as fuck not gonna care now for the thousandth.” Ink said, practically spitting at him. The words cut deep and Blue’s voice got stuck in his throat. Dream was shaking and he got up to say something, but could only watch as more bones began to form behind Ink. “Dream, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but nothing you could say to me will change a damn thing.” Ink tipped his head with that condescending hum again. “I’ve grown bored of you.”

He turned. “I’ve grown bored of all these monsters in these AUs.” Immediately, Dream’s eyes widened and he formed his bow, but the ink had already hit him, constricting him and sending his bow clattering a bit away. He tried to reach it and Ink came over quietly. He tipped his head again and kicked the bow further from Dream. “I’m done playing with both of you.” He raised his hand, but before he could snap his fingers, there was a fizzling noise.

Ink’s head lifted, but he didn’t look over. Blue was shaking as he looked over at the glitching portal that had opened up. Both Error and Nightmare seemed unsure of the scene in front of them. This wasn’t good. Dream’s shoulders sank. Nightmare was going to get cocky, wasn’t he? He was going to get cocky and talk about how Dream had messed up. Maybe he’d invite Ink over to their side. He jumped as he heard a soft swear.

Both Error and Nightmare had gone into defensive positions. “F-F-Finally got it through his skull, I b-b-bet.” Error’s mutter to Nightmare should’ve been soft enough that only they could hear it. But this was the Doodlesphere. This was Ink’s domain and he could hear everything. Ink froze up and that smile cracked across his face as he turned to face them. He reached up, beginning to pick at his scarf as his brush clattered next to him.

“Finally??” Ink sounded delirious as he yanked the scarf down and exposed the inside of the part that was always bunched up around his neck. There were scrawled messages over and over of how he was not a Creator. How he was not a balance-keeper. “I’ve known since the start!! I’ve known it all since the start!” There was a glint as strings wrapped themselves around his throat, tightening into the swirled bone.

“Y-Y-You made a m-m-mistake showing your throat.” Error growled. Ink scoffed and finally burst out in laughter. It was loud and it echoed through the golden dome. It felt cold. It felt cold and empty and feverish. Ink managed to calm himself to giggling as ink began to bubble up from the ground around them.

“You made a mistake coming here. What a perfect time to break your way into MY territory.” The portal was being covered up and the ink was seeping towards them, sizzling as it moved along the ground. “It would be in your best interest to remember that I can’t die.” He teleported out of Error’s strings, drifting above them. He took them all in, seeming overjoyed. He hummed and tipped his head, feigning deep thought. “I mean, I guess I can die if people forget about me.” He mused. The side of his mouth quirked in amusement and he scoffed.

They were in danger. They were all in danger and they knew it. They were lambs in a lion den. Ink smiled, eyes glowing as more bones spiraled out behind him. His face was shifting and it was one they all recognized. Large, empty eyes and a haunting fanged grin. His features became scratchy, like someone had scribbled him and it was a terror to look at as he spoke in his feverishly delighted voice. “I may not be important, but I’m NOT going to be forgotten."

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ikeromantic · 4 years ago

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Loyalty

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic. This scene occurs at the start of Ch. 10 it the main route. Alternately titled Taking Out the Trash. Approx. 2300 words.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Right

Evening fell in a grey hush. At least to Mitsuhide’s eyes, though his vision was grainy, blurred at the edges. He couldn’t trust the little spots of color that blossomed in halos around candles and lanterns. There were no such lights in this abandoned warehouse. Only what came from the setting sun, and the rising moon and stars.

“My lord, our forces are in place. Scouts indicate the monks have retreated beyond Honno-ji - should we bring them in?”

“No. They are unimportant. What of the Oda vassals? Nobunaga? Any movement?” Mitsuhide’s voice betrayed nothing of his exhaustion. It sounded cold and distant in his ears.

The warrior nodded. “What is your command?”

“Tell them to hold. I will give the signal to move in after full dark.” He watched the warrior run off to pass the message on to the Imagawa, and the rag-tag militia Yoshiaki had conscripted for this attack.

Mitsuhide stood, stretching. His joints popped and his bones creaked. Every aging bruise felt fresh, sending a pulsing ache through his body. He made no sound as he forced himself to prepare for the coming fight. There were so many variables. So many points where it could all fall apart.

Outside, the grey faded to a dark blue, the depth swimming with tiny white stars. The moon sat above the horizon, fat and round and full. Men in armor whispered in alleyways and shadows, voices lost in the cold night breeze. There were no other sounds. No chirping crickets or hunting owls.

Mitsuhide left his warehouse, signaling to the men that now, now it was time. He drew his sword, stilling the trembling of his hands. Just a little more.

He rushed forward, silent as he covered the ground between himself and Honno-ji. Behind him, his troops also ran, their steps a wild drumbeat. The next few breaths were chaos. The flash of blades in moonlight, violent exhalation as men breathed their last, and the savage of shouts of men in blood-lust.

On the balcony above them, Mitsuhide made out a shape. Someone standing at the railing, looking down. Despite the darkness, he knew it was her. His little one. Watching. He had not wanted her to be here, but now, somehow, it felt right to him that she was. That she witness this moment.

The kitsune warlord avoided the door guards and the smattering of vassals between himself and the large inner chamber where he knew Nobunaga would make his stand. Behind him, Yoshiaki’s vassals crowded into the halls, keeping track of Mitsuhide’s movements to be certain he could not betray their lord. It might have made him laugh, if he had breath for it.

He heard more than saw Hideyoshi charge out to meet Yoshimoto and the Imagawa at the main doors of the temple. It was impossible not to recognize his voice, even in this pandemonium. That should hold most of the conscripts and mercenaries. Mitsuhide chanced a look back to make sure the shogun’s men were still following. They hadn’t lost any ground, and better, it seemed they’d summoned their lord now that victory was imminent.

“My liege! Nobunaga is this way,” Mitsuhide called, motioning Yoshiaki toward him. Then he turned back, leapt up the narrow stairway, and kicked in the door.

His calculated melodramatics had the desired effect on everyone but Nobunaga. Yoshiaki’s vassals filed into the room, cocky and self assured. And the shogun himself followed.

Mitsuhide’s gaze pulled toward the woman at Nobunaga’s side, but he refused to let them rest on her. He could see enough. She was safe. Unhurt. So far. The kitsune warlord forced his eyes to his target. “It’s been a while, Nobunaga.”

There was nothing but confidence in those carnelian eyes as Nobunaga greeted him.

Yoshiaki strode into the room, his soldiers moving aside to make way. “I hope the great fool of Owari is not too foolish to realize when he is bested.”

“Oh? As opposed to you who was too foolish to realize all the times I called you an idiot to your face?” Nobunaga’s left brow rose as his lips turned up in a mocking grin.

“He’s trying to be funny, I see.” Yoshiaki’s mouth twisted with distaste as his vassals all gave a forced laugh.

Mitsuhide kept his expression cold, and added his own polite chuckle to the shogun’s words. He had to hold to his role a while longer yet, no matter how plainly distasteful. He caught sight of his little mouse sticking out her tongue - and for a breath his laughter was genuine. Only she would make such a face at a shogun. Only she would have so little a care for her own safety.

Finished with his failed word games, Ashikaga turned to Mitsuhide. “Go now and finish the job. Just . . . don’t get any blood on my robes.” He swept a hand over the fine embroidered silk, as if suddenly realizing battle was a messy affair.

“As you wish, your excellency.” Mitsuhide gave a slight bow. It gave him a moment to check his composure. It seemed there were no bounds to Yoshiaki’s arrogance nor his ridiculous demands. What a sad creature, he thought. To be such a useless creature and to still be so certain of your own importance.

He held his sword toward Nobunaga, preparing to strike. One of the Oda guards launched himself forward, intent on defending his lord.

And as if Mitsuhide had scripted the moment himself, the other guard lunged, plunging his sword into the defender’s back. Revealing himself as the traitor embedded in the Oda forces, the hidden blade Mitsuhide’s spies had been unable to identify. How fortuitous.

Dying, the guard turned to his friend, stumbling against him. “Why? Why -” did you kill me - the words died in a rattling breath.

The other guard shoved the body to the floor, his expression one of triumph. “I fooled you all! My life and my loyalty have always belonged to the shogun!” He turned to Nobunaga. “This is the end for you.”

The Ashikaga vassals pressed in close, grabbing Nobunaga’s arms and forcing him down in front of Yoshiaki.

Mitsuhide surreptitiously watched his little one, making sure she stayed clear of the violence. She didn’t look afraid, even now. Just shocked and angry. Some of the soldiers grabbed her and held her down. Seeing them handle her like that made his jaw clench. If she had a single bruise, he thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his hilt tightly.

“Mitsuhide,” Yoshiaki called. “Remove the Devil King’s head from his neck and offer it to me as a gift of your loyalty.”

And now he had his opening. The moment he’d hoped this farce would provide. Mitsuhide smiled his knife-sharp smile. He advanced, the sharp edge of his sword gleaming in the pale moonlight. Then he struck. His blade bit into the fine, embroidered silk of the shogun’s clothes and parted the flesh of his chest and belly just as easily. But with Mitsuhide’s fading strength, the strike was not a killing blow.

Ashikaga stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. He held a hand to his stomach and then pulled it away, staring at the crimson smear in confusion.

“Dearest me,” Mitsuhide’s grin widened. His golden eyes shone. “How clumsy I am.” He lifted his sword for another attack. “I meant that to be a killing blow. It looks, well, it looks quite painful.”

The shogun’s vassals flung themselves between Mitsuhide and Yoshiaki, ready to spend their lives to keep their lord safe. But they were too slow.

Fighting through his fatigue, Mitsuhide dodged behind the flailing shogun and forced the man to his knees. He brought his sword to Ashikaga’s throat. “I wouldn’t make another move, were I you. It might startle me into cutting right through his throat.”

He could see behind the men, his little mouse standing up. She straightened her clothes and shot him a proud smile. It felt so good to see her look at him like that. As if he were a hero.

Yoshiaki trembled, though Mitsuhide could not be sure if it was fear or anger. “You - you can’t betray me! Not here! You’ve - you’ve gone mad!”

Mitsuhide laughed. “Well, you are right about one thing. I can’t betray you. I was never loyal to you.” He pressed his knee into the shogun’s back, forcing him to lean forward, into the sharp edge. “I am loyal to my ideals alone.”

Nobunaga began to laugh. “And that is why you are my left-hand.” He stood and straightened his clothes, sauntering over to where Mitsuhide held the shogun.

“My liege.” Mitsuhide nodded to him.

“You base, vile, traitorous dog!” Yoshiaki’s voice was shaking. “D-don’t you know the penalty for laying a hand on me is ruin?” He turned his gaze to Nobunaga. “You may think you control things, you foul upstart, but I am still shogun! You will lose everything for this!”

“Oh, I think not. Nobunaga will retain his good standing with the court.” Mitsuhide tugged Ashikaga’s head back so that the shogun was forced to look up at him. “You see, it will be I, Mitsuhide Akechi - traitor - who is guilty of your murder.”

Nobunaga shook his head. “I should have known that was why you arranged this theater. You sly kitsune.”

“That’s why you never told anyone what you were up to. So only you would be found guilty . . .” His little mouse spoke up from where she stood, just out of reach. Her expression was troubled.

Mitsuhide met her gaze, wishing he could tell her how difficult it had been to hold to this path. How he’d wanted to share his burden with her, and yet, never wanted his misdeeds to sully her. How even now he wanted to put this behind him and take her away from here. But even if he could tell her these things, such wishes were meaningless.

“Are you saying you had this all planned? That you expected my messenger?” Yoshiaki swallowed carefully past the sharp edge of Mitsuhide’s sword.

The kitsune warlord smiled down at him menacingly.

“E-even if you kill me, none of you will survive. My army will sweep in here and slaughter all of you.”

Nobunaga glanced down from the balcony as if remembering something. The chatelaine’s gaze followed and even Mitshide found himself looking that direction.

Out from the dark road, armor glinting coldly, there came a sound of a thousand men shouting.

“Wha- what is that,” Yoshiaki tried to turn himself to see.

Above the roar of voices, one stood out. “Is this where the traitor Mitsuhide Akechi has hidden?”

“Masamune?” The chatelaine said softly, her eyes going wide.

Ashikaga sputtered. “You- you brought an army to Kyoto? How do you expect to get away with that? The court-”

“Will know that the Oda forces came here in search of that vile traitor, Akechi,” Nobunaga interrupted. “And if they happen across allies under attack, no one would blame them for offering assistance.” He smiled. “Now do you understand?”

Mitsuhide felt a moment of genuine respect for Nobunaga. He couldn’t have crafted a better response himself. He removed his sword from the shogun’s throat and kicked him forward. He was ready to be finished with this. “Now, your excellency, it is time for you to gracefully die.”

His sword arced through the thin, cold air. And came down hard enough to part bone. But it was Ashikaga’s vassal that took the hit, leaping forward to use his body as a shield. What a bother, Mitsuhide thought. That such an arrogant ass could still hold sway over otherwise good men.

“Quickly, peasants! Guard me!” Yoshiaki crawled toward them, letting his men form a human wall.

Mitsuhide stepped forward, intent on finishing the job. The shogun could not leave here alive tonight. But he stopped, turning back to Nobunaga.

“Go after them,” Nobunaga urged.

“Yes - but first, the chatelaine -” he gestured toward his little mouse. “She should be taken somewhere safe-”

Nobunaga pushed her forward gently. “Go with Mitsuhide. You are ordered to stay by his side at all times.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Maybe I should hide instead of getting in Mitsuhide’s way?”

Mitsuhide nodded, glad she said something sensible when he was slow to respond.

“You will obey.” The command was unmistakable. “Further, when the battle has ended you will bring Mitsuhide back to Azuchi.” He arched one dark eyebrow as if daring her to make him repeat himself.

She turned to Mitsuhide with a wicked smile. “Alright. You can count on me. I promise, I won’t ever leave Mitsuhide’s side again.” She reached out and took his hand, not seeming to mind the sticky, drying blood or the cold sweat on his skin.

Mitsuhide was torn. These were words his heart yearned to hear and yet - this was not the time or the place. This was a battle and she, and she could not be at his side, where all swords would be turned against her. He tried to say so, to speak reason, but his throat would not let a word pass.

“Your response,” Nobunaga pressed.

Her hand was so warm in his. Mitsuhide could not let go. It was too late for that. “If my lord commands it,” he said softly. The words were barely audible. And yet, he found himself smiling.

Next: Not An End

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #Mitsuhide Akechi #otome boys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

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Can I get something where Newt barges in on Hermann doing some yoga in the most scantily clad yoga gear ever...

ok this is for like 3 people and wholly inspired by the hermann tank top renaissance on side twitter this past week. 18+ under cut!!!

----------------------

The good thing about living on what used to a pretty bustling base—Newt considers—is that the average athletic hopeful has their pick of at least three different gyms at any given time. And the good thing about that—Newt further considers, as he half-jogs down to the gym closest to the k-science lab—is that the rangers don’t bother with any gym besides the one directly off of their quarters, because it’s got the sparring mats and the nice equipment and all that shit. Look, Newt’s not exactly the most ripped guy in the world. Or even really very fit. When he feels the rare urge to hit the gym, he doesn’t want to be struggling over some push-ups while rangers with muscles as big as his head lift 300 pound barbells and bust open punching bags or whatever. It’s...degrading.

Lately Newt’s been hitting the gym more frequently than usual, on account of a something that passed between him and Hermann at lunch in the mess a few weeks back. Hermann had caught eye contact with one of the muscled rangers across the room, looked down at his little bowl of soup, and said—calmly—“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”

Anyway, that’s why Newt has to get all buff now.

It’s disappointing to see that the gym lights are on, but maybe no one will take any notice of Newt if he sticks to a deserted, badly-lit corner or something. He’s so set on creeping inside undetected that he doesn’t even realize who it is that’s beaten him there that morning, until he hears a small, surprised “Newton?”

Newt looks up sharply. Hermann is on a yoga mat in the middle of the gym floor, his left leg stretched out far to the side, and bent halfway over to touching one socked foot. But that’s not what stops Newt dead in his tracks and sends a fiery jolt of arousal rocketing straight down to his stomach, and it’s not even the little grunting noises Hermann’s making as he goes: that’d be Hermann’s outfit. He’s forgone his usually twenty wrinkled old layers for a pair of baggy grey yoga pants and the absolute thinnest white tank top of all time, a tank top which shows off shapely, toned arms, a thin layer of sweat over each, and collarbones, and clings to a shapely set of pecs, which has ridden up just enough to show off a patch of pale stomach, with a small trail of light-colored hair leading down, and... “Newton!” Hermann repeats, shooting up in alarm.

“Wha?” Newt says, and then he trips over a weight bench.

It’s one of their more uncomfortable trips to medical.

"Don’t tip your head back,” Hermann says.

“Thanks,” Newt says, except Hermann’s handkerchief is pinched to his nose, so it sounds a great deal more nasal. “I know, dude. Not my first rodeo.” He’s gotten his ass kicked for mouthing off in bars to jackasses more times than he cares to admit. He pulls away the handkerchief and scowls at the blooming scarlet stain, as if doing so might stop the source of it. It doesn’t; another splotch of blood lands on his hand, and he quickly shoves the handkerchief back into place. “Unbelievable. I’m gonna look so fuckin’ gnarly tomorrow.”

“Well, I suppose it’s an lucky thing you haven’t broken it,” Hermann says. “Or anything else, for that matter. How on Earth did you manage to do that, anyway?”

“I was thinking about,” Newt casts about for a suitable lie, “...kaiju. You know me. Haha.”

