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pastelpaperplanes · 3 years ago

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Big Ol Ask Post Pt. 3 I think

I haven’t drawn anything other than cursed or plain technical stuff w him 😔😔 have these for now but expect more soon!

anon a way back asked what he’d look like next to Overlord being already so big compared to Megs, that’s why you see Lordie if you’re wondering why he’s thrown in that line up!

by the way I have a voice claim for the big purple simp— Jenner from NIMH, he’s so awful but that suave baritone oh it fits too well >:] it’s the ‘humble servant’ line that got to me

Yep! Pharma is absolutely in this AU—as well as the CFau and Crack one too—and in all, he’s still an estranged medic long since booted from any legal work back on Cybertron.

He lost his credibility and more all those years ago when he found himself willing to do his fair share of cutting corners and hastily concealed malpractice to expedite his dream of getting his name down in the medical books—ultimately impressing his dear Mentor Ratchet, finally, in perfecting long-since banned risky experiments and surgeries—not to mention cruel and unusual temperament with the (supposedly) taboo practice of non-medicinal mnemosurgery.

His ambitions and aggression always got the bet of him, this hasn’t changed since he found himself working in freelance outposts. Light years away from Cybertron, he’s made a name for himself as a Good Doctor—but to his under-the-table black market part-dealing clients, he’s just about as bad as a Crooked Medic can get.

Bounty hunters and Arms Dealers like him for his business, a certain DJD member likes him for the occasional berth company and seemingly never ending supply of fresh T-Cogs—but no one actually likes him for his nasty temperamental personality, save for a young and naive Ratchet once upon a time.

Pharma is a roamer, as of recent he’s been a hard to reach mech—seems as if he’s found a little project to keep himself pretty occupied in the last few decades—something about a breakthrough for aiding the Decepticon Energon Crisis :] him and a small, horrifyingly cheerful surgeon are well on their way to completing their first trial batches, it’s safe to say that their little synthetic mixture will have it’s users sated and compliant.

they’ve got that amazing ‘new car smell’ those first few weeks, and instead of chittering like an Insecticons or vibrating their wings like a seeker—they beep and squeak, sometimes even honk a horn depending on the baseline altmode coding, to get their Creators’ attention before their vocalizer truly starts to kick online

It’s cute, but loud

Much like a seeker sparkling, they have to reach a certain ‘age’ (upgrade) to be able to transform completely, in between then they’re still able to rev those engines as a warning should they need it, as well as spin their wheels should they need a getaway HEELIES IF THEYRE LUCKY WOOHOOOOO—for seekers they can hover on their thrusters!

Crusade is actually pretty formal with Megatron. But yeah as a kid, Megs was always known as Carrier, but as Sadie got older and more aware of their surroundings—they definitely came to learn the true weight of that title and the fact that they were the progeny of the faction leader, a fact they should have really held onto with more pride. Not wanting to draw more attention to the already blatant favoritism (and nepotism) Crusade made a switch to addressing Megatron as Sir, My Lord, Lord Megatron, —ect. to better fit in with their fellow troops.

It bothers Megatron more than than he lets on. Crusade shouldn’t have to hide their high ranking as his child, the heir to the faction. Megs is their Carrier and can only order them around for so long, as their Leader however—pulling rank may just allow for their infuriatingly stubborn sparkling to listen to them should a day come where even a Carrier’s plea is dismissed.

Crusade does slip up every now and then and a ‘Carrier’ will slip—often hushed and annoyed though as Megs does like to tease every now and then, gotta remind them that they’re still his baby every once in a while :’)

Optimus however—whenever him and Crusade should truly reunite, will never be called Sire by Crusade, which they so heatedly established early on—Crusade never needed one and they don’t need one now, better to not let the title trigger those long-suppressed emotions. Sure enough though Optimus will get his moment.

actually no lmfao so you’re good! Eh, I haven’t mentioned much plot w them outside of them and Megs, plus bits of potential interactions with Optimus—so the rest of Team Prime is free game :D

For what I (hopefully will have) planned, their interactions with team Prime will be eh,,,interesting to each their own to say the least. Some more stressful than others BUT let’s not get into that until I’ve worked it out—for now I’ll just mention what they’re dynamics would be like when the drama of Oh Shit Boss Bot You’ve Been Hiding a Kid For HOW LONG has died down.

A usually touch-wary Crusade actually is the one to initiate a hug with Bulkhead, he’s the biggest and warmest and somehow is always happy to see them. Plus he tells cool recaps of Earth films and gifts them strange blobish paintings every now and then, all of which Crusade doesn’t exactly understand, but at least the colors are pretty.

Bee is annoying,,,which is what Crusade would say if confronted if they actually liked all the shenanigans Bee suggest they pull together, prank wars to the max, sparring for fun, video games?, DOUGHNUTS and RACES in the fortress halls??? Ahem. they are a super serious soldier, not a hooligan. But honestly, Bee is the one they seek out the most should they need an adventure, they missed out on a lot of this ‘fun’ growing up on the Nemesis—Bee seems to know how to balance a day of soldiering and dumbassery. sometimes.

Ratchet reminds them a bit too much of their Carrier than they’d care to admit. The medic is an old soul to his very core, perpetually tired but quick to snap into work mode, and sweet if you reallllllly squint. Sadie has been taught from day one to always respect medics, Ratchet obviously takes the cake on I’ve Seen Some Shit and for that alone Crusade both fears and admires Ratchet. Again, growing up on the Nemesis they didn’t have too many bots willing to talk much with them—but Ratchet (after he’s gone through his own lot of therapy, him AND Arcee. good lord) has a never ending pile of stories to share with them. Ratchet may throw in a few more colorful curses than necessary—which is SURPRISING bc Crusade thought they’d heard them all back home, but he’s entertaining and tells Crusade how it is, no sugarcoating. For that Crusade is grateful, there’s been too many half-truths thrown about to them in their recent years :’)

Ghost Prowl freaks them out—why does he deliberately have to be so sneaky?? Crusade has only met Prowl a fleeting handful of times (visits from the Allspark come with meaning, you know) and each time Crusade has been given nothing but odd riddles and poetic nonsense. Kidding. Prowl does like his wordplay’s but his given advice is always well meaning—the most firm and direct message Crusade has been passed though was probably most definitely “ Get those two cowards for mecha you call your Creator’s to stop fooling around with each other and SPEAK—at this rate it’s physically paining me that they haven’t begun Ritus and they’re not getting any younger”

Team Prime adores Sadie, they ask Megatron to see their sparkling photos every chance they catch him. And Crusade. hates it.

:) have

We’ve been here before, haven’t we?

#my art #cybertron’s legacy au #transformers #megop #lots to unpack #tarn is big and purple and very much a sip for megatron this has been established #simp*#also he’s HUUGE #Pharma has a nice role in this au but mostly it’s some other rouge cons #mostly dear Trepan and his big bully of a husband >:3 #WE GOT SOME HOMAGE TO TFP HELL YEAHHHHHHHH GET READY. it’s gonna be darker for sure but ohohoohohooo can’t wait #Sadie is to OLD to call their mom Carrier UGH.#very sad and very much not true #but the title is still there and every now and then a ‘Carrier’ will be thrown out #team prime all would love Sadie #it would take a min for Sadie to warm up but they’ll fit right in :) little band of misfits #and finally #a re draw of one of my fav megop peices ive done #look how far they’ve come 😭😭#tfa tarn #tfa Pharma #tfa trepan #tfa megop #transformers animated #tfa optimus prime #tfa megatron

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lostinthewiind · 4 years ago

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Could I get a bit of an angst poly Matchablossom fic? Like one of them is out and they don’t hear anything from them in awhile. They get worried and have to rush to the hospital when they find out they were involved in a hit-and-run. They have flashbacks of their relationship like how the three met or when called their relationship official.

Polyamorous Relationship w/ Joe & Cherry: Through Thick and Thin

A/N: you absolutely can have a little bit of angst. Honestly, I sometimes can't decide whether I like writing smut or angst better . . . I think it's because they are both so emotion-fueled, which makes it easy to get into. Anyway, I hope I was able to meet your expectations for this fic! As always, thanks for requesting and don't hesitate to request more in the future :)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, mentions of bodily harm, injuries, blood, high-emotions, slight-trauma

Pacing back and forth from the kitchen to the living room of your shared apartment, your eyes kept flickering toward the clock on the wall, your nerves steadily increasing with every tick of the hand. Every second that Joe didn't walk through the front door made your heart race faster and your bite on your lower lip to increase in pressure.

"Are you going to pace all night?" Cherry looked at you from his desk, his golden eyes scrutinizing your every move from over the top of his laptop.

"Kojiro was supposed to have been home an hour ago," you stated harshly, as if your calm, pink-haired boyfriend didn't already know that. "And he hasn't texted or called or anything. I'm worried."

Cherry sighed before closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. "I can tell," he noted, his seemingly relaxed demeanour making your hands shake from frustration.

Halting your pacing, you crossed your arms over your chest and exhaled slowly. "Kaoru . . ." your voice was quiet and shaky, and despite the slight embarrassment you were feeling for what would probably be a major overreaction on your part, you just couldn't help it.

Cherry shook his head at you slowly, but there was no disappointment or mockery in his action. Even though he didn't see any cause for concern considering it had only been an hour and Joe's restaurant was busier lately than usual, he acknowledged the worry coursing through your body.

Spinning his chair to face you, Cherry cocked his head ever-so-slightly and outstretched his arms onto the chair's armrests, palms up, silently asking/inviting you to come to him.

Gravitating toward him like a magnet seeking stability, you shuffled over to his chair, standing before him and trying to calm yourself. Leaning forward, he rested his hands on your hips, brushing his fingertips up your sides. When he reached your shoulders, he worked his hands down your arms, wrapping his slender fingers around them and unfolding your arms before holding your hands in his own.

"There is no sense in worrying until there is something to worry about," he said simply, pulling you into his lap. Once you were close to him and enveloped in his embrace, you felt your breathing naturally slow to match his.

"I know. You're right." You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes as he brought one hand to your face and brushed some loose strands of hair out of your eyes. "You're always right."

Cherry chuckled lowly. "Well, maybe not always . . . don't tell Kojiro I said that," he warned jokingly.

"Okay," you laughed as well, feeling the nerves begin to flee your body, "I won't."

"Good girl."

Just then, Cherry's phone buzzed atop the desk, startling you both a little. Looking over at the device, Cherry smirked as he picked it up. "See?" He flashed the caller ID toward you, which read Kojiro's name. "He probably just got busy and lost track of time."

You felt relief wash over you like a wave as you lifted your head from Cherry's shoulder so he could answer the call.

Accepting the call, Cherry pressed the device to his ear and tutted his tongue. "You ever hear of calling or texting if you're going to be-" he stopped mid-sentence, his toying expression turning stone-cold in a split-second. You couldn't hear what the person on the other end of the call was saying, but all you had to do was look at Cherry's wide eyes, furrowed brows, and trembling lips to know that it wasn't Joe and that something was wrong.

Suddenly, the wave of relief had transformed into a dark, ominous riptide, dragging you into the darkest parts of your mind and forcing you to conjure the worst things possible. Hands gripping tightly to the front of Cherry's yukata, you willed the conversation to be over so you could find out what was going on.

"Yes." Cherry nodded, the arm that was wrapped around your waist squeezing you tighter as he listened intently. "Yes, I'll be right there . . . okay, thank you."

When the call finally ended and Cherry put the device back down onto the desk, his hands shaking like yours had been minutes before, you watched him closely. He was silent afterward, his hold on you tightening even more. Both his and your own breathing were rapid at this point, the nervous energy radiating off of both of you and only working to make the other person even more uneasy.

"Kaoru." You brought a hand to his face and forced him to look at you. "What happened? Is Kojiro okay?"

Seemingly snapping out of his trance, Cherry gently pushed you off of his lap before he set about collecting things from around the apartment. You could see the cogs turning in his head as he grabbed the car keys from the counter before turning back to pick up his phone once more. All the while, you watched him, a sick feeling rising in your stomach, increasing in intensity the longer you stood there oblivious.

"Kaoru, what happened?!" you asked again.

Cherry glanced up at you in passing as he headed toward the bedroom. "There was a hit-and-run," he said. "We have to go to the hospital."

You felt your heart shatter and sink at the same time, your hand frantically gripping the side of the desk for stability as you watched Cherry's pink head disappear into the bedroom. The pace of your breathing quickened, if that was even possible, and you swallowed a hard lump in your throat—out of everything your brain had imagined, something as bad as a hit-and-run never even crossed your mind.

"D-did Kojiro hit someone or was h-he hit?" The question flew out of your mouth as quickly as it popped into your head. The way that Cherry was reacting already had you assuming which answer was correct, but you felt the need to clarify nonetheless.

Cherry, who was moving from surface to surface, looking for God-knows-what, ignored your question once more—although it was probably fairer to say that he had simply not registered the inquiry instead of ignored it.

The blatant lack of information was slowly started to boil your blood but the last thing you wanted to do was lash out at Cherry, who was clearly going into panic mode.

As your boyfriend passed in front of you, his head on a swivel, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in forcefully for a hug. Wrapping your arms around him tightly, you buried your face into the crook of his neck. At first, Cherry stood stiff in your embrace, but after a moment or so he physically relaxed and melted into your warmth.

You heard him draw in a shuddering breath, his shaking hands slowly coming up to cling to you. As much as he pretended to be indifferent towards Joe, you knew that he cared for him more than anyone else in the world—maybe even more than he cared for you, which you weren't offended by; you knew the two had a long history with one another.

Once you could tell that Cherry had calmed down a little and the roles of worrier and supporter had shifted, you drew back and looked him in the eyes. "Did Kojiro hit someone or was he the one who was hit?" you questioned, surprisingly steadier than before.

Cherry blinked back a tear that was forming in the corner of his eye, his lips trembling as he struggled to form words. "H-he was hit."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The half an hour it took for you and Cherry to collect your things and drive to the hospital was nothing more than a blur in your mind. Weaving in and out of traffic through the busy, lit-up city, Cherry mumbled details from the phone call to you as they resurfaced in his memory. All in all, he didn't know much, but restating the facts to you—or more accurately, to himself—helped keep his head on straight and his wits about him.

As soon as the two of you reached the hospital, you parked—not even really checking to see if you had parked in a designated spot or not—and rushed inside, hand in hand. The emergency room entrance had been the closest, but the inside was chaotic and had you clinging to Cherry like child afraid to lose their mother as the two of you pushed your way to the reception desk.

Cherry did all of the talking, refusing to let anyone else see him the way you had seen him back at the apartment. Once again, the roles of worrier and supporter had shifted—but at this point, it was probably more accurate to state that you had each taken on both roles, worrying relentlessly and being there for support when the other person started to spiral.

Thankfully, the nurse at the reception desk was kind and patient with the two of you. She understood that standing around talking about specifics was the last thing either one of you wanted, but she worked carefully to draw out your information so she could direct you to the correct floor.

While Cherry listened as intently as he could to the information being provided, you heard a commotion from the other end of the emergency room and looked back over your shoulder just in time to see an ambulance crew wheeling in a patient on a stretcher.

The patient, a man who looked about Joe's age, was bleeding profusely from a wound on his abdomen and screaming bloody murder about how he didn't want to die. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you listened to his pleas for help.

Without even noticing, you began to picture the man as Joe. Had Joe been hurt as badly as that? Had he been crying and screaming when they brought him in? Joe was one of the bravest and most stoic people you had ever met, and he only really cried (rarely) for emotional reasons, like really sad movies, instead of physical ones—but nevertheless, you couldn't help imagining him screaming out, all alone and scared.

"Hey." Cherry rested a gentle hand on your shoulder, careful not to startle you out of your daze. "You okay?"

You blinked a few times, tearing your gaze away from the stranger. When you glanced back, the paramedics had wheeled him out of sight and his screams grew fainter and fainter in the distance.

"Y-yeah." You forced a nod of the head. "I'm fine."

"Okay, let's go then," Cherry took your hand in his once more and led you out of the ER and toward a set of elevators. "The nurse checked for me and apparently he was taken up to the third floor. She wasn't on shift when he came in, so she couldn't tell me much."

You nodded once more, unable to find your voice . . . not that you had much to say anyway.

In complete silence, the two of you rode the elevator up to the third floor of the hospital, and following the directions Cherry had been given, arrived at a hospital room with the door cracked open slightly.

Before either of you could look inside, however, a tall man in a white coat approached the two of you. "You're Mr. Nanjo's emergency contacts?" He grabbed a chart from the adjacent nurses' station.

After the two of you confirmed your identities and relation to Joe, the doctor pulled you aside privately and began explaining the situation.

"Based on eye-witness reports on the scene, your . . . boyfriend," he seemed a tad uncomfortable with the polyamorous aspect of your relationship, but relayed the information professionally despite the obvious confusion, " . . . he was crossing the street, presumably to the parking lot across on the other side, when he was struck in the intersection by a drunk driver. Thankfully, he was only clipped and not hit full-on. All things considered, things could have been a lot worse, but he is still in pretty rough shape."

You drew in a sharp breath as your mind began to fog over, your concentration completely fading away. Before long, you were simply standing in place, eyes-glassed over, watching the doctor's mouth move but only picking up the occasional tidbit of information like "fractured rib" and "internal bruising".

Noticing your unsteady stance beside him, Cherry snaked his arm around your body for stability. It took everything he had not to devolve into a shaking mess like you, but he knew that one of you needed to pay attention to this information for Joe's sake; so, despite the overwhelming nauseous feeling in his gut, he nodded along to the doctor's words.

Once the doctor had told you everything there was to tell, he directed you back to the room and told you he would be back in a little while. With full visitation rights, you and Cherry stood in front of the cracked-open door, both too terrified to peek inside just yet.

Then, mustering every ounce of courage you had circulating your system, you placing a trembling palm on the door and gave a gentle push. Without a single creak, the door swung open silently, revealing a small hospital room with a bathroom, large window, armchair, and of course, a bed.

In the bed, the white sheets were completely covering the body of its inhabitant; the mess of green hair atop the pillow the only detail that confirmed to you that it was, indeed, your boyfriend. Joe's face was toward you and Cherry, eyes closed, scrