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inhuman-obey-me · 3 years ago

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Knowledge is Wrath

Word Count: 1.8k Description: The Avatar of Wrath had mastered the art of pleasantries and placid smiles, a mask he wears nearly perfectly -- but if you try and take advantage of him, he won't hesitate to let it fall. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Hereeeeee's Satan and his glorious wrath!! Note: Cabariel is a high-ranking demon named in the Ars Theurgia who has fifty dukes attend to him in the day, and another fifty dukes attend to him at night. Thalbus is one of the named night dukes, who are said to be deceitful and disobedient. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: gore gore gore, blood, body mutilation/horror

The Avatar of Wrath had mastered the art of pleasantries and placid smiles, burying the rage that always burned under his skin deep within the darkest parts of his soul. He would be more than wrath, more than the fury that everyone expected of him. At least, that is what he would constantly tell himself, knowing that many still found themselves on edge in his presence. It’s all an act, some who had witnessed his true self would say, others merely repeating it for his title and position alone.

There was a place where those whispers would fade away, however. The company of high-society, where he had gathered an array of acquaintances with whom he could discuss a variety of subjects, sharing his extensive knowledge and exchanging it for theirs. These connections only ran so deep, most never crossing the line into friendship -- but friendship is not what Satan sought. He wanted status, a curated image that placed him firmly in the echelons of the wise and out of the shadows of rage incarnate, out of the shadow of pride.

“Thank you again, Lord Satan. I can’t believe I’ll actually be able to see this scroll for myself!” A lesser demon eagerly walked alongside the Avatar of Wrath, accompanying him through the gates of the Demon Lord’s Castle.

“It’s my pleasure, Thalbus.” Satan gave the other his ever-polite smile. “Cabariel had mentioned multiple times that you were anxious to get a look at it, so I’m glad I can be of assistance.” Here he was, leading one such acquaintance to the Royal Archives housed at the castle. It was a privilege few had, one that Satan treasured greatly. He had been allowed by Lord Diavolo centuries ago to visit the archives as much as he pleased, and he did not let the offer go to waste.

They descend now, traversing through the grand passages of the castle -- both imposing and eerie, some corridors shrouded in darkness while others are aglow with flames. Portraits watched them pass by, whispered -- ‘a new visitor, how quaint’. Upon reaching the door that housed the array of treasured documents and scrolls, Satan whispers an incantation he knows well, the last of the words leaving his lips and turning into a spark of light that traces the intricate pattern carved in stone. With a click, the door opens, and the two walk in -- the door then heavily shutting behind them.

“Here we are.” Satan gestures to the main archive room, lined with towering shelves that nearly reached the domed ceiling. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“It is, it is!” Thalbus gives him a grin, ever-so-slightly crooked. Clasping his hands together, his eyes scan the magnificent annals of the Devildom. “So … where is that scroll?”

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Satan merely smiles, though he feels the way his jaw wants to clench. “Come, it’s in one of the back rooms.”

Down a few aisles, through an archway, and they now are before a vitrine with a scroll neatly rolled out in full display, the parchment delicate from its age but its fibers intact due to restorative magic. It’s much smaller than one would expect, and thick ink is scrawled across it in ancient demonic tongue -- “The Word of the Regent”.

“Wow,” Thalbus gasps in awe, scuttling closer to the glass to get a good look at the prized artifact. “So it really does exist … “

“That it does.” Ah, what a smug look it was that now graced the Avatar’s features. “It really is fascinating, apparently written by one of the first kings. Many are still trying to decipher it’s more complicated and muddled passages, as it seems to speak of a series of powerful rituals that would grant whoever is able to perform it a great amount of power and wealth. Or, so say the urban legends, the actual validity is still debated and -- “

Satan continues to speak, showing off every bit of knowledge he has on the subject as Thalbus continues to admire the scroll. He gets a few ‘hmms’ and various other one-word acknowledgments in response, which is all he needs to continue his confident rambling. To be in the presence of another demon who understood the splendor of such a relic was refreshing, even if for only selfish reasons in that the Greater Demon could bestow an interested party in all his wisdom.

“Thank you once again, Lord Satan.” Thalbus gestures in great respect, hiding a rather satisfied smile as they both eventually leave the archive chamber. “I am incredibly lucky to have been able to be introduced to you, and to see the scroll for myself! Ah, what a dream come true!”

“Again, you are very welcome.” Picture-perfect smile, a steady gaze. They round a few corners, go down a flight of steps -- the portraits whisper again, “oh my, oh my”. They enter one of the dim passages, steps lost to shadows.

“Um, Lord Satan … forgive me, but is this the way back out?” Thalbus warily speaks up, eyes darting around the dark.

“Oh, no. No, it isn’t.” Satan laughs, shaking his head as a large smile stays plastered on his lips. A fool, the Avatar thinks to himself, he truly takes ME for a fool! How ridiculous, preposterous, outrageous. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Thalbus?”

“Pardon me?”

“Adorable, how you think you can feign innocence.” He laughs again, though malice bleeds through his voice this time. With a wave of his hand, the shriek of metal scraping against stone is heard -- a gate closes, and Thalbus now realizes he is trapped in a room with no escape. “So, why don’t you hand it over?”

“Oh … you mean, this?” The lesser demon produces a thin tube from his jacket, cocky grin splitting his lips. “I suppose you’re sharper than I realized. Didn’t think you would pay attention while you kept yapping and yapping.” How courageous, for him to act as if he wasn’t moments away from wrathful consequences, Thalbus would have one think. How utterly foolish, is what Satan knows.

Imperturbable smile still present, the Greater Demon steps closer and moves to snatch the contained scroll from the thief, but Thalbus has decided he’d much rather opt for more severe torment as he moves to hide it again. Were all demons of deceit this imprudent? The flames of wrath begin to grow within -- hotter, deadlier.

“How about we make a deal?” Thalbus tries. “You let me borrow the scroll, and I’ll grant you something in return.”

“Oh?” Satan’s smile widens, but his teeth grow sharper. “A deal you say? Truly, Thalbus, you continue to impress!” He begins to laugh, that laugh that sounded so melodic and cheerful and yet just a hint deranged. Satan tilts his head to the side, his eyes glowing a fierce green in the darkness. “You think that you of all demons can entice me with a deal? Just what could you possibly have to offer ME?” His laughter continues, growing more maniacal as his body continues to shift and distort. His claws grow longer, his tail thrashing about as flesh gives way at parts to bone, green flames tracing up his spine to match the searing verdant flames that now emit from his hollow eye sockets. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

Thalbus does not have time to respond, though the terror now present on every crevice of his being is answer enough. In an instant, claws are at his throat as he is held up against the wall, the sound of metal hitting the stone floor ringing out as the scroll slips from his grasp and rolls into the far corner of the room.

“Ah, looks like you’ve lost your bargaining chip!” There is a distortion to Satan’s voice, a grating echo. “That’s too bad.” His tail goes to flick at Thalbus’ cheek before roughly moving against his flesh, its sharp edges peeling away at his skin to reveal what lay underneath. The lesser demon tries to shriek, only to find no sound leaves him. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Satan laughs again, before the claws of his other hand immediately go to grip Thalbus’ jaw, wrenching it open and piercing a claw through his aforementioned muscle. “Oh, guess it’s actually me.” As the lesser demon struggles, Satan can make out a garbled “Please!” as he sees tears leave the other’s eyes.

Please?

PLEASE?

What could this pathetic excuse of a demon, this wretch, this absolute shitstain be thinking that begging “please” would help get him out of this? This situation that he only had himself to blame, for daring to think that he could outwit Satan. The flames that danced atop wrath’s form grew brighter, hotter, larger -- and he unhooks his claw from the demon's tongue to instead grab hold of his jaw once more and rip it clean off his skull. Blood gurgles up and spills from the deceitful demon’s open cavity of a throat, muffling his continued screams which only sounded like music to Wrath’s ears.

Rage overflowed through every fiber of Satan’s being, his mind now clouded and his vision blurred among the inferno. His blood boils as he descends into madness, a flurry of demonic curses escaping through grotesque fangs until words become unintelligible screams that shake the stone walls in his fury.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, IDIOT!

The sharp bony horn that now protrudes from Wrath’s forehead is lowered to skewer an eye, then the other. Piece by piece, Thalbus is torn apart -- claws ripping apart limbs, teeth tearing out his organs, horn impaling muscle, tail grinding bone -- all while the smell of burnt flesh fills the room as flames lick at the remains. The sickening sounds of the lesser demon’s body being completely obliterated fill the otherwise empty chamber, a song of violence.

He is long dead before Satan is finished with him, painting the walls and floor with ichor and tissue and ashes of whatever else comprised the once corporeal form of Cabariel’s duke.

Ah, right. Cabariel …

Deep breath, count to ten … and Satan feels his form shift again, sharp edges folding away as his more human form comes into place. The haze in his mind is gone, the flames put out, the wrath forcibly buried back down as rage subsides. He is himself again, he thinks, for obviously this was who he was and not that beast that had just reared its head.

Yes. Himself.

He walks over to the corner of the room, deftly picking up the nearly stolen artifact. Rage begins to unfurl within him once more, but he must keep it at bay. This problem had been taken care of, disaster avoided. Cabariel would not be pleased to know that he was short a duke, but that was the least of Satan’s worries -- after all, Cabariel should be glad that it wasn’t his throat Satan came for next.

Another look around the room, and a tired sigh leaves the Avatar’s lips. He had purposely lured Thalbus away from the Royal Archives, but still ...

… Barbatos was not going to be pleased.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me satan #om! satan #obey me fic #demons being demons #series: a demon's nature #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos #more of the angry wrathful satan that the game needs to give us #hhh I hope this is okay #he's the last of the bros for now though I'm gonna go back and do a second asmo one too #since these all got ... longer ...

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littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

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Ezra’s Journal Entries #1-3

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe.

Warnings: angsty fluff, Ezra’s dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I know I said Death and Angel would come out next, but I got such a inspiration high and the words came out so quickly I just told myself screw it and decided to share what I have. If anyone thinks this is a series worth pursuing, let me know. If you don’t, well, just be gentle please 💖

Cross-posted on AO3

Entries #4-6

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

My name is Ezra.

I have my mama to thank for that. Time has erased her face from my memory, but her voice is ingrained into the tissue of my brain the same way these words are inked on this parchment. She was a bonafide believer that the meaning of a child’s name influenced the course of their destiny. When I was no taller than the height of her waist I learned my own name’s denotation: help.

It’s just a tick too ironic, isn’t it? To be destined to help others when I can’t help my own self. I gave the Green far too little credit. It didn’t just pilfer my arm to satisfy its ravenousness, it greedily stole my sense of purpose too.

Every night I thank the deities you didn’t accompany me there. If the Green had taken you...

I know how worried you are about me, little love of mine. When I look at you, I find you already looking back, a sweet smile gracing your lips even as concern burns in your eyes as an eternal flame. From day one you’ve always been looking at me, seeing every disgraced flaw and scar—even the invisible ones carved into the darkest edges of my soul. Kevva knows I’ve never been capable of concealing anything from you, but fuck if I don’t wish I could sometimes.

You’re asleep now as I write this, tucked against my side in the vacant space my arm once occupied, drooling on my shirt. I love you so much it hurts. A black hole in my chest perpetually aching to be filled by your presence. And as we venture once more into the starry sea, our ship gliding past the imaginary wings of Noctua, I find myself recalling a theory you once told me many cycles ago about humans being made in the womb with stardust infused in their bones, linking them to the universe. You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe.

And it’s undoubtedly selfish, but all I could think of in that tender moment beyond kissing you was how I didn’t want an eternity spent together with our cosmic bodies intertwined.

I want longer.

Soon after we awoke and each consumed a slice of bush bread bought during our recent docking at Kamrea, you fiddled with the channels on the ship’s radio, hoping to hear news from your homeworld but cursing when you only heard static. Then, without an ounce of forewarning, music burst out with an almighty scream through the speakers at full volume, flooding the whole compartment with a woman’s warbling. It was the same crusted Vayok song that merc Inumon blared in my ears during my last night on the Green, every note an individual needle piercing my skull, impossible to ignore.

Reality deserted me, leaving me to sink to the depths of the abyss within my mind where all I could see was Cee’s pale, disturbed expression as she looked to me for guidance. I remembered how my tongue felt clumsy in my mouth as I tried my damnedest to negotiate our transport, thinking if I could just piece together the right sequence of words, if I could just get their lingering eyes off of her, then maybe, maybe we’d have a chance at salvation.

The memories coalesced, overlapping and blurring and mixing out of order. Each one was drenched in spilt blood.

Then your pinky wrapped around mine. The touch was soft yet firm, the action childlike in its innocence. It was such a jarring contradiction to my mind’s violent narrative, my consciousness was hurtled back into the living quarters of our ship as a result. You didn’t say anything when you saw I returned to you. Instead, you swallowed down the questions lodged in your throat and led me by our entwined fingers back to our bed.

There’s a plant back home called a dandelion, you told me with my head resting in your lap, a far better comfort than any pillow could provide me. It’s the only plant in the galaxy you can see the sun, the moon and the stars when you look at it. That’s not why it’s my favorite though.

I asked how it had won your heart’s favor if not due to its resemblance to the celestial bodies, then immediately found myself mesmerized by the smile that lit up your face as you peered down at me. My chest cavity tightened as I was filled with the profound longing to be able to suspend time, if only so I could stretch this moment to match the length of our separation, if only so I could erase the old and replace it with the beautiful new.

Dandelions grant wishes, babe. Anything you wish for with your whole heart, it will be yours to have.

I told you I wouldn’t wish for anything—nothing else in the galaxy could compare to the prettiest, wisest soul I’d ever encountered in all my years traversing it. You saw right through that lie with the same confident ease you see through all my masks and diversions, but—for the second time in the span of an hour—you held your tongue.

This journal’s as good a place as any to admit the honest truth. So here it is: I wish with the entirety of my bloody, beating heart I could be the man you deserve, little love of mine.

When you read, whether it be a book or the flight manual, you have the precious habit of mouthing the words. I don’t think you have the faintest notion you’re even doing it, which makes it all the more endearing to watch.

My brother had a similar habit, always nose deep in the yellowing pages of classic literature, except he had a proclivity to spoil the plot when he talked in his sleep. I remember there was one particular novel he returned to often, sometimes reading from beginning to end, other times seeking out specific segments he’d underlined in bold, black pen. It was a rather dreary tale about war and rivalry and the process of determining one’s own identity. I became so exasperated with my brother’s obsession I considered shredding it on more than one occasion, only to immediately hate myself for entertaining the thought.

It was only after his death—twelve whole cycles, in fact—that I summoned up the will to open the front cover. Seeing his name scribbled in the corner, cursive and neat and so utterly him, nearly had me tearing the book in half, overcome with a vicious rage I had never known prior nor have I encountered since. But by the almighty grace of Kevva I reigned it in, chaining it to the agony and fear imprisoned within the confines of my rib cage, and turned the page.

There was one segment underlined not once, but three times, nearly bleeding ink onto the page behind it. When I close my eyes, the words are tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, as haunting as they are comforting.

So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.

The author lived and died centuries before my brother’s inception, that is an inarguable fact.

But I know those words were written for him all the same.

Notes:

There is an actual theory humans are made of stardust ✨

The Sater within Prospect mention the Currents as being responsible for bringing Ezra and Cee to them, so I imagine them as similar to the Fates/Moirai in Greek mythology.

Noctua is a real life, extinct constellation that is Latin for owl. I thought within this Prospect universe it could exist as a type of landmark or coordinate. Plus I love owls 🦉

Crusted is a term from Prospect Ezra uses. Equivalent of damn. I think there’s something funny about how they use creamy as a positive adjective and crusted as negative.

Vayok is the alien language Inumon speaks within the movie, so I decided to write the song she blares as being sung in the same language

Bush bread is referenced in a deleted scene by Ezra, but a google search revealed to me it’s also a real life type of bread too

In the same deleted scene Ezra references that he has a brother. I haven’t decided his name yet/if he will have one

The book and quote Ezra refers to in #3 is John Knowles’ A Separate Peace. One of the few required reading books I liked back in high school.

The quote about dandelions being the sun, moon and stars is based on the legend of how dandelions came into existence. I always thought it was beautiful.

Series Taglist: @insomniamamma

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan, @melobee, @randomness501, @absurdthirst, @captain-jebi, @artsymaddie, @happiestsparkleofall, @disgruntledspacedad, @gallowsjoker, @aerynwrites, @vintagesaph, @sylphene, @chibi-yuki, @freeshavocadoooo, @stilllivindue2spite, @pointy-sharp, @leilei-draws, @over300books, @theocatkov, @oh-no-a-whovian, @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @lin-djarin, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @coaaster, @waywardmando, @thisshipwillsail316, @grogusmum, @asta-lily, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @tacticalsparkles

#ezra #ezra prospect #Prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ezra's journal #prospect fanfiction #ezra fanfic #my fic #my writing #pedrostories

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eyayah-oya · 4 years ago

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I never knew what I was missing

Cloneship Week Day 2 - Soulmates - @cloneshipweek

Jesse/Kix

Rating: T

Canon typical violence, major character injury (I don’t go into graphic detail of the injury, though)

Ao3 link

Since the moment Jesse was decanted, there was an ache in the back of his mind, as though he was missing something important, but could function without it. He’d heard whispers from other cadets that they felt the same. They all had to be careful to not let the Kaminoans or the Cuy’val Dar know about this strange emptiness in the back of their minds for fear of what would happen to them. Surely, this deep-seated need for something was some kind of defect the longnecks hadn’t expected.

As Jesse got older, he began to hear even quieter rumors, basically legends, that said some of the clones found something to fill that aching emptiness. According to those rumors, it wasn’t something that helped, but someone. But it wasn’t until Jesse was eight that he learned about soulmates.

The Alpha class somehow managed to get access to the holonet, and they found the information on soulmates and what it means to have one. The Alphas then passed that information down to the CCs, who passed it down to the CTs, always careful to not let any of the trainers or Kaminoans come across the information.

A soulmate is the term used for someone that they couldn’t live without, who, once they met, would complete each other in a way that no one else was able to. Soulmates could be platonic, familial, or romantic, but they were supposed to be the one a being could always rely on. There weren’t any particular abilities or tactical advantages that came from finding and connecting to your soulmate, but Jesse found he rather liked the idea of having someone that was meant for him specifically. Clones weren’t allowed much in the universe. They weren’t even allowed to have names, though most clones gave themselves one just to prove that they were people, too. But Jesse’s soulmate was his, whoever they were. And that meant everything.

Jesse first watched a brother find a soulmate just before all the battle-ready clones were sent out to Geonosis with General Yoda, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He’d stepped foot inside a gunship along with his squad and a squad of brothers he didn’t know. His batchmate was pulled across the gunship until they were standing face to face with another clone, helmets off so they could see each other. The pure joy radiating from them bolstered everyone’s spirits even higher than they already were. After all, the Jedi had finally come, and they would be able to finally fulfill their purpose.

Two hours later, he watched his batchmate get shot in the face by a Geonosian and the newly found soulmate nearly break down from grief and pain. Less than a minute later, and the other clone met his own end.

So many clones died on Geonosis. So many who had never found their soulmates. So many that had, and were now separated by death itself. And there were many who followed their soulmates quickly into death, rather than survive and live a life without the other.

Following that battle, Jesse found himself fearing that void in the back of his mind where his soulmate was supposed to be. Had they died before they’d even met? How did he know that his soulmate was gone if they’d never found each other? Was it an awful pain like he’d seen with his new squad in the 501st? Would he ever be able to find out, or would Jesse be stuck in an endless ignorance?

There were no answers. Fellow clones, vod’e, couldn’t answer him, and nat-borns had rarely had to worry about that kind of thing until the war broke out. Sure, there was probably someone, somewhere who might know the answer, but there was no way to scientifically prove anything as no one knew their soulmate until they met.

As the war progressed, Jesse did his best to ignore everything about soulmates. As soldiers, they were supposed to be the best fighters, defending the Republic against the Separatist droid armies. Worrying about his soulmate would only distract him and put everyone else in danger. He’d seen vod’e self-destruct after their batchmate or cyare were killed, and Jesse could admit that he never wanted to deal with anything like that.