Newt had landed pretty flat on his face. The way Hermann had sprung into action would be admirable, really, and Newt would feel grateful enough to treat Hermann to takeout coffee for at least a week, if the act that necessitated fast action hadn’t been so completely and utterly mortifying. Hermann is still in his little yoga pants and tank top; he didn’t even remember to grab his shoes from the gym before he escorted Newt out. The knotted drawstring of the yoga pants is hanging well down his thighs. Skinny motherfucker. Since when has Hermann had pecs? “Aren’t you cold?” Newt blurts out.

“Cold?” Hermann says.

With a great deal of difficulty, Newt forces his eyes up from the swinging drawstring of Hermann’s yoga pants to his torso. His half-bare torso. With his shapely arms, and his shapely pecs, and his elegant collarbones. If Newt squints hard enough, he could probably see Hermann’s nipples through the white fabric. Especially now—the Shatterdome really is always so cold, with the A/C blasting, and Hermann is usually so sensitive to it... Oh, God, someone help Newt. “Because you’re in,” he says, and then swallows a few times, “th—that. Tank top.”

Hermann looks down at himself, like he’s forgotten what he’s wearing—like it’s inconsequential what he’s wearing—and hums. “I hadn’t really noticed—I was a bit overheated, I suppose, from my exercises.”

“Your exercises,” Newt says.

“Yes, my stretches,” Hermann says. “They do wonders for keeping my leg limber.”

Limber; Hermann is limber. Hermann, in his little yoga pants and tank top, grunting away while he stretches out, is limber. “I didn’t know,” Newt says. He’s started to feel a bit light-headed again, and hopes Hermann doesn’t notice the funny way he’s walking. He’ll be grateful when they get back to the lab and he can sit down a little, or maybe run back to his bunk and take care of his...problem.

They walk under one of the larger A/C vents; Hermann gives a little shiver. Newt forces his eyes all the way down to Hermann’s socked feet to avoid catching sight of any potential physiological responses in Hermann’s pectoral region. “Maybe you should put on a sweater,” Newt says, helpfully. He watches Hermann’s cane move up and down with each step. He’s never seen Hermann not wearing a sweater before. Not even at Shatterdome parties. Up until today, Newt would’ve thought that Hermann wore sweaters to the beach, some sort of special waterproof wool. Maybe he wears tank tops to the beach.

Hermann says something.

“Uh-huh,” Newt says. He thinks about the small beads of sweat that had been dotting Hermann’s exposed collarbones.

“Were you listening?” Hermann says.

Newt looks up. “No,” he says.

“I said we ought to go to the gym together, in the mornings,” Hermann says. He gives Newt one of his rare, blinding smiles, his funny mouth going lopsided. “It’s too bloody quiet in there. I’d appreciate even your company.”

Unlimited access to Hermann’s bare arms, his bare shoulders, his collarbones. Grunting. Stretching every which way. It sounds like a fucking nightmare, or maybe a hellish wet dream. Besides—Newt doesn’t go to the gym. Not like Hermann. Apparently. “Sounds cool,” Newt says.

Hermann looks pleased. Stupid, stupid Newt.

He jerks off furiously in the empty communal showers that night, thinking—extensively—about what it would be like if he was jerking off on Hermann’s stupid tank top instead.

They make plans to meet at the gym the next morning at six, with a trip to the mess hall for breakfast at seven after. Hermann, it turns out, has an extensive workout routine, but not quite an extensive workout wardrobe, and so—as Newt attempts a few puny sit-ups in his oldest pair of MIT sweatpants—he’s treated to another view of Hermann’s weirdly gorgeous arms straining and sweating in that stupid tank-top. He watches Hermann stretch and bend each leg and lift some of the smaller weights for ten minutes before he realizes that he hasn’t actually moved a single inch since sit-up number three. Hopefully Hermann hasn’t noticed. “You’re not tired out, are you?” Hermann says, having apparently noticed. He groans as he arches his back. He has a small birthmark on his left shoulder. “I don’t mind finishing a bit—”

“No!” Newt says. “Not tired. Just, uh—” Hermann shuts his eyes and groans again, a little louder. “Just—” Hermann’s tank top has ridden up, giving Newt a glimpse of that little dusting of hair, the elegant vee of his hips... Newt bites his lip to keep himself from saying something stupid. “I. Uh.”

Hermann, bent half-over, looks up at Newt through his pretty dark eyelashes. Newt cracks.

“Holy shit, dude,” he whines.

Hermann straightens up languidly. “Mm?”

He doesn’t even look surprised when Newt reaches out a fumbling hand towards his knee, nor when—a moment later—Newt surges forward to kiss him clumsily. Hermann’s mouth merely curves up in a smirk against his, and he fists the back of Newt’s ratty old t-shirt to draw their bodies tighter. “I’ve been wondering when you would do that,” he says, and his voice hitches up in a small gasp when Newt presses his kisses onward across his jaw. “You’re the least subtle man I know.”

“Don’t even care,” Newt mumbles. He nips some of the soft skin at Hermann’s throat and lifts his hands up to squeeze his biceps. They’re nice and sturdy under his fingers. Is this moving into new territory with Hermann way too fast? Maybe. Sort of. They’ve made out a few times at parties before, and once Newt gave him a discreet (fully-clothed) handjob in a kinda nasty alleyway outside a bar on his birthday, but nothing, like, serious. Though it’s not like this is serious. Lab partner stuff. “Holy shit, dude, I didn’t know you were so strong.”

“Strong?” Hermann snorts. He goes easily when Newt urges him onto his back against his dumb little yoga mat; his pupils are wide and dark, and a pink flush has started creeping down his neck. He drapes his arms over Newt’s shoulders. “I didn’t know you cared about those sorts of things.”

“I don’t,” Newt says. “I didn’t.” He tracks more kisses down the dips of Hermann’s collarbones, following that blush. “I guess it’s just you?”

He doesn’t wait for an invitation before rucking up Hermann’s tank top. He hasn’t got a six-pack, or anything like that, but Newt doesn’t really care, because Hermann’s pecs rock even more when they’re bare. He squeezes at one just to see Hermann make a face, and—laughing—ducks down to graze his teeth across the left one, taking care to catch at his nipple. Hermann hisses sharply and grabs at his hair. He looks a little silly with his top bunched under his armpits, but it’s kind of cute too. Newt trails his tongue across Hermann’s sternum and tries his luck at the other side, too, and is pleased when Hermann gives a full-body shudder after each. “Ah, Newton,” he moans. “I’m—sensitive—there.”

Newt kisses over the spot instead as way of apology. Then he starts to trail his kisses lower, down Hermann’s slightly concave abdomen, where the skin is luminously pale. Newt amends his earlier assumption that Hermann wears tank tops to the beach; he’s not sure if Hermann has ever even stepped foot on a beach. “Newton,” Hermann moans again. He gives Newt’s hair a little tug when Newt takes the drawstring of his yoga pants between his teeth. If he goes down on Hermann good enough, maybe Hermann will let him test out last night’s fantasy... “Mm. Be quick about it. We haven’t got all—”

The door to the gym swings open; two rangers, chatting away happily, step inside, and stop in their tracks when they catch sight of Newt and Hermann. Newt flings himself off of Hermann, but it’s too little too late. It’s pretty obvious what Newt and Hermann had been doing. “Oops!” one of the rangers says, turning their back to them. Their friend turns away, too, and laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, Dr. Geiszler, Dr. Gottlieb. We didn’t realize this was—uh. Occupied.”

Hermann yanks down his tank top.

“No worries,” Newt squeaks. “We’re. Uh. Just about done.”

The door clicks back shut; Newt hears laughter. Hermann is covering his face. “Hand me my bloody sweater,” he says. “We’ll finish this later.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #not sfw /////

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themadauthorshatter · 4 years ago

Text

RED SCHOOL AU/UA STORY/HEADCANONS ARC 2 PART 3

Hopefully this is the last part of Arc 2😅

We pick up with Tibe, Elara, and Rhian walking towards the royal quarters, Rhian asking his questons, as requested, beginning with how their journey was and if they found the school easy enough.

Tibe admits while the skeleton bird was jarring and they could've done without the storms, but everything was manageable.

Rhian's glad to hear that, and asks if the children will be alright(he's been a teacher/school master for nearly two centuries, and the SGE cast is 16 years old, so if a person is below 21, they're a child, in Rhian's eyes.) and Elara answers for Tibe that, yes, they will be fine before politely inquiring about having a room seperate from her husband.

Rhian sort of wallows at how almost every royal couple he meets hate each other.

He the asks if the two have seen or learned from a magician in recent memory, to which they confusedly answer no.

Rhian's only asking because he knows a trick when he sees one, a slight of hand, if you will, which he demonstrates by making a card 'disappear' and 'reappear' in his hand, though he reveals he's just moving the card while holding it between his fingers.

Tibe asks what he's talking about and Rhian chuckles and continues to lead them to their room, stating that, having been around girls for a century or so, maybe half, he also knows a perfectly baked cake when he sees one.

Here, we cut/transition to Mare as she enters her room, a couple maids setting things up like blankets and clothes, until she asks that they leave and get some test, as they must be exhausted from the trip.

They shakily agree and leave.

Mare looks around the room and sort of cringes at the horrendous amount of fluorescent pink the decorates the room, like the bed sheets and the pillows, before groaning as she sits down. Maybe we even get a gag of her falling into the bed, like the mattress sort of pulls her in and she sinks into the middle of it. With the maids gone, Mare only groans and tries not to give up on life. "Perfect."

With the SGE crew, more specifically Sophie and Agatha, Sophie pushes and slips through the crowd of students as they return to their dorms after classes(they'll get in HUGE trouble, if they're caught bothering the Silvers, and even get moved down a rank), Agatha on her tail and calling for her to stop and just go to class. Sophie shouts back to, "go hang out with Kiki," and continues on her way(Really wonder where she's going?).

Agatha follows her anyway, until Sophie mogrifs herself into a lovebird and shouts, "Prince Tiberias the Seventh, wait for me!"

Agatha watches, completely appalled and then looks up at the tower where the female Silver children are residing, about a long hallway away from each other. Mareena's got to be in one of those rooms. She looks for any wolves lurking, or other students, and mogrifs into a mouse to sneak to the doorway before she turns back to a human and climbs up the steps. I'll just knock first. If she doesn't want to see anyone, I'll leave. That's not me bothering her, it can't be me bothering her, if I give her space.

Speaking of Mare, she rolls onto her front and sits down cross legged, hair a little messy. Her makeup's safe, though, don't worry. "I hate this place," she grumbles.

Give her some slack, she's been trapped on a boat with Book 1!Evangeline for a week, has a really bad paper cut, and just wrestled a bed that basically tried to eat her.

It doesn't help when a knock on the door interrupts her from checking on said paper cut, right as she removes the bandage. Mare panics, hastily puts on her gloves, and tells the person on the other side of the door to come in.

EXPECTATION SUBVERSION! Cal's there to check on her. Mare welcomes him in.

Cal looks around her room and comments on it, and Mare threatens to throw her shoe at him; if he wants to act like a little shit right now, she'll gladly beat him like one, consequences be damned.

They check in and touch base, making sure they're okay, and just letting each other know that despite the color of their blood, they're in this together, him, Mare, and Maven. Mare sighs that Cal and Maven at least have their family with them, as Mare's is still in Norta, thinking she's in the palace.

Cal holds her hand and promises that this trip will be over and she'll see her family again before she knows it. Mare asks how he lnows and how that can even happen, recalling the hair's width close call from the last time she visited her family. Cal's grip on her hand tightens and he forces a chuckle, admitting that if either he and/or Maven found a way before, they can do it again.

It soothes Mare and gets her smiling, which gives Cal the okay to give her space and let her settle into her girly new room, joking that maybe it will rub off on her and he might be able to see a more feminine side to her.

She hurls her shoe at him as hard as she can right as he leaves, the two snickering, Mare despite herself and Cal for a job well done.

As Cal leaves, though, his smile drops at the realization that he has no idea how the hell he's helping her see her family again without getting caught. As much as he knows the rules, he knows Mare's heart, and, having the same problem as her, can't keep his mind and heart seperated.

Lost in his thoughts, he runs into Agatha on the stairs, who asks where Mare is. Funny, he just left her room, which is the second door on the left hand side.

As he leaves and Agatha contemplates her choice, we cut to Sophie as she pants and perches on the window to Cal's room; she's totally right here, she's at the right room. Her logic is perfectly sound here, she's in the right place.

She turns back into herself and does a quick hair fluff and even pinches some color into her cheeks before knocking on the window, maybe a little too hard because it swings open, just for me, she thinks.

Sophie struts in, announcing herself to the crown prince, proud as a peacock...

Only to scare the hell out of a shiryless Maven; he was cleaning himself off a little and was about to change his clothes when she interrupted him.

He asks what she's doing in his room, and Sophie asks if he's Cal, semi-hoping that this is just someone else because Maven looks nothing like a general or a future king.

No. He's not Cal. He's Cal's brother. Sophie kind of feigns ignorance, and Maven gives his name and the fact that she wrote to him. Still doesn't ring any bells, until he brings up the fact that she thinks she's in the wrong school.

"Oh! You ARE Maven!" Sophie gasps, before asking where his brother is.

Maven, realizing he's stuck with this brat, turns to finish changing, i.e. putting on a shirt, and explains that Cal actually left a couple minutes ago and, knowing him, won't sit still on his first day here, so he'll most likely being wandering the school. Sophie groans, and sits on the edge of his bed, and complains that she's tired from using her magic to fly over to meet him, before asking Maven if she can stay and wait for him to come back.

Maven, thinking quickly, admits she'd have a better chance if she just walked around. Cal's 6'3", pale as hell, and wearing black, red, and silver, so he's damn near impossible to miss.

Sophie huffs and agrees, leaving to go meet her new prince, bidding Maven a pizzazz-y farewell.

Maven rolls his eyes and finishes putting on his shirt and coat before falling back on his bed, groaning at the fact they might be here for a little while. Maybe more.

Time to check back in with Mare, who's examining that really bad paper cut when she gets another knock on her door. She answers it and finds Agatha standing at the door, greeting her politely and suddenly noticing her hand.

"You're bleeding!"

The two rush inside Mare's room, Mare panicking and trying to cover the cut herself, but Agatha helping because she's not good, she's great.

THIS is the bomb drop that Mare's not Silver, and it confuses and surprises the hell out of Agatha, who had it drilled in her head that only Silvers have power in Norta.

With little options, the two sit down on the bed and Mare gets to explaining.

It's been a while since we've checked on Cal, so lets do that: he's actually found his way to the boy's Groom Room and sees them training. The weapons are all wood swords, so no one's terribly injured, and anyone not sword fighting is throwing hammers, climbing ropes, or running or swimming some laps.

There are girls watching, all taking turns peeking out from behind a wall to spot Cal unintentionally being a general and mentally noting each boy's strengths and weaknesses, especially the one they're all trying to beat, Tedros, who's holding his own really well.

Speaking of Tedros, he notices Cal watching and gestures for him to come in.

Cal's already in more casual clothes, save for his coat, and complies, meeting the Everboys, who ask, kind of sheepishly how they did, as Cal is sort of a General and knows a lot a bout combat.

He has to admit, as politely as possible, that while they're all skilled, they would all get demolished in a real fight.

Tedros, the dumbass, asks what that means, as they can use magic.

Cal agrees that magic might be able to help them, but what if they wear themselves out and can't use magic?

Tedros, not listening and thinking unwisely, challenges Cal, just to prove his point. Cal agrees and hangs up his coat, one of the boys giving him a sword, one Cal sized(the 6'3" son of a bitch), and the two stand off before the fight begins, Cal telling Tedros to give it everything he's got while Cal will go easy on him.

Tedros goads him that he can take whatever, but Cal affirms that if HE gave his 100%, Tedros would probably die.

Enough talk, someone ring the bell, because THE FIGHT STARTS NOW!!!

Tedros DOES give his best, but Cal is a general. He either disarms Tedros or knocks him down and mock kills him.

After a while, they go at it again, Tedros doing better, and Cal tells him he'll go a little harder, so he knows that Cal can wipe the floor with him. He doesn't get hurt, but he gets the point.

Another rule Cal makes clear: There is no such thing as a fair fight.

He holds a hand out to Tedros, who's tired and bruused from having his ass handed to him, commenting that he's pretty good.

Tedros accepts with a smile on his face, blocking a swing and showing Cal he's already picking up on what he's teaching him, inadvertently.

It's official: The boys want Cal as their new teacher, because his technique is better than what they've been learning.

Cal can only fight the urge to laugh, seeing how enthusiastic they all are.

Back with Mare and Agatha, who are now sitting cross legged across from each other on the bed, where Agatha asks Mare if she's being serious.

She is, which she demonstrates by holding her cut hand and showing a little lightning. She's Red, she's got powers, and if anyone finds out, it's her and her family's heads on the King's platter.

This hits Agatha right in the gut, even when she asks Mare how Reds are REALLY treated, recounting how the students all believe the Silvers and the Reds are all equals, the Reds only picking up the slack of what the Silvers are unable to do.

Mare sets that vision straight: Reds and Silvers are not equal to each other. As the saying goes, in terms of power, 'What is a King to a God?' Or better yet, what is a farmer to a god? The cherry on top? If you're Red and don't have a job of any kind, have fun dying in a trench while fighting in a war that isn't even yours.

Agatha is at a loss for words, only knowing being ostracized and bullied. Out of words, Agatha offers her confidence, that she won't tell anyone what Mare told her. While Mare's glad for it, she still warns Agatha to stay as far away from Elara as possible, as Elara can and will read her mind. And there will be HELL to pay, if she finds out.

Agatha obviously agrees.

That's when shouting gets their attention, and some clattering, which leads leads them to the Boy's Groom Room; how'd the sound get that far? Vibration. And the vents. And Sophie passed by.

They look inside to see Cal and Tedros at it again with the boys cheering them on. This time they're hand to hand fighting and Tedros is locked in a chokehold as Cal tells him to tap out. Tedros only elbows him and they stand, which begins Round 5 of their fight. Yes, Tedros is shirtless, as Book 1 Tedros is gun' do. Cal is as well, because he got hot, but don't worry he shaved(appearances matter, even when it's something you think no one's going to see).

Turns out Sophie screamed because she's a blushing, squealing mess; Cal is far more than what she dreamed of, and it's killing her. Mare can't exactly blame her for staring, upon seeing how fit Cal is and seeing hiw many scars he has, a very unpleasant reminder of what he is and what he's been trained to be.

Agatha asks about wanting Tedros as her prince, out of confusion and a joke, and Sophie admits that she'll get him back because he'll get jealous. Boys fight each other a lot more when a girl's love is at stake.

Mare contradicts that notion by reminding them, and herself, that Cal's betrothed to Evangeline, and she has the teeth of a doberman; once she latches on to something, have fun trying to get her to let go. Sophie waves her off, bragging she can change his mind in 5 minutes. She just needs time with him alone in a broom closet. Mare and Agatha roll their eyes at this.

With the boys, Tedros spots the girls and inwardly groans at the sight of Sophie, which gives Cal the opening to yank his hair and bring him back to the fight; if he gets distracted, he's going to get himself killed. Tedros brushes it off and jerks his head to the girls, saying they have an audience.

Cal notices Sophie and has a moment of, 'Not this shit again,' when she giggles and waves at him, blushing pure red.

Here is where Tedros warns Cal to keep his distance from Sophie, though it's more serious than Ball Banter. Cal asks if she's his girl, and Tedros admits that she isn't, she's just bad luck and a pure snake. Cal admits that that's a little harsh and asks what she did to deserve getting the Prince of Camelot's cold shoulder as the two trade more harmless hits with each other. She didn't do anything, except lie to him about loving him, use him, and leave him to fend for himslef and die in a Trial by Tale, where Evers and Nevers fight to see who would survive a REAL fairytale. And she's a lunatic, sneaking into Tedros's drawers while he was training at night and trying to put him under a love spell.

Yeah, while he doesn't agree with the snake comment, Cal understands why he should avoid Sophie. He doesn't know how love spells work, but he'd rather not find out.

Just as they're about to go at it again, Professor Dovey shrills at the boys to stop harrassing the Crown Prince, from her place behind the girls.

As he puts his shirt and coat back on and leaves, Cal explains that he saw them training and noticed they could use a few pointers, which led to him getting a little carried away.

Dovey politely tells him that while his advuce is good, he should leave teaching to the professors, just to be in the safe side and no one gets hurt.

He agrees, much to the boys' dismay, and mentally kicks himself for leaving when he sees Sophie in front of him and introducung herself. Granted, he gives her the benefit of the doubt and is as gentlemanly as he can be, thinking, Maybe she isn't that bad, but that hope is shot down when Agatha tries introducing herself and Sophie slips in front of her so Cal can't see her.

Okay, maybe she is that bad.

Good thing Maven inadvertently saves the day as he stumbles into the hallway, getting laughed at and chewed on by fairies, who also take to pulling on his hair to piss him off.

Dovey shouts at them all the leave him alone, which they do, and apologizes to Maven for their behavior. He tells her not to worry, because he's had worse happen, giving a pointed glare to Cal, who semi-jokes he should really watch his back because the Everboys mean nothing but business and will attack on sight.

Dovey waves off this notion as she leads them on an official tour of the school, and explains that the schools have rules to seperate and connect Good and Evil, rules like Evil attacks other people while Good defends them, Evil takes advantage and Good gives opportunity, rules like that. (Sophie and Agatha stay behind, Sophie almost fainting at how much of a dream come true Cal is, even though he's a little awkward. She wonders if he was just stunned by her beauty, but Agatha hides her face in her hands and groans.) Maven comments that that's a very black and white way of thinking, but Dovey assures him it's the way of the school, and the rules and fairytales actually have loopholes. The girl who thwarted Rumplestiltskin did so by tricking him, by using guards she had hired to get his name, Rapunzel was born out of theft, in the original Cinderella, Cindy killed her stepmother. Vice versa, the witch that stole Rapunzel NEVER had to allow Rapunzel's father to keep stealing from her garden, Rumplestiltskin NEVER had to agree to help the girl, there are more examples, but I can't think of any.

Just know that there's some evil in good and there's some good in evil.

Cal asks if the other High House children should join them and Dovey admits she wanted to fetch them for the tour, but didn't want to bother them.

Mare's turn to ask a question, and it's one that's been bothering her: Why fairytales? And why have one guy rule over both Good and Evil, when there should one one leader for each side.

Dovey answers that by explaining the story of the School Master and his brother, a very similar story for SGE fans, but with a change: after the war, the stories continued to end with Evil ending every other time, rather than Good hogging all the glory. There were times Good won more, but that would be solved when Evil won certain times in a row and things got back on track.

Cal asks how such a thing is possible, because he's more than certain there's things maguc still can't do. Dovey points to a painting of the Storian, which the two brothers are fighting over.

Maven asks that all the fighting was over a pen, and Dovey tells him not to be decieved, because there's always more to see beneath the surface, which is said as a voice over as Tedros and Agatha race outside in time to see a group of fairies toss Sophie into the clearing outside of Good, snickering as she flails to a sitting position and glaring at them for ruining her dress.

While Sophie shouts at the fairies and then greets Agatha and Tedros with some degree of sass, Agatha scolds Sophie, saying she shouldn't have rushed in to greet Cal like a crazy person, but Sophie defends herself by saying she HAD thought about waiting, but noticed Beatrix and the others giggling and staring at him and panicked, because she didn't want them to steal her prince away from her again.

Tedros barks that he was never her prince and Cal is not her prince either because HE'S BETROTHED TO EVANGELINE. Sophie huffs and states she can change his mind easily, but stops when she hears a male laugh and tell her that she can try all she wants, but, knowing Evangeline, Sophie will end up being a wedding present to Cal, specifically as a mantel ornament.

Sophie deflates at that, and Tedros asks who the male is, noting his pale skin and armor. Lucas introduces himself and tells children not to worry about Evangeline, because she'll be doing one of four things on this trip: clinging to Cal, picking on Mare with her friends, hanging out with Elane, or bitching to her brother while they train.

Agatha sighs that Silvers train a lot for royals, and Lucas agrees, but that's because they have to. Where they're from, there's a war going on. Coming to the SGE wasa risk, and hopefully they don't stay long because Norta's extremely vulnerable right now.

Tedros asks what it's like, the war, which makes Agatha gulp as she remembers her conversation with Mare, and Lucas gives them all a look of, 'you're way too young to be talkimg about this,' before giving them a rundown on the war: the Lakelands have more farms and access to food, but Norta has more crop-friendly conditions and fertile ground and energy for power. Sophie asks they have enough power with Tibe on the throne and the High Houses backing him. Lucas corrects himself by explaining that Norta has electricity, enough for Silvers and Reds, and the Lakelanders want some of that power.

Tedros asks why they can't just give each other what they want and Lucas admits that of things were that easy, it would be the case, but things are never easy.

The trio remain silent for a little while, which prompts Lucas to take his leave, but Agatha has one more question, a couple small ones, and then one big one:

Is electricity stronger than what the School uses(candles for light, winds for ships, etc.)? Yes.

And the Nortans traveled by ship to the School? Yes.

And the ship was powered by this electricity? The engine was, but yes.

Million dollar question: If the Nortans came to the Woods, can ths students go to Norta, or anywhere else using this electric-powered ship?

Sophie gapes at her and Tedros gives her a look of pure hurt, but Lucas contemplates that, answering with a solid maybe before asking where she'd go, if she had her own ship?

With a glance at a fuming Sophie and a crestfallen Tedros, Agatha begins to answer, right as Dovey passes with Cal, Maven, and Mare following.

Too bad something bursts out of the trees and barrels toward Sophie, eyes blood red, body decayed and soaked with sludgy water, roaring like a wild animal, and armed with an axe.

Yeah, The Beast is back, and he's not happy with Sophie killing him.

Cal, Tedros, and Lucas jump right into action, Lucas using his armor to knock Beast away as Cal and Tedros race to stop him; the only one whi recognizes him is Sophie, so Tedros is acting solely on instinct here.

There's tussling, Tedros getting thrown to the ground and Cal getting cut by the axe, and Maven saving his brother, because he's a one way track.

Lucas neutralizes The Beast by chaining him up, but the bastard breaks free and knocks him aside, giving him a concussion.

With a quick, 'What's wrong with me?' Mare joins in, shooting lightning at him. It works, kind of, but gets a gold spell shot at him by Agtha for almost hitting back.

With their powers combined, and Sophie cheering them on, they take The Beast down, red mist leaving his body and curling away into the sky.

Mare and Agatha sigh and check on each other as Tedros, Cal, and Maven all exchange 'good jobs' and some high fives, which Maven accepts with a heavy conscience.

They all stop when they're interrupted by Elara racing to Maven and hugging him close, too worried to notice the 'OH SHIT' faces Mare and Agatha exchange.

Rhian and Tibe join her and ask what the hell happened, Rhian telling them to explain it to him in his tower, away from any eavesdroppers.

They do so, Tedros semi-fanboying to Agatha that he can't believe she was right, and Sophie staying behind to give The Beast one last nervois glance before catching up, not wanting to be alone if/when The Beast wakes up.

#red queen #school for good and evil #red school #mare barrow #agatha of woods beyond #tiberias calore vii #tedros of camelot #maven maven calore #sophie of woods beyond #tiberias calore vi #elara merandus #sge tedros #sge agatha #sge sophie

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akielonsummer · 4 years ago

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Mortal Errors

This is only loosely based on the Blade Runner universe and can be treated as a generic sci-fi AU. If you’re not familiar with Blade Runner, you only need to know that: Replicants = Bioengineered androids that look exactly like humans, but sometimes certain qualities can be enhanced to serve different purposes. Blade runners = Bounty hunters whose job is to track down and kill (retire) rogue replicants. Technically belong to the police department.

Give this a chance please? :* (I’ve also posted it on AO3 if you prefer to read it there)

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By 9pm, Damen was positive he got stood up by his informer who was supposed to rendezvous with him in this night club an hour ago. It was pouring outside, and he was overworked and exhausted, stuck in this raucous and filthy place without a lead or an umbrella.

If he would be completely honest with himself, like he usually was, he would acknowledge that there was another reason for still sitting here other than reluctance to get soaked in the rain on the way back.

The blond man sitting across from him at the large oval-shaped bar had just politely refused the second drink a bulky male stranger was trying to buy him. From afar he could see that the blond wore a high-neck black top that was possibly an effort to keep a low profile, but only served to highlight the slim lines of his shoulders and chest even more. Damen could see why the other man was willing to try so hard. The moment Damen had noticed him, he had been sure he’d been looking at the prettiest face in the entire club tonight.

The big guy was persistent, shameless enough to linger around, still trying to chat up his target. Damen unselfconsciously began studying the blond man’s demeanor, the way he eluded the other person’s gaze and carefully positioned his body. All of Damen’s detective instincts were telling him that the blond was utterly annoyed by the other man’s presence, but would prefer to keep things civil. He was waiting for a specific person in that spot, and therefore could not easily retreat to a less noticeable corner to escape all the attention he was attracting. You would have to be very unobservant not to notice that several other pairs of eyes nearby were preying on him likewise, impatiently waiting for the next chance.

Damen made himself look away, drank some of his beer, and reminded himself of his purpose of coming here.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Damen heard himself say casually as he appeared on the vacant side of the blond man. Inwardly, he cursed himself for giving in to his own curiosity.

And vanity. This had always been his favorite part on a night out.

Getting the beautiful, but difficult ones, while others watch.

“Hey,” the blond looked up, and quietly eyed him once before he continued, “I was beginning to worry that you might have been blown away by the thunderstorm.”

“Looks like you took the underground streets,” he raised a hand to feel Damen’s curls, which were dry. If he was surprised by Damen’s sudden approach, he didn’t let his reactions give away any of it.

Up close, Damen saw that he wore a small dangling earring in a starburst shape, the gold just a shade deeper than his hair. This place had an awful diffused pale purple lighting that made almost everyone at least a bit sickly, and he looked absolutely gorgeous.

He turned his face to the other side to send off the big guy with a final “Excuse us”, then turned back to stare at Damen. The corners of his mouth lifted to form a conspiratorial smile that disappeared too quickly, but at least he didn’t look like he wanted Damen to be gone immediately.

“That was smooth,” he waited until the man was out of earshot to say, “I’m Laurent.”

“Damen,” Damen replied as he felt the deep blue gaze from those almond-shaped eyes do funny things to his stomach. Something deep inside him whispered danger. He promptly dismissed the alert, and went on, “Why didn’t you just tell him to get lost?”

“I didn’t want to start anything. I’m waiting for somebody,” said Laurent, then after a brief pause, “—was waiting.”

Laurent shrugged and gave a wry smile. Damen was pleased with this answer because it both validated his earlier theory and broadened the range of possible things that could happen tonight.

“That makes two of us,” and so he advanced.

“Let me guess,” said Laurent, humming as he sucked on the olive of his martini, then licked the drops of alcohol trickling down his fingers, “it’s a woman.”

“Someone who was supposed to bring me good news tonight.”

“That’s frustrating. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Apparently I’ve found something better to do here,” said Damen. He started to wave the bartender over to buy both of them drinks as a man in a terrible, flashy silver jacket got close to Laurent from behind. It was hard to tell at that moment whether he was too drunk to see Damen or simply audacious—it could be both, because he was bold enough to place his hand on the side of Laurent’s waist and was beginning to lean in to mumble some drunken nonsense in his ear.

It was happening fast, but Damen’s reaction was faster. He slapped off the stranger’s hand and as the man tardily became aware of the situation and glowered at him, warned with a low but clear “No”. The man took two seconds to evaluate the physical difference between himself and Damen, and wandered off grudgingly.

Laurent considered him briefly and let out a poorly stifled snicker.

“What,” Damen snapped, not entirely in an unamused fashion. He was aware that his hand had replaced the other man’s to linger around the smalls of Laurent’s back, and decided to keep it there.

“When I first saw you over there earlier, I thought there’s no way you’d be into men,” Laurent said with a slightly bashful expression, lowering his gaze on the bar table. Damen felt a surge of satisfaction upon hearing his honest confession. He was ready to respond with something nice and clever until Laurent looked up again and finished, “or you should at least prefer real boys.”

Laurent kept his meek, picture-perfect smile as he waited for the meaning of his words to sink in.

“You’re a replicant,” attempted Damen, a part of him still reluctantly trying to make sense of the now-conspicuous truth.

“And you, a blade runner,” Laurent enunciated each syllable as he held Damen’s gaze unwaveringly. In that instant, Damen could see from an angle a flash of a curious reflection at the center of his blue eyes. A sharp, contrasting color. Of warning, and of blood. Laurent blinked once, and it was gone.

“How—” Damen began, and was immediately interrupted by the huge noise of a brawl that had just broken out behind them at one of the VIP tables.

“Just before you came over, I was telling big guy that the people I knew at that table had some extra pills they’d gotten as samples from a supplier, and that they were happy to share,” said Laurent matter-of-factly as he got up from the bar stool and began putting on his black leather jacket.

Damen turned to look, and saw that the first man he had warded off from Laurent was now deep in a fist fight with two of the men in black suits from that table.

“You don’t know any of those guys,” said Damen, a bit awestruck by now.

“No,” answered Laurent. He popped one last piece of peanut in his mouth and started for the exit. “We should go now.”

Thirty minutes later, they were both sitting in the couch in Damen’s living room, sipping whisky from heavy-bottomed glasses with a rain-drenched towel draped around the neck.

“You’ve been laughing for the past fifteen minutes. Get over it,” Damen said sourly when he saw that Laurent was still smirking around the rim of his glass.

Their escape had not been completely free of obstacles. They had intended to sneak out through the less noticeable side exit of the club, until they had realized there’d been simply no way not to get noticed when you were moving with someone of Damen’s stature. With the brawling in the VIP area escalating in the background, the bouncers had become more vigilant with people getting in and out of the place.

It’d appeared that Laurent had gotten through the control at the exit without a hint of effort but just by being himself—a seemingly harmless young man with the face of an angel—while Damen was inevitably stopped, by not one, but two of the most intimidating-looking bouncers guarding the exit. They had padded him down scrupulously and proceeded to ask questions to make sure he’d had nothing to do with the rows in the club. Perhaps more out of curiosity than necessity, before they had let him go, one of them had asked what he’d been doing for a living.

“‘Same as you. I work at a club uptown.’” Laurent repeated his response in a way that was more a derisive reenactment than an honest impression, then added for accuracy, “‘a small one.’”

Damen rolled his eyes in disapproval and sought to detach himself from this conversation by refilling his glass with the bronze-colored liquid.

“And now, to answer the question you’ve been waiting to ask,” said Laurent, gradually dropping the amusement in his tone and replacing it with his default placid composure, “I knew you’re a blade runner because I know someone who wears a device like that too.”

He pointed at the black wristband on Damen’s left wrist.

It was a location tracker that would have been concealed more carefully with clothing when he was on an active assignment. Anybody who shared his job title would get one on the first day they reported for duty so that their superiors could track their locations real-time, to make rescue or body retrieval easier. Unsurprisingly, hunting down rogue androids meant putting yourself on a knife edge too, quite literally.

“You’ve chosen a tough job,” Laurent continued when Damen said nothing. “Someone’s got to do it, I guess.”

He sounded like he was talking about the work of a butcher or an undertaker, which was not that far from the truth.

Despite their dramatic encounter with each other, Laurent didn’t seem like he had anything against Damen’s kind. In fact, he had just mentioned that he personally knew another blade runner. He must be a registered new model if he was able to roam the city freely, perhaps the vocational type, even. It was not uncommon to see new generation replicants that were indifferent to the nature of a blade runner’s job. After all, they only retired the obsolete rogue models who posed potential threats to society, and most of these fugitive replicants lived in underground communities that were completely segregated from the legal models.

“I didn’t,” said Damen, at last.

Laurent gave an inquisitive glance.

“I didn’t choose it.”

And that was all he was willing to say about why he had fallen to the current point of his career. Realizing he had brought the conversation to a cul-de-sac, he tried for a different direction of the topic, “it’s neither pleasant nor glorious, indeed. But I try my best to make it quick, at least.”

“Quick and painless. They won’t even feel a thing,” Laurent mused. There was a subtle edge in his voice that disturbed the relative ease of Damen.

“We use a special type of taser,” said Damen, because he felt that the word “gun” might just sound a little too strong. “It takes less than a second.” If you aimed at the right place, and if your target didn’t struggle.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that,” said Laurent, leaning back into his corner of the couch so that he could look right into Damen’s eyes, “you could be one of us, you just didn’t know all along?”

“They run tests on us every day, at work,” answered Damen, finding the question a bit absurd. “I know what I am. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, so do we,” Laurent huffed, staring at the remaining content in his glass as he whirled it. Damen didn’t miss his choice of pronoun and that familiar edge in his voice that came and went.

“For better or worse, your job is certainly much more exciting than mine,” Laurent began again as he adjusted his position, crossing his legs. For two seconds Damen’s attention was stuck on the smooth fair skin showing through the ripped parts of his grey jeans so he didn’t registered that Laurent had shifted closer in his direction. “I work in a biotech lab.”

“As a technician,” he then added, probably for fear of confusion.

The lack of immediate response betrayed Damen as much as his briefly widened eyes did.

“I… had different assumptions about your occupation,” admitted Damen.

“You thought I was a pleasure model,” said Laurent, surprisingly seeming more amused than offended by Damen’s presumption. His eyes were the color of fine blue topaz in this lighting, his dampened hair ready to drip liquid gold.

“You’re way too attractive to be anything else,” Damen tried his best to make it sound like a compliment but not derogation, as it was supposed to be.

Laurent hummed as if plotting something in his head. He lowered his gaze to look at his own hands, which long and delicate fingers he was now slowly flexing. When he blinked, his dense lashes brushed against the highest points of his cheekbones, flapping and trembling like wings of birds.

“They say I’m a customized model,” he lifted his wrists slightly to examine the inner side of them, like they were some novel objects instead of parts of his own body. Blue veins ran under the finest skin there—replicants were bioengineered to look exactly the same as humans, but it still shocked Damen sometimes how much they resembled the real thing.

“Who knows where they had gathered the parts to build me?” said Laurent, it came out like a question that was not demanding an answer.

“Where, I don’t know. I just know the person who commissioned them to make you must be filthy rich.”

To that, Laurent didn’t answer. He picked up his glass from the coffee table, tilted his head back and downed all the alcohol in it.

“I might just have too much to drink,” he said, leaning his upper body forward to put the glass back on the table, suddenly looking like he might topple over. The towel fell from Laurent’s shoulders. Damen grabbed on his arms in time and pulled him back in place.

“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you,” Damen said as he still kept both hands wrapped around Laurent’s arms from behind, but they went from just supporting them to a soothing, sweeping motion against the now half-dried black fabric. He felt the lean muscles underneath tense and relax in his palms.

“The effect, like most other things in us, is also customizable,” Laurent pointed out as he briefly luxuriated in Damen’s massaging hands like he was genuinely enjoying it. Then, in their awkward position of Damen half-embracing Laurent from behind, he tilted his head to one side so that he could turn his face to look at Damen, “I’m only doing this so that you could take me to bed.”

Damen’s hands stopped abruptly. But then Laurent began to snuggle up to Damen’s chest, fitting himself perfectly in the space there, looking up at him with his marble glass eyes with intent.

Damen knew his own weakness, knew that once he was caught in a situation like this he would have no means to back away from it if he ever found out it was a trap, as it had happened once in the past.

“We don’t have to,” he tried to resist, and it sounded too much like pleading.

“I think we both know why I’m here,” Laurent cooed as he gently pressed the side of his face onto Damen’s shoulder, then, in a voice that was not completely free of self-disdain, “a stray android, clinging to the arms of its executioner.”

The sudden realization of how this was a much more precarious situation for Laurent than for himself, coupled with the intense urge to feel the fine strands of gold now rubbing on his sweater, was all it took to dismantle Damen’s feeble defense.

“Only if you want,” Damen yielded, lifting one hand to smooth the soft hair around Laurent’s face.

“To let you take me apart and examine me everywhere?”

There was a change in the quality of Laurent’s voice that Damen couldn’t exactly fathom. He looked down, and saw that the smile on Laurent’s face was devious, saccharine and sad, at once.

Simulated fire crackling from the atmosphere panel in Damen’s bedroom masked the distant sounds of incessant rain and thunder outside. The advanced thermostatic system kept his living unit at an optimal temperature at all times, but it was Laurent’s human-like body heat that was keeping him warm tonight.

Damen slid his hands over Laurent’s still-clothed thighs, which were now aptly straddling his own atop his queen size bed, delighting in the soft sounds Laurent made between deep kisses as his thumbs drew small circles on his inner thighs. Laurent smelled like rain mixed with expensive perfume, and tasted like honeyed wine. It kept Damen wanting more, how Laurent’s kisses were alternately hesitant and unrelenting, a liquor that was sweet on the tongue but burned the back of his throat.

“Have you ever,” Laurent managed, in a charmingly breathy voice, as they broke off once.

“With a replicant?” Damen took over seamlessly, Laurent’s question communicated in means other than words somehow. “Not knowingly.”

Flashbacks filled his mind momentarily against his will, as the ambiguity of his answer hung in the air. He mentally shook himself out of it. Turning back at Laurent’s pale hair and blue eyes, he suddenly saw the irony in it, plain as day. Then, when Laurent didn’t push further but accepted his partial truth with only a raised brow and curious eyes, he corrected himself. Laurent possessed beauty that was comparable to that of hers, but they were evidently two entirely different things.

“And you, have you ever?” Damen whispered as he leaned back in to kiss the spot behind Laurent’s ear, nuzzling the silky golden hair there. His hands had since taken on an exploration of Laurent’s body, albeit still hindered by a layer of fabric, around his taut waistline, up his back, down the flanks and then up again. He surveyed Laurent’s reactions to his different touch, logged them, and imagined doing it all over again. Later, on bare skin.

“He thinks he’s the first,” said Laurent as he visibly fought back the gasps elicited by Damen’s nibbling along the underside of his jaw. The sentence uttered with summoned scorn, complemented with the reddening at the tips of his ears and the glint in his dark eyes, had a heady effect on Damen. He could feel himself rousing—in more ways than one—but more than anything his body ached with a deep, growling desire uncaged.

“He just thinks,” Damen cooed, soft and low, “that he’s very, very lucky.”

He dragged a trail of kisses across Laurent’s left cheek. He paused when he reached the corner of his lips, waited for the first sign of hesitation from Laurent, then took over his mouth as his hand found its way to Laurent’s nape to pull him in. This time, he kissed him like he hoped to deliver all the praises that would sound excessive in words, in the form of long, hot and deep exploitation of Laurent’s mouth.

When he finally pulled away, it was to check if he could find a hint of annoyance on Laurent’s face at the interruption. Convinced that he did, he tugged at the hem of the top Laurent was wearing to signify that the break would only be brief but was necessary. He pecked on his cheek in compensation, and asked softly, “Can I see more?”

He would have spent more time to consider the momentary disbelief on Laurent’s face upon hearing that, if he hadn’t been so stunned by what he saw when Laurent swiftly lost his top.

It was at that particular moment that Damen had the strange epiphany that Laurent, despite everything, was indeed man-made. If God existed, he did not make this. He thought as his eyes savored the fine alabaster skin now fully on display, a stark contrast to the dark veil that had covered it and was now discarded on the floor. He tried to recall art terminology he had heard of: golden ratio, perfect balance; but none of these could even begin to describe the way lines were placed on Laurent’s body. The hollows and protrusions around the shoulders and collarbones were shaped like grips of luxurious handcrafted bows, elegant to look at and perfect to touch. When he breathed, the lines that cut in all the right places over his chest and abs deepened and faded. God made men the way he liked them to be, and men did the same with things. Damen continued to muse as his admiration went on. God did not make this. A man did. This was made according to men’s liking, not God’s.

“I bet it turns you on to know you could do virtually anything you want to a body like this without any real consequences,” said Laurent, in a tone that could be either seductive or provocative, or both. There was a cruel degree of truth to what he just said. Yes, there were laws which prohibit abuse of replicants, but according to them, anything that could be fixed with money and some tweaking of programs was never considered to be out of line.

“When I see a body like yours,” Damen began to disagree. The prettiest, finest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, he added only mentally. “I only want to do everything you want.”

At that, Laurent again gave a subtle scowl with distrust, but was quick to turn his face away as Damen finally smoothed his hands on his bare waist, where the skin was soft as cream. Damen was not sure why Laurent should get offended by his saying a thing like this or asking for permission, but he was currently too fascinated by the way Laurent was responding to his hands gliding all over his body to be truly concerned.

“It suits you,” Damen praised as he passed an index finger over the navel piercing on Laurent. It was small and simple, adorned with a tiny blue gem. “Are there more?”

“You’re insatiable, you know?” The look Laurent gave him as he said this was supposed to be chastising, but only served to send a thumping pulse down Damen’s lower abdomen.

“I once heard,” Damen said, as his hands went up to Laurent’s chest to roll his nipples between his fingers. They were small and hard like summer berries; Damen’s mouth thirsted for a taste of them. Laurent’s body gave a jerk that was frankly overreaction to such a minor stimulation, which he tried to conceal with a quick kiss on Damen’s lips as Damen leaned closer. He finished his sentence against Laurent’s lips, “That certain parts of the pleasure models’ bodies were specifically designed.”

He adjusted his tone so that it fit the topic he was discussing. His tone was lewd. One of his hands left Laurent’s front and traveled to his back to cup his buttock, still clad in jeans but soft and full all the same, as if he feared he had not made his meaning clear. Damen was aware he was taking liberties both with his words and his body, but he couldn’t wait any longer to show Laurent what he wanted Laurent to see and feel, what no one else could give him. He wanted, to see his sophisticatedly engineered mind to be able to process nothing else, and to hear his wonderful mouth sigh only his name.

A wicked smile appeared on Laurent’s innocent face, informing Damen in his own unique way that his invitation to this night-long venture had been accepted. He rolled his hips once, twice against the burning core of Damen, which was hard as rock, then began to walk his palms onto Damen’s chest to push him down onto the bed. Damen’s head landed on the pillows as he heard Laurent’s clever mouth say one last thing,

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Laurent got back to his neighborhood by his motorbike when the sky was a ghostly white. “Neighborhood” was a nice way to put it, while it really was just the gutter where everything that fell through the brighter parts of the city gathered. Drizzle wetted his outfit which hadn’t been fully dry since he had left that night club last night. He took off his helmet and habitually shook his head twice once he reached close enough to the building. A homeless man lay at the open entrance of the building, next to which black letters “SKINJOB RIGHTS” were sprayed on the cement wall. There was not enough information to tell whether the man was just asleep or dead.

Over the past two years, Laurent realized that there were a lot of similarities between the life here and playing a new game. There were a lot of rules to learn. Many things that were forbidden in other parts of the city were allowed here, such as off limits drugs, contract killing, trafficking and prostitution involving underaged replicants; and vice versa, like how you should never fly a hovercar around here although they were everywhere in other areas, because they would attract too much attention from the cops. Then, like in games, there were things you could practice to get better at. Like getting yourself out of trouble, or looking for it intentionally then getting out of it. Good thing Laurent was a fast learner, because the biggest difference between his life now and a game was that if he slipped up, what awaited him could be worse than death.

Laurent opened the door to his unit and was relieved to see no one in the living room. He proceeded to his own room with footfalls as light as a cat.

As the familiar smell of the air of his own space filled him, he realized suddenly he needed a moment to collect himself. He lay down on his bed and started breathing deeply in a rhythm, imagining the fatigue from the escapade at the club fading with each exhalation. To his frustration, the more he tried, the more he felt a different kind of soreness take shape instead. Soreness resulted from other uses of his body last night. He allowed himself to stay like this for two minutes.

The monitor on his desk, switched on automatically when he entered the room, was showing widgets of information such as sightings of police in the area and job requests from the black market repair shop Laurent worked at. At the top left corner was a gallery displaying photos, taken from times when wanting to remember specific moments of his life was still a normal thing to Laurent.

On the screen was a photo of Laurent in polo uniform, posing next to a stocky white pony. He had been eleven years old. That same year, he had been given the truth about what being a son to Aleron and Hennike Arles of the Arles Corporation had really meant. He learnt that his resemblance to his mother was not a result of the wonder of inheritance, only state-of-the-art engineering. He also learnt that human boys didn’t receive a new body and have their memory and operating system transferred to it each year. It was shocking to him, because between homeschooling and only playing with a carefully selected group of girls and boys of his own kind growing up, he had never once doubted his realness.

For countless times, they reassured Laurent that not a thing in his life was ever going to change due to his nature, that the very reason he had been created was because there had been love and wealth with no place to go. Yet, in the end, what really brought him peace was knowing that Auguste, his golden shining star of an elder brother, was also a replicant. At eleven, Laurent had thought, how could that possibly be bad, if it meant being just like Auguste?

Another photo popped up. In the picture, Laurent’s ski goggles were pushed up to show his cold-pinked cheeks; Auguste was next to him, laughing and wearing a beanie covered in chunks of snow which had been Laurent’s doing. Laurent looked at himself on the screen—he was smiling just like an ordinary teenager having the time of his life—and felt an urge to look away.

Everything had changed after that trip. They had come home to the news of their parents’ fatal private jet accident, and the subsequent board decision for their uncle to take over the Arles Corporation. Several months later, the company had announced a list of older replicant model numbers manufactured by the Corp that had been found to be seriously fault-prone, together with Auguste’s removal from the board. Auguste had been one of the original models pioneered by the Corp.

Laurent lifted both hands to cover his eyes with his palms. He remembered that night like yesterday. Auguste had appeared in the doorway of Laurent’s room, still in his business suit and carrying a duffel bag. He’d wrapped his arms tightly around Laurent’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head wordlessly. He had only come to say goodbye, but Laurent had been taught to make his own decisions his whole life. A life without Auguste or a lifetime of side-stepping, dodging and running away. It had been the easiest decision he had ever had to make.

Hot water from the shower warmed Laurent’s body, washing away the rain that had soaked every inch of him last night.

The only tricky part had been building the connections he’d needed to get the name of the blade runner assigned to hunt his brother. That had taken time, money and effort. Everything after that had been easy.

Damianos had been easy.

Most of the information Laurent had successfully obtained about Damianos turned out to be accurate. The excessively powerful physique. The imprudent, egotistic demeanor. The lack of discretion and self-preservation. The strong tendency to give in to physical attraction—it was almost ludicrous, how simple it had been to seduce this man. Perhaps even the unverified rumors he had come across about Damianos were indeed true. How he had slumped from deputy chief to a bottom-ranked, scavenging blade runner, all just for covering up some data breach committed by the mistress of his chief of police half-brother. It sounded like cheap soap TV, but after meeting Damianos in person, Laurent’s doubt about the authenticity of this story had now shrunk significantly.

The only discrepancy Laurent hadn’t expected was how Damianos had behaved in bed. Laurent examined the marks scattered all over his body in the mirror as he toweled himself down. They looked like crimson scars of various sizes, burned there by Damianos’ mouth. Laurent’s mind wandered off as he discovered more and more of them, in places he didn’t remember had been touched.

Tell me how you like it. Damianos had whispered near his face, as his palms had slid down Laurent’s thighs, spreading them. Rough. Eyes closed, Laurent had responded, because that way it would be over sooner and more tolerable than this. Then you don’t know what you like. Damianos had said with an infuriating smile in his voice before he had begun to put Laurent through rounds of slow, torturous, dragged-out pleasure.

It had been nothing like Laurent had rehearsed mentally with the theoretical knowledge he’d possessed, especially with Damianos. He recalled the sounds he had made when Damianos had pushed him to the edge, repeatedly, and felt heat creep up his cheeks.

None of that mattered anymore. He demanded himself to shut last night out of his mind as he pulled on a sweatshirt he’d borrowed from Auguste and returned to his room. This had been planned to be a one-off, and his plan had worked out.

He keyed in the pin to the lock on his drawer and picked up the mobile device stowed in there. A few taps and swipes and a map of the city was pulled up on the screen. There used to be only one moving dot on it, but now there were two, thanks to the codes Laurent had loaded onto Damianos’ tracker wristband while he had gone in the shower after they’d been done. Laurent had been extremely lucky he hadn’t even had to consider using any of his backup plans.

He watched the dot that was Damianos hovering around the downtown police station as his other hand reached deeper into the corner of his drawer. He knew it was there, but he needed to feel it. His fingers slipped along the cold metallic barrel, then to the curve of the back of the grip. He lifted it slightly, sensing the grounded weight and the finality it carried.

Withdrawing his hand, he took one last look at the screen and saw the other dot approaching his own current location. He put the device back, shut the drawer and heard the lock click.

Outside, there was the sound of the main door opening.

“Laurent, I’m home,” said his brother, coming home from a night of strenuous, exploitative labor, the only type of work he was able to sustain without proper documentation.

His brother should not have to live like this, but even living itself was quickly becoming a thing he had to fight for. Fury was a hissing snake perched in Laurent’s artificial heart.

His plan was simple, and only one more step remained: One day, the dot on the map that was Damianos would finally get too close to the one that was Auguste, and that would be the day when Laurent would pull the trigger on Damianos.

There was nothing Laurent would not do to save Auguste’s life. And he knew Auguste felt the same way for him, too.

So he ran his fingers through his damp hair once, pretending he had just freshened himself up with a morning shower after a good, undisturbed night’s sleep, and opened his bedroom’s door.

“Morning, Auguste.”

-------------------------------------------------------- This is a completely self-indulgent fic and I enjoyed writing every word of it so that was noice. That being said, writing in a second language will never not be nerve-wracking and there were times I simply had no idea what I was doing. Please pretend you don’t see bad grammar and weird phrases because I know they must exist. I apologize if Damen sounds like a complete douchebag at times. It’s entirely intentional. I tried to downplay the potential Auguste/Laurent in this but no matter what I did it’s just kind of there LOL they’re also not REAL brothers when you think of it so

#captive prince #lamen #laurent of vere #damianos of akielos #my fic #auguste of vere

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fantasticfemmefatale · 4 years ago

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dolly’s- chapter two

BUCKY BARNES X READER

SUMMARY: you and bucky make up woohoo

WARNINGS: reference to the reader’s abuse (not that bad tho) there might be like one bad word idk

The next morning was rough. You were at Dolly’s at 6 am, scrubbing the scratched coffee pot as if you were attempting to scrub everything about the day before from your memory. You could still hear Colonel Phillips’ gruff voice in your memory, see your father’s journal in his hand, feel the fear that replaced the rage you’d been harboring when he explained his knowledge of your “abilities,” as he delicately put it. He’d lectured you like you were a toddler, describing how you could be key to winning the war, how you could help some guy named Erskine finish some serum of some sort if you’d let him experiment on you. Your blood ran cold at that, as memories came rushing back full of bloodied syringes containing odd-colored, swirling substances, hard, unforgiving treadmills, and your father’s harsh face glaring down at you, voice full of malice as he spat, “You were meant to be the perfect human! Not some housewife!”

Phillips noticed the change in your demeanor and stopped speaking. It would be hard not to notice, not when you were staring past him, eyes wide and empty, skin pale and ghostly. Your eyes snapped back to focus on him shortly, and you paused for a second before asking, “How’d my father die?”

Phillips froze at that. It wasn’t the question itself that gave him pause, it was the way you asked it. There was no emotion in your voice or gaze when you asked, just cold resolve. A need to know, simply for the sake of knowing.

“Kidnapped and tortured by Hydra, Hitler’s science division. When he refused to disclose your location, they shot him.”

You nodded. Some part of you deep inside that you’d tried to kill long ago wanted to feel bad, wanted to say he died for your sake, and yet you keep on hating him. What kind of daughter does that make you? But one act of kindness couldn’t even begin to heal the scars he’d dug into your skin, literally and metaphorically.

You told Phillips to give you a time and place, and you’d be there.

Bucky breezed into Dolly’s just past 7, like always, with Steve not far behind. You handed Steve the coffee you’d brewed for him, a steaming red mug with two spoonfuls of sugar and three spoonfuls of milk, the way he liked it. Crossing your arms and leaning them over the white ceramic countertop to look at Bucky, you asked, “Whaddya want, Barnes?” Your lips were pulled into a small frown, and one eyebrow was cocked as you gave him a challenging glare.

“Not even a hello, doll?” the subject of your anger challenged, smiling brightly as he leaned towards you. You sighed and straightened, turning around to grab a rag and clean the same mug you’d cleaned twelve times already, just to look busy.

“You couldn’t even spare me a call last night, plus you stood up me and Steve! So I apologize if I’m not in the best mood, James!” You yelled. “Which girl did you blow us off for this time? Carlotta? Rita? Delores?”

Bucky looked genuinely sad, and you almost felt bad for what you’d said. “I swear I didn’t mean to this time, Becca was sick and I stayed home to take care of her. And I was gonna call, but she needed her rest, and I didn’t want to risk waking her up.”

Oh god.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

Bucky merely shrugged, and told you what he wanted to drink. As you made it, you could hear the jingle of the bell atop the door, signaling Steve’s exit as he murmured a soft, “See ya later, Y/N.” You slid Bucky’s mug across the counter and he grabbed it, staring down it for a second.

“What’s a guy gotta do to take you out, doll?”

Bucky’s words froze you, like ice, crawling up your body until you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

But the anger, the flames that were still burning inside you melted the ice away as you replied, “Maybe start with not standing me up.”

He chuckled, but then met your eyes as he said, “I’m serious, doll. I wanna take you out on a date, just you and me.”

You shook your head, muttering, “No you don’t. You want a girl that you can go on one date with and then forget about, Barnes. And I’ve got no intentions of letting any guy do that to me.”

Bucky scoffed at that. “Doll, I-”

“Stop it,” you barked sharply.

“What?”

“Don’t call me doll like there’s really something between us, Buck, not when you’re running around with every girl in Brooklyn! You know, I waited for years for the right moment to tell you I liked you, but it never came! You wanna know why? Because you-” you pointed a finger to his chest accusingly “ -couldn’t care less about a girl’s feelings! You just act like they never existed, like you never cared.” You angrily swiped an arm across your nose, and sniffed, trying to hold onto what little composure you had left. “And I would’ve rather stayed friends instead of risking it all for one date, but lately it’s like you don't even want to be friends with me.”

Bucky let you yell at him, and took it. He didn’t try to defend himself, or tell you how whatever you were feeling was your own fault, something you’d always admired him for doing. Really, why couldn’t every guy have that same amount of respect when a girl spoke? The conflicting feelings you felt towards Bucky confused you. Your heart was tearing itself in two, both wanting to run to Bucky, hug him, and agree to go out with him and wanting to ignore him for the rest of your lives.

Eventually Bucky spoke. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up, preparing to yell at him more when he held his hand up to stop you. “You had your turn, now it’s mine.”

You pursed your lips, and he continued. “You’re right about those other girls. If I’m honest, I never liked any of them. Really, I just hoped one of them would be good enough that I could get over you, but none of them were. And believe me, I’m sorry I stopped hanging out with you and Steve. Seeing you just hurt, knowing you’d never like me back. I just wasn't used to feeling this way around a girl.”

You met his eyes and tilted your head to the right slightly in a silent question, but then the meaning behind his words dawned on you. After all, he was James Barnes. Practically every girl in New York threw themselves at his feet. He’d never had to deal with rejection. Before you could stop it, a laugh bubbled up from your throat, and Bucky’s head that was hanging dejectedly shot up. “What?”

“It’s just funny,” you choked out in between laughs. “You’ve never been rejected by a girl, have you?”

Bucky glared playfully, but his stern gaze was offset by the bright, lopsided grin gracing his face. “C’mon, doll, don’t be the first.”

“Fine,” you said, feigning residual anger. “One date.”

Bucky leaned over to kiss your cheek, then practically bolted out the diner, grinning like a maniac. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6 tomorrow!” He called over his shoulder as the door slammed shut.

You smiled, pressing a hand lightly to where you could still feel Bucky’s lips. It was the first time you’d been kissed by a boy, if you were honest. Most men wanted a perfect housewife who’d cook, clean, and look after the children, but you wanted more than that from life. You wanted a partner who saw you as an equal, someone who’d share your dreams of adventure and glory. You wanted to be free, free from a world where you were seen as second-rate simply because you were a girl, free from the scars of your father’s experimentation, and free from the SSR, who currently wanted to do just what your father had done to you.

Sacrifices were necessary, and helping Dr. Erskine with his Super Soldier serum could be your only way of moving up in the world. If it got you out of a dead-end job running a diner, you were willing to endure whatever was thrown at you. Hopefully, Erskine would be a bit nicer than your late father was.

The black phone mounted on the back wall of the diner rang, and you ran to it in less than a second, simply a blur and rush of wind to anyone unlucky enough to spot you. Wrapping a hand around it, you took a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut, and praying it wasn’t Colonel Phillips again.

It was.

The second you lifted the phone to your ear, his loud voice resounded through the speaker, informing you that Erskine would be working with the SSR in a base in New Jersey, and that they’d need you there in a week.

You felt the beginnings of a stress headache pull at your head as you hung up, letting your head hit the cool wall and stay there, until the clock by the door chimed brightly, cheerfully informing you that it was opening time. God, it was only 7:30?

~~~

The rest of the day went without a hitch, until an angry woman demanded that you switch her seat with two patrons that were regulars at your diner. When you refused to move her seat, she left in a huff, dragging her two whining children behind her.

“Sorry, Bonnie,” you said, turning to the pair that had just been yelled at. “You too, Ralph. Anything I can do for you?”

“How about dancing with us tonight?” Bonnie questioned. Her eyes shone with mischief as she spoke. Bonnie was one of those girls who could make a story about what she ate for breakfast sound like an odyssey, and make the room shake when she spoke. You couldn’t help but love her.

“You know I’m busy, Bonnie.”

Ralph murmured something, but Bonnie spoke over him, saying, “Busy with Bucky? I saw him and Steve today, and all Bucky would talk about was you! Did ya finally tell him how you feel?”

“More or less,” you muttered, as the remaining girls in the diner turned to stare at you, no doubt wondering why Bucky wanted you, but you paid them no attention. You had nothing to prove to those sycophants.

Bonnie stood up and scooped you up in a hug that gave you a mouthful of her dark curls, before whispering in your ear, “I’ve got somewhere to be with my man, so I can’t stay.” She smiled devilishly, before grabbing Ralph’s wrist and pulling him off to who-knows-where.

You glanced towards the beat-up clock, and seeing that there were only two more people eating, you decided to let yourself close up early, to give yourself time to think. Bonnie always seemed to make her way into your mind at times like these. Even when the world tried to hold her back because of her gender, she loved herself with a fierce passion you could only hope to achieve someday. It was infectious, really, the way she carried herself, and the laughter that always seemed to precede her wherever she went. You tried your best to be like her, but you’d always been a bit more solemn than her, and more of a dreamer at the same time. She was content with the way her life was, refusing to let herself make expectations for the future that might not be achieved. Although you didn’t understand her, you loved her all the same.

~~~

The next day was Saturday, so you didn’t have to work. Instead, you spent the morning in your apartment with Bonnie, dancing like idiots to Bing Crosby on the radio and trying to pick an outfit for your date with Bucky. Eventually Ralph came knocking on your door, wondering where Bonnie was. Bonnie tried to stifle a laugh as Ralph grumbled, “She didn’t even tell me she was leaving to go someplace!”

“Well, at least I know he misses me when I’m gone,” Bonnie giggled as she left, but not before telling you exactly which outfit to wear to get Bucky’s attention.

When Bucky showed up at your apartment, just a few minutes early, you were wearing a cherry-red dress with a skirt that stopped just above your knees, with white socks and black shoes, and lipstick that matched your dress. Bucky wore brown pants, with a white button-down tucked in, and the sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. His hair was slicked back in that way you always made fun of him for, but secretly adored. The cherry on top, however, was the bouquet of your favorite flowers he held out to you. You were unable to move, utterly captivated by the man in front of you. Everything about him was perfect. The comfortable silence lingered until he said, “Are you gonna keep me waiting, doll?”

“With that attitude, Barnes, I just might,” you replied with a smirk. You took the flowers from him with one hand, and the other grabbed his arm to pull him inside while you gently placed the flowers in a small vase you had on the table, throwing away the sunflowers that had previously resided there.

“What’d they ever do to you?” Bucky asked, smiling. Both of you had dopey, lovesick grins on your faces that felt like they’d never fade.

“They took the spot that was obviously for whenever you decided to bring me flowers,” you responded with a sly glance his way.

~~~

An hour later, you two were running around the fair like madmen, stopping every few minutes so you could buy more and more sugary treats. By now, you were trying to hold cotton candy, ice cream, a slice of apple pie, and a hot dog all at once.

“Need help, doll?” Bucky asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“No!” you exclaimed between heaving breaths as you tried to run while keeping your food from falling.

He shrugged, feigning indifference, but you could clearly tell that he was getting a kick out of watching you struggle.

A few minutes later, you conceded. “Bucky! Stop being a waste of space and help me with this!”

He scoffed, but you knew he’d help you no matter what you said. Bucky was loyal to a fault.

The rest of the night felt like a montage of happy moments from a sappy movie you’d go see with Steve or Bonnie, but you weren’t complaining. You were dashing around on a sugar high, dragging Bucky with you everywhere you went. He almost told you to slow down at one point, but couldn’t bring himself to when he saw how happy you looked.

He hadn’t seen you smile so much in years.

You felt like a schoolgirl on the playground, running around from stall to stall, then to the ferris wheel. The second you two were in the air, Bucky’s blood ran cold when he realized how bad of an idea taking you on it was.

You were practically vibrating in your seat because of how much sugar you had. Or maybe you were vibrating. He’d never seen you do it before, but he figured if you just moved back and forth fast enough, you could probably do it.

Eventually, you stopped, then yawned, and he knew what was coming next. Before he could even offer his jacket to you, you’d gotten up from your seat, moved to his, snuggled up underneath his arm, and fallen asleep.

Do you ever slow down? He found himself wondering.

When the ride came to a close, he picked you up bridal style and carried you back to your apartment, gently shaking you to wake you up when you arrived. Groggily, you swatted his hand away.

“Y/N? Doll, can you get your key for me?” Mumbling under your breath, you pulled your apartment key out of your skirt pocket and handed it to him. You turned your head, ready to fall asleep against his chest, when he set you down to unlock the door. You wanted to be mad, but just didn’t have the energy.

He gently took your hand and led you inside, turning the lights on as he did. Then he stopped, seemingly unsure of what to do now.

You hesitated, switching your weight from one foot to another.

Eventually, you worked up the guts to ask, “Do you want to stay the night?”

Bucky paused, then nodded, taking his jacket off and setting it on the counter. He’d stayed the night at your apartment before, but it was always as friends, and Steve was usually there too.

“I’m tired,” you muttered.

Bucky laughed, and responded, “I can tell, doll.”

You tried to ignore the feeling that blossomed in your chest when he called you doll, then realized that you didn’t have to anymore. You debated telling him what you thought of the nickname, then realized he probably knew. Bucky knew you better than you knew yourself.

You gasped, and your eyes grew as wide as saucers as you realized that you hadn’t told him about Colonel Phillips.

“What?” Bucky asked. “Do I look that bad?”

You shook your head, and then said, “I have something to tell you.”

@kanemithehufflepuff

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #40s!bucky #40s!bucky x reader

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halothenthehorns · 4 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 1: The Accident...

It is recommended, though by no means a must if you know the Marauders history enough to be reading fanfiction about them, you read We Were first. The first five chapters are slightly AU to the continuity of this fic, but the grand point and especially the final chapter are key to the beginning of this fic as you get plopped in the middle. Link is below or you can find it in my profile.

Before you get started; Warnings include- Explicit Wolfstar (Remus/Sirius), and on the whole a rather flimsy premise that I honestly created to indulge myself because I didn't let myself do it the first time. A lot less logically based and a lot more I just felt like having fun with this one. It's not to say I'll let this degenerate into tropes and one note things, but there's going to be even less reading of the books involved, as in literally they're just interacting around the story with only passing mentions of what's going on in there. If you want a much more grounded basis and more 'realistic' approach to a reading series, I put my heart and every cell of my mind into The Life that Never Lived, PDF's upon request. I'm pretty sure this one grew from my funny bone that I broke when I was seven.

HPHPHPHP

The dungeons where Potions were held had always felt like the most oblique part of the castle, and Sirius had been in every corner of it to claim as such. It wasn't entirely the fault of the dark stone walls, sweltering hot air from the many flames, or the often unexplained fumes. The feeling seemed to seep up straight from the cold stone floor no matter how many fires were lit, as if the wooden stool itself were trying to pin them all with the unknown.

Sirius had never been more grateful for a Potions class to be over, and that was really saying something. It was the last one of this bleeding school semester, and if he had to spend one more day glaring at a cauldron and somehow inexplicably turning it the wrong color one more time without the usual helpful hint from Peter telling him why, he was going to chuck every last drop of it in Slughorn's face for constantly telling him he'd figure it out!

He'd never packed up his bag faster, even managing to multitask by muttering under his breath how stupid all this was. He was the first person to make it to the door, but collided with someone even less pleasant to see than the three people he'd most been avoiding lately. He cursed loudly, earning several dirty looks as the rest of the class was now passing. His bag had ripped upon stumbling into his little brother and smashed to the ground, sending his things flying and managing to spray him with ink.

Regulus hesitated in the doorway, muttering a quick, "sorry Sirius."

"Oh, it knows my name," Sirius growled under his breath, though his tone was far less hateful than usual, considering this was the first time he'd had a proper conversation with someone in nearly three weeks. His little brother was hardly his first choice, given his proud Slytherin status and being two years younger didn't remotely have them coming near each other most days, a fact he was usually grateful for.

"Yes, he does," Regulus' scowl looked remarkably close to Sirius', the two put side by side at once was rather eerie. His tone though was even more friendly than Sirius', which wasn't all that hard as he tried to explain his abrupt appearance. "I ah, I came sprinting down here to see if I could catch Slughorn, ask him if I could pick up an extra credit assignment."

Sirius straightened with his stuff still half strewn around, but again that pull for someone to talk to seemed greater, especially as he glanced back and saw who hadn't left yet, so he responded no matter how unenthusiastically. "Yeah, what you struggling with?" While tapping his bag and mending the tear, slowly bending down to pick each item back up while he absently listened. Regulus even began to help him while he explained in short, precise sentences like he was practicing for the teacher.

Frank Longbottom and Alice Smith slipped in past the two Black brothers at the doorway and found the room mostly empty, and they shared an exasperated look as they wondered if they'd just walked in on Slughorn telling this group off again. They were early for their next class after all, but the teacher was nowhere in sight. They did get a full view of what started quite an interesting journey.

James was hanging by Evans' cauldron, trying to chat happily with her, but mostly waiting for Sirius to leave first. He could hardly stand to look at him these days, let alone pass by him in such a restricted place, yet the wanker had struck up a conversation with Regulus of all people, someone he'd hardly spoken a whole sentence to in the past five years, but no, he'd chosen now! Probably just waiting for them to walk past first, like this was all still some game to him.

Remus and Peter were hovering on edge right beside him, Remus fidgeting with what was left of his cauldron on the desk while Evans was trying to pack hers up and being hampered by James staying in her way. "Won't you at least consider coming? It's our last game of the season! What if you're my good luck charm, you've always been the best at those! Do you really want to be the reason Gryffindor loses?"

"They've gotten on just fine without me there the past years," Lily snipped. She never knew why she even bothered responding to him half the time, but considering it no more discouraged him than ignoring him, at least this way she got to vent.

She tried to sidestep past him, James once again stepped into her way, and the two collided with each other, their hands accidentally slipping into her cauldron Remus had just mistakenly dumped his own potion into.

Whatever the concoction the two mixed together created upended the entire world.

At first though, nothing really changed. There was no marvelous flash of light, no force of nature that showed everyone outside of this room had vanished. Lily simply made a gagging noise as she pulled her hand out of the vat and glared furiously at the oddly pale teen, pulling her wand out at once with her less dominant hand she hadn't tried to catch herself with and banish the gunk off while hissing at him, "You are so lucky I turned that in already Lupin! What the hell did you even create? I've never seen this before," she finished with a critical eye at the now steaming mess, that vanished before their eyes.

"Wow Remus, you should do that more often, really makes cleanup easier," Peter chuckled while Remus looked rather concerned.

"I, err, I'll admit, I really screwed up my potion worse than usual. I think I added three things I actually wasn't supposed to, so you've got me."

James just flung the mess from his hand, which also vanished before it had even landed on anyone, and glanced back hopefully like he'd thought his source for this mess had left already.

He hadn't.

His face was turned in their general direction, like he'd been trying to subtly glance over and hope for the same, but now he was looking right through James. That wasn't uncommon lately, but the stunned look of confusion on his face was enough James grudgingly turned his head the other way to see what.

Back on the lip of the cauldron, was a slim red book with a golden one on the spine. It was just sitting there, like Evans had left it on purpose, but it certainly hadn't been a second ago.

Lily took his distraction as a chance to bolt from the room, Regulus gave his brother an awkward wave goodbye and went back out towards Slughorn's office since he'd clearly missed him, and Alice and Frank tried to casually step back out as well. Even being a year above those four had not left them oblivious to their fight. The whole school was aware of the fact the four Marauders had not been seen together in quite some time, and neither of them particularly felt like putting their nose into why.

James was still frowning in confusion at the odd title stamped across, which simply read Harry Potter Year One.

"Err, did either of you-" James looked at the two as if in some kind of explanation, but both gave a mystified shake to their head. James couldn't help it, he still looked automatically towards his best mate, and then he caught himself and realized they were the only four left. Sirius' eyes had still been locked in on the odd object, really ridiculous his mind supplied as James had no relatives named Harry, and wondered if this was some odd attempt at a prank?

Sirius didn't stick around to care, completely forgetting the rest of his things, he turned on his heel and finally exited as well, when they all heard a shriek.

As one, the four bolted up to the Entrance Hall, Alice and Frank right behind them as they hadn't wandered off far, to see Lily standing in the middle and stamping her foot in frustration upon seeing them. "Damn, I thought someone would have reacted to that."

"Err, Evans," James began in concern as if for her health.

"Where is everybody!" She demanded while gesturing to the Great Hall where there should have been a packed lunch crowd. Nobody was in there, and now that they were listening for it, the din of a castle filled with people, was deadly silent all around them.

As if given a signal, everyone began shouting all at once, sure the ruckus would cause someone to appear, but the only other arrival was Regulus coming up from the stairs as well, looking at all of them with great concern. "Geez, you lots shouting usually has a much greater audience."

"Thank you Regulus for that helpful insert!" Sirius snapped.

Regulus ignored that and seemed to look around himself and really acknowledge his own words, before realization slammed into him as well as he whispered, "What's going on?"

"We'd all like to know that," Frank put his hands up in frustration, this was what he and his girlfriend got for getting to class early.

"This is ridiculous," Lily seethed, stomping up towards the stairs. She was intending to barge into every crevice of this place and find someone other than these idiots to deal with. She didn't know what the school was playing at, but it wasn't funny.

Alice and Frank followed her as they still considered her the least craziest compared to the others.

Sirius still couldn't bring himself to look at the other three and bolted out onto the grounds for an exit, and Regulus couldn't think of anything better to do but follow him.

James waited until they were back alone before nodding to Peter, who pulled the Marauder's Map back out and cast the charm to activate it. On cue, the magical ink appeared, spreading through the tattered paper, but only revealing eight names instead of the several hundreds it normally housed.

"What the bloody hell?" Remus demanded, snatching it away as if sure somehow Peter had cast it wrong. He deactivated it and retried five times before looking up in exasperation, to see James flipping through the book. "Of all times, you chose now to pursue one of those!" Remus demanded.

"Remus, what the bloody hell was in that potion," James whispered to him.

Remus looked at him askance. "I told you I don't know, I was, well I-" it was hard to admit how thoroughly distracted he'd been, even more than usual in his potions classes. His past two attempts had been utter messes as well. Somehow without Sirius by his side and being a constant distraction, he'd found a way to blow up his more recent attempts, so he'd been rather proud this one had only changed the wrong color seven times. "What's your point?"

"This," James waved it around, his face still looking somehow detached as if he had no clue what he was really saying, "it's-" he broke off, and Remus huffed in exasperation as he snatched it away.

"Yes James, it has words, glory look at that they're even strung together with sentences! What's the big-" he stopped abruptly at what he saw quite clearly had Prongs so thrown off. Remus could feel it now, this book was giving off as if the most powerful magic to exist, certainly that he'd ever been around.

"This isn't, there's no way-" he tried to protest what his eyes weren't changing.

"What?" Peter demanded in exasperation of the two.

"That's from the future." James stated coolly.

Peter laughed, realized neither was pulling his leg, and then yanked the book to him as well.

"It, it's a joke or-" he tried to say, but it was the exact same to his eyes as well.

"Remus, what the bloody hell did you mix with Lily's Profligare potion?" James asked again like he'd have another answer!

"I, I told you, I have no clue!" Remus insisted, his heart restricting painfully in his chest.

"Why aren't their words in the rest of this book?" Peter asked curiously. There were an easy three hundred pages to this thing, but only the first sentence was visible. The rest was blank.

"Put that down," Remus suddenly yelped, slapping it away from him. It thudded to the ground and even skidded a few feet while Wormtail looked offended.

"Merlin Remus, James was holding it for a whole five minutes and he didn't explode."

"Let's prioritize for a minute," James insisted. "Ignore that thing and figure out where everyone is, maybe show that to Dumbledore-"

"That might be a problem, as there's no one else here!" Remus snarled.

"Well I'll say one thing, Evans sure can make one good banishing potion," Regulus commented as he stepped back into the Entrance Hall minus Sirius.

The question burst out of James before he could consider doing otherwise, "where's your better half?"

Regulus scowled hatefully, hesitated, but still answered, "still wandering the damn grounds, think he said something about checking the bottom of the lake. I don't know what you lot are fighting about, but for him to be saying that even as a joke really is something."

James flinched with the first spot of guilt he'd felt, and Remus looked away as if he hadn't even heard. Peter took the opportunity to shove the map back out of sight before he twisted his fingers together and just deciding to ignore that as well and said, "We might as well go find the other three and show at least them. Something Dark is going on around here, perhaps we shouldn't go wandering off."

"Oh that's nice, just leave him out on the grounds by himself then if that's what you're thinking," Regulus muttered as his two friends seemed to agree and took off up the stairs, Peter having to jog to keep up.

They found them already up to the second floor, and with every empty room they'd opened, they'd become increasingly more panicked. This just wasn't natural! Even during the holidays you were likely to run across someone by now! A ghost even! What was left of the Marauders caught up to them, and Lily's near hysterics weren't helped with their answer to this.

"Just come back downstairs!" James was trying to put his hands up in a comforting, surrendering gesture to the vivid redhead who hadn't stopped shouting for a solid minute, so her face was as bright as her hair. "We found something you lot really should see!"

It took a bit more persuading and Frank and Alice agreeing first before Lily conceded searching every room wasn't helping.

They went back downstairs and saw Sirius had rejoined his little brother, and the two were frozen in place over what had already been discovered with the book still open on the ground for all to see.

"You wanted to show me a book!" Lily demanded as she looked murderously at Potter. "How is that helping to find out what happened!"

"Just look at it," Potter insisted.

Without touching it, she went to where it had fallen on the floor, and then she too along with Frank and Alice saw.

Scrawled across the top was the title The Boy Who Lived, which meant nothing to anyone so their eyes skipped down to below that, which was just under the date 1981. Six years from now.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #James Potter #Lily Potter #Regulus Black #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Remus Lupin #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #all in the family

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shuskas-story-book · 4 years ago

Text

Leave it to the Bees

Based off the song "Let it Go" by James Bay.

Eridan smiled over at the Asian male next to him, miss-matched eyes smiling back over the table back to his own odd violet ones. He couldn't help the small quirk to his lips as the waitress came over and sat down a set of drinks for the boys to enjoy, Sollux taking his drink and taking a drink with a soft little 'ah' afterwards. "Tho..... Friday night, and I'm already theeing a bunch of Thirtth jutht waltzing into the bar." he commented with a smirk as another male walked into the bar, his tie undone and a 5 o'clock shadow highlighting his jawline.

Eridan couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped him with a nod, reaching out and taking his own drink with a curious sniff at the strawberry filled liquid. "Sol...what did you order for me again?" he asked, head tilting to the side as he took the straw between his lips and tasting it with a shocked little hum. Eridan hadn't expected it to be so good, his boyfriend having been bad about ordering a strong drink and not warning him about the bitters or the high alcohol content of the drink in question.

Sollux smiled a bit and watched eridan over the edge of his sunglasses with a curious gaze. "It'th called a midthummernight dream. Got'th vodka, two Ruthian alchoholth, and a thit ton of thtrawberrieth" he explained. Eridan nodded and looked to the pink drink in his hand again. "Well for once, it tastes amazin and I'm glad I let you choose my drink" he replied with a small hum in his throat.

"And what, pray tell, did you choose for yourself?" he asked, folding his fingers together and resting his dimpled chin upon them. Sollux blinked and looked at the amber liquid in his glass. "uhh....I think it'th called a 'headleth horthman?" he asked himself, head cocking to the side slightly as he took another sip and nodded "yea. think that'th what it'th called. But anywayth, we have a lot to talk about." Sollux cooed, resting his chin in the palm of one bony hand as the other reached out to carefully rub against Eridan's arm.

The Ampora arched a brow and watched the computer calloused fingers as they trailed over his pale skin. "Oh? and what would we need to talk about Sol? Did I do something wrong to one of your builds?" he asked, unfolding the well manicured fingers and moving them to hold his lovers. "Or....is it the fact that were moving in together?" he asked with a small smile, head tilting to the side.

Sollux couldnt help but snort softly and nod. "of courthe it'th the move Danny. Jutht think, we'll be in our own plathe. Cronuth can fuck off, Tuna wont be able to barge in on our cuddle thethionth......or....anything elthe" he teased with a wink that caused Eridan to blush dark. That inuendo had happened more than once to the duo and had ended in a very embarrassing conversation with Psiimon over what was not allowed in his house.......again.

"W-well....I still say that wasn't our fault. He should know not to barge into his big brother's room....Mituna is 13 now after all!" he huffed softly as Sollux just laughed and shook his head. "Yea yea yea. But you know my dad'th thuper protective of Tuna" he hummed, moving his hand to rub a thumb over Eridan's knuckles.

The conversation slowly trailed off between the two as they finished their drinks off, Eridan still being a lightweight even after Cronus and his military drinking habits dragged the younger along for the ride. Sollux wound up taking the keys away from his lover and hooking an arm around him in order to help walk the short distance to their taxi.

Time passed very differently for them during times like this, soft kisses and gentle touches that had them both calm and comforted as they fell asleep in one another's arms. They were still tangled up with one another, light dancing across sleeping limbs when they're woken up by a hyperactive little brother. Mituna was more than excited to see Eridan again, almost pulling the Ampora from his still sleeping lovers arms in an attempt to get someone to play a video game with him.

Sollux wound up being woken up and games played as breakfast was made and plated. Eridan couldn't help but think of how cute it would be to have their own little family like this. He sat his chin on a palm and watched the two brothers bicker over the fact that Mituna did not, in fact, need half a bottle of syrup for his stack of 5 pancakes with a smile on his face. "You two are so cute together like that you know?" he mentioned softly, a loving look on his features that had Sollux blushing a bit and Mituna puffing up his cheeks with a defiant little 'nuh uh!'.

Eridan laughed softly and shook his head. "Sorry. I guess I'm just holding on to that old dream of having a family. Deffinately something we dont need right now," he cooed, looking up to Sollux who rubbed the back of his head nervously. "heh....uh...yea Danny.....That'th thomething that can wait a few yearth to make thure were actually ready" he agreed softly, both of the older boys jumping when something shattered over near the sink.

Mituna was standing there, hands over his mouth, eyes wide, and one of Sollux's favorite mugs in pieces on the floor. The poor boy looked like he was about to burst into tears when Sollux knelt down to pick up the largest piece with a sigh. "well....tho much for that one" he muttered, head shaking a bit.

"I-I'm th-th-thorry Th-Thollux!" Mituna sobbed softly, backing away against the cabinet as Sollux frowned. " Woah woah, hey.....Tuna no come on. Let it go. Thith broke, jutht let it be. It'th no ithue tho jutht keep being happy little you and I'll be normal grumpy me. It'th jutht a mug, and like everything elthe that breakth, we'll leave it to the beeth." he stated with a smile, collecting the broken shards before stacking it in a pile and sitting it in a bin dubbed 'for bee houses'.

"thee? Nothing wrong. They'll love that blue color" he continued, Mituna nodding along with the fear of broken glass long behind him."Yea! I'll be me and you be you! We can make bee houtheth later!" he rattled off, the older boys easily falling in behind his enthusiasm for the day.

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

Time passed quickly, the apartment being gotten and their shared world slowly coming together. But things seemed to sour at the drop of a hat once Sollux started doing computer repairs from home more and more. Things seemed to jump back and forth from throwing clothes on the floor at the end of the night, to slamming doors and the two of them sleeping in separate rooms almost nightly.

Sollux had brought home something from his dad's house, just trying to bring some home cooking back into their lives and give a bit of color to the drab grey things had gotten to. Of course, shit hit the fan pretty quickly when the wrong things were said and a fight ensued. in the end, they were sitting at different ends of the dining table so they could eat. Eridan had his head in his hands and Sollux had his nose in his phone to try and just keep his mind off the fight they just had.

Eridan spoke up first, voice shaky as he tried to keep from crying. "Sollux.....if this is it...if these fights are all we're living for......why do we insist on doing this anymore?" he asked softly, sniffling lightly as he turned his eyes up to his lover. "I used to recognize myself but now I feel like I'm just a husk of who I used to be" he continued, jumping a bit when Sollux pushed his chair back with a snarl.

"Well it'th funny how our reflectionth fucking changed now ithnt it? Thinthe we're becoming thomething elthe, I'll jutht leave you here for a while." he growled, storming off to the room. Eridan moved in after him, watching the thin bee lover packing a backpack with tear filled eyes. "S-Sollux.....No come on.....I-I didn't mean it like that, please just let it go!" he begged softly.

"No Eridan!" Sollux snapped, turning to the other with a snarl. "Jutht let it be. You can thtay here and be you. I'm going home, thpending time with tuna, and I'll be me. Everything here ith fuckin broke tho leave it to the beeth alright?! " he snapped, slamming the door to the apartment after pushing his way past his lover and out into the hallway.

By the time he made his way to the lobby the storm outside had finally come to a head, rain pouring down and making it quite hard to see even if you had headlights on. Sollux stood in the lobby for a moment, pausing himself to just think about the situation for a few moments before he heard Eridan's voice call out from the elevator. "I'm not fucking dealing with thith!" he growled to himself, glaring back at Eridan as he pushed through the doors and out into the pelting rain.

Things happened too quickly to really realize what transpired, A bike rider rushing by, a driver going too fast on a slick road, and the crunch of bone and glass before everything just froze around Eridan. Sollux was laying in the middle of the road, a terrified teen getting out of her car with a terrified scream as the rain started to soak her and the male she hit through to the bone. Eridan's blood ran ice cold as he shook his head and ran out into the storm screaming Sollux's name. trying to get some form of reaction from his lover.

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

"He's not going to wake up for quite a while Mr. Ampora. Please, make yourself comfortable and dont touch any of the wiring near him. " the doctor stated softly, patting Eridan's shoulder with a broad, gentle hand. The smaller male nodded, puffy red eyes locked on the sleeping form of his one and only.

He waited for the doctor to leave him alone to move over and sit next to Sollux's bed with a sniffle. His hand reached out to carefully settle into Sol's, a sob escaping him as his normally warm fingers felt ice cold against the Ampora's.

"This feels so wrong Sol....y-your way too cold" he whispered aloud, tears already welling in his eyes and falling over his cheeks. "God.....There's no force on earth that could make this feel right......" he whimpered, laying his head down on the white sheets of the bed and squeezing Sol's fingers tightly.

"C-come on.......Just....I'm letting the fight go. You're right a-and I'm not being responsible enough with what I've been spending lately...W-we've been pushing this problem uphill and not taking a chance to really.....really talk it through" he whimpered softly, mostly just rambling on to himself in the silence. "I guess it just.....got too heavy to hold tonight and look at what we let happen.....what I let happen" he whispered to himself, head lifting so he could see his lovers face as a tear fell down his cheek. "I think it's time to let our words slide......please....forgive me"

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

A few months after the wreck, Eridan was settled in his old room, snuggled up next to Sollux as they looked through a thick picture book. "Oh, remember when we went to Alternia beach? That was the best date I think we've ever had" he said, both boys laughing a bit. "Yea....It wath a fun date...Thtill think we thould have left Tuna at home for that one though. We could have gone through and done the turtle thnorkling" Sol purred at his little lover as he stretched out and closed the book.

Cronus came by the room and knocked on the frame of the open door, offering a small smile. "Hey Danny-boy.....Feel like going up to Star Touch Point with me tonight? We can go watch the star shower together like old times....you can even bring Sollux if you want" he offered, the look on his face growing even sadder as Eridan looked up at Sol with a smile. "Yea.....We would love to come watch the shower with you Cro....I'll grab my bag and shoes and we'll meet you out there!" he chirped, sitting up and stretching before reaching over to grab his shoes and socks.

They all piled into Cronus's old pickup, the military boy making sure things were tuned up before the drive to their secluded 'brother zone' as they had called it in their youth. They made it right around nightfall and the two younger boys were quick to abandon Cronus at the car to run up to the top of the hill with cheerful laughter. Cro just shook his head with a soft chuckle and let them go ahead

Time seemed to stand still once they made it up overlooking the town in the distance. Sollux smiled and moved over in front of Eridan before waving his hand to the bag. "Tho ED......you ready to let it go?" he asked softly, Eridan's smile faltering a bit "I-I dont know what you mean Sol....Let what go?" he questioned, Sol shaking his head. "Come on ED....Danny.....jutht....let it be"

Eridan started shaking his head a bit "N-no....Sollux I.....Please dont make me do this" he begged softly, Sollux just smiling sadly and tilting his head to the side. "Why not tonight?.....It'th our anniverthary after all. Why don't you be you for tonight. I'll be me jutht like old timeth" He offered, taking a few steps backwards. "Everything broke Danny....."

"NO! Sollux please don't make me do this! Please y-you made it out of the hospital, y-youve been weak but you made it.....please!" he whimpered, head shaking as tears started welling in his eyes. "Eridan pleathe....leave it to the beeth for a while....let them take your worrieth and tearth" Sollux whispered softly, Eridan letting his hand reach down into his courier bag to pull out a silver and gold container.

It was a pretty little thing, Bees etched into the metal and accentuated with gold leaf over the silver of the body and Sollux's name etched into the base gorgeously. "No.....please....I'm not ready to let you go" Eridan whispered, turning his eyes out over the cliffed edge of the hill that separated him from where Sollux was floating over thin air. "Eridan...Let my atheth fall here.....You've held on for tho long....."

"Sollux.....I dont want to let you go! I love you....Please just.....J-Just come back please!" Eridan begged, soft sobs wracking his chest as Sollux shook his head. "No Eridan.....You need to forget m-" He was cut off by Eridans loud sob "NO! NO NO NO.....no....."

"Come on Danny.....don't make thith harder on yourthelf. Let me go.....Jutht....Let me be" he continued, slowly stepping forward to kneel where Eridan had fallen to his knees, clutching the urn to his chest. "Why don't you go live your life.....Go be you.....and I can be me" Sol whispered, Eridan not looking at him anymore as he carefully opened the locked top to the urn and pulled a bit of ash out to cradle in his hand.

As he carefully let the ash sift through his fingers Sollux smiled again, leaning over and hugging his love tightly. "Thank you Eridan......I love you......Thank you for setting me free" he whispered, pulling back and pressing a soft kiss to Eridan's forehead for a final lingering bit of warmth on the Ampora's skin as he faded away in the soft breeze that carried his ashes down over a large field of flowers.

Cronus waited a bit longer after hearing Eridan stop screaming no before moving up to kneel beside his little brother and rest a large hand over the smaller boy's back. "hey.....He's still here.....look, he even sent a little friend to say hello" he offered, a small bee buzzing softly as it landed on Eridan's hand for just a fleeting moment before continuing off towards its hive for the night.

For the first time in four months, Eridan didn't feel that deep stab of guilt in his heart. Instead he felt the light breeze around him, the warmth of his brother's hand, and more importantly, the soft kiss of the night as the first of the stars began to shoot through the night sky.

#eridan ampora #eridan #Erisol #sollux #Sollux Captor #homestuck #tw major character death #mental trauma #cronus #cronus ampora #emotional trauma #relationship issues

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valiantly-onward · 4 years ago

Text

The Serpentine War Ch. 8

Here’s chapter eight! It’s my finals week, so I’ve been posting a little less. In that vein, good luck to everyone on their finals!

Chapter 8: Home

The journey to Lorin’s hometown took many days, even on dragonback. Ray was getting tired of needing a ride, but Wu had not even begun to explain how to create Elemental dragons. When Ray asked Lei about it, she just laughed. So he sulkily rode behind her throughout the trip.

They were a strange flock of oversized geese, flying in a practiced V formation. Ray couldn’t get a good look at the other dragons, and he had no idea whether Maya was behind or in front of him. He didn’t like not knowing where she was - it made him feel a little disoriented, like he’d lost his sense of direction. Realizing he cared was more worrisome than the worry itself. He didn’t like how reliant he’d become on her simple presence.

The final leg of the journey came to a close on this bright, early morning. Sam Pale, the long-haired Master of Light, tended to get up with the sun, and Lorin saluted that “eagerness” by forcing them all to follow Sam’s example. Ray was quickly learning the hierarchy of the Alliance. Supposedly, they were all equals under Wu’s command, but it was obvious that respect went a long way with these guys. And their small group seemed to respect Lorin - at least, enough to get up early.

Ray was sore from the long days of flying. He didn’t mention this to Lei, but he was relieved when the head of the dragon formation dipped down through the clouds. Ray held onto Lei as they dropped. He threw a shout of joy to the wind as it rushed him toward the ground.

Most of the trip, they’d been flying over high, rocky hills. Now, those hills parted to reveal a village. From above, Ray saw it was bigger than Jamanakai. The houses were spread out amongst small plots of turned-up soil. Ray immediately wondered how they would defend such a place. There was no centralized area, and the low stone buildings didn’t seem to follow any kind of pattern. The only advantage was the hills. They’d be able to see the Serpentine coming for miles.

Of course, that same logic had failed in Jamanakai Village. But that was mostly Ray’s fault.

They landed. Every dragon vanished in a puff of Elemental energy. Villagers began emerging from the closest houses. A few kids shouted in delight and raced toward them. Many adults immediately approached Lorin, who tipped back his silver helmet and shook their hands, speaking in low tones.

Sam Pale lifted a long leg as the kids swerved between him and the Master of Lightning. “Oi, Master of Earth! What are we up to first?”

Didn’t the guy ever rest? They’d just arrived! They needed a break.

Lorin glanced back. “First things first. C’mon, all.”

The eight of them continued further into the village. Maya appeared beside Ray, and though they didn’t speak, Ray was quietly happy she was there. Deep in the village, they found an actual road; it blended so well into the dusty ground, Ray had missed it. Lorin led them to one of the houses near the road - a happy stone building with curved red roofs and no plot of land.

A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. She started toward them purposefully. Ray thought for a moment she was carrying something beneath her coat, except -

“Alliance, this is my wife, Hanna,” Lorin said proudly. He leaned down, a hand on his wife’s belly. “And our soon-to-be son.”

“Daughter,” Hanna corrected. She kissed Lorin’s scruffy cheek and turned to the rest of them with a smile. “The one who’s right gets to name her.”

“Him.” Lorin nodded to Hanna. “We need to set up defenses and find lodging.”

“Then some of you better come with me,” Hanna replied. “This way.”

She strode around the back side of the house. Ray looked at Lorin. “You’re gonna have a kid?”

Lorin raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes. Is that so surprising?”

“No, just…” Ray paused. “Don’t you - I mean we - lose our powers if we have kids? Aren’t you afraid of that?” Wu had described it to him after Ray asked how Fire could’ve skipped a generation in his family. Upon reaching young adulthood, Masters aged slowly, as long as they had their powers. Children nearly always meant losing those powers, plus the slow aging. Already, a life without powers sounded like a half-life to Ray.

Lorin chuckled. “It has to happen sometime. I just hope the baby comes after all this is over.”

He seemed to deem the conversation ended. He directed Sam Pale and Vivian to go with him to the edge of the town, and the rest of them to follow Hanna.

“I can’t believe he’s not worried,” Ray said as soon as Lorin was out of earshot.

Lei shot him a quizzical look. “You don’t think love is worth it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Then you’re not in the best company. Everyone here has someone.” Lei jabbed a thumb at the blonde woman jogging after Lorin. “Vivian, for example. She got married real spontaneous when Wu called for us. She keeps going on and on about how she might not get a honeymoon if the war doesn’t end soon. If I ever meet Cliff Gordon, I might slap him, just for how many times I’ve had to hear his name.”

This made Ray laugh out loud. Maya strode up next to him, cocking her head at Lei. “What about you?”

Lei scoffed. “Can’t anything be private around here? If we win this war, maybe I’ll talk. If we don’t, it won’t matter, because we’ll all be dead.”

“Comforting,” Ray commented.

They went to find Hanna.

She showed them empty rooms inside the house. There weren’t many, so Maya and Lei would get the extra beds, while Ray and Asher, the Master of Smoke, were relegated the old couch in the main room. Just a hunch, but Ray was certain the couch wouldn’t fit two.

Unsurprisingly, Asher set his sleeping roll on the couch. He was small, colorful man in poofy pants and a fez. He looked a little different from Ray’s brand of Ninjagoan, but not uncommon, especially in Ninjago City.

He looked apologetically at Ray. “I am the smaller man. I don’t believe you would fit comfortably.”

Ray raised his hands in surrender, feeling a little guilty about his self-pity. But he did always have the rottenest luck. “You take it, man. I’m gonna head outside.”

Asher nodded to him. Ray pushed open the back door and found Maya outside. She was leaning against a tumble of boulders, glaring at the horizon.

“The bed’s that bad, huh?” Ray asked.

“It’s fine,” Maya said shortly. “Hanna is sweet.”

“Yeah, she is.” Ray rubbed the shoulder of his chest plate. He felt the grooves of the dragon engraving under his fingers. “Wanna go find Lorin?”

Maya’s gaze seemed far away. “I don’t like how it went down at Jamanakai Village. It wasn’t much of a fight. I even lost to a Venomari.”

“Venomari?”

Maya looked at him. “Yes. The Venomari tribe.”

“Ah, right,” Ray replied seriously. “Those are the blue ones.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Alright, you need a crash course in Serpentine tribes.” She sat down on the boulder. “Come here.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Ray sat down. Maya leaned over in the dirt and began drawing methodically. She was really good, actually. Just by watching, Ray saw that her hand knew all the right places to put the strokes.

After she finished with a rough image of five different snakes, she sat up.

“Looks good,” Ray noted.

Maya glanced at him, like she didn’t know quite how to respond. “Thanks. Now, look. This one is called a Hypnobrai. Those are the blue ones. Don’t look them in the eye or they’ll hypnotize you.”

“Okay.”

Maya tapped the second image with a stick, the two-headed snake. “Fangpyre. Red. Their venom changes people into Serpentine.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. The big black ones, Constrictai. Strong, can choke you to death. And Venomari. If they bite you, the venom is deadly, but usually they’ll just spray your eyes and make you hallucinate.”

Ray pulled one knee up to his chest. “So the moral here is to stay away from snakes. Why did I agree to go to war again?”

A smile reached across Maya’s face. So small. Ray’s chest exploded with uproarious victory.

He offered a hand to her and she took it, pulling herself up. “And the Anacondrai?” he asked.

“The power of invisibility” Maya held his gaze for a long moment before releasing his hand. “The most dangerous tribe of them all.”

Ray nodded. “All the more reason to train, right?”

“Now,” Maya said. “You’re learning.”

~~~

The days spun into weeks. For the first time, Ray felt like he was really part of the Alliance. It helped that his powers seemed to obey him better each day. He now knew what to look for inside himself, the feeling that guided each spurt of power.

Every day, after their sentry duty in the hills, Ray and Maya would go to the boulders to train together. This, if nothing else, felt familiar, grounding. Sometimes, if Lorin wasn’t busy, he would come to watch and offer pointers.

Ray liked Lorin. The guy treated both him and Maya with respect, and he seemed like a steady, dependable guy. Ray admired that.

The Master of Light, on the other hand, was a little less steady. Sam Pale’s untidy habit of manipulating light to turn himself invisible was funny until Ray was on the receiving end of the joke.

That left the Masters of Lightning and Smoke, neither of whom Ray knew what to make of. Vivian was loudly annoying and Asher was quietly annoying, so it was a back-and-forth. Maya seemed to get along fine with both, which Ray didn’t understand.

On the third week, Ray left Hanna’s house in the afternoon and met up with Maya and Vivian at the base of the hills.

Here, a few lonely trees clustered close together, shaking in the breeze. Vivian smiled up at a branch where a bluejay had perched. It whistled and she whistled back.

“Oh,” she sighed. “I love bluejays. They’re such smart, handsome little things.”

Neither of them replied, because this was Vivian, and she cared very little if anyone replied so long as she knew they were listening. She was a willowy woman with long, curly blonde hair. Vivian had mass. Not in the physical sense; she just seemed to take up a lot of space. A balance between dreamy and so very present, she was contradictory in a way that made Ray’s head hurt.

“Okay,” Ray said. The trees were designated as the split spot, and they would go each to a different section of the hills. Get the high ground and keep watch. “See you guys in a few hours.”

They split: Vivian sauntering like the lovable fool she was, Maya in ninja-mode like the Master-Wu-student she was, and Ray walking, like a normal person. Red didn’t help him stay concealed in the rocks, but it was better than the blues the ladies wore.

Ray kept his sword sheathed - he’d learned that lesson, it was far too easy to get distracted even in simple exercises. He would watch. He would wait for the attack, surely coming any day now.

All reports from the Echo Canyons said the Serpentine had posted themselves in Jamanakai and seemed to be staying there. That made everyone, including Ray, feel uncomfortable. If the Jamanakai snakes weren’t moving, that meant they were confident the remainder of the Anacondrai would pass the Mountain of A Million Steps.

Ray skimmed the hills for an hour or more, then took a post near the top. He sat down against a rock where he could easily see the surrounding horizon - the Mountain of A Million Steps rising in the distance, the sun glaring off the opposing hillsides, the ocean of rocky terrain that separated this green village from the Sea of Sand.

He heard something.

Ray jumped up immediately, staying low against the rock. Behind it, hissing hurried past, like leaves against a sidewalk. It took Ray a moment to separate the sound into voices.

“...this way.”

He peered around the rock. There was a flash of red, then a softer green. Fangpyre. Venomari. Serpentine.

Two of them. Both had legs instead of tails, but they were still quick, small. The Fangpyre had just one flat head, swirling white across its scales.

They hadn’t seen him yet. They seemed to be heading toward the ridge above the town. Ray kept himself hidden behind the boulders and followed them.

When they got to the ridge, the two snakes laid flat on their scaly bellies, stretching long necks above the rocks. The whole village strung out below them. And to the north, a dagger-split in the rocky hills. The pass the Serpentine needed.

The Venomari ducked back down. “Andulus, I can’t see any Masters.”

“They’re there,” the Fangpyre replied. “Quiet.”

Unbidden, the Fanpyre suddenly jerked its head back. Fortunately, Ray was able to pull himself behind his boulder in time. Three counts of silence. When he peered back around, the snakes were surveying the village again.

“I’m tired of this,” the Venomari said. “It’s not worth it to attack such a small village.”

“We’ll be ruling them all soon enough, Lysss.”

“Yes.” The Venomari’s small crown flared. “But I thought this was about warning the humans, not ruling them.”

The Fanpyre stretched his neck a little. “If they will not listen, we must ensure they don’t bring destruction upon themselves.”

“Why do we care?” the Venomari hissed. “The humans can destroy themselves if they want.”

“Don’t let General Acidicus hear you talking like that.”

“What about your general? Kandoras? He could put a stop to this.”

The Fangpyre snorted, though it sounded more like a muffled hiss. “He will not undermine Arcturus. Now, hush this traitorous talk.”

The Venomari fell silent. Ray laid a hand on his katana hilt. These creatures were armed, but only with small knives, and they were small themselves. After facing the Anacondrai, this would be a piece of cake.

He waited for them to start talking again, for distraction, but they didn’t. Ray got tired of waiting.

He attacked.

The Serpentine rolled away from each other. The Fangpyre was on his feet, whipping out his knife. Ray disarmed him in a moment with one well-placed strike. His blade hovered near the Fangpyre’s long red neck. Then he looked at the Venomari on his other side.

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” the Venomari said, gesturing to Ray. He hadn’t even drawn his knife. “No respect.”

“Are you scouts?” Ray asked.

The Fangpyre sneered in response.

Ray decided not to press it. “You’re coming with me down to the village. The Masters will love to meet you.”

“You presume to take us prisoner?” the Fangpyre snapped, though his slitted pupils darted warily to the blade. “A measly human with a sword?”

Ray raised his hand. It took a few seconds, but his fingers burst into flames. The Venomari, who’d finally started going for his knife, scrambled back.

Ray smiled at the Fangpyre in the firelight. “Let’s get moving.”

~~~

Striding back into a village with two prisoner Serpentine was a good way to get people to hate you.

The villagers wanted nothing to do with the snakes. It took a lot of convincing for one of Lorin’s villager friends to let them lock the Serpentine in his basement. Even then, everyone gave the house a wide berth, and the owner of the house constantly glared daggers at Ray.

Ray meant to return to the hills for duty with Vivian and Maya, but Lorin kept him. They stood in front of the house. Lorin scratched his black beard thoughtfully.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“They can’t report back now,” Ray reminded him. “No intelligence. That’s good, right?”

“I suppose. But this means they’re scouting out this area. They will come through here. Perhaps in the next few days. Did you hear them say anything?”

“I -” Ray cut off when he saw Maya approaching. Their shift must’ve ended already.

She got to them, wide-eyed. “I heard you caught Serpentine.”

Ray jerked his head toward the big house. “They’re in there.”

“Are they scouts?”

“We think so.” Ray looked at Lorin. “Although one of them…”

Ray tried to recall exactly what the Serpentine had said. It seemed like the Venomari was against attacking the village. But that couldn’t be right.

“The Fangpyre didn’t like what the Venomari was saying,” he remembered. “He sounded like he was going against their generals, talking about how he didn’t want to fight. And - destruction? They said we’re going to destroy ourselves.”

Lorin’s brow deepened. Maya, on the other hand, caught her breath. “He said he didn’t want to fight?”

“Uh, I think so. But -”

“Ray, do you know what this means?”

“What?” he asked.

She shoved his shoulder. “The Serpentine are willing to compromise! They might negotiate with us!”

“Negotiate?” Ray threw a hand to the air. “We watched them nearly destroy an entire village, and you want to negotiate with them? They’re monsters!”

“They’re people,” Maya retorted. “Some of them don’t want to fight.” She paused to watch him, and added, “You’re just scared.”

“I’m not -” Ray stopped himself. Turned away, his hands linked behind his head. Turned back. “You’re right. Okay? I am scared. Is that such a bad thing?”

Maya didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes were dark. “No,” she said at last. “But it doesn’t change what we have to do.”

At this, Lorin looked up. He frowned at Maya. “What would that be?”

“It’s obvious.” She stepped back to address them both. “We have to convince Master Wu to go to the Serpentine Generals and negotiate for peace.”

@greenygreenland

#the serpentine war #ninjago #ninjago fic

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pollylynn · 5 years ago

Text

Ignus Fatuus—a Caskett one-shot (Future Fic)

Title: Ignus Fatuus WC: 1600

She has no trouble finding them. She follows the trail of pictures he’s been sending her as she crawled along in traffic she’d been determined not to get stuck in—not today, but the precinct, as usual, had different ideas. She hasn’t stopped at the house. She hasn’t stopped to change or to grab a much-needed cup of coffee, and she’s so glad she has no trouble finding them.

He’s lying, face up, on the first-base side of the pitcher’s mound in the middle of a pee wee baseball diamond. His legs are covered in sandy orange dust all the way to the hem of his cargo shorts.

Not far off—just a yard or two toward home plate from the pitcher’s mound—Lily has a lap full of dandelions. Her hands work slowly at two stems. Her total concentration on the task is obvious In the way she chews at corner of her lower lip.

The peaceful scene in the middle of the diamond does not extend to the base paths. Those are occupied by an enormous, shrieking dust cloud that seems like it must contain some kind of horde, but her ear readily picks out just the two voices—Jake mostly, and Reese every once in a while.

She has no trouble finding them. She’s relieved about that, but she takes a moment with her fingers curled in the chain link fronting one dugout to drink in the picture—the mix of quiet and chaos—the four of them make.

It’s Lily who spies her first, in the last breath before the beauty of it can overwhelm her to the point of tears.

“Mom,” she shouts. Her long-legged girl, who is too grown up most days to call her Mama any more, pushes to her feet, scattering knotted green stems and vibrant yellow flowers. Her sparkly pink sneakers pound over grass, over the third base line, over the pale orange, hard-packed dust in front of the dugout. She collides with Kate, enveloping the two of them in an orange cloud. “It’s still day time!”

“It is!” She tickles the underside of her daughter’s chin until they’re both squinting up, funny faced, at the sun still clinging to the western sky. “I didn’t miss it.”

“I ran a hundred miles, Mama!” Reese joins the huddle, tugging at her left hand. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead and his cheeks are cherry red with exertion.

“A hundred!” Kate lets her eyes go wide. “All around the bases?”

“The base paths!” Jake jumps with both feet on one side of the the chalk, then the other to emphasize his point. “I ran a hundred hundred miles, Mama.”

“That’s a thousand.” Lily looks down her nose at Jake, but he’s too busy walking the baseline like a tight rope to notice his big sister trying to boss him.

“How many is a thousand thousand, Lil?” Castle’s voice drifts toward them. He’s still lying, face up, on the first-base side of the pitcher’s mound, but he’s striking a dramatic pose now. He has a dusty arm flung across his forehead. “A thousand thousand is how many miles I have run on this, the longest of days.”

“A thousand thousand. How many do you think that is, Reese?” He lifts his arms pleadingly, and she hikes the dusty, sticky boy up on to her hip. She rests a hand on Lily’s shoulder and nudges her mound-ward—Castle-ward. Jake sees that they’re on the move and does an about face. He rushes, full tilt, to home plate and does a three-sixty spin before he makes a beeline for his father. “Castle!” she calls out a sharp warning. “Incoming!”

“Got it.” He sits bolt upright, all his feigned exhaustion shed, and manages some kind of twisting sideways maneuver that has him snatching Jake around the waist, rather than absorbing the full impact of their most rambunctious child’s body.

“Not a thousand thousand!” Jake hollers. He laughs as Castle sweeps an arm beneath his knees and turns him upside down with his head in the grass. “Daddy didn’t run a thousand thousand.”

“He couldn’t run a thousand thousand miles.” Lily stoops to gather up her scattered dandelion crowns in progress. She plumps down closer to her father and fills her lap again. “That’s hyperblee.”

“Hyperbole?” He makes a great show of being offended, a great show of hefting Jake upright and banding his arms around the squirming boy to keep him close for however brief a moment, as Kate eases her way to sit at his side with Reese still cuddled against her. “I wouldn’t have thought I could run a thousand thousand miles either. But then your mother tricked me.”

“Mama does tricks?” Jake tries to twist around to see if Castle has his tale-telling face on. Lily looks up from the work of twining stems together and even their sleepy-on-a-schedule Reese lifts his head from Kate’s shoulder.

“It’s news to me, Jake.” She shoots Castle a dirty look that he meets with something hot, lascivious, and utterly ridiculous all at once.

“What kind of trick?” Lily wants to know, and Reese tugs at Kate’s shirt and whispers in her ear half a dozen shy, confidential questions about rabbits and hats and ladies in big glitter-paint boxes.

“I still haven’t figured out what kind of trick it was, but she has a Lily and a Reese and a Jake to show for it.” He risks loosening his hold on Jake to bump Lily with his shoulder, to run light fingers down Reese’s back.

Jake knows an opportunity when he sees it. He breaks free and heads for first base. “That’s three tricks.”

The words trail behind him like a kite string that tugs Lily to her feet again. She chases after him. “It’s two tricks. I’m one trick and you and Reese are one trick.”

“One trick!” Reese says against the curve of Kate’s neck. He clings tight to her for a moment longer, then he’s off and running the wrong way from first base to home. It puts him on a collision course with his brother, his big sister, who—today, anyway—is not too big to play silly games with her babies, games with swirling, constantly fluctuating rules.

“So I’m a two-trick pony?” She scoots sideways toward him. The grass is wet in patches and there’s probably no hope for this pair of work pants, to say nothing of the light-colored summery blouse that’s picked up countless pale orange handprints.

“You are a many trick pony, Captain.” He flops on to his back and his head in her lap. He offers an ear up for the twist he knows is coming. “But tricking me into having not one, not two, but three athletic children was your greatest feat.”

On cue, Lily calls out some convoluted rule about sliding into each base. Kate makes a move, but he has her by the wrist. “It’s skidding,” he assures her as he tangles his fingers tight with her own. “Purely on their feet. No skin left behind.”

Kate twists to see, and sure enough, she sees the sun catching the pink sparkles of Lily’s shoes somewhere in the cloud of dust, then the rapid-fire blue-red flash of Reese’s Spider-Man sneakers, the Hulk green of Jake’s.

“Now that’s a neat trick.” She skims her fingers through the hair that’s grown long enough to brush the curve of his ear. “How’d you convince Danger Boy?” She asks as Jake, on cue, executes another of his signature three-sixty spins on top of second base to celebrate his perfect skid.

“Invoked your dad and exercised some artistic license,” he murmurs as he turns his head further into the soothing motion of her fingers. “Lily can cite Gramps, chapter and verse, on elbows and curveballs. I just extended the principle to ankles and big kid slides.”

“And for your next trick.” She laughs and plants a kiss on his forehead.

“Oh no.” He peers up at her, crossing his eyes to hear the music of her laughter again. “For your next trick, tell me again what the heck a double switch is. Jake won’t buy my Cold War spy analogies forever.”

“A double switch,” she says absently. Her eyes are on the three heads bent together, talking over one another, with Reese’s voice uncharacteristically on top as he lobbies for some new rule of his own. Castle tugs at the front of her shirt, as child-like as ever in his own demands for attention when he knows their happy little monsters are entertaining one another. “A double switch,” she repeats briskly. She holds her wrist out, then brings it close to her face as though he’s making an exaggerated study of her watch face. “I don’t think we have that kind of time.”

“Time?” He rises suddenly on his elbows to kiss her sweetly on the lips. He catches her chin in his fingertips. He guides her gaze toward right field where the kids have their hands planted in the grass and kick their legs upward into clumsy attempts at handstands as some new part of the game. “Solar-powered children.” He coaxes her head back and plants a kiss beneath her chin. Her breath catches as the sun, still clinging to the western sky, warms her face. “Longest day of the year,” he murmurs as his lips travel down her neck. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” A/N: I know the solstice was yesterday, and I did start this then, but only just finished this now. For someone who hates the sun, I always feel drawn to stories about the longest day.

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Future Fic #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Lily Castle #Jake Castle #Reese Castle #Jim Beckett #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Summer Solstice

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mirdaniaa · 5 years ago

Note

Would you write ATLA fic? If so- 67, you pick the pairing :)

The banquet Zuko holds for his friends is nothing less than they expected; elegant, extravagant, and entirely too straitlaced. Not that Katara minds, it’s just that after spending the last few years sleeping on the ground and wearing the same clothes day in and day out, being surrounded by the richly dressed members of the Fire Nation comes as something of a jolt to her. She has to remind herself to sit up straight, use the correct dinner forks, and push her spoon away from her when eating soup.

Toph’s manners come as second nature to her in a setting like this, but Aang and Sokka are, predictably, having more trouble with the finer points of table etiquette. Zuko, thankfully, doesn’t seem to mind; he’s just happy to have them back in the palace after so many months apart. They’ve all been working to undo the wrongs of the last century, but while they’ve been traveling the world to right the wrongs, Zuko has been doing it from the Fire Nation.

“It hasn’t been easy,” Zuko is saying now. “Sozin’s corruption spread beyond the walls of the palace and infected nearly everything. So much of our culture relied on our being conquerors. It’s taken a lot of work to make us a nation of people who prize peace over victory again.”

“You’ve done so well,” Katara assures him. “The Fire Nation was always so...militant. It doesn’t feel that way anymore.”

He smiles, filling her with warmth. “I’m glad to hear that, from you, especially.”

For some reason, Katara blushes.

“There’s just one thing you’re missing,” Aang says impishly. “Dancing!”

Zuko looks uncertain. “I doubt anyone here knows how to dance. Only the most skilled benders learned the dancing forms.”

“If I could teach a class of kids I’d only known for a couple days how to dance, I can teach the fire court,” Aang dismisses. “Katara?”

She smiles and takes his hand, following him out to the center of the floor. Zuko orders the tables and benches pushed back to make room, and the guests watch as Aang and Katara lead the dance. Their movements are based more on bending than anything else, but gradually, others drift out to join them; Toph hopping on her feet, Sokka jerking his hips and shoulders in what he thinks is an impressive manner to the ladies.

A tap on the shoulder makes Katara turn; she sees Zuko standing behind her, a hand outstretched. “May I have this dance?”

She glances at Aang, who just smiles and nods; she turns back to Zuko, taking his hand.

Dancing with Aang always felt like bending together, their bodies following the same fluid movements as they moved without summoning the elements. With Zuko, it’s different. She doesn’t know how to explain it. It’s like they share an energy, like they are bending, but not with water or fire or earth or air. It’s the same energy she felt when she touched his face in the cave, when he’d gone to help her find her mother’s murderer, when he’d thrown himself in front of Azula’s lightning to save her. It feels clearer, suddenly, than it ever has before.

So entranced is she in their dance that she doesn’t realize until the music fades out that everyone has stopped to watch. Zuko bows, and she follows his lead, and the onlookers burst into applause before the musicians move to a new song, and everyone turns back to their partners.

Yet Katara cannot take her eyes off Zuko, even after he’s given her a rueful sort of smile, turned, and left.

“Ooohhhhhh,” says a voice beside her, and startled, she turns to look at Aang, a surprised grin on his face. “You’re in love with him!”

“What!” she shouts, leaping back from him as if scalded. “I am not!”

“You totally are,” Aang says, hands on his hips. “Toph said you’ve been acting funny ever since we got here, and I didn’t know what she meant until now.”

Katara shakes her head, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. “No, I...Zuko’s my friend!”

“You were my friend,” Aang reminds her. “And you still are. We worked better as friends, didn’t we?”

She bites her lip. “Well...”

“It’s okay. I know. I had a really big crush on you for a long time,” he admits. “And I think you knew that. So when you found out Zuko was still with Mai, you felt like maybe we were supposed to be together.”

She flushes, too embarrassed to refute anything.

Aang comes forward, taking her hands in his. “It’s okay. Really. I know you don’t love me the way I love you, and you never will. And I know that you do love Zuko, and he loves you, and you’re both my friends and I just want you to be happy. I think you will be with Zuko.”

She could cry. “I didn’t think I would still love him.”

“It’s okay,” he insists. “Just do me a favor and go out there and tell him how you feel.”

She blinks back tears. “You’re a really good person, Aang.” She kisses his cheek, and with his blessing, follows Zuko’s trail out to the garden.

He’s sitting by a fountain, watching the light sparkle off of the water’s surface. Unable to help herself, she makes the water swirl, distorting the light’s reflection.

He looks up at her, smiling when he sees her. “I thought that was you.”

She sits beside him, taking a deep breath. “I have to talk to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Is it about the dance?”

“Well, yes, but it’s more than just that. It’s...” She bites her lip. “Aang...says you’re in love with me.”

Zuko stiffens.

“Is it true?” She doesn’t give him time to answer, already blurting out, “Because I love you.”

Even in the semi-darkness, she can see his pale cheeks darken with color. “You do?”

She nods helplessly. “I have for a while. Pretty much since the cave.”

His voice tightens. “The cave?”

“That’s why I was so angry with you when you joined up with us,” she admits. “It broke my heart to see you take the path you did. I was hurt. It wasn’t until you nearly died defending me that I realized I had to tell you. And I was going to, after you recovered, but the next time I saw you, you were kissing Mai, and I knew you didn’t feel the same way.”

His voice is still tight when he says, “Katara...I did feel the same way. I liked Mai. A lot. But I never...loved her. I loved you. And I never thought you’d feel the same way. Mai was there when I woke up, and I thought...well, I liked her, and you’d never look at me that way, so...why not stay with Mai?”

Katara feels so, so stupid. All this time, they could have been together. “Are you...still...with her?”

“No.” He lets out a small laugh. “She actually realized she...doesn’t like men. She’s with Ty Lee now.”

Katara bites her lip. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. We were both using each other as a placeholder for the people we really loved.” Slowly, hesitantly, he sets his hand on the stone beside her. “You’re still with Aang, aren’t you?”

Katara hesitates, too. “No. Not as of...five minutes ago, when he told me it was obvious we were in love with each other and he wanted us to be happy together.” She pauses. “Is that...something you want?”

“Is it something you want?”

“I asked you first!”

He smiles sheepishly. “Well...yes. It’s something I very much want. But only if it’s something you want--” He doesn’t get to finish, because Katara wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him.

#zutara #hope you liiiiiiike #atla #fic by me #lyanna

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