It wasn’t until a difficult battle on some Outer Rim planet that was mostly marshes that he was abruptly confronted with the idea of soulmates again.

“Get down! Get down!” Jesse shouted at the group of shinies he had been put in charge of. The blast of a cannon from one of those octo-droids nearly blew the head off of a kid who was cackling madly as he shot the incoming droids with his Z6. Jesse managed to pull him behind shelter just in time, practically flattening the kid to keep him safe.

“What the kark do you think you were doing?” Jesse ground out. He pulled the shiny up enough for them to crawl away from their current position to try to find someplace a bit more defensible. He’d already lost two members of his squad in this skirmish and he didn’t want to lose any more. The shiny just scrambled after his squadmates, pausing every few feet to take out the droids that were getting too close to their position.

Christophsis was a nightmare. They’d taken the city easily enough the first time, but with the spy that had taken out their weapons depot, the Separatists were winning against both General Skywalker and General Kenobi. Too many men in both companies were dying, and from what Jesse understood, no one was answering their plea for reinforcements.

New orders came through over Jesse’s HUD, and he quickly turned to gather the eight shinies he had left. “Retreat and regroup with the main army. Keep your heads down and blasters up.”

“Yes, sir!” they chorused.

The extra shooty shiny cackled wildly. “Let’s get these clankers!” he shouted and popped up to mow down a row of clankers with his Z6, completely disregarding the blaster bolts headed his way.

Jesse tugged the shiny back down and glared extra hard at him, hoping that he would be able to feel the glare despite the bucket. “Keep your damn head down or you’re going to get it blown off. Stick with your squad and head back to the base,” Jesse ordered angrily.

With a sheepish salute, the shiny turned and followed his squadmates as they ran back to the base. Jesse covered their flanks as they ran, taking out as many B-1s and SBDs as he could as he followed a minute later. The whine of a cannon sent Jesse diving into cover. He gulped in lungfuls of air as desperately as he could while he had a second of respite until the droids would reach his position and he’d be forced to move again. At least his shinies made it back to base safely.

The giant crystal Jesse hid behind glowed a brilliant blue-green and he had only a second to think “Oh shit,” before the world around him exploded.

He lost time, though he wasn’t sure how much. There was a sharp pain in his chest that hurt with every breath he took, but especially when he coughed. Something metallic lingered in his mouth, making him gag from the awful flavor, but there was nowhere to spit it out. Protocol had been drilled into his head from the time he was decanted: Never remove your helmet in an active battle. The last thing he wanted was to have nasty tasting spit inside his bucket.

Blaster bolts flashed overhead, blue and red striking against the green crystal the city was built of. It was strangely beautiful, the danger adding to the beauty in a way that Jesse couldn’t describe. Soothing. Reality warped a little, and Jesse began to drift. Drift far away, following his brothers who had marched on.

Something deep in the back of his mind snapped into place, filling the empty space that had always existed. Jesse jolted as if he had been shocked, and let out an awful sob at the pain coursing through his chest. His immediate instinct was to curl in away from the pain, but something was holding him down, keeping him from moving. Somehow, that was more terrifying than anything else he had experienced since he’d first been deployed to Geonosis.

“Stop moving! I need a stretcher, stat! Massive bleeding from the chest cavity, but I have a pulse and I plan to make sure he has a pulse by the end of the day.”

Jesse relaxed as he recognized a brother’s voice. A helmet appeared in his visual range as something pressed against his chest. A scream wrenched from the depths of his chest in response, heaving sobs making the pain worse with every breath and every slight shift in movement. It was worse than anything else he had ever experienced in his life.

And yet . . .

The hole in his mind had been filled. Jesse, sometime between long moments lost to agony, realized that meant he had met his soulmate. It took long minutes later, when the medic managed to get him onto a makeshift stretcher for transport back to the base, that he realized the medic was his soulmate. His other half. The one that was supposed to complete him in every way.

A feeling pulsed from the area that Jesse knew his soulmate now occupied, though it was barely noticeable with all the pain signals firing in his brain. It was a warm, soothing feeling, almost like a hug, or praise from the Captain or the Commander. Warm like the rare sunny day on Kamino and warm like the jungle sims they trained on. Warm like batchmates piling together in the same tube for comfort. It was as comforting as a hug from his batchmates, though all of them had been killed on Geonosis. In the middle of treating his life-threatening wounds, his soulmate was making sure Jesse felt safe and cared for. Whoever this medic was, Jesse thought that maybe, just maybe, he could fall in love with them.

Well, at least I know I’m in good hands, Jesse thought deliriously. The medic would do everything he could to make sure Jesse lived to see the end of the day.

Every step of the way back to base jolted his injury further, and distantly, Jesse wondered what, exactly, had put him in this condition. Blaster wounds didn’t usually bleed since they instantly cauterized the wound. Maybe shrapnel? Definitely something sharp and definitely something poking his lungs. Jesse did not recommend lungs being poked. Universe, kindly kark off and never let something like that happen to him again, please and thank you.

“Move! Out of the way, soldier!” the medic snapped and Jesse could hear a mad scramble as whichever brothers were in his way scampered off to the side.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Jesse recognized the voice of his shooty shiny, though how he managed to do that while delirious with pain escaped him. Maybe it was the number of times the shiny seemed to put himself in danger during the last few days.

“I will do everything I can to make sure he is,” the medic responded, very carefully not promising anything. Good vod. It’s a bad idea to give false hope, just as it’s a bad idea to promise something he wouldn’t have much control over. Jesse would die when his time was up, and until then, he would fight to stay alive every second.

-------

“You’re lucky you survived,” the medic said later, after the battle was saved and both the Resolute and the Negotiator were headed to their next mission. Jesse didn’t know the details, and he didn’t care to, either. What he did care about was the fact that his soulmate was sitting beside his bed and had saved his life and Jesse still didn’t know his name.

“I had a good medic,” Jesse quipped. He groaned as he began to test the mobility of his extremities. Chest wounds were awful, and he desperately hoped he would never have to live through one again.

“It was a close thing. You had to be put in a bacta tank for two days before you were healed enough to be put in a bed. A few more minutes out there and you would have bled out.”

From what Jesse remembered, that made sense. “What impaled me?” he decided to ask.

The medic grabbed something from the tray beside his bed. A green crystal shard from Christophsis the size of his thumb lay innocently on the medic’s palm. It glinted innocently in the harsh lights of the medbay, ethereal and stunning. And yet, that thing had nearly killed him on the battlefield of Christophsis.

“Guess the most beautiful things really are the most dangerous,” Jesse said.

The medic snorted and turned to fill out some forms on his datapad. Jesse shamelessly used this opportunity to study his soulmate. The vod had intricate designs cut into his hair, which was cut down to a buzz. He had sharper cheekbones and a thinner face than most other clones, though for any nat-born the difference wouldn’t be noticeable. There was also a tattoo on the side of his head that read “The only good droid is a dead one.” Jesse agreed completely. Mostly. The mousedroids and the General’s R2 unit weren’t bad. Any Seppie droid though? Yeah, they were only good when they were reduced to scrap. The medic’s hands were slimmer than Jesse’s, the way most medics’ hands were. It was easier to treat delicate injuries if you didn’t have to worry about thick fingers getting in the way. Some brothers called medics delicate, but Jesse had never thought that way. Medics were stronger than the average clone, simply because they had to pick up and haul brothers far from the battle while they were in their armor. Plus, they had to deal with the deaths of thousands of brothers without breaking themselves. Medics were the strongest vod’e.

“Have you finished your staring?”

Jesse smirked. “Nope. But I would like your name.”

The medic answered with a sharp grin. He leaned forward, his elbow on Jesse’s bed and his chin propped up on his fist. “What makes you think you should have it?”

“I’d like to know who my savior is,” Jesse answered. He felt a flicker of amusement coming from the space in his mind where the medic had taken root. “You and I are gonna be close, I can tell.”

“Those lines don’t work on me,” the medic said, his smile still razor-sharp. “I only give my name to a di’kutla runi that doesn’t end up in my medbay bleeding from their chest.”

Jesse’s heart fluttered in his chest, broadcasted to the whole medbay by the karking machine monitoring his vitals. The medic had called him “runi”. Soul. The Alphas had overheard that word from some of the trainers on Kamino when they talked about families left behind or marching ahead. The medic really was his soulmate.

Said medic was a karking bastard though and should definitely stop smirking like that every time Jesse’s heart literally skipped a beat. That smirk was doing dangerous things to his mind, and he hated that he was stuck in a bed in the medbay for the foreseeable future. At least he’d be able to talk to his soulmate and get to know him. If said soulmate would karking cooperate.

“Kix,” the medic said after a few minutes of Jesse trying to tamp down his blush and get his wayward heart to stop betraying him.

“Huh?” Jesse said intelligently.

“My name. Kix. With an x.”

Kix. Jesse rolled the name around in his head for a few seconds before he decided that the name suited his soulmate. “I’m Jesse. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too.” The smirk shifted into a softer smile. One that reminded Jesse of the warmth he had felt when their connection had snapped into place and Kix tried to comfort him while treating his shrapnel wound. The warmth that delirious Jesse had decided he could easily fall in love with.

With a clap of his hands, Kix turned away from Jesse’s bed, who immediately ached to reach out and keep. He didn’t want to be alone and he certainly didn’t want his soulmate to leave.

“Now that you’re awake, I have a pack of shinies that I am officially making your problem.” Kix opened the medbay doors and waved to someone down the hall. He turned and flashed that same dangerous smile. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

Jesse decided that he would deal with a hundred shooty shinies if it meant he could hear Kix’s laugh again when the reckless one (who promptly declared that his name was Hardcase, given to him by Captain Rex himself) started talking a minute at Jesse without getting a single breath between sentences.

It would definitely be worth it. After all, the Mandalorian wedding vows (stolen off the holonet in a Mando’a learning module) mention raising warriors together. Who better than the shinies of the 501st?

#clone/clone #jessix #jesse/kix #clone trooper kix #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper hardcase #look a wild hardcase appeared #haha how did he get there #soulmate au #cloneshipweek2021 #day 2 | soulmates #cloneshipping

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tsuki-xoxo · 4 years ago

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Could you make a headcannon of shouto, bakugou and deku do dealing with their stubborn fem s/o who doesn't want to go to the dentist even though they need to because their tooth is hurting or just needs a dental check up but rather not. (like raven had to go see a dentist in teen titans go! because she had a cracked tooth)

Check-Up!

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x Reader, Bakugo Katsuki x Reader, Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Thank you for sending this request anon! I had so much fun making this for you! I changed a couple of things in your request for the boys because I didn’t want it to be too repetitive AND I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF ADDING FLUFF. I hope you enjoy my love :)

“I don’t see why it’s such a problem for me to pay instead,” Todoroki simply replies.

“Babe, it’s not a problem per se. It’s just--” you paused, “-- you don’t have to. Besides, it’s your dad’s money, not yours.”

You have a dentist appointment in about two hours for a wire replacement for your braces, but (un)surprisingly, your insurance somehow wouldn’t cover it this time for some reason: absolute bull (fuck capitalism). So, now you’re left to pay outta pocket for some string of metal across your teeth.

“Yes, it’s my dad’s card, what about it?”

“Wha--?” Your eyes locked onto his as you stared incredulously only for your bi hair-colored boyfriend to stare blankly back at you.

You couldn’t really say you were surprised at his insistence on using Endeavor’s cash. You appreciate the sentiment, really, but you always feel bad when people help you. You can’t help but feel like you’re some sort of nuisance-- it’s the trauma luv ✨

You couldn’t stop the wide smile from spreading at Todoroki’s cute and unfazed expression. Reaching out to cup his face in your hand, you quickly pressed your lips against his.

Todoroki’s heterochromatic eyes widened in surprise. “Oh--” he breathed, a faint blush on his cheeks. He was taken aback by the sudden kiss, but you caught the disappointment at how short it was from the furrow of his brow.

“Thank you.” Your face was mere centimeters from his, and every word you said brought a teasing brush from your lips against his. “But, I got it.”

Just kidding, cutie!

When you exited the dentist’s room with newly placed wires, your jaw dropped. You noticed Todoroki at the cash register with a shiny black credit card between his fingers.

“Shoto wait!”

Too late :) he was already placing the card back in his wallet. “I paid,” he announced.

You blinked, grabbing his hand and pulling him outside. “You didn’t have to--”

“--I wanted to. If we were to switch places, I know you would’ve done the same.”

Yup, it’s time to pass away. You could’ve sworn your knees buckled on the spot, melting at how sweet he is. No wonder you surprised him with another chaste kiss.

Todoroki shook his head, traces of a smile lighting up his face.

“(Y/N) I swear to fucking god, just schedule a damn appointment!”

You pout, arms crossing over your chest. “No, I don’t need to! The pain will go away by itself.”

Bakugo growled as his sharp crimson orbs narrowed. Your boyfriend is incredibly observant, so when he noticed you eating on the opposite side of where you usually chew, he knew something was wrong in an instant. He was this close to pulling his hair out for you to finally admit your molars ache every time you eat.

“Well if you don’t get them checked, they could get worse, Baka.” With the way he was glaring at you, you would have thought that you were being cursed with evil eye. Lucky for you, though, you’re safe. He is concerned about you, after all.

“I’m not going! What are you going to do, force me?” You snort, rolling your eyes.

Not only are you a brat, but you must be stupid as hell for thinking that that’s not exactly what he was going to do. You may be stubborn, but so is he, times 100.

Shooting up from his seat, his firm hands wrap around you as he abruptly makes his way to the car. Yelling out for his mom (old-hag) to drive you guys to the dentist. And of course, Mitsuki did, her blood-red eyes ogling at the two of you as she squeals how cute you two are the whole time you two are fighting one another in the back seat.

“KATSUKI LET ME GO!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

You two really know how to make a scene. You both quit literally slam into the receptionist’s room, your boyfriend’s voice, thankfully, several octaves louder than yours, demanding for you to be checked immediately.

And you were. They found out that your tooth had a slight crack, which was fixed with a simple filling. Already you could feel the discomfort lightening. When you exited the room, you found your angry pomeranian leaning against the wall, a pout fixed over his lips, and his brows twitching from the sight of you.

Smiling, you give him a big hug before pressing a firm kiss on his lush lips, arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you, baby.”

“Get off me,” he huffed but made no move to pull you off of him. Instead, enveloping you in his arms, his cheeks warming up at the sudden affection. “Next time, listen to me, dumbass.”

Midoriya is a certified baby™️. So when you adamantly deny going to a simple dentist check-up, poor boy short-circuits.

He knew you were stubborn, but damn you’re not going to go to a simple fucking check-up?

So when the two of you are studying for an English exam, you catch him staring intently, biting his fingernails.

“Izuku?” you ask, worriedly fanning your hand across his face to catch his attention.

“(Y-Y/N), can you please go to your check-up?” His entire body turns fifty shades redder as you tilt your head to the side and confusedly blink at him. You didn’t understand why he was panicking over such a simple question like that, but baby boy was internally struggling if he should ask because he didn’t want you to think that he was disrespectful.

“What if you have a cavity?!” Midoriya retorts, running a hand through his disheveled curls. “Now, I’m not saying you do have one, but if you do and it’s left untreated your teeth could rot and--”

You silence him by pecking his lips.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I go to my appointment?”

He nods, emerald eyes wide.

“Ok,” you sighed, “I’ll go.”

When you meet up with Deku after your check-up, you announce to him that everything looks good. No cavities, gums are good, but you do leave out the bit where the dentists’ repeatedly urged you to start flossing like they always do.

You note how he visibly relaxes, and you have the sudden urge to envelope him in your arms, so you do. You duck your head in the space between his head and neck. “I’m sorry for making you so worried. I’ll go to all my appointments from now on if that’ll make you comfortable.”

When you lift your head to meet his eyes, you’re met with such a dazed and adorable expression from Midoriya. You couldn’t help but cup his face and lay a lasting kiss.

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nabsthevulture · 5 years ago

Text

Bone Cleaning Aftercare "Oh no, my skull stinks!"

One of bone cleanings biggest annoyances is nasty smells being left in skulls and bones. It’s not an unfixable thing, but it can definitely be distressing and irritating. There are a few different approaches you can take to remedy this problem, and we’ll cover a few here.

First, go down a little list to figure out what could be causing the smell you’re dealing with.

1. Is the skull fully clean?

-If not, then this is why your skull stinks. Any leftover rotting flesh or viscera will be not only a source of smell, but it can attract bugs, bacteria, and even start growing mold. Toss that critter back into maceration and let the rest rot off, unless you’re willing to pick it all off by hand. (No shame! I’ve done that plenty of times)

2. Does the skull need degreasing?

-A greasy skull can definitely be a stinky skull. Make sure you thoroughly degrease your skull, and the smell should go away.

3. Is the skull waxy?

-That's grave wax, baby! Adipocere doesn’t usually smell, but sometimes it can really pack a nasal punch. You can remove it by scraping it off with a toothpick, an X-Acto blade, whatever you’ve got around. Even better is an old toothbrush; Brush away dry or under running water, it’ll come off relatively easy. Go ahead and use some dish soap as well, that’ll help give the skull a better smell.

4. Where is the smell coming from?

-This is probably the first question you ask yourself; Why does my skull stink? And Where is the stink coming from? Built up smell likes to linger in spots where the bone is dense, or where there’s a lot of small places for tissue to hide. The brain cavity can smell a lot like cat piss, in my personal experience. Brain likes to get really nasty while it rots. That’s one of the toughest smells I’ve had to get out of a skull, it’s just such a lingering scent. Smell coming from the nasal cavity could very well mean that there’s still tissue shoved up in there that needs to be fished out or rotted away. Locating the source will ultimately help you figure out what you’ve gotta do to remedy it.

5. Any weird discoloration?

-While not every bit of discoloration will smell, if you’re having a hard time finding the source of a smell, sniff the discolored spots. They would be stains from tissue or bacteria that occurred during the cleaning process, or could be hidden pockets of grease.

6. Is the skull fully dry?

-Sometimes it can be hard to tell if a skull is all the way dry. The surface may be, but depending on how dense the skull is, water could take longer to dry out. If its degrease water, peroxide, or maceration water, it can smell. They may be cleaning process, but they can really smell bad. I personally have a degrease bucket that I haven’t messed with in a few weeks, affectionately nicknamed “Fart Bucket” because it smells horrible.

Now that that’s out of the way, let's get to the options you’ve got. There’s a few different things you can do, varying in involvement, chemicals, cleaning agents, and time.

Peroxide

A good starting place would be to give the skull a soak in warm water and peroxide. It can knock loose random dirt, and will begin to oxidize and puff up any remaining tissue. That’ll make it easier to spot and pick off if that’s what you feel inclined to do. You can leave the skull to soak for as little or as long as you want, though of course peroxide will begin to whiten the bone. If that’s not the desired effect, limit the soak to around 15-20 minutes. Give the skull a good thorough rinse afterwards to flush out anything that was knocked loose or that you decided to remove, and let it dry. If there’s persisting smell after that, move on to a different method! Peroxide will help with the little smells, but a bigger smell will need a stronger approach.

Heavy Duty Scrubbin’

Grab a bucket, some hot water, a scrubbing brush (Hard bristled toothbrushes are amazing for this) and your favorite smelling, strong dish soap. Lather up your skull and get to scrubbing! Don’t be shy with the soap, make sure you’re thorough. Scrub inside the nasal cavity (Carefully, if the turbinates are still in there), inside the brain cavity, around the sockets of the teeth, etc.. Rinse the skull off every once in a while and start again. It’s tedious for sure, but the results are what you’re after.

The lower jaw will be an interesting clean job. The hole that runs through the mandible (Mandibular Foramen) can contain a lot of excess grease, build up, or left over meat. If you have em’, grab a couple of pipe cleaners and run them through that hole. Pour some soap into the hole, and keep flossing the pipe cleaner through.It’ll break the excess loose and clear it out on the way through. Make sure you have a few on hand, they’re likely to get really gross really fast.

Let your skull dry and give it a sniff. Still stinks a little? Try again! There’s no harm in scrubbing; Do it until you reach your desired result, or try something new. Either way, no harm done.

Soaks

If you want a less involved method, you’ll probably want to try soaking skulls in a couple of different mixtures. I excluded peroxide and made it its own category because of the chemicals bone whitening ability. It’s not a prolonged soak kind of thing, but these are! These soaks will also act as degreasing baths, given what you use.

Ammonia Soak

-Get yourself some lemon scented ammonia from the dollar store or wherever you may find it. (It doesn't have to be lemon scented, but citrus is an odor killer). Fill up a bucket with enough hot water to cover most of the skull, and then fill up the rest(about an inch or so over the skull) with the ammonia. Ammonia on its own isn’t a necessarily pleasant smell, but it’ll be diluted by the water and won’t ultimately smell like ammonia once dried. You can let this soak for however long you please, but if you’re in a hurry just wait until the water is cold and pull it out. Let it dry, and check it out. The longer you let it sit, the more likely the smell will dissipate. If you have one, a tank heater will keep the water warm and help the ammonia work it’s way through the bone and pull any residual grease out; Grease very well could be the source of the smell.

Acetone Soak

-You’re gonna do pretty much the same thing with this soak as you do with the ammonia, the biggest difference is that you’re only going to use a few ounces of acetone. It’s a strong chemical that works just fine in small quantities. Make sure the water covers the skull completely and then some, and then pour in around half a bottle of acetone (Standard bottle of nail polish remover) depending on the size of your container. Let it soak until its cold, or keep it in until you feel like taking it out. Acetone has a strong smell to it, and is also an agent used for degreasing. You’ll be looking at a two for one like with ammonia. If the smell persists, give it some more time.

Dish Soap Soak

-Like the last two; Bucket and hot water, fill up above the skull, and then squeeze in some dish soap. Whatever smell you like, use that. Stir the solution up so it’s nicely mixed, and let it soak until its cold or longer if you wish. Let the skull dry, give it a sniff. The longer it hangs out in the soak, the more likely the smell will go.

With soaks, you’re going to want to check the solution if you leave it sit for a long period of time. If it begins to smell nasty or get cloudy but you aren’t ready to pull it out yet, go ahead and restart your soak solution. The only thing worse than the smell leftover from bone cleaning processes, is the mixture between that smell and dirty degrease/soaking solutions. It’s like getting punched in both nostrils simultaneously.

Obvious but mediocre solutions

(These are things my taxidermist friend has told me about clients doing in the past, and some are from personal experience. Some are good, some are just...not.)

-Spray em down with air freshener! It’ll help for a very short while before it wears off and goes back to smelling.

-Stick some dryer sheets in the back of the skull, why not

-Rub em down in coffee grounds (This can stain the bone)

-Stick em in a bag of coffee beans (This could also stain the bone)

-Sprinkle them with cinnamon (I have had this stain bone and it’s also like you’re just asking to get cinnamon in your nose)

-Soak them in rose petal water (Can’t speak to this method)

-Set it out in the sun for a few days, let the heat leech out the smell (This can bleach the bone if you leave it too long.)

Realistically, you can do whatever you need to do to get the job done. Just make sure you aren’t using agents that will damage the bones (or yourself) and you’re good to go! Keep in mind that bones that are already brittle, such as nature cleaned, sun bleached, boiled, or bleached skulls can be damaged by some of these processes. If they are brittle to the touch, flaky, easily scratch-able (As in you can put a scratch/groove in the bone very easily), or seem all around unstable, use your best judgement to decide whether or not you should clean them at all. Sometimes weird smelling skulls just need to be put in a display case or somewhere out of smelling distance and left alone.

These methods are applicable to all bones, not just skulls! But as i said above, use your best judgement to determine if the bone will hold up to any of these processes.

Hopefully this is helpful in some way to anyone looking for some help with stinky bones. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out!

#vulture culture #bone cleaning #animal processing #taxidermy #animal skulls #animal bones #karrion kreations #op #q

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ranmanjuu · 4 years ago

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Hii~! Can I request hc, warlods reaction to MC who love sweets badly? I mean, she really really REEALLLYY LOVE SWEETS! Could you do for Uesugi-Takeda forces? Thank you~ 💕💕 I hope u have a nice day (*´ω`*)

thank you, i hope you have a wonderful day as well!

shoutout to the u-t forces for having generally like 3 less members than the oda, makes life easier :heart:

‎‎

—shingen:

the thing that he could’ve noticed about you first time you met, looking back, was that your love of sweets were obvious from the way you came out of the teahouse with a very satisfied expression. oh, and that you were carrying a bag of candies (which would spill when you bumped into him).

but ever since he’s taken you hostage, you’ve retracted yourself from revealing much about you. understandably so.

still, shingen is very methodical in his prodding at your heart, easing it up and eventually letting some things spill overtime. and one of those methods, of course, is to bring you down to kasugayama’s festive town.

he’s brought up the alternative of, you lose the game if you smile at him, but your stubborn ass said no. now you’re forced to suffer as you bite your lip and not smile as the beauty of kasugayama seeps in.

and shingen watches with delight; not at your indirect suffering, but more of the beauty of how you manage to be so magnificent without smiling.

because, it’s the way your eyes are filled with stars, it might as well be a galaxy’s worth. because, it’s the way your legs seem to float seamlessly from stall to stall, like an innocent child. because, it’s how your hand reaches out to his wrist and lightly tug on it; and it somehow makes him feel as light as feather for you to pull him along.

yet, each time, you retract.

he sees the way you try to restrain yourself from expressing too much when you order practically every single dessert on the menu. he sees how you cover up your face as you scarf down the plates of sweets.

after that, he’s noted to buy some candy or anything to give you.

(and by that he spoils you absolutely ROTTEN you’re lucky you haven’t had a cavity by now)

(^ also serves as an excuse sometimes with yukimura. not that he lets him off much)

you yourself quickly learn about his own liking for sweets, and now you have this sort of alliance to avoid the scolding of yuki. such entails sneaking snacks to each other all the time.

‎

—yukimura:

he’s noticed a pattern, early on, when about 80% of the time you drag him out of his booth, it’s to a teahouse. hell, he even recommends some during your early days in azuchi.

it’s when it becomes so frequent that he starts to scold you and try (mostly end up failing) to minimize your sweets consumption.

in his defense, he thought you were trying stuff out! he says to himself as you order every single item off the list.

again, it doesn’t take long until he sighs and starts pulling you away, slightly berating you on eating that much desserts in the span of a week. his lord is shingen; he’d know how to deal with you.

it’s weird, in a sense. he’s taken the role of an awkward yet caring caretaker when it comes to watching your eating habits. it’s gone from just reminding you each time you drop by his booth (to which you respond with a lighthearted roll of the eyes), to sometimes trailing you once you got closer just so you can’t sneak off on his watch.

and of course, trademark to your bond, it didn’t take long for you two to start bickering about which dessert is better. mugwort mochi vs. chestnut dumpling but on a bigger scale; since you both rarely have the same rankings of the sweets on the list.

you’ve tried the puppy eyes strat a couple of times. in your victory, you did manage to make him sputter and look away, all flustered and caught off guard, but you didn’t get your candy at the end of it :pensive:

strangely enough, at first he could get through and answer you clearly, even if it’s very grumbly. but now, he’s devolved to simply muttering under his breath incoherently as his hand covers his burning cheeks. weird, that hasn’t happened before, you think.

of course, there are some times when he allows you to splurge, such as in festivals and all. it’s too much, the way you look at the special food everywhere with stars in your eyes and drool almost dripping.

(and he himself will admit, he’d be a partypooper if he completely denied you of that enjoyment. if he’s enjoying how absolutely happy and cute you are no he is not what are you talking about)

‎

—kenshin:

you were taught from a young age to always thank someone, whether it’d be simply words, or even an item to show your gratefulness.

however, you don’t,,, exactly know what to do when someone saves your life.

extreme whiplash and shock, you can say. it isn’t just someone helping you with your task, or retrieving something you forgot in your classroom; no, you could’ve been dead if no one intervened.

currently, you’re in the stage of trying to process all that happened and just sitting there, dumbfounded, but you knew you had to do something before the man who saved you walked out the building.

without any time to think twice about it, you grabbed your plate and ran.

you barely manage to catch up to him, and only because you caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, turning to a dark alley.

“hey!” you shout, loud enough to attract attention from others, but apparently not the man himself. you could feel the cold energy radiating from his back the more you approach, yet you can’t back down.

you shout to gain his attention again, and you do. the moment the blonde turns around, his sharp eyes laying on you, it was like cold metal pressed against your body.

but you’ve gone too far, and if you just sputtered and went back, it’d be more embarrasing. you thrust your tray of varying sweets sprawled on it to him, “th-thanks for saving my life back there!”

.. and all you can pick up from his reaction is eyebrows knitted in a certain sense that you’re bugging him, but also slight confusion. “i don’t want your thanks,” he says, “and i don’t need your desserts.”

“i don’t care,” you huff in response, “just take it; i’d feel indebted to you if i didn’t do anything.”

yet as you say that, kenshin can see himself the way your hands slightly tremble, as if there’s a difference in what your mind wants with what your body wants, as you give him your tray, and the way your brows pull down a bit, and most importantly, the way your eyes waver.

because in truth. . .you’d die before you give anyone the sweets you want to eat for yourself, but he saved your life!

kenshin doesn’t want to be bothered anymore, and you’re much too stubborn, so he just accepts it with a deep frown.

but soon once he meets you again in sasuke’s presence, and finds your company in a teahouse,,, weirdly pleasant. even if it was just drinking sessions.

though your tastes lean heavily to the sweet sake, he also finds the fact that you have opinions on how different some sake tastes in the slightest sensations, and while he feels that he’d be annoyed if another person did it. . .something felt nice about you rambling and ranking sakes and general desserts in azuchi.

skip to the relationship, mf would spoil you, going back to even when you were held captive. each day then, he’d bring you sweets, every time different and from different teahouses. it’s when sasuke managed to convince him that he’ll kill you by sugar overdose (despite how much you like it).

and now he still; the most frequent places you go out on a date to is, you guessed it, a tea house. or maybe he brought some desserts to just sit on the porch and watch the blazing sun set.

‎

—sasuke:

man has a sharp sense of observation for people to achieve ultimate Socializing, to compensate for his lack of ability to express himself. such is the case when he sees you gasp excitedly and then promptly apologies and (try to) shut up when you pass a dessert booth when he shows you around azuchi.

and he decides to test out this theory, also in an effort to make you more comfortable and relaxed in the sengoku period.

so he does; always leaving you a pack of candies and the like each time he sneaked into the castle, or sometimes when you go down to yukimura’s booth.

soon, he’d be proven right. you always thank him profusely, snatching away the treats so excitedly, like a child. your eyes always shine so brightly, overflowing with happiness as you munch away, sparing no patience nor impulse control in eating every one.

(which would lead to the disappointment that appears on your face as you realize that you’d eaten everything, and that nothing else)

before, he always just,,, bought the desserts at a teahouse. but lately, although you don’t know it most of the time, he begins asking the owner how the do it, the steps of making a certain dish. his charisma sure goes a long way, despite how his face remains stoic and serious.

yukimura is often the witness for this, and he’s always confused each time. sasuke never really showed an interest in cooking or anything, as far as he knows. . .

unfortunately, it isn’t him that ends up finding the reason. it’s you, instead.

once he manages to worm himself inside the azuchi castle to see you, and gaining the trust of certain prominent warlords (mostly hideyoshi), he eventually got permission to enter the kitchen.

again, you didn’t even know where he went. all you heard was from the passing maids that told you they saw him heading in there.

which. . .piqued your interest, but each time you wanted to check, you always had other things you had to do.

but soon, you’d find out what the ninja was up to.

one day, while you were sewing in your room, your nose immediately sniffed out the sweet smell of. . .something familiar.

you perked up in excitement and a bit of confusion. the shadow on the other side of the paper door gave you more hope.

and it slid open, revealing a sasuke with a tray in his hand, and a strange soft gaze in his eyes, “i knew you’d’ve recognized the smell, you truly like these, don’t you?”

his hand sets down the tray gently, and the warm waft of sweet and rich scent floods in your nose. and quickly, you recognize what’s on the tray in the first place.

desserts, but not just any ol’ one. treats and candies made from your home place. a silent gaso broke from you, as you marveled in the dish that you didn’t think you’d see this soon.

“some ingredients had to be improv’d from the lack of variety in those, but,” you look up, and you see that his lips pull into the tiniest bit of a proud smile, “i thought that it’d make you feel a bit like home.”

you sat there, mouth parted slightly and eyes widened, filled with disbelief. chuckles broke through, and you jumped at him, enveloping him in a big hug, “thank you so much, sasuke!!”

you don’t see it, while you’re too busy laughing and wrapping your arms around him tightly. but his expression softens in a way never before, a small dust of pink lighting his cheeks as he breaths out a chuckle and pats your back, “anytime.”

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #cyikemen #ikemen sengoku hc #uesugi-takeda forces #*writing #*requests #sighs FINALLY i finished one #have like. one more to do before i take a break or open it again #woooooot

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and-justice-for-zoisite · 5 years ago

Text

𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 (𝔻𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕕 𝟠 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

Character: 𝔻𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕕 𝟠 Movie: ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕦𝕤 Song Prompt: 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 - ℂ𝕪𝕟𝕕𝕚 𝕃𝕒𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣

Prompt:

"𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝐼'�� 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊."

I highly recommend that you listen to the song when you and David start dancing :) enjoy!

~~~~~~~

“What on earth is that?” Asked the bewildered android, watching as the human girl pulled an odd looking device out of a seemingly hidden compartment under her bed. “It’s a record player, dummy. These things go way back, like 1950′s.” The girl replied with a short giggled, blowing the dust off of the ancient device as an attempt to make it less filthy.

Two of the crew members aboard Prometheus, David the Android and Dr (Y/n) (L/n), had become bored and annoyed with Meredith’s constant orders and the shenanigans of the other crew members, and wanted to find something to do. And of course, what instantly popped into (Y/n)’s mind was the record player she had brought onto the ship, even though she was told to leave it behind by Meredith. She couldn’t bare part with it, it was her most prized possession, and she was bringing it no matter what. Although David was a very intelligent android, he wasn’t familiar with the item. He’d never seen one in real life, and wasn’t exactly clear on it’s main purpose.

That, however, was what he was about to find out.

“C’mon, I don’t think anyone is in the main room, we can go there,” (Y/n) suggested, the blonde cocking his brow slightly in confusion. “What’s wrong with your room?” He asked. “There’s not enough space,” She explained, only confusing him further as he tilted his head slightly. “But the record player is so small. There’s plenty of space,” (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle at his oblivious statements, carefully lodging the device under her arm before she locked her hand onto David’s wrist. “Just come on, you’ll see what I’m talking about in a minute,” She urged.

David simply followed quietly behind her, and she couldn’t help but giggle once more when she thought about him. It was no secret that she had perhaps the biggest crush on David ever, but when the others found out, they didn’t like it in the slightest. (Y/n) understood why, it was because David’s an android, she’d only be wasting her time considering he can’t feel. But sometimes, she truly did wonder about him. He seemed more human than any of the other crew members, and she latched onto that. Now there wasn’t a second she wasn’t with him, even if it meant she was frowned upon by her fellow crew members.

Within less than a minute, they arrived to the main room where the pool table was. That was where (Y/n) had placed her record player, and what David hadn’t noticed was that she had three records with her.

“Alrighty David, what do you think? Cyndi Lauper, David Bowie or Ben E. King?” He wasn’t familiar with any of the artists, but the situation was beginning to make more sense to him. “Dealer’s choice,” He replied, (Y/n) smiling a little as she went to her favorite of the three, Cyndi Lauper, and took the record out of it’s case before setting up the record player.

Once it had been set up, a soft slow dance song began filling the air. Time after time, (Y/n)’s favorite of the entire artist. She took a deep breath before turning to David and rushing slightly over to him so she wouldn’t miss any of the song to dance with, taking his hands into hers gently.

“Do you know how to dance?” She asked. “I...It’s not in my programming, no,” He responded, slightly sheepish. “Well, I’ll teach you real quick, it’s super easy...” (Y/n) pulled David in closer and placed his hands on her waist. Her lovely waist, as David would describe it. And as she did, he felt his synthetic gut twist and fill with butterflies.

(Y/n) was the only human who had ever treated David with respect. Like a person rather than a dog. And for that, he was filled with the motive to protect her, stay by her side and do whatever she asks of him, treat her like a goddess. She was perfect to him, and he thought it was such a shame that something so beautiful had an expiration date. But after all, beauty doesn’t last forever.

“...Just hold my waist, and let the music do it’s magic...” She almost whispered, placing her hand upon David’s shoulders, “...focus on me.”

Since he had never danced before, (Y/n) started them off by swaying gently to the music, to the voice of Cyndi Lauper. David stayed focused on her while he moved as she did, trying his best to start getting the hang of it. But what he hadn’t noticed was that he was more focused on the way they moved, rather than who he moved with, and that was what was making this so difficult for him. (Y/n) noticed this by the way he stiffened up every time he hadn’t moved accordingly to her. So, she moved in closer, so that their bodies were almost against each other’s. Her small hand reached up slowly, and ever so gently did she brush his hair to the side. And in that very moment, David became lost in her beautiful, glossy (e/c) eyes, slowly snaking his arms around her waist and pressing their bodies even closer together. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, and they swayed with fluidity and somehow even perfection. They had slipped into their very own universe, built only for the two of them and the song to live in. They didn’t have to hear from anyone else on the ship, they didn’t have to deal with any issues or arguments, they only had to be in each other’s arms and move as the music told them. It was pure bliss, and David felt like the luckiest man in the world, seeing as (Y/n) was the woman he had in his arms.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but notice that David had started taking control, which was surprising considering he was struggling only a moment ago. But it was never an unwelcome presence.

“...I though you said you didn’t know how to dance...you’re practically taking me off my feet...” She whispered, the android smiling sweetly as he replied. “Well it just so happens that I have the best dance teacher in the world,”

(Y/n) smiled sheepishly at the comment, her eyes flickering from his collar bone and back up to the icy grey-blue eyes of his. They were so captivating, as was he for that matter. David couldn’t control the artificial emotions that were swelling in his chest cavity. She was so perfect, it wasn’t fair that she was mortal. He wanted to have her forever, but he knew that’d never be possible. He knew he needed to savor every second of life she had. And that was indeed what he planned on doing.

“...(Y/n)...do you remember...the kiss we shared in the laboratory?”

At the question, the human felt her face flush red as the memories lost to her in that moment flooded back. But the second they did, she couldn’t help a sweet smile.

“How could I forget? We were working with Dr Shaw on god knows what project, and you had me so distracted that I ended up cutting my finger open with a bloody scalpel. Then, you took me to the bathroom and fixed me up. And...then it happened, out of absolutely no where,”

(Y/n) thought back to the kiss. She remembered the way David pinned her to the wall and gently pressed his lips to hers. It was a passionate and love filled kiss, and that was when it became obvious to her that David didn’t think like other androids. He was different.

Slowly, David raised one of his hands from (Y/n)’s waist, and eventually it found it’s way to her jawline. His fingers traced it, and they ended up pinching her chin ever so gently. He stared at her intensely, so aware of where he was, what he was doing. Who he was with.The fog of his mind cleared, and sentence fell from his lips.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

(Y/n) almost gasped, but all she managed was a wide eyed stare with her mouth slightly ajar. She nearly thought she was dreaming, but it all became beyond real when David moved in closer. And as he did, so did she. Her hand found the nape of his neck, and he held her back steady and dipped her backward ever so slightly. They paused for a moment, and listened.

“If you're lost you can look and you will find me, Time after time.”

The feeling of each other’s breath against one another’s lips was comforting, but not enough. So, without another thought, they closed the gap between them.

This kiss was different to the one they shared in the laboratory. The first one was passionate, and happened in the heat of the moment. This one said,

“I want you to stay with me forever.”

A/N: Hope this wasn’t too cringey, I’ve just been hecking bored in self isolation and I’ve been watching Alien again so uh, take this. Also just so you know I literally wrote this at midnight and I’m too lazy to proof read so have this imperfect imagine of our favorite synthetic boy!

#david 8 x reader #david 8 #prometheus #alien #alien covenant #prometheus x reader #david x reader #android #android x reader #slow dance #fluff #david 8 fluff #david 8 imagine

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 9

"Take Me Instead"

Ao3

Warnings: canon typical violence, major injury

-o-o-o-o-

"Well, look what the bat dragged in."

Dick resisted a wince as his back was practically stabbed with the barrel end of an assault rifle. He twisted his wrists behind his back, locked there by his own cuffs. Not for the first time, Dick felt a ping of hatred for Bruce's constant paranoia. Plans for everything, even themselves. Therefore: cuffs are batproof.

And that wasn't all, Duke kneeled beside him in the exact same situation. On his knees, guns aimed point-blank, meaty hands on his shoulders to keep him down as none other than Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, in his full get-up approached his new hostages.

This definitely won't be good. Dick didn't know how long he could last. Crane's knack for dramatics and monologues were ear-bleedingly boring on the best of days. Dick already had a headache thanks to the lucky shot one of Crane's children-of-the-pumpkin-patch-lackeys got on him with the back of their gun. Hey, sometimes even Nightwing accidentally got hit. He's human.

Honestly, Dick wasn't upset about being caught. Hell, he wasn't even that worried to see Scarecrow walz towards them with his dramatic scythe dragging on the floor behind him. Not even the flashing red lights of the lab they were currently in and the intruder alarms blaring put him on edge. What sent an ice cold shard of worry straight into his chest cavity was that Duke was caught also because of Dick's initial mistake.

Duke. The guy who was still in training. Who was just barely figuring out his meta abilities. Who could fight like a bat out of hell but who has never faced Scarecrow. Duke probably didn't know what to expect with this encounter, and judging by the glances Dick could feel being shot his way by his newest brother, Duke was expecting Dick to come up with something more productive than twisting his hands in his own cuffs again.

This was Dick's fault. He was the one who suggested Duke came with him to check out the labs built near the Fashion District. It's primary purpose was to research medicine for the brain. Things to help seizures, depression, etcetera. Which, of course, made it a prime possible target for Scarecrow whenever the villain managed to escape from Arkham.

The thing was, these labs were already raided for it's chemicals the last time Crane escaped. Normally, the guy was a little smarter than to go to the same supply of chemicals for his fear toxin twice. Dick took Duke for this reason, because it was good to learn how Scarecrow worked before actually facing him. That, and it needed to be checked anyway. He didn't actually expect Crane to be here, let alone in full get up.

It must have been a trap.

Well. Judging by the outcome of the circumstances, it most definitely was a trap. Crane was up to something. Something more than sending the mass population of Gotham into a fear crazed frenzy.

Crane stopped in front of his two captives, flicking his scythe around his body with the smoothness of silk. Dick let his neck relax as the scythes blade went under his chin to lift his head. It was just a fear tactic. One that Dick wasn't falling for. Crane was using the outside of the blade where it was dulled. If he was using the inside, then Dick might have been a little on edge.

Get it?

He stared right into the stitched eyeholes of Crane's hood. Clenched his fists behind his back. "What's up, Crane?" Dick kept his voice light and level; he even let a smile curve his lips as he spoke. The best thing you could do while dealing with Crane was remain calm and not show the slightest sign of fear. Hurt his ego. Make him sloppy.

It didn't seem to immediately rub Crane the wrong way though. He didn't even tense. "Well, you see, I've seemed to have come across two little birdies with their little wings tied-" Ugh. Dick wanted to barf- "and now I have to decide what to do about them."

"Ah you know," Dick replied in a sing-song tone. "Could just leave us alone. Birds tend to take care of themselves."

"Hmm, I suppose." The scythe was removed from under Dick's chin, but Dick kept eye contact as Crane stepped away. "After all, everyone knows it's bad luck to keep two two birdies locked up together."

Dick really wished that Gotham's Rogues would quit it with the theatrical flair. It almost made Dick miss Blüdhaven where everything was straight to the point. The amount of monologues Dick had heard from spending the last two days alone visiting the manor could fill a novel. And at least no one in the ‘Haven called him a bird.

"So I guess the only thing for you to do is to let us go." Dick sighed, like he was upset about it. Crane twitched and Dick couldn't help a confident smirk. "Unless you want the big bad bat to drag you back to Arkham so early into your escape. Your lackeys got lucky with us tonight, but do you really think you can take the entire clan with what you have now?"

Crane remained silent for a moment, and Dick could practically sense Duke resisting twitching or saying anything. Which was good. Duke’s being smart. Letting the guy who's fought Crane for almost as long as Robin had existed do the talking. Dick knew how Scarecrow ticked. In the end, it was always about fear. If his victims weren’t afraid then he'd get bored. Sure, he'll also most likely use Fear Toxin, but it was obvious Crane was planning something. He normally resisted throwing around Fear Toxin willy nilly. If he had a plan, the toxin was put away until he really needed it.

"Actually, little bird," Crane finally said, his voice deepening almost an octave. "I could have use of you. You see, I'm an expert at my craft, yet you bats always seem to not be afraid. Even when the world is trembling in terror, you bats hold strong. I don't understand it. I need to study this. Make a toxin that's impossible to resist."

"It's called an antitoxin," Dick scoffed. "No matter how many times you change the formula it's still always the base formula. Every hospital in Gotham had loads of the antitoxin."

Suddenly, Scarecrow was snarling, right up in Dick's face. Dick heard Duke swear under his breath, but Crane didn't seem to notice. He was too focused on staring through those threaded eye sockets right into Nightwing's milky lenses with narrowed, cold brown irises.

"No," Crane hissed, "you bats have something different. You get scared, but never afraid. I've seen you cry and scream on the ground, writhing in your own terror, but you always- always stand back up. I'm tired of making formula after formula to guess what finally takes you down for good. I need a subject. I need a bat to test on instead of random people in the street."

Dick immediately felt himself tense, but he tried not to show it on his face.

Okay. So Crane wants a human lab rat now. But not any human, a member of the very group of people he's never been able to truly defeat.

Okay.

So this was definitely turning out badly.

"Sorry, Jonathan, Sig and I are actually completely booked today. How bout next week? I think I can squeeze you in for, , hmm, let's say, next Tuesday?"

Scarecrow paused, tilted his head, then Dick knew he made a mistake.

"Ah yes, the Signal." Crane turned towards the yellow clad hero and Dick was moving forward before he even registered that hands tightening on his shoulders, keeping him forced down to his knees as Crane approached Duke. "Gotham's newest little bat, only; this one likes the sun."

Dick watched as Duke squared his jaw and didn't say anything. Dick couldn't see his eyes through the helmet on his face, but he could imagine the unafraid glare Duke must be giving.

"Hey," Dick called in an attempt to get the attention back onto himself, "we're not finished, Crane."

"Actually," Crane replied, his voice sounding excited and wistful, "I think we are."

Dick watched with a growing sense of horror and anxiety as Crane bent down and grabbed Duke by the chin, forcing Duke to bend his neck back at a painful looking angle. Duke grunted and attempted to tug his shoulders out from the grasps holding steadfast onto him.

"Tell me, morning bird," Crane whispered just loud enough for Dick to just barely hear him. His voice was husky with excitement. "What do you fear most?"

"Crane! Leave him alone!"

Dick went ignored as Scarecrow backed up, letting go of Duke's chin with a shove. He nodded and soon Dick was watching as Duke was hefted to his feet by the grunts behind him and held in place tightly. Dick struggled on his knees.

"It's not Signal you're wanting, Crane, you know this!" Dick tugged on the restraining holds still on him. He tried to get his feet under him, but the men holding him down had more power over him at the moment. Dick snarled. "You've had a grudge against me since I was a kid! If there's anyone you want for this, it's me! Let him go! Take me instead!"

Dick could swear he just saw the jagged cut of a grin on Scarecrow's face widen. Sharpen. "Yes, Nightwing," Crane agreed, his tone sinister with a touch of silk. "I've always hated you. The Robin without fear. It would be a pleasure to get you finally choking on your own tears. You were always the light to his shadow. However," Crane stopped to grab Duke by the arm and drag him forward, "I'm finding myself more interested in how the day to his night will react to my toxins."

Crane shoved Duke back to the lackeys and then shoved his scythe back under Dick's chin. "You'll have to be patient. Don't worry, whatever I create with him will be my masterpiece, and you will get a taste of it soon enough.

Dick snarled, his gut churning at the thought of Duke being tortured for who knew how long into the future. He tried to find his feet again, throwing his body back to unbalance the holds on him and get away from the scythe both at the same time.

This time, Dick was lucky. He managed to knock the men off him and climb to his feet. However, it was all for naught when one of the lackeys did the smart thing and hit him at the back of his skull with the butt of their gun.

Dick saw stars, and maybe his superhero name being shouted, but all he could grasp onto was that he was on the ground now, desperately trying to get a grasp back on reality as his head screamed in pain at him.

He just managed to focus on a blur of yellow being dragged off, but that focus only lasted a second before another blast of pain erupted on the side of his head, and he knew no more.

-o-o-o-o-

The feeling of gravity rolled, shooting Dick from unconsciousness straight into awareness as he was flipped from his stomach onto his back. He groaned, a migraine pounding away. The side of his head felt warm and wet. He had to blink a few times to reboot his brain and remember how he got here and why he was in so much pain.

And then, he remembered.

He jolted, shooting up to sit up but he was immediately met with resistance via Tim's hands grabbing onto his arms. The world swirled around him—looking similar to an old album cover from the 70s. Dick shot his arms up regardless of the dizziness attacking every one of his senses and wrapped his grasp around the front of Tim's suit.

"Signal-" Dick wheezed, tried to explain, but Tim just frowned and then began to shove Dick back to the ground, keeping his grasp on Dick's arm to pin him there. Tim was shockingly strong. Or maybe… Dick was shockingly weak.

Dick shook his head, but it sent the 70s into the 60s and his thoughts almost slipped away like fine sand. Duke. He had to focus on Duke. He was in trouble. Had Scarecrow already tested out his first drug? Was Duke already reliving his darkest nightmares? Dick didn't know everything about Duke, but he did know that in the short time he's been a part of the family business that he's already seen so much shit. The Joker and what he did to his parents being at the top of the list.

Dick remembered the first time the fear toxin made him relive his own parents' demise. He couldn't stop shaking for days.

This was Dick's fault. He was supposed to keep track of Duke. Show him the in's and out's of dealing with Scarecrow from the early stages, getting him prepared for when Crane eventually decided to reign his terror across the streets. That was the advantage the family wanted to give Duke. Make it so none of the future battles with Gotham's main gallery felt like it was too much. When you're new, big names could be confidence rattling.

And Dick had failed Duke. He brought Duke out. Dick didn't prepare for an actual attack.

Dick got Duke captured.

By Scarecrow.

It was all his fault.

Dick had to find him. Save him. He had to fix this. So he tightened his hands in Red Robin's suit and tried to sit up again. "Signal-" Dick tried again, but Tim didn't listen. He just shook his head and opened his mouth. Said something. Dick realized he couldn't hear. Everything sounded like the static on an empty radio channel. His own voice rumbled in his chest, vibrated inside his skull, but he couldn't pick apart anything else. And while the threat of deafness thanks to what was definitely a concussion scared the shit out of him, he couldn't just sit here and let Tim shove him back down to do nothing while Duke was most certainly in danger.

Dick forced strength he probably didn't have and attempted to shove Tim off from him. Somehow, against all odds, it worked. However, just moving his arms like that caused a spike of exhaustion to spear into his gut and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to work himself to his feet.

He stumbled once he was standing. Everything was spinning. His lack of hearing made his sense of balance dim. It was suddenly like he was a passenger in his own body. He knew he wanted to take a step forward, but he wasn't sure he did. His stomach rolled and he closed his eyes to catch his breath, but when he opened his eyes again he was laying back down face up, hands on his chest and legs straddling his hips. Pinning him down.

Dick felt sick.

He... He had to save Duke. He had to get whoever was on top of him off.

He twitched and his eyes closed again, only this time it was against his will. Something stinging stroke across his cheek, but everything was far away and he couldn't find his hands.

He fell into darkness again.

-o-o-o-o-

He woke up feeling similar to how Buster from Mythbusters looked. His head felt muffled. Far away. So much so that it took a minute for the migraine to kick in once he cracked his eyes open.

The lights were dim, thank heavens, so it only took a moment for Dick's eyes to adjust. He easily recognized the medbay of the Batcave, having woken up here too many times to confidently number. He reached up to his head and felt bandages wrapped tightly around his skull. Then, he blinked and realized there was a presence besides him. It took him a minute for his eyes to travel over to the side, but when he did his eyebrows rose and he went completely still.

Duke was there. In pajamas, sitting on a plastic folding chair off to the side of Dick's bed. Not a scratch on him.

Duke, probably having sensed Dick as well, looked up from his phone towards where Dick laid. A smile broke out on his face.

Duke started speaking, but Dick couldn't hear him. Not that Dick cared at the moment. He was too happy seeing Duke looking completely fine. Exactly as he should be. It was like a dream. Could this be a dream? Dick hoped not.

Duke finishes speaking, tilting his head and brows scrunching up. Dick realized that he must have been asked a question, but because he was too busy reeling over how this all seemed so impossible—because he could have sworn Duke was captured—to read his lips. Dick cleared his throat, thankful that he could still at least hear his own voice, and gave a shaky smile.

"Cn't hear ya," he muttered, his voice too scratchy and his energy too low to do much more than that. Duke's eyes widened and he looked to the side to definitely swear. Dick won't tell Alfred though. It's not like he heard it.

Duke looked lost with himself for a moment, bringing his hands up to his chest beginning to sign what he wanted to say letter by letter. Duke's still learning sign. Cass was teaching him and he was learning quickly. He was still a beginner though and didn't know how to say much more than basic conversation. Dick felt a laugh escape his throat, sending a spike of pain into his head.

"E-S-C-A-P-E" Duke signed, carefully shaping every letter with concentration over his facial features. He began to start singing something more, but then he stopped mid "N" and looked over to the entrance of the bay, relief melting the hard edges of his face. Dick turned to look af well and what he saw didn't really surprise him.

Bruce, still garbed in his suit, but his cowl and cape were absent. He looked tired. Frown pulled down a little more than usual. The bags under his eyes a little more vibrant. Bruce analyzed the room for a brief moment, but a smidge of life seemed to return to his face when his gaze landed on Duke and Dick. His lips twitched. They didn't become a smile, but it was almost one. Dick had learned to live with Bruce's almosts.

Duke opened his mouth and, judging by the way that smidge of relief and happiness on his face rapidly declined, Dick could guess what was said. Bruce expected Dick's hearing to be back by now. Dick tried not to let that clench something in his gut.

Bruce walked forward, his footsteps soundless, before he settled besides Dick's beside and snapped his fingers next to Dick's ear.

Dick tried to listen. He really did. It just… wasn't there. He took a calming breath, released it, then shook his head.

Now Bruce was full on frowning, and Dick almost expected Bruce to turn tail and retreat, maybe to call Leslie or research hearing loss caused by concussion. Instead, he was shocked to find that Bruce simply turned to pull another chair to his bedside, his hands already delicately placed in front of his chest.

Can you hear anything?

Dick shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek.

Should not be permanent. Leslie said to call her if it takes longer than a day to start returning.

Dick nodded. Took another breath. He could feel it lingering behind his eyes, the fear of never being able to hear ever again. It made him want to throw something, but Duke was here, and Dick couldn't focus on himself right now. He had to know what happened after his head was smashed in. Thankfully, Bruce seemed to know him well enough to expect that of Dick. That to avoid breaking down he needed to worry about someone else.

Escaped on his own. Called the family to find you.

Ah. So in the end, it was Dick who needed rescuing. Duke handled himself. Which, somewhere at the back of Dick's mind he knew Duke was a skilled fighter. He was a quick learner. Versatile. Give him a situation and he'd work it to his advantage. And maybe Dick was so worried because even though Duke was nowhere near the youngest of the family, he was still the baby of it. He'd lost his parents so recently. He was the newest to the fold. His trauma was still ripe. And maybe it was the big brother in Dick, but he didn’t want to fail Duke like he's failed all the others. Jason died because he wasn't there. Tim felt abandoned because Dick thought he was ready to let go of something he was still attached to. Damian died after Dick failed to defeat his killer. He never noticed Cassandra and her pain when she was with the League.

He didn’t want to be the cause of something so… so horrible in Duke's life. He didn’t want to look back on Duke and see regret and hindsight.

That almost happened tonight.

But he escaped. He handled it. Crane didn't torture anyone tonight.

Duke was okay.

He sighed and sank into the cushions of the cot and smiled when Bruce lifted a hand and wrapped it around his knee, squeezing slightly in reassurance. Dick shot one last glance at Duke and smiled. Duke beamed back, albeit a bit apprehensively. Dick didn't take the hesitation to be completely open with the family personally. Duke was still new. Soon enough, they'd all get used to each other.

Get some rest, Bruce signed and Dick hummed. Yeah, he felt tired all over again. Must be the head injury. Maybe the relief that everything had worked out at the expense of his hearing.

And Bruce said Leslie predicted it shouldn't be permanent. Within a few days, it would be like nothing happened. They'd continue to hunt Crane, only next time he'd be the one cuffed and dragged away. His vacation from Arkham wouldn’t last long, Dick would personally attest to that.

He'd do anything to make sure his family stayed safe during these stressful next few weeks that always follow an Arkham breakout. Everyone would return home safe, every single night. Dick will make sure of it. Hearing or not.

No one will be hurting Duke. Or any of his family. Not while Dick Grayson had a say in it.

#dick grayson #duke thomas #bruce wayne #nightwing #signal #batman #dc #dc comics #fic #fanfiction #jin writes #whumptober 2020 #no.9 #take me instead #major injury tw

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yastaghr · 4 years ago

Text

Writing it Down

Summary: Gaster is messing around with science and accidentally induces an artificial heat. Luckily his husband, Sans, is willing to help.

Relationship: Sanster

Warnings: None

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629375

Gaster watched as his creation bubbled. It was currently a bright blue and fairly caustic, but he hoped that by adding the sulphide that it would stabilize the concoction into a more useful cleaning agent. Humans were obsessed with such weird things. He didn’t understand why they needed such a wide variety of cleaning agents, but the client was paying well, it was an interesting challenge, and he needed to do something to get back into the game after so long.

This had seemed like a good plan at the time, but when he added the chemical to the solution it had… unanticipated results. For one thing, it blew up. That really shouldn’t happen in a casual lab like his, but magic always had an unpredictable factor that could make even the simplest of activities exciting.

For another thing, it didn’t burn. Most cleaning products should not be applied to skin (or bone), but this one definitely wasn’t behaving like a cleaning product. When he wiped the blue goop off of his safety goggles he discovered that the entire room was covered in a thin layer of bubbling goop, including him. There wasn’t much that was actually touching him thanks to his insistence on proper safety gear. It only seemed to have gotten on the exposed bone of his skull.

Finally, the mess it had made seemed to be giving off a strong smell. Gaster sniffed it experimentally. It seemed to invade his sinus cavities and fill his brain. He huffed, trying to get the smell out of him (really, what was he thinking?) but it was too late. The musky smell already seemed to have affected him, along with the rest of his physical exposure. He could feel his joints throbbing as magic gathered in the narrow ley lines there, the room suddenly felt too hot, and his mental process was interrupted with one thought: Sans.

Where was Sans? Wasn’t he here a bit ago? Gaster urgently needed to find him to deal with this… ah, that was what it was. The solution he had created had induced an artificial heat. Well, he definitely needed his boyfriend for that, didn’t he? Besides, Sans was his supervisor. This was definitely the kind of accident you should report.

Gaster took one second to peel back the layer of magic that lined the room and made cleaning a breeze, dumped the mess in an appropriate way, and reapplied the layer of magic. He took another second to strip the PPE off of him and wash his face off in the sink. A third second was spent writing down a few quick notes in the log. The only difference between screwing around and science is writing it down! Then he opened the door that led to their break area and sang, “Sa~ans! I had an accident!"

For some reason, that statement did not have the desired effect. Sans jumped up from where he had been making notes in his notebook. He must have gotten at least two seconds of hangtime. That was impressive. His face, however, was not. He looked scared to death.

“gaster, are you alright? are you injured? oh, stars, i knew i shouldn’t have left you alone in there. there’s a reason why you used to insist on the buddy system when working with dangerous chemicals. where are you hurt? do i need to call an ambu-” Sans scarcely paused for breath throughout the entire speech.

Gaster interrupted him, “I’m fine, Sans. It appears as though the solution I created can induce artificial heats, however. I can already feel my magic gathering, and I’m sure I must smell delicious.”

Sans narrowed his eyes at him. “really. you’re sure you aren’t just horny and want to fuck? you know, like last time?”

“Ah, no,” Gaster could feel himself blushing, “I’ll admit that was… somewhat ill-advised. I should have just told you the truth. I apologize again. However, this time I really do think I’m in heat. You can smell for yourself and check my joints for comparison if you wish, and, if you so desire, I can teleport home and make use of one of our toys.”

Sans sniffed and shook his head. “no, i believe you. you smell like musk and black licorice. just let me finish up this observation and then i’ll help you. you might as well strip while I do that.”

Gaster shivered. He loved it when Sans got so commanding. It made his whole body shiver, not with cold or fever, but with desire. He striped out of his clothes faster than he ever had before. His body, which still retained some of its goopy properties even after all this time, was glowing faintly purple. His genitals had already formed a thin, tendril-like length on his pelvis. Gaster waved it experimentally. Yes, it still worked.

Sans finished scrawling that obnoxious excuse for handwriting of his and set the pencil aside. Then he looked up, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He stood up and sashayed over to Gaster, palming his dick almost immediately. “someone’s got a boner, heh heh heh.”

A smooth hand with a hole in its palm cupped the side of Sans’ face lovingly. “Oh, yes. Only for you, Sans.”

Sans’ grin spread. “now me, i don’t usually get aroused so easily, but your scent has got me going, doc. you in the mood for a pussy or an ass?”

Gaster sported a grin of his own. “Oh, whatever you’re in the mood for, Sans, you know that. Although… it has been a long time since I have gotten to cum inside your womb. Maybe you would oblige an old man and form one?”

“oh, you’re not that old, doc. you’ve still got the energy to fuck me senseless on a regular basis, right?” Sans joked as he wrapped his hand around Gaster’s length, pumping it teasingly in the way he knew would drive Gaster nuts. “i bet that you can cum more than once.”

Gaster countered, “I can’t do that if you make me waste a load outside of you. Please, pull down your pants and get on the table.”

“geez, buy a guy a drink first,” Sans said with a wink as he lowered his pants. His magic was summoned, the dark blue ecto body puffy and fat, just like Gaster liked it. His pussy was already glistening with precum. When Gaster ran his fingers through it it was already slick.

“Hmm, it seems like I’m not the only one who has a boner. Or, at least, the pussy’s equivalent,” Gaster said with a smile. “Now all we need is a little bit of foreplay and we can start. Oh, and you still need to get on the table, Sans. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your lack of compliance. Get on the table on your stomach, please, with your legs dangling off the edge.”

Sans scrambled to comply, just like Gaster knew he would. Being fucked from behind like that, as well as being unable to do anything about it one way or the other, were two of Sans’ favorite things when it came to sex. He loved it when Gaster took control. Just for the icing on the cake, Gaster said, “Oh, and put your arms behind your back with the forearms together. I need a good handhold if I’m to fuck you well.”

Oh, that got Sans going. He was absolutely dripping by the time he was in position. Gaster helped him get his hands into the right position with one hand while his other hand gathered up slick. Then, without any warning, he slipped a finger inside of Sans and held it still. Sans clenched around him, but Gaster had to fight this heat to not start moving immediately. He knew it would be more fun for both of them if he did this right.

It wasn’t too long before Sans pleaded, “doc, you’ve gotta move! you’re driving us both nuts when all we both want is for you to stick your dick inside me!”

Gaster groaned. Dirty talk was one of his biggest kinks and Sans knew it. “Oh, you little sneak. I’m not going to fall for it, though. I want you to really enjoy this, and you’re no masochist. I need to make sure you’re prepared.”

“Then at least move your damned finger! or, better yet, put in a second one and get to work! i can handle it. please!” Sans begged.

“Impatient,” Gaster tutted, “but you have a point.” He inserted a second finger and began working them. The wet sounds his fingers made as they scissored Sans open were music to Gaster’s non-existent ears. He listened to them, dick twitching, until he was sure that Sans could take him. Then he pulled them out to the tune of a groan from Sans. “Easy, Sans. I’m sure you’ll like what I’m about to do to you a hell of a lot more than just my fingers.”

Sans whined. “oh, please doc, slide that sexy tentacle of yours inside me. fuck, i can already picture it. please!”

Gaster obliged him, thrusting his whole dick into Sans in one go. Sans’ pussy spasmed around him, but Gaster was done waiting. He gripped Sans’ arms with both hands and set a brutal pace. Sans groaned and moaned his name, but Gaster was beyond words, at least for now. This artificial heat had built up inside of him to the point where he needed to get off before he could use words.

Sans didn’t seem to mind. “fuck, doc~ you feel so good inside me. i can feel you all the way inside me. your length is perfect for me, and this pace- this pace is wonderful! mmh, yes.”

His words only drove Gaster on faster. Soon the friction built to the point where Gaster felt he was about to cum. He buried himself up to the hilt inside of Sans and let his orgasm rock over him. Purple seed spurted inside of Sans’ womb. Gaster saw it when he flipped Sans over onto his back. The little pool of purple got him going again. He snapped his hips back and resumed his rough pace. Sans’ moans grew until they were a cacophony of sound.

“Oh, Sans, you have no idea how good this feels. You like this, huh? You like my twisty little dick cavorting inside your cunt? You like it when I make the table squeak across the linoleum with every thrust? You like being helpless in the face of my need to fuck?” Gaster asked lasciviously.

Sans groaned. “fu~ck! doc, i love it! i love your twisty little tentacle in my big, fat hole. I love the way it feels against my g-spot. oh, fuck, i’m getting close!”

Gaster moaned and sped up his thrusts. “Oh, please, squeeze your pussy tight around me!”

His husband obliged, cumming with a cry and clamping down on his dick. Gaster, spurred on by his induced heat, pounded him right through his orgasm and out the other side. Sans’ cries grew desperate as another orgasm built inside him. Gaster dragged at his hips, slamming into Sans’ pussy and stroking his good spots.

This time, when Sans came, it was with a wail. He went on fucking Sans right through it, his own orgasm just a few more strokes away. Sans squirmed and Gaster tried to pull out. He didn’t want to make his husband uncomfortable. However, Sans grabbed his arms and dragged himself back onto Gaster’s tentacle until it was buried to the hilt. “keep it up, g. i’ve got another one in me, and i’m sure you do. you still smell worse than my sock collection.”

That comment made Gaster growl and turn up the intensity from 9 to 14. “Oh, really? You think I smell bad? Or do you just want another load of cum in your chubby, tight pussy?”

Sans didn’t answer him. He was too busy trying to breathe. His tongue was bouncing up and down along with his ecto fat folds. His eye lights had gone out. Gaster grinned. He loved making Sans lose it like that. He kept on fucking Sans hard until his own orgasm overcame him. He buried himself up to the hilt again, and this time he got to see his own dark purple magic spurting into Sans’ womb. He grinned. Oh, how his possessive side loved to see that. It was so… satisfying.

Gaster waited a bit to see if the heat was satisfied yet or not. Partially seemed to be the answer. It was satiated enough to let him take a break and take care of his husband. Gaster scooped Sans up in his arms and headed for the bathroom.

#undertale lemon #sanster #sans #gaster #writing it down fic #yastaghr

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mhdiaries · 5 years ago

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Brand-Boo Students Batsy Claro Diary

May 25th

Honestly, some monsters should just stay in the city. “It’s too hot.” “The bugs are biting me.” “When do we stop for lunch?” “My bed has a snake in it!” “There’s a giant spider in my tent!” Hey! It’s a jungle for screaming out loud! What do they expect? Then, about the time I seriously start to consider just leaving them to find their own way home, I take a deep breath and I escort them to a crystal clear, refreshingly cold waterfall to make them forget the heat. I spray them with monster-strength insect repellant (a concoction I created myself from all natural ingredients) to keep off the bugs. I find a shady spot on the trail and feed them the most scary sweet tropical fruit they’ve ever tasted. I remind the boa constrictor that the beds are for tourists and I tell the spider that while she is indeed beautiful, perhaps using the inside wall of a tent is not the best place to show if off (especially if that tent contains a ghoul who is arachnophobic). I was complaining to my father today about a particularly whiny group, and he reminded me again that the tourists we guide are guests in our “home,” and that if we make them feel welcome then they will want to return, and they will tell their friends about the wonderful time they had as well. I guess he’s right, but I really am tempted to answer the next tourist who asks me, “Is it always hot here?” with, “Only when it doesn’t snow.”

June 1st

Last year I guided a group of teachers from Monster High. They were scary cool and excited about everything, although the school counselor, Mr. D’eath, seemed to spend a lot of time jumping at his own shadow. It was a five day trip so I got to spend a lot of time with all of them. I really liked Headless Headmistress Bloodgood who knew a lot about the jungle, but also asked lots of good questions about things she didn’t know. She also told me about their monster exchange program and encouraged me to sign up for it. I wasn’t too sure about it, but she said it would be a great way to meet other ghouls and mansters and get them excited about coming to Costa Shrieka and seeing my beautiful country for themselves. So I sent in an application for the program, never thinking that I would ever be chosen. I actually forgot about it until today when my guidance counselor called me into her office to tell me that I’d been accepted. She was as excited as I was surprised. “This is a great opportunity for you, and I definitely think you should take it,” she said. I’m still not sure, but I have a couple of weeks to give them my answer so I want to think about it some more before I make a decision. I hope the fact that I’m dating somebody isn’t clouding that decision, but I really like him, and even though I’m not easily confused, this has me completely turned around without any sense of direction.

June 12th

The only tour I had scheduled today was for a group of retired monsters who were all part of an orchid club. Every year they choose some place in the monster world that is known for its orchids, and they all get together and go there. It was only a half day trip so I figured I would hustle them in and out and have the rest of the day to myself. Didn’t quite turn out that way because I may have been the guide, but they were the experts; in particular was a tall old gentle monster of a werewolf with bright blue eyes and almost completely white fur. Usually I spend the majority of my time answering questions, but today I definitely did more of the asking. They were all so enthusiastic and respectful of everything they saw and came into contact with that I was sorry when the tour was over. I actually offered to take them to a place I rarely ever show the tourists. Yes, I understand that it’s selfish of me, but I’d rather keep it to myself than waste it on random groups of monsters who might not appreciate it. Not all of them took me up on the offer because they had other things scheduled for the day, but a small group did. So I led them to a secluded spot where a small waterfall spills out of a cave in the side of a cliff and collects in a beautiful, clear green pool down below. The pool is surrounded by flowers and orchids of every shape and size. It’s the most beautiful spot in the jungle, and they gasped when they first saw it. Of course, when Mom flew out of the cave with a picnic lunch for us all, I had to tell them it was my front yard. While we ate they asked me all sorts of questions about my unlife and what I wanted to do with it. I told them about my chance to be an exchange student at Monster High, and how I was having trouble making up my mind about what I wanted to do. They mostly all agreed that living in a place this beautiful would make it hard to ever want to leave, but none of them wanted to tell me what I should do one way or the other. That is, except for the elderly werewolf, who told me that if I didn’t go I would always wonder, but if I went away and came back then I would always know. He also told me that he happened to have several great-grandchildren who have graduated from Monster High, and a few more who were still there. After lunch they thanked Mom for the excellent food, and me for sharing the beauty of our home. The werewolf didn’t say anything else about what I should do, but he did give me his card. It had a family crest and a phone number on it. “If you do decide to go, just call that number and I’ll make sure our pack will take care of you as well as you have taken care of us.” I was still thinking about what he said several hours later when I sent Headmistress Bloodgood a note telling her I would come.

June 15th

I realize that I don’t exactly seem like a soft and cuddly kind of ghoul, at least on the outside. Maybe it’s because the jungle, even in all its beauty, can be a rather harsh place; and I was taught from the time I was just a little ghoul that I needed to pay attention to everything around me, and to never forget that just because conditions are perfect one minute, there is no guarantee that they will remain that way the next. So I have to be firm – or harsh depending on whom you ask – when it comes to dealing with certain situations in the jungle. More than once I’ve had to yell first and apologize later when someone in a tour group needed to pay attention to his surroundings and wasn’t. so, how did I manage to mangle breaking up with my manster friend so badly? I knew exactly what I needed to say: “I’m going to Monster High and I don’t think a long distance relationship would be good for either of us, so it would be best if we just broke up face-to-face rather than dragging it out long distance.” Direct and right to the point I thought, and so I met him at his locker today ready to say what needed to be said, only when I opened my mouth nothing came out. Not a growl, not a chirp, not even a squeak. It was like my heart reached up, grabbed my tongue, and tied a knot in it. I must have sounded like a ghoul trying to quote Spooksphere after having her mouth numbed by the dentist in preparation for an all-day session of cavity filling. I think I may have even drooled at one point. What a mess. Eventually, I was able to semi-coherently tell him, but by that time it was clear that it wasn’t what either of us wanted. So we decided to try to give the long-distance thing a chance. Hopefully before I leave I can do something way less stressful, like pull a jaguar from a tourist’s tent.

June 18th

I left the cave early and flew to a pinnacle of rock that rises about the thick canopy of trees that surrounds us. I sat on a ledge and listened as the music of the night faded. It’s the time when the creatures of the night are closing their eyes in sleep and the day walkers have yet to open theirs and wake. I love this time of day, it is the only time the jungle is ever quiet. Just a brief moment before the sun rises and a new day begins. I wonder if there is ever a time in the city when there is this kind of quiet? Well, I suppose that I should get used to learning what it means to be a tourist. Hopefully, I’ll listen to my guides at Monster High better than the tourists listen to me… lol.

June 20th

Monster High! Some creature from that… place… has taken a ghost orchid! Like it was some common dandeadlion. There are only a handful of ghost orchids left anywhere in the monster world and the idea that some monster, any monster, would steal one from the jungle just to add to their collection makes my blood boil. I cannot in good conscience attend a school that would agree to let something such as this happen. I feel like I have failed in my duties as a protector of my home. I should just stay here and not allow any monsters to ever enter the jungle again, but then the orchid would still be in a place that it should not be. No, I will go to Monster High so I can bring back the ghost orchid and return it to its rightful place. A place where it shall never be in peril again.

#monster high #monster high diary #batsy claro #brand boo students #brand-boo students

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chazz-anova · 5 years ago

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My official Far Cry 5 fanfic!

Alrighty everyone! After a LONG time, I’ve finally finished the first section of this fic and I am so excited to start posting it everywhere lmao, so please feel free to leave your comments in the replies I’d love to hear what people think! Now without further ado; here’s chapter 1!

Veronica glanced lazily at the clock, which read 3:28am. She'd gotten off work about 4 hours earlier, but couldn't seem to lull herself to sleep no matter how many drinks she had or smoke breaks she took. Lately, the young sheriff's deputy had felt unsettled, like she was stuck in a rut. Ice clinked in her Crown Royal glass as she raised it to her lips, finishing it with a swig. "What's wrong with me Olive?" She asked the calico cat that padded silently into the room. The cat replied with a dainty mew and climbed into Veronica's lap. While petting her companion, she glanced around her modest townhome.

It was a tastefully furnished two story home with a balcony and a neighborhood pool. She sat on a powder blue couch that was joined by an armchair off to the side. The TV screen in front of her read 'Are you there? Press X to continue" Answering the question aloud, she muttered "Sometimes I wonder if I am still here" She lifted Olive off her lap and replaced her with an engraved silver tray, a baggie of weed, and a Cherry Dynamite flavoured Swisher. She may be a deputy, but some vices she was reluctant to give up.

A few moments later- Veronica stepped out onto her balcony, blunt in hand. She slowly took in the familiar scenery, living right on the outskirts of Hope County afforded her one of the best views. The Whitetail Mountains towered over the town beyond, the neon lights of various restaurants and gas stations glowing upwards and framing the tall peaks in a surreal glow. Her gaze turned up to the stars, dazzling like diamonds on the velvet black sky. As she lit up and the lighter illuminated her balcony, the atmosphere shifted a degree 'Everything will be different soon.' The thought flew through her mind without warning, and she shivered as though possessed. "Jeez..." She murmured and took a long drag of the sweet smoke, shaking her head and praying for rest to come quickly, after this she’d go and try to lay in her bed until sleep overtook her finally.

Running. Feet pounding the ground. Lungs shriveled and screaming for a full breath. Tears welled up in Veronica's eyes as she wind cut at her skin. In front of her, millions of faceless souls reached their hands out; grasping for her as she ran, seemingly suspended between them and what she ran from. The group was insistently whispering "Help. Help us." Veronica turned around, slowing a fraction. Behind her there was a plume of green smoke billowing out of an unseen source, threatening to take her mind and steal her heart if she got too close. The entities in front of her were murmuring "Please help us" "We need you". With each pleading moan their voices grew; louder and louder until their words were a guttural, rasping cacophony of screams. And just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone and replaced by deafening silence. The air seemed to be holding its breath, and Veronica turned to see the smoke gone as well, leaving her alone in the blackness.

Upon waking, Veronica gasped and clutched her heart, which was fighting to escape her chest with each beat. “Fuck!” She exclaimed and looked around her room. In the darkness she saw everything was normal, her desk and computer stood in front of her and no one occupied the chair in the corner to her relief. She took her phone from the nightstand and saw that it was only 6:20am. “Man, screw this.” She burrowed back under the black covers and pulled them over her head.

The next time she awoke- gentle sunlight streamed in through the half open curtains and her eyes fluttered open. Checking her phone, it was now 10:42am, and relief filled her. Looking underneath the time she saw a message from her co-worker and good friend, Joey Hudson. It read “Come to your shift ready for some bull today!” Veronica sighed, typing out her response “Always do!”

Soon enough, Olive jumped onto her bed and sat, giving her an impatient look. “Alright you little beast, I’ll get up.” She smiled at her furry friend and swung her feet over the side, striding into the kitchen and grabbing the cat food while also setting her coffee pot to brew.

In about 20 minutes- she was sitting on her balcony with a hot cup of mostly cream and sugar with a little coffee, and a quickly rolled joint. ‘Please let today go by quickly...:’ she prayed to no one in particular. Her work outfit looked creased from not being washed recently, and she knew Sheriff Whitehorse would have something to say about that. ‘After this joint I should probably get going.’ V thought, looking through the balcony windows at the clock.

Veronica stepped into the grey/white walled sheriff’s office; seeing Nancy at the front desk on the phone, examining her long nails disinterestedly. She gave her a quick wave before heading back to Sheriff Earl Whitehorse’s office, where a commotion could be heard.

“I don’t care how scared of him all you backwoods hicks are, where I’m from we get shit done!” An aggressive man declared, venom dripping from his words. ‘This must be the aforementioned bullshit Hudson mentioned.’ Veronica sighed before pasting a professional smile over her frown and stepping into the room. “You’ve got no right to just come in here like-” Hudson’s confident voice was absorbed by the same angry voice that had started the yelling, “Oh I’ve got every right missy. Know why? Because I’m a federal marshal, and what I say goes.” The tension in the air was malleable. Between Hudson glaring daggers at the stranger and Whitehorse’s dejected look, Ronnie knew she had just walked into a shitstorm. “Woah, let’s take it down a notch okay?” She said, directed at the man in front of her. He was of a bulkier build, and his stance said he was used to having things his way or the highway. “Oh great, another dumbass deputy to deal with! Sheriff, get your team and your shit together.” The man pushed past Veronica and Joey, shouldering his way out of the room. “Nice to meet you too!” The youngest deputy called before turning back to Hudson and Whitehorse. “So, who pissed in his cheerios?”

Hudson just shook her head angrily, as Whitehorse replied grimly “Joseph Seed.”

“That pastor who’s been causing trouble in Hope County?”

“That’s the one. He’s formed some kind of militia and is kidnapping folks… I’d get yourselves ready, because as soon as the judge fills that warrant we’re all going to pick him up.”

V met his words with an incredulous look, retorting “He’s bad enough that we all get to join Captain Sunshine there on a simple warrant like that? I mean, every time we’ve had to deal with him and his followers it’s never seemed that severe.” Hudson spoke up, pulling her phone from her pocket and presenting a video “Look for yourself. Someone sent this in a couple days ago.”

Grainy footage showed a tall, shirtless man in aviators preaching to a flock of similarly dressed people. The video zoomed in on the man’s chilling blue eyes; and the camera suddenly fell to the ground, showing the owner of the device being dragged forward and put on his knees before the preacher. In a casual manner he reached forward and placed his thumbs against the man’s eyes, pressing while his victim’s screams grew louder and more pained. Soon the man fell to the ground, and Joseph flicked the blood from his hands as though it were water. Veronica’s eyebrows raised in surprise as the scene was cut off and a new image appeared on the screen.

The recording was now taking place outside. There was a sizable wooden stage and Joseph stood in the center, a large curtain obscuring what was on a stand behind him. “My children, we must repent for our sins!” Joseph called while pulling the curtain down with some flourish. Veronica gasped in shock upon seeing the man from before who’d had his eyes crushed. He was lifted up onto a wooden pole, his eyes had been replaced by a white flower in each eye socket. Looking down his body- it was clear someone had mutilated his chest cavity as well, carving out space for a bouquet of the same flowers. On both sides of his head antlers had been impaled into his skull, where dried blood decorated the base of each antler in grotesque detail.

When the video finally faded to black, Veronica handed the phone back to Joey. “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t have anything heavy for breakfast.” She deadpanned, shaking her head. “This is a mistake, we need more people.” Whitehorse murmured and walked out of the room with an exasperated look. “Old man’s taking this real hard… I think he saw something real messed up on the last call out to Joseph’s compound.” Hudson looked after him with worry clear on her face. The other deputy nodded, unable to clear the images from the video from her mind. “Even though he’s clearly an ass, maybe the Marshal is right and we’ll just go snatch him up real quick.”

“Hopefully..” Hudson murmured and left the office as well, leaving Veronica alone.

The rest of the day- Marshal Cameron Burke holed up in a back office making heated phone calls, trying to find a judge to sign his warrant. V spent most of the day riding with another deputy, Staci Pratt. Veronica couldn’t stand Pratt, so every call they went on was a chore. However, the shift was finally drawing to a close as the pair pulled up once more at the station.

As soon as they walked in the door, Burke was on them. “You two, I suggest getting some rest tonight, because I found a judge. Once I’ve gathered everything I need, we’ll be flying out to Joseph’s compound.” Veronica checked the clock in the lobby, nodding “Well it’s 9 now, when are we leaving?” The Marshal sighed, as though responding was a chore, “We leave when I call and tell you we’re leaving.” V narrowed her eyes while crossing her arms, “You know, I’m not sure what your problem is, but don’t talk to me like that. You’re an adult, not a petty child, act like it.” The federal marshal was shocked someone had stood up to him, and unsure what to say. Seizing the opportunity to make her escape before her mouth got her into more trouble, Ronnie rushed past the man, shaking her head. ‘What an asshole!’ She thought as she punched numbers into the timeclock, hurrying out of the building without further incident.

About 20 minutes later, Veronica was speeding down the winding country roads in her beat up Mazda Miata. The roads were entirely empty, save for a deer she saw on the side of the road while taking the next turn. Upon rounding the corner- a large flare of light and an earth-shaking explosion caused her to slam on the brakes. “What the hell…” She peered out of the window. “Guess I should go check on that.. being an officer of the law and all…” Her murmured words were enveloped by another explosion, causing her to jump. Some days the job of a deputy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Ronnie had finally reached the area where the explosions had been coming from, after breaking several traffic laws to get there. Stepping out of the car, she drew her gun and took a preliminary look around the clearing. There were almost cartoon-worthy scorch marks on the ground that had wiped away any sense of greenery on the ground, but no one seemed to be around. V kept the gun at her side and started her sweep of the area. Right as she was going to start heading back to her car to report this to the station, she heard someone walking through the woods to her left. “Note to self, don’t light the fuse before you’re ready to have it blow up..” She heard someone mutter to themselves before she yelled “Freeze! Who are you and what’re you doing here?” A man of medium build walked out of the treeline, holding his hands in the classic ‘I surrender’ style. He wore a green sweatshirt, and a matching ballcap. “Charlemange Victor Boshaw at your service ma’am, I apologise for the bother-”

“You describe an explosion as a ‘bother’?” Veronica interrupted, gun staying trained on him.

“Well yeah. It sure bothered me that it exploded.”

“May I ask what you were exploding?”

“So my totally awesome cousin Hurk gave me some dynamite that he made himself, and of course being a good buddy I told him I would try it out! Well, silly me I didn’t realise that Hurk only knows how to make short-fused dynamite! So when I went to light it, it exploded preemptively so that’s why there’s those scorch marks… ma’am.”

Veronica cocked her head to the side, giving the man an incredulous look, “Would you be offended if I said that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard?” He thought about it for a moment before responding sincerely “Nope.” The deputy nodded, saying “Well I appreciate the honesty! Unfortunately, I’ve gotta call the station for this one.” She fished her badge from her pocket. The man crossed his arms, asking “Well what exactly are the charges?”

“Uhm… detonation of an explosive device and illegal possession for one.”

“I supposed I can’t argue with that.” He said amiably, watching Veronica reach for her radio off the utility belt she still hadn’t removed after work.

The pair sat on the curb together, one handcuffed one not. “So you’re the Sharky Boshaw?” Ronnie asked, giving him a mischievous smile. Sharky grinned and shrugged modestly “The one and only!”

“You’re a legend around the station, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before! Out of curiosity… why choose this spot for blowing shit up?”

“Well I was actually on my way to the store when I saw this spot and thought to myself ‘That would be a good field to set off some fireworks’. Then I remembered Hurk had put his stuff in my backseat, and that dynamite is just a less pretty firework, so here we are!”

When his story was finished, V gave him a look that was part amused, part withering glance. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.” He shrugged with a lackadaisical smile. Before either of them could continue the conversation, a light brown Crown Vic pulled up and the sirens on the roof let out a quick whoop before one of the night shift deputies stepped out. “Hey Veronica! Boshaw, the backseat’s ready for you!” He said, helping Sharky stand and turn towards the car. Veronica stood with him, and gave a curt nod to her coworker, “Thanks for coming out, Sam.”

Finally after that detour, V was almost home. It was a relatively long drive back and forth, but she didn’t mind it. Working with Sheriff Whitehorse was worth it since she’d known him almost half of her life. Veronica and her mom had moved to Hope County when she was only 12, her mom found work as an officer and then an office administrator for Earl until Nancy came along and gave her mom the chance to take her pension, and start a new job as a conservation officer at a small national park nearby called Polebridge.

The actual sheriff’s office was in Missoula, about two hours away from Hope County, making Veronica’s drive home take about an hour since she lived practically in between the two.

Keeping her eyes on the road, she dug one-handed through her purse for her phone. Once it was in hand she said “Hey Google, call Mom.” and a soft chirp came from the device, processing the demand before dialing. Three rings in- a cheery voice answered. “Hey sweetie!”

“Hey, mom, I just had a question?”

“Sure what’s up?”

She paused, rethinking her request for a moment. In that second, her nightmare from last night danced through her thoughts and her mind was made up. “Oh um, well I’m going out on a warrant tonight, and I was wondering if you could watch Olive for me? It’s probably nothing, I just had a weird feeling.”

“Of course! I’d love to see my grandkitty! I’m glad you know when to listen to your gut.”

“Well I learned from the best! I just got home now, can I pack her up and head over?”

“That’s fine! I’ll be here for a bit. Can I plan on you staying for dinner?”

“Uh… yeah that’ll work, I don’t have any plans. I’ll see you soon, love you!”

“Love you too!”

The line disconnected with a click as Veronica pulled into her driveway and stepped out of the car, fetching her keys from the caribinger she kept it on. As she approached the door, she heard insistent meowing on the other side. “I’m comin’…” She chuckled and pushed the door open to reveal Olive, who immediately rushed to hug her legs as she stepped over the threshold. “Hey monster, ready to see grandma?” She asked in a baby voice and grinned at her, reaching down to pick her up. As soon as she did- the cat clambered up to her shoulder and balanced precariously “Why are you like this?” She joked, removing her before making her way to the hallway closet and pulling out the cat carrier and a half-full bag of cat food.

Once she’d put a few more odds and ends into an overnight bag, she took out her decorative, pink bong and loaded a bowl. The water bubbled and pure white smoke filled the center chamber as she lit the greenery in the bowl. After coughing her lungs up for a few moments she set the glass piece on the table and stood up, “Okay, now we can go!” She declared and bundled Olive and all her things into the Miata.

In a quick 15 minutes- the two of them pulled up in front of her mom’s. It was a tidy ranch style home, painted robin’s egg blue with crisp white shutters. V knocked on the door, Olive’s carrier in one hand.

Her mom answered the door with a sweet smile on her features, immediately wrapping the deputy in a tight hug, “Hi Ronnie!” She exclaimed before pulling back. “Hi mom!” She responded and stepped through the door, setting Olive down. Sarah Rook looked like an older version of Veronica except her hair was a chestnut brown as opposed to V’s dirty blonde; they shared aquamarine eyes and a light spattering of freckles.

The younger woman pulled the zipped and freed the hyper cat, who immediately jumped from containment to survey her surroundings. “Someone’s impatient!” Her mom chuckled and watched the cat sprint off into the hallway. “She takes after me I guess.” Veronica smiled and inhaled deeply, “Is that steaks and mac and cheese I smell?”

“Well I thought I’d at least fatten you up before you leave tonight.” Her mom said and ushered her into the dining room. There was a round white table there that was joined by a tall china cabinet filled with memorabilia. The places had already been set, two red and white checkered table mats sat across from each other at the corresponding seats and the silverware was laid out neatly. “Sounds good to me, I’m starving!” Veronica took a seat and watched her mom buzzing about the kitchen as she put the finishing touches on their meals.

Once everything was done, the table was filled with food. A bowl of salad in the middle, with a basket of rolls to the side. Their plates were adorned with juicy t-bone steaks, mac and cheese, and potato salad. “I knew there was a reason I hadn’t put you in a nursing home…” V joked as she savored a bite of the rare steak, just how she liked it. Her mother scoffed, and took a sip of water, “As if you could.” They both shared a smile and then turned to see Olive padding into the room, her head in the air as she scented the air. “What a brat.” Veronica said as she jumped up on the table expectantly. “You did say she took after you!” Her mom retorted, picking up the naughty cat and setting her on the floor. “So, what’s this warrant you’re going on?”

“Mom, you know I’m not supposed to divulge any details...”

“Oh please, I used to be in the game, and still kind of am. I worked for Whitehorse long before you did, I don’t think I need to be counted as a citizen.” She said, rolling her eyes. Veronica looked uneasy as she considered it for a moment, then relented; “It’s some doomsday cult leader… Joseph Seed. Something about him really freaked me out.” She confessed, almost hanging her head. Being freaked out was not the norm for this deputy. “Why’s that?”

“I think it’s just his ability to brainwash all of these people… anyone who can do that has too much power. Also Earl is scared of him, which is weird. He’s usually so gungho about catching the bad guys, but he doesn’t even want to go on this warrant.”

“That’s certainly odd. I’ve never seen that man back down, there must be something seriously bad going on.” Her mom looked off, her brow furrowed in deep thought. “Hopefully this mission will just be in and out. That way I can get back to my baby!” She said the last part in a higher pitch, directing it at the cat, who was sitting in the window behind them. “I hope so too sweetie. People like him are the reason I’ve got a bunker.” Ronnie smirked, saying “Yeah you and everyone else in Hope County, it seems like.”

“It never hurts to be prepared!”

“I guess so.” She relented, standing and grabbing their dirty dishes.

After all the dishes were cleaned and hugs were shared, Veronica stretched and glanced at the clock which showed 10:45pm. “Man how’d it get so late so fast?” She mused and stroked Olive’s soft little head. “Hopefully a late dinner won’t give you any nightmares.” Her mother thought out loud and wrapped Veronica in another suffocating hug. “It was nice having dinner with you baby, I love you!” She smooched Ronnie on the cheek before pulling away and giving her a loving grin. “I had a good time, and the steaks were amazing. Thanks for having me over, I love you too!” She returned the kiss on the cheek and put her hand on the doorknob. As she stepped out her mother wished her luck on the warrant later, and then she was in her car once more.

20 minutes later, V was brushing her teeth, staring at herself in the mirror wearing a simple black night dress that fell to her thighs and was fringed with lace at the bottom. Long day… who knows when that asshole Burke is gonna call me.’ She thought, spitting out the toothpaste and wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. As she flopped into bed, the black sheets felt cold without Olive’s presence, but she felt it was for the best. It was 11:11pm as she glanced at the clock. “Make a wish…” She murmured while her eyes shut, the feeling of a full stomach lulling her to sleep.

A blaring ringing tore through the dark silence in Veronica’s bedroom. It was her phone, blasing her generic android ringtone. Her eyes snapped open and she grasped for her phone, having to blink the bleariness away before seeing that it was Hudson calling her. She looked at the clock for the second time that night to see only two hours had passed, making it around 1am. She slid the green answer icon across the screen and answered, her voice thick with annoyance, “Hello?” Instead of Joey’s pleasant voice, she was met with Marshal Cameron Burke’s gruff one, “Rook, get your ass up and get dressed. We’re executing this warrant now.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah, time to arrest that asshole Joseph Seed.” Burke practically shouted, and then Veronica was met with a dial tone. She scoffed, pulling the phone from her ear to look at it and see only her lock screen, a photo of Olive in a taco costume. “Guess I’m getting ready.” She grumbled and turned on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. The light flooded every corner of the room, forcing V to squint as she flipped the covers off and walked over to a chair in the corner of the room that was covered with clothes and blankets. She snatched her green work button up before finding a tank top and some jeans. On top of her dresser, she eyed her jewelry box and plucked out a rose gold heart-shaped locket with a matching chain. It was engraved ‘To Veronica, Love nana’ Once she was dressed, she buckled her utility belt and hurried down the stairs to the front door.

Something forced her to stop and take a look at the open plan townhome. All was calm and nothing stirred in the living room, yet she felt eerie as she left. Almost like she was abandoning her castle. She shook her head, shaking the thought off and stepping through the door to lock it. As she was walking to the car she pulled out her wallet from her back pocket, it was a replica of the one used in Pulp Fiction that said ‘BAD MOTHERFUCKER’ on the side. She opened the zippered secret pocket, pulling out a faded scrap of paper. On it was written ‘Good luck on your first day! -Mom’. She’d slipped her that on her first day at the sheriff’s department. At the time, V had laughed and said “I’m not a kid!” But stowed it away nonetheless as a good luck charm. A sudden, bone-chilling breeze whipped across the land, forcing a shiver to wrack her body. Veronica stepped into her car, feeling like this was going to be a long night.

The deputy’s hands clenched the steering wheel- frustration written all over her features. She’d already been to the station only to get redirected to some field by Nancy, who was the only one not joining this adventure. Apparently the sheriff had asked her to come in and man the scanner, just in case things got out of hand and they needed to call reinforcements. Ronnie shook her head as she saw Hudson, Whitehorse, Pratt, and Burke standing in front of a matte black helicopter that had a badge on the side. Upon walking up to join them, Veronica called “Well this is fancy!” Staci stepped up next to the marshal, exclaiming “Yeah, the feds decided to help us out on this one!” He clapped Burke on the shoulder- earning him a heated glare. “Anyways… everyone pile in. Hudson, you’re flying us.” The grumpy man got to the point, motioning everyone into the copter.

In no time they were in the air, flying to Joseph’s Compound on an island in the middle of Hope County. Veronica looked at the screen of the gps in the front, searching for the time. She found that it was 2:37am, and asked “So what exactly is the benefit of going to get him so late?” Cameron replied- his voice dripping with unearned confidence “The benefit, Rook, is catching him by surprise.” As Ronnie was about to speak up, Pratt cut in with, “You don’t catch men like Joseph Seed off guard.”

At that moment Joey spoke up, “Crossing the Henbane now.” Everyone looked out of the wide windows, only to catch sight of a perfect rendition of Joseph Seed’s face captured forever in stone in way of a towering monolith. “Crazy motherfucker…” Burke murmured, his gaze held by the monument. “Jesus Christ.. we’re officially in peggie country.” Hudson shook her head before looking back to the skies. “You know, they call this Angel’s Peak. It’s a holy place for them.” Pratt said, sounding almost wistful.

“How much longer?” Cameron asked.

“Just long enough for you to change your mind so we can turn this bird around.” Whitehorse insisted. “You want me to ignore a federal warrant, sheriff?” Burke scoffed.

“No sir, I want you to understand the reality of this situation. Joseph Seed… he’s not a man to be fucked with. We’ve had a few run ins with him before and it hasn’t always gone our way. Sometimes.. sometimes it’s better to just leave well enough alone.”

Burke scoffed, lifting up the warrant. “Yeah, well we have laws for a reason; and Joseph Seed’s gonna learn that.” Instead of replying to that, the sheriff radioed Nancy to make sure she was still there, and told her that if she didn’t hear from them in 15 minutes to call backup. V looked down and saw a white church surrounded by other smaller buildings, she was mystified. The whole situation didn’t even seem real. ‘Maybe it’s just because it’s late and I haven’t gotten any good rest lately.’ She thought, trying to comfort herself. Somehow it didn’t help.

“So what’s with calling them ‘peggies’? I’ve never heard anyone at the station call them that.” Veronica asked, hoping to lighten the mood. “Project Eden’s Gate. P. E. G. It’s what the locals call them.” Earl explained. Somehow she knew he was trying to distract himself as well.

As they got closer, it was obvious there were people everywhere. “So much for taking him by surprise.” She muttered, shaking her head and thinking ‘I could be asleep right now.’ The helicopter jerked slightly as it landed on the ground, the blades whirling to a stop. All of them exited the bird, taking in their surroundings. Peggies surrounded them on all sides and the compound had as many as 12 buildings; dorms, a barn, and various other houses. The cult members regarded them suspiciously, casting daggers their ways and muttering insults. Ronnie looked to her left as they walked down the main path, there was a man wielding a flamethrower and keeping a pire of fire sufficiently lit. “They don’t fuck around…” V commented, her brow furrowed.

The group made their way into a fenced corridor topped with an arch that said ‘Church of Eden’s Gate’ with the cross adorning the center. As they walked, a creaking then metal clanging could be heard behind them, causing Veronica to whip around only to witness them closing the gate behind them. “Why are they closing the gate?” Joey asked, looking to her partners for answers but receiving nothing. They approached the door to the church and could hear a choir of members singing a hymn as Whitehorse motioned for them to hold up. “Going in there, we do this my way, quietly.” He said sternly, mainly for Burke’s benefit. Cameron smirked and put a hand on Earl’s shoulder, “Relax sheriff. You’re about to get your name in the papers.” Veronica couldn’t help but shake her head, something was wrong here.

As the white double doors swung inward, V took in the scene and was enthralled. Joseph was standing at the front of the church delivering a sermon, “Something is coming… you can feel it can’t you? We are creeping towards the edge, and there will be a reckoning. Because we know what happens next; they will come for us… to take from us. Take our guns, take our freedom, take our faith. We will not let them!” The church patrons were captured by his presence, hanging on every word.

The deputy, marshal, and sheriff made their way to the platform Joseph stood on. White candles surrounded him, casting a holy glow on his features. “We will not let their greed, their morality, or their depravity hurt us anymore!” The preacher’s voice grew as Marshal Burke reached him and held the paper warrant aloft. Whitehorse murmured “Goddammit…” and Cameron said forcefully “Joseph Seed, we have here a warrant for your arrest, under suspicion of kidnapping with intent to harm. I’m gonna need you to step down with your hands where I can see them, and come with us.” Veronica noticed three figures she hadn’t seen practically melting out of the shadows to stand behind The Father.

“Here they are, the locusts in our garden. They’ve come to take me from you, to destroy all we’ve built!” The peggies started to converge around Joseph, their voices joining together as they objected. He parted through them, his calm demeanor quieting their shouts. “We knew they would come. This is what we’ve prepared for. Go…” He sent them off and came to stand in front of the pews, raising his hands up. “I saw the lamb of the first seal and I heard the noise as if of thunder as one of four beasts sang ‘Come, see’-”

Cameron cut him off, “Step forward!” Joseph stepped closer- undertered from preaching, “And I saw and behold, it was a white horse... and Hell followed with him.” He finished while looking from Earl to Ronnie and finally holding out his hands, a worn brown rosary dangled from his wrist. “Rook, cuff this son of a bitch.” Burke growled.

V stepped forward, about to pull out her cuffs when the people behind him caught her eye once more. She recognised them to be his family. From right to left; there was a gruff looking man with scar tissue climbing up his side, next to him a beautiful young woman wearing no shoes and a lacey, floral dress. Veronica’s gaze lingered on her a moment before she took in the last figure- a tall man wearing an expensive looking duster. His piercing stare found hers and she felt as though he was seeing straight into her soul. Ice filled her veins and she froze in place, suddenly feeling like a gazelle who had just realised the lion was upon her but only when it was already too late. There was so much animosity in the man’s eyes, like he hated her for even thinking of taking his brother.

“Earth to Veronica.” Burke’s annoyed voice snapped her from the trance she was in, causing her to shiver before finally producing the cuffs. The metal clinked around Joseph’s small wrists, and right as she was about to secure the second ring, he turned his hand to grip her wrist tightly and V looked into his eyes. “God will not let you take me.” He said calmly without an ounce of doubt. “Good thing God doesn’t get to decide in the end.” She retorted before shaking off his hand and slapping the final cuff on with a resounding click.

As they walked out the church doors with Joseph in cuffs, armed peggies started to surround them. “Back up!” Hudson yelled, taking lead. Burke pushed a woman down when she got too close, and the crowd became more riled up, closing in as they walked to the helicopter. Soon, they started throwing rocks at the group and screaming, trying to defend their Father. The whole time Joseph stayed eerily silent, even as they were getting into the copter. Pratt fired off a few warning shots to the cultists that were trying to mob the vehicle, Veronica and Burke pushed a few of them from the copter as they gained height, yet the peggies continued trying to swarm them.

One of the cultists did something, because the helicopter went into a tailspin, and the engine sputtered. Joseph looked skyward and began singing Amazing Grace, his tone calm despite the chaos. They made impact with a tree, then another and everyone but Joseph was screaming, their lives flashing before their eyes. Upon impact, the whole world cut out and everything was black.

Veronica’s eyes opened, and the world spun in streamers of color. Nancy’s frantic voice could be heard over the ringing in her ears, she was yelling into the helicopter’s headphones. She looked around and saw Burke across from her, dangling by his seatbelt, Earl was next to him, doubled over; and Joey was to her right. She tried to take in a deep breath and sputtered on thick smoke that was no doubt coming from the engine. Before V could swing forward and grab the headset to alert Nancy, she was pushed lightly back into her seat by a battered Joseph Seed. He smiled at her softly, grabbing the headset on his own while maintaining eye contact. “I told you that God wouldn’t let you take me…” He murmured soothingly. “We’ll see about that…” Veronica persisted. He shook his head and spoke into the headset mic, “Dispatch? Everything is just fine here. Call no one.” Veronica scoffed, ‘Surely Nancy will know something is wrong-’ The thought began to cross her mind before she heard her last hope’s response: “Yes, Father. Praise be to you.” Her mouth dropped open in shock and horror, watching the man she came to apprehend smirk before whispering “No one is coming to save you.”

He climbed from the wreckage and met a handful of his flock, reassuring them in a hushed tone. V started to struggle against her seatbelt, which was stuck fast. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..” She muttered and beat at the clip. Her companions began to wake and she turned to see Joseph standing on the hood of a car, his hands raised as he delivered an impromptu sermon, “The first seal is broken… now we must take what we need, for this world will be no more. We must stop all those that stand in our way- including these harbingers of doom. Begin the reaping!” He screamed the last sentence into the night air, his followers cheering.

They swarmed the copter for the second time that night, Veronica, Joey, and the others squirmed trying to get free. Hudson freed herself finally, only to be savagely pulled from the wreckage kicking and screaming. “Joey!” Veronica yelled, reaching after her only to just miss her hand. More peggies ran over and were about to reach in, when a ring of flames surrounded them instead. “Fuck!” V exclaimed, pulling frantically at her seatbelt. Burke was able to free himself and dash out of the small opening in the wall of fire. Heat was searing her skin and desperation made her claw at the restraint harder and harder, finally the belt snapped and she tumbled forward to what used to be the roof of the vehicle. Ronnie caught herself just barely and found herself sprinting away into the foreboding woods.

Branches whipped at her face, scratching her cheeks and forcing her to hold her hands out in front of her. Not far behind, the men who hunted her yelled, “She’s escaping! Grab her!” Emotions overwhelmed her; panic, fear, anger, confusion. “Goddammit give me a break!” She huffed, breath ragged from sprinting. She spotted a soft light in the distance, a campfire. V ducked behind a thick tree trunk- whipping her head around in both directions wildly, adrenaline and fear coursing through her. The angry voices were distant enough for her to turn and survey the campsite.

There were two lawn chairs on either side of the fire, and a cabin beyond that. One of the cultists patrolled the perimeter, both hands on his handgun. She caught sight of a sizable branch in front of the fire, and knew what she had to do. Ronnie crept forward on the balls of her feet, trying to avoid any stray twigs as she made her way to the branch. Finally she was there, taking the worn wood in her hands and feeling the weight of it. ‘This should do..’ She thought with a grim look. The deputy continued forward, waiting for just the right moment to slip behind the guard. Veronica gripped the bat harder and was about to swing when the guard turned around, surprise on his features. She wasted no time slamming the branch down on his head with a crack as he turned his gun towards her. The first blow slowed him- and for good measure she delivered the finishing blow. Through the branch, she could feel his skull give and an initial spray of blood shot from the wound, flecking V’s face in red freckles. She gasped and looked down to see his body twitch twice more before stilling, his heart steadily pumping out his life force.

Veronica felt cold as she watched the light drain from his eyes, shock starting to take over. She’d never actually killed anyone before. The world faded back piece by piece as she grabbed the man’s gun, and more screams came from the woods. She had to keep moving. A small drop off into the woods was her escape, and she crouched in the ferns on the woodland floor. There was another fire in the distance, and her enemies were scouring the area for her and Burke.

Suddenly- her radio crackled, causing her to jump and grab it from her belt to muffle the speaker. “Hello? Hello.. it’s Burke… I think I lost them.. I see a trailer ahead across a bridge and I’m going to try to get inside. If anyone is still alive, if anyone is out there...” The signal was lost and it cut out. “Well I guess that’s where I’m going.” V sighed, and started slowly making her way through the woods. She passed the second fire, narrowly avoiding detection by two guards standing there. From there, she ascended a small hill that led to the bridge the marshal had mentioned. It creaked as she took to the wooden planks, practically crawling her way to the other end. When she got there, a white trailer with a green roof stoof in front of her. There were steps leading up to the back door which she pushed open cautiously, eyes darting side to side straining to catch any movement in the darkened abode.

As soon as she cleared the door Burke was to her left, hands out and ready to attack. Veronica grabbed his arms, stopping him in midair before he regonised her. “Oh my god, Rook… you’re alive!” He cried with relief. “Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole. You left me to die back there!” She scoffed, glaring daggers at him. “I… It was just fight or flight, I was-” He struggled to defend himself.

“It doesn’t matter. Whitehorse told you this was a bad idea, this is your fault no matter what you have to say.” Ronnie cut him off, pointing an accusatory finger at him. When he had no retort she continued, “Now we have to find a way out of this shit show, and to rescue the others. Did you have a plan?” Burke sighed, walking further into the trailer, motioning for her to follow. The walls were wood panelled, and words were scratched into most of the walls; ‘The Father’, ‘Walk the path’, along with other mantras and bible verses. Pictures were also posted all over the spots that had no words. They all depicted the members of the Seed family in various poses and situations. One such picture was a framed portrait of all of them, Cameron grabbed this and stared into their eyes. He looked haunted.

“The plan is to put all of these fuckers in jail. No matter what it takes.” He gathered himself before tossing it on the table and going to point out of one of the front windows. “To get out of here, I was thinking I could try to hotwire that truck, unless the keys are in it. It’s probably only a couple hours back to Missoula, then we’re gonna come back here with the National fucking Guard, and take care of these lunatics.”

“Fine, let’s just get out of here before-” Veronica was cut off by a shot ringing out, and one of the windows behind her shattering into a spray of glass. “They’re in there!” Screamed a man, and more shots were fired at the trailer. “These guys just don’t give up!” She exclaimed, exasperated. Burke took shelter against one of the walls, pulling out his gun to fend off the attackers. V scanned the room and found a gun mounted on the wall, she grabbed it and cocked it before crouching under the shattered window, sitting up to aim outside. There were four peggies firing at them. She took aim at the first, shooting him square in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Burke took out one on the other side then turned to say “Cover me! I’m gonna go get that truck started!” Veronica nodded curtly before turning to shoot out the window twice more.

Even more cultists were arriving at the scene and taking up arms, it seemed almost hopeless. V fired shot after shot, taking out as many as she could until she finally heard the sweet roar of an engine, and Cameron shouted for her to join him in the truck. “Finally, fuck!” She gasped, dashing from the trailer and ripping open the door to the vehicle. “Let’s fucking go!” He yelled while she slammed the door and immediately leaned out of the window to shoot at the peggies behind them. Burke careened down the simple dirt road, Veronica shooting at their enemies as they approached a chain link fence and busted through the gate with no problem, then they were crossing a bridge to the main road.

Burke was gasping, close to panic, while V just felt numb. ‘Shock must be setting in, great.’ She thought distantly. “God, I had no idea Rook. I didn’t know how bad it was, how right Whitehorse was… I wish we’d never served that warrant.” He rambled, glancing between the deputy and the road. “It’s too late for wishes, Burke… they’ve got the road blocked!” She exclaimed at the sight before her; peggies had their trucks and sawhorses blocking off the next section of street. She lifted her gun once more, shooting at them while Cameron swerved wildly to avoid the obstacles. One of the cultists to their right set off a flare, letting the rest of them know where they were.

The pair crashed through another barricade, and Ronnie kept shooting at the people pursuing them that were in an identical looking truck. “We aren’t losing them marshal!” She shouted. “Alright, I guess we gotta try something else.” He huffed before taking the truck off road, almost going airborne as they crashed through a wooden fence. Blinding headlights were blazing behind them as more and more peggies joined the chase. Veronica happened to glance in the bed, and spotted some red sticks. “Oh fuck yeah.” She chuckled, reaching out of the window and grabbing a stick before producing her simple purple lighter that had miraculously stayed in her pocket. She lit the fuse on the dynamite, squinting her eyes as the cord came to life and the flame hissed. V chucked it at one of the trucks behind them, causing a loud boom and fire bloomed from the wreckage. “Shit! That’s pretty satisfying.” She commented, turning to Burke who still looked too scared to be impressed.

After lighting a couple more sticks and tossing them out, causing some major chaos, they found themselves about to go under an overpass. Right before they passed underneath, a sleek white plane flew out of the clouds and began shooting at them, hitting some green crates on the side of the road only for them to explode. Keying into this as they finally passed under the bridge, she fired quickly at the crates scattered around an upcoming roadblock, sending people flying in every direction. “A plane, are you kidding me?” Burke yelled and pounded a fist against the wheel.

A gargantuan bridge waited on the other side of the roadblock, there was a sign mounted near the top that read ‘Henbane River Bridge’. As they raced across, Cameron took a deep breath before saying “Home free, after this we are home free!” Veronica wasn’t so sure as more planes swooped overhead, and suddenly a high-pitched whistling could be heard getting closer and closer, before V yelled “Bomb!!” and orange flames whooshed across the bridge, enveloping their truck and sending them tumbling into the river below.

The vehicle was in a freefall with chunks of concrete, the river’s waters rushing up to meet them. Neither of them had time to say anything before they made impact. Veronica was incapacitated for a moment and when her eyes opened they were underwater, trapped once again. She saw Burke across from her pounding on the window, shattering it on his third try and swimming up to the top, leaving her to drown. Ronnie gathered together her last bits of energy, slamming her elbow into the passenger side window until it finally broke, and she maneuvered her way from the descending car. Her arms flailed as her lungs screamed, daring her to take a breath before breaching the surface, and then it went black.

Not too long later, her eyes snapped open and she grasped at the wet silt underneath her, she was on the shore. On the bridge there were countless flashlights casted down upon the water, looking for her. She heard Marshal Burke yelling off in the distance, and saw a group of peggies pulling him away as he shouted “I am a federal marshal! You can’t do this!” Veronica tried to get the will to get up and run, knowing she was next; but her muscles screamed with exhaustion and wouldn’t cooperate. She was able to lift herself to crawl maybe a foot before collapsing once more, staring up at the sky and trying to accept that this was the end.

A figure came into her field of vision and the barrel of a shotgun was dangerously close to her head, she didn’t even have the energy to protest as the person lifted her over their shoulder with a grunt, and began carrying her through the woods. Her vision faded in and out, allowing her to see them pass by a radio tower and then a cabin, only to walk down some metal stairs. Then she could fight no more; and everything went black.

#my writing #veronica rook #john seed #joseph seed #faith seed #jacob seed #earl whitehorse #staci pratt #joey hudson #cameron burke #sharky boshaw #fc5 #far cry 5 #...and hell followed with him #ahfwh

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tealin · 5 years ago

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The Story of the Discovery Hut

You may have noticed that last week I breezily mentioned a visit to Scott's Discovery Hut as though it were just another class on the schedule. It most definitely was not! Wandering around one of the principal locations of the Terra Nova Expedition – of the whole of Heroic Age Antarctic history – was the pinnacle of the sensory overload of my first 36 hours on the continent, not least because the grubby old Discovery Hut is one of the least well documented sites, so most of it was completely new to me. To visit the other locations on my itinerary, I needed one or another sets of training, but Hut Point is only a short walk from McMurdo Station on solid ground, so my coordinator was keen to get me there as soon as possible.

My first full day in Antarctica was the coldest of the whole trip. I noted in my journal that it was -4°F/-20°C – I don't recall if that was with wind chill or without, but it was definitely windy that day, so you can imagine. The previous day's flurries were still blowing around, so the atmosphere was properly polar, and for the first time I was glad I had brought the heavy-duty boots that had been such a boulder in my luggage.

The Discovery Hut is named such because it was built on the Discovery Expedition, in early 1902 when the ship had found its permanent berth in the small bay at the end of the southernmost peninsula of Ross Island. The bay was imaginatively dubbed Winter Quarters Bay, and the spit of land adjacent to it was called Hut Point, the creativity of which was extended to the whole Hut Point Peninsula. The hut itself had been picked up in Australia, where it was a flat-pack prefab intended to be transported to the Outback and used to house cattlemen as they drove herds across the country. As such, it was designed to shed heat – not an ideal feature in an Antarctic dwelling, but it was never intended to be lived in, rather to serve as a warehouse and emergency shelter should anything happen to the ship. Subsequent expeditions used it more than the Discovery did, because of its proximity to the permanent ice of the Barrier, which made it a key staging point for any southward travel. They all complained of it being uncomfortably cold inside.

And it was cold. Not that I noticed much, beyond corroborating historical reports that it somehow seemed colder inside the hut than outside. Antarctic cold is a funny thing: You are certainly aware that it is cold, but it is a surface sensation only, and doesn't feel as severe as the thermometer says it is. Skin exposed to the air registers the fact it is cold, but even at -20 it didn't go any deeper than that. Compared to the seeping, insidious cold of a damp British morning or an air-conditioned animation studio cubicle, which disregards layers and seems to chill you from the inside out, -20 in Antarctica is really quite comfortable, if you're dressed properly and sheltered from the wind. I barely noticed how cold it was until the tips of my gloved fingers started tingling, which I observed with some perplexity until I remembered the temperature. At that moment I understood how one could get frostbite without noticing, because one's outermost extremities could suffer while one's internal thermostat was still reading as perfectly warm, if not hot. Hence the practice of deliberate, conscious reminders every few minutes to observe the state of one's feet – they would be all too easy to overlook, otherwise.

Lithium ion batteries don't much like the cold, and unlike human bodies they neither generate their own heat nor have a core heat bank to rely on. I got a few photos that first visit, but my phone died as I was taking a video, so I decided to leave the image harvest to another day. The photos in this post are mostly from later (warmer) visits, when electronics were functioning fully and I'd got over the initial awe of being there.

But before I can give you a photographic tour of the Discovery Hut, I need to fill you in on the history, so that you know what you're looking at when you see it, as I did.

As I said before, the hut was built during the Discovery Expedition but hardly used except for storage and, occasionally, a theatre. The next expedition in town was Shackleton's Nimrod Expedition, which arrived in early 1908. The sea ice that year was much more extensive than it had been in 1902, and the furthest south that the Nimrod could anchor was at Cape Royds, twenty miles north of Hut Point. Shackleton had been on the Discovery, though, and knew there were a lot of good things left in the little square hut across the ice, so he sent a raiding party to scavenge some of them and bring them back to Cape Royds. When they arrived, they couldn't get the door open, so they broke a window to get in, which was never repaired. After it had served its purpose as launching point for southern journeys and the Nimrod left McMurdo Sound, the hut filled up with drifted snow which compacted into ice.

When Scott arrived in the Terra Nova – which was also barred from Hut Point by sea ice and so had settled at Cape Evans, fifteen miles north – he found the broken window and the interior of the hut one solid block of ice. This did not do much to improve his opinion of Shackleton. The depot-laying party pushed on south with their supplies, but Atkinson, who had got an infected blister on his heel and couldn't continue marching, was left at Hut Point with Tom Crean; while the depot party was away, they employed themselves in clearing the ice from the hut. Once that was done, they used biscuit cases and the discarded winter awning from the Discovery to build a smaller chamber within the single room, which would hold the heat better, and improvised a blubber stove from discarded bricks and metal in the Discovery's rubbish heap. There are lots of seals around Hut Point so blubber was a self-supplying fuel, as opposed to the very limited quantity of coal which had been brought down by the ship.

The only way to reach Cape Evans from Hut Point is over the sea ice, and by the time the depot party returned, that had all broken up and gone out to sea. (I am glossing over The Sea Ice Incident. Check it out if you want some crazy adventure.) There was nothing for it but to wait at Hut Point for the sea ice to freeze again, which took from the beginning of March to mid-May. This was, as yet, the longest period of occupation for the hut, and was full of tinkering to make the place more liveable. Everyone devised what they thought was the best model of blubber lamp: whatever the design, it smoked with a thick black soot which added to the smoke from the blubber stove. As a result the hut was often thick with smoke and everyone looked like chimney sweeps before long. Crean and Atkinson had done a massive job clearing out the block of ice in the main room, but there was still ice in the cavity between the ceiling and the roof which they could not access, and this dripped on the assembled crowd every time they got the hut above freezing, turning their reindeer skin sleeping bags into a soggy mess. Despite the soot, the 'snipe marsh,' and a diet limited to recombinations of biscuit, seal meat, and the odds and ends left over from previous expeditions, the men all had a roaring good time. Some of them even claimed, when all was said and done, that this was the best part of the expedition.

Just enough to eat and keep us warm, no more – no frills nor trimmings: there is many a worse and more elaborate life. The necessaries of civilization were luxuries to us: … the luxuries of civilization satisfy only those wants which they themselves create.

— Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World

The hut served its purpose again the following November as the jumping-off place for the great effort to reach the Pole. This is its classic role, and what it is best remembered for, when it is remembered at all, but something which I think gets lost and which adds a great deal to the emotional understanding of the place is that it's also the first taste of home for returning parties, the first solid walls after months of living in a tent. For both the First and Second Returning Parties it was a concrete assurance that they had made it, they were back to safety; it was only the matter of a day's walk to Cape Evans from there, which they did all the time. Like reaching one's own freeway exit after a long road trip, the Discovery Hut would be a welcome return to the familiar. It's the first comfort the Polar Party would have been pulling towards in their struggle to get home before the weather broke up for the winter.

But, as we know, they never got there. The next role of the Discovery Hut, and its most poignant, to me, is as the staging point for another southward journey, the one to meet the Polar Party with the dog teams. Atkinson had taken the dogs there after using them to help unload the ship at Cape Evans, but before he could leave he was co-opted to save the life of Teddy Evans , leader of the Second Returning Party, who was dying of scurvy not far away. Atkinson had to find a substitute, so he sent a message to Cape Evans requesting Wright, and if he was unavailable, Cherry-Garrard. Simpson, who was in charge back at Cape Evans, sent both to Hut Point, with the advice that Wright was needed for his particular scientific expertise and that it would be very inconvenient to lose him. So Wright was sent home, and Cherry was chosen to go south. He failed to meet the Polar Party; he and the dogs turned up back at the Discovery Hut exhausted, frostbitten, and unable to do any more work that season. Cherry spent a miserable purgatory in the hut with a strained heart and broken wrist, delirious on painkillers and tormented by the howling wind and fighting dogs, gradually coming to realise that his friends were never coming home.

When the Terra Nova finally left Antarctica for good, they left a large depot of food at Hut Point for whoever might come after, an act of generosity whose prescience was not long in the proving. Shackleton's Endurance Expedition is famous for the ship getting crushed in the ice and the last-chance boat voyage to South Georgia to find rescue. Fewer people know that that expedition had another half: a smaller contingent of men were sent to the Ross Sea to lay depots for the Endurance party to pick up as they crossed the Antarctic continent, which was the expedition’s original raison d’etre. They had what can only be described as a mindblowingly horrible time. It started with their ship being blown off its anchor at Cape Evans and out to sea before it had been fully unloaded, and got much worse from there. Winter clothing had to be improvised from a heavy canvas tent left by the Terra Nova Expedition, and they depended largely on the food that had been left at Cape Evans and Hut Point two years previously. By supreme effort they succeeded in laying the depots required of them, all the way to the Beardmore Glacier over 400mi/600km to the south, and suffered terribly from scurvy on the way back, one of them dying. The remainder narrowly scraped their way into the safety of the Discovery Hut, to recover their health and wait for the sea ice to freeze, but two decided prematurely that the greater comfort of Cape Evans was worth the risk, and set out over the new ice, never to be seen again. It turned out that their suffering was entirely in vain, as the Endurance party, whose survival they expected to depend on their depots, never so much as set foot on the Antarctic continent.

These are the layers of history with which the Discovery Hut, and all the geography of McMurdo Sound, are imbued. It was one of my great privileges, while a guest of the USAP, to be a portal to the Heroic Age for many people who were mostly unaware of what had passed before the building of the American station. It's harder to transmit the tangible immediacy of the history via the internet, but I hope this and the next post will get you some of the way there.

#history #discovery hut #mcmurdo sound #antarctica #antarctic history #discovery expedition #terra nova expedition #prefab architecture #discovery #heroic age #nimrod expedition #shackleton #captain scott

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tsunnychan · 5 years ago

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a change of pace: christmas miracles

ya girl feelin really hypomanic on 5 hours of sleep but typing for 12 hours straight...

but the race to get these all done before june hits and i hibernate for medical school again is r e a l (i can’t tell if i’m winning)

ao3 | part 1 | part 2

summary: two of the worst communicators, who prefer to keep their troubles hidden, finally talk it out....or fight it out.

Ingrid almost feels like laughing, sitting in the darkness of her room, curtains drawn, back against the door.

At first, anger boiled through her as she left the kitchen, purposely shoving past Sylvain as she raced back to her room. It is only until the door was finally shut behind her did the anger leave her.

Now, she’s completely drained, all the fight gone, replaced by a gaping cavity in her chest that she doesn’t even know how to begin to fill.

Is she really that worthless?

She hears a pair of footsteps stop outside her door and maybe she does still have a little bit of anger left. She spits out, “I have nothing to say to you, leave me alone.”

A weight settles against the other side of the door and pushes back against her. “It’s me.”

Felix’s voice surprises her, but it does nothing to resolve the tightness in her throat, when she remembers the way he looked at her across the table. Sighing, she lets her head fall to her knees, her arms pulling them in even closer. “What do you want, Felix?”

She can almost imagine the shrug as she hears him shift on the floor. “You know I’m not one for talking.”

Ingrid snorts quietly. “I do know. So why are you here?”

Felix doesn’t reply and Ingrid doesn’t press him further. They sit there against the door, the distant sounds coming from the kitchen falling between them. Then, she hears Felix grunt as he stands up, the weight at her back now gone. The loss deepens the ache in her chest, and she waits for his footsteps to inevitably walk away from her too.

Instead, she hears him say, “You’re right to be upset with him. I would be too, and I am.” He pauses and Ingrid holds her breath. Felix’s voice turns softer than she’s ever heard it when he continues. “Just give him the chance to explain.”

Then, she hears his footsteps leave with a disgruntled mutter, “whenever he stops being an idiot, that is.”

She huffs out a laugh and closes her eyes, feeling just a little bit lighter than she did before. She’s not sure how long her eyes have been closed, but she opens them again at another soft knock. “Ingrid? It’s Dimitri.”

She’s not sure she has the energy to respond. He continues anyway. “I… I know you might not want to talk, and that’s fine. We respect your need for space…” He trails off and Ingrid almost smiles at how awkward her dear friend is.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive with my next question, but Dedue insisted that we clarify…”

Ingrid furrows her brow in confusion. What? “We wanted to bake you some extra cookies, for you to take home with you, since we cannot… celebrate like we usually do.”

Her heart simultaneously swells and deflates at the thought. Slowly getting to her feet, Ingrid cracks open the door, just enough to catch sight of her friend’s worried blue eyes. She smiles weakly. “The cinnamon sugar ones are fine.”

He nods dutifully but hesitates to leave. “Ingrid—”

“I’ll be okay, Dimitri. It’s not your fault. Just… give me a little bit more time.”

Dimitri nods again, more slowly this time. He turns to leave, but not without shooting her one last look of concern, until he hurries off to the kitchen to relay her message. Ingrid shuts the door behind her and slumps down once again, her thoughts wandering toward her family.

Her father’s condition had declined sharply with the winter season, and her brothers had messaged her that all current funds were going toward the hospital bills. They didn’t mention anything further, so Ingrid had brought it upon herself to bring it up. We don’t need to celebrate my birthday this year, she’d drafted, it’ll save a plane ticket money and then some for the medications and hospital stay.

Her brothers had hurriedly texted back, how she shouldn’t be alone on her birthday, but Ingrid knew what was best. Burying the ache, she sealed her decision. It’s okay, I’ll be with my friends for the weeks beforehand. I’ll be okay.

Moments later, her oldest brother sent her a separate message and her hands shook. It’s okay to not be okay, Ingrid. We’re here for you, don’t shut us out again, all right?

She grimaces and gets to her feet. She throws back her blankets and huffs as she slides into bed again, hoping if she falls asleep, maybe she wouldn’t feel so much.

Sylvain is exhausted, and yet somehow, restless. His leg bounces relentlessly on the barstool in the kitchen as he and Dedue wait for Dimitri to return. Felix hadn’t come back after his outburst, and honestly, Sylvain doesn’t blame him

He wouldn’t come back either, knowing what he did.

He’d tossed and turn for a week straight before he left, debating if he should tell Ingrid or not. He texted Felix immediately when he got the news, that he was getting shipped out with his father, a trial for ambassador work, he’d said, so someone would know where he went. If he didn’t come back if things went south.

He’d even texted Dimitri and Dedue, for tips on how to conduct himself, because he sure didn’t pay any attention to that in high school or college, as they so graciously reminded him every day.

His fingers had hovered over his phone, over Ingrid’s name, frozen. Unable to type out the message he knew he should’ve sent. Even if it was short. A formality.

But he still didn’t do it. The thought of her locked in her room, refusing to come out, because she lost someone she loved… He couldn’t do that to her. Maybe it would be better for her to not know he was leaving at all, then she wouldn’t even know he was gone in the first place. Wouldn’t even know to miss him.

And with that thought in his head, he was on the plane, sitting stiffly next to his father, as they crossed the border into Sreng.

He tried to keep in touch, but he knew it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have as much time, in between all of his reading and catching up with foreign relations and policies. When he finally did have free time, he knew the time difference was awful.

So, he kept his messages short.

Then, it was over. His father had successfully placed a deal with the leaders of Sreng and he would be flying back tomorrow. He barely registered the flashing cameras in his face as he walked, back tall, behind his father. He caught the rerun on TV at dinner, snapped a quick picture, and sent it to their entire group chat, relieved it was finally over. That night, he went out into the marketplace with some of his father’s bodyguards, searching for gifts, because he certainly didn’t have the time when he landed.

His eyes caught on to some cooking spices for Dedue, some history books for Ashe and Annette, embroidery for Mercedes, locally sourced cheese for Dimitri, and ornamental sheath for Felix—

A glint of green catches his eye in the stall next to where he bought Felix’s gift, and he suddenly misses home terribly. He buys it for Ingrid before he second-guesses himself and trudges back to the hotel to sleep.

Then he wakes to a pile of texts in the morning. He doesn’t remember the exact messages, but he does remember his heart dropping into his stomach when one of Ingrid’s popped in. ‘That’s where you were? I missed you.’

The food in his mouth suddenly felt like sand and he realized exactly how stupid he was. The gift for Ingrid weighed heavily in his pocket on his way home. Then after that long, stifling flight, he took a direct transfer to Fhirdiad and as soon as he stepped foot on the Blaiddyd estate, he saw her sitting in his car.

Seven months away from her, away from all of his friends… he couldn’t hold back his excitement.

And he was surprised. Surprised she let him sweep her into a bear hug and spin her around like they were kids and he would hoist her up onto his shoulders so she could pick the best apples for all of them. Surprised that she’d let him do all of that when he didn’t tell her he was leaving.

But he swallowed his guilt and resolved to come clean to her. After all the celebrations were over and there was time to breathe.

Turns out, his best friend always knows when he screws up.

So, he’s not surprised, when Dimitri returns alone, shaking his head. His leg stops bouncing. “She said cinnamon sugar, right?”

Dimitri gives him this pitying look and he barely keeps the frown from forming on his face. “Yes, she did.”

Silence falls over them as Dedue moves to the pantry to gather the ingredients. Dimitri clears his throat. “Sylvain, you should—”

He couldn’t mask the bitterness in his voice in time when he snaps back, “I know. I’ll talk to her. Let her cool down first though, I prefer not to walk into another warzone after just getting back from one.”

He deflates immediately. Feeling guilty, he sighs and covers his face with his hands, elbows resting on the table. “Sorry. I’m just… exhausted.”

Dimitri sits down next to him, hand on his shoulder, but saying nothing else. Sylvain thinks back to Ingrid’s car and he grimaces. He hopes he’s wrong about it… but just in case. “Hey, Dedue, after the cookies… you got any recipes for birthday cake with fresh berries?”

Ingrid wakes with her joints stiff, stomach growling, and definitely not feeling any better than when she fell asleep. She never finished breakfast. She debates if it’s worth venturing into the kitchen if it meant potentially seeing Sylvain when she’s still angry, and then her stomach growls again, deciding for her. Grimacing, she climbs out of bed and makes her way to the door, stopping short when she notices a weight leaning against it from the other side.

Her chest tightens and fire burns in her again. She swings her door open and Sylvain tumbles onto his back at her feet. No smile on his face this time.

Instead, it’s blank, his mask, and Ingrid feels the fire burn hotter.

He makes no move to get up and she’s in no mood to entertain him. She turns on her heel and opts to stare out the window instead, biting out, “close the door behind you.”

Surprisingly, the door clicks shortly after and she whips around, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t mean come in.”

To his credit, Sylvain doesn’t flinch, and his face doesn’t change. It makes her angrier that she’s the only one reacting. “Why are you here?”

He stares right at her, posture betraying nothing. “You know why.”

She raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t continue. He inhales deeply and sighs, gesturing for her to sit.

She doesn’t.

Indifferent, Sylvain leans against her door and crosses his arms. “I meant to tell you.”

She scoffs, “yet, here we are.”

He snorts and agrees tiredly as his eyes slide shut. “Yet, here we are.”

Ingrid hates how calm he is. “Some apology this is. Have I cleaned up too many of your messes for you to not know how to do it properly anymore?”

His eyes snap open and she gets a glare back. Good. “Look, Ingrid. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, and I didn’t. That was wrong of me.”

She frowns. “You’re still not going to tell me why?”

“I was going to once we were done with all of…” he waves his hand around dismissively. “All of this. Then you found out early.”

Anger strikes her to her core, settling deep into her stomach. She snaps, “I found out early? Tell me, Sylvain, how is finding out seven months, after the fact, finding out early?”

His brow furrows and his mouth flattens into a thin line. “You know that’s not what I meant—”

She doesn’t let him finish. “And why is it, that now that I’ve found out, that I’m worth telling? But not before you left? You could’ve died out there if things went wrong!”

That, apparently, touches the nerve she didn’t know she was looking for.

Sylvain pushes of the wall, his arms flying outward, voice rising. “Ingrid, I’m sorry! I didn’t want to tell you I was leaving and then on the off-chance, not come back. Knowing me and my reputation? Those chances were pretty high. So, I wasn’t going to put you through that again—”

“There you go again, making light of getting hurt! Glenn did that too and now he’s gone! I never got to say goodbye to him, Sylvain!”

He’s stunned into silence at her outburst and she feels tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. Her breathing is ragged, but she can hardly bring herself to care when all of those feelings she associated with Glenn, the ones she thought she buried, come back to haunt her. Her energy drains out of her and her knees buckle as she falls backward onto her bed. She throws an arm over her eyes and repeats herself, voice barely a whisper. “I never got to say goodbye.”

She hears Sylvain’s clothes rustle as he moves to sit on the floor, his head falling back against the door with a soft thump. More words spill from her mouth. “The day before Glenn left… the day before he died… he told me had something to tell me, but it could wait until he came back.”

Sylvain remains silent and Ingrid removes the arm over her face to look at him. His eyes are trained on the ceiling, his fingers white from clenching each other. And Ingrid gets this sudden, twisted, urge, to hurt him. To make him understand.

Her throat burns painfully as she forces more words out. “He said it could wait until he came back, and all he said was, ‘talk to you soon’, and I only replied, ’okay’. He never came back, and I never got to hear what he was going to say—”

“He was going to say, ‘I love you’.”

Ingrid whips her head to Sylvain and he’s finally looking at her, his eyes tired. Apologetic. Hurt. That dark little part of her quiets down and she whispers, “how do you know?”

His eyes don’t stray away, despite the tightening of his jaw. “He told me.”

At that, Ingrid stares at him in disbelief and he continues, “it wasn’t exactly something he was going to tell his kid brother or the other kid who’s basically like his little brother. He wanted to get it off his chest, so he told me, the other kid he basically adopted to be a brother but wouldn’t flake at the mention of girls.”

Suddenly, she feels like laughing again. And maybe she is, with the sudden look of concern that crosses Sylvain’s face. He told him. Her eyes turn sharp when they glare at him, a dry smile finding its way onto her face. “He told you.”

Sylvain is back to being mute and Ingrid can’t help the empty laugh that comes out of her as she looks away from him, more tears skewing her vision as more memories flood her mind. “Don’t you see how painful it is, Sylvain? To hear the words you want to hear, but not from the person you want to hear them from?”

He remains resolutely quiet, and she turns her head toward him once again. His shoulders are stiff and he’s staring holes into the carpet. Ingrid’s not even sure that he’s breathing. Then, softly, “I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

The tight coil in her stomach loosens, just a bit, as she tries to find her voice again. “Promise me, Sylvain.”

His eyes shift up to hers, dull and glassy, and the ache in her chest worsens, knowing she caused it. Wanted to cause it. She gulps and holds his gaze. “Promise me that you’ll take your safety seriously and that you’ll talk to me. Tell me where you’re going, especially if you don’t think you’re coming back. I want… I need to be able to say what I need to say. Including goodbyes.”

He sighs, shoulders dropping as his head knocks back against the wall again. “You have so much on your plate already, Ingrid… who am I to add more troubles?”

She sits up. “You’re my best friend, Sylvain. I want to hear these troubles from you.”

His eyes find hers, exhausted. “How do you even bear it, Ing? That weight on your shoulders.”

Ingrid slips out of bed and finds herself walking toward him, sliding down on the floor next to him. “I bear it because I have to, Sylvain.”

“You don’t have to bear it for me.”

Her fingers twist together in her lap. “I can bear it… because it means they trust me enough to share it with me. If I’m not even worth the trust…” she trails off before looking at him. “Then what am I worth?”

His face breaks in front of her. “Ingrid, that’s not what I—”

“I know, I know it’s not what you meant. It’s a bit naïve of me to think like this, but I can’t help but feel that way whenever you don’t tell me something important. Like you don’t need me anymore.”

His hand covers hers. “I’m always going to need you, Ingrid.” She looks at how much smaller her hand is in his. Had it always been like that? “But you also have to promise me something too.”

She looks up. His eyes serious. “You have to share your troubles with me too. I know you’ve been keeping a lot of these things to yourself, because you can bear it, but Ingrid… you don’t have to bear it alone, okay? I’ve got your back. Always. Don’t shut me out.”

Tears prick her eyes again, as she feels Sylvain’s hand leave her. Then, his one of his arms settles around her shoulders, pulling her in until she’s tucked under his chin. Her breath shakes unevenly as he presses his cheek to her hair, voice low. “How’s your father?”

And Ingrid lets her tears go.

Ingrid wakes to a darkened room with a sore neck and aching back. She’s still tucked against Sylvain as he dozes lightly, head resting on top of hers, arm still slung over her shoulders. If she listens carefully, she can hear Annette, Mercedes, and Ashe in the kitchen, humming along to Christmas tunes.

She thinks she can even hear Felix teasing Annette, and Annette firing retorts right back.

“Are you awake?”

Sylvain shifts above her and she finds him blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, yawning wide. Ingrid leans away from him as he spreads his arms out to stretch, rolling his neck. She nods in the darkness and stretches out her own limbs. “We should probably head out, see what else needs to be done for tomorrow.”

Her stomach growls again, having missed half of breakfast and lunch. She thinks she sees Sylvain smirk at her. “And see what we can salvage for dinner.”

She pushes at his shoulder, smiling herself. “Shut up. Crying burns a lot of calories.”

Ingrid moves to stand, but Sylvain catches her hand, keeping her there. She raises an eyebrow before realizing he probably couldn’t see it. “What?”

He tugs her back down and puts his hands on her shoulders, bringing his face close to hers. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right? Like we promised?”

A lump forms in her throat. “Yeah. Of course.”

His eyes search hers. She’s not sure what he finds, but his hands slide off her shoulder and into his pocket, pulling out a small white box. He hands it to her. Uncertainly, she takes it. “Sylvain? What is this?”

His hands withdraw from her completely, and instead, fly up to the back of his neck. “Your Christmas gift. It’s almost midnight anyway, so I figure I’d give it to you now. It’s a little too small to put underneath a tree.”

She opens the box and a small, jade tear-drop pendant winks back at her. Her throat feels oddly tight. “Sylvain—”

“I know you don’t usually wear jewelry or anything, but I was out shopping for gifts and I just… I saw it and I don’t know—the color reminded me of home. Reminded me of you.”

Her lips quirk up as her heart pounds in her chest. “Reminded you of me, but didn’t remind you to tell me where you were—?”

“I said I was sorry! I promise to tell you next time. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Ingrid laughs and leans against his shoulder. “Thank you, Sylvain. I love it.”

“Wow, our own Christmas miracle. First, you tell me you look nice, now that you love my present, and us, two of the worst communicators making up—”

Ingrid pushes him away, laughing. She pulls him up from the floor and they make their way to the kitchens where they rest of their friends are. They all shower them with hugs and greetings, while her heart still beats a little funny with Sylvain’s gift in her pocket.

#sylvgrid #sylgrid #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #fe3h byleth #i can't wait for the day i can rest and these two leave me alone....#:')))))#its ok i'm having a grand ol time #my writing

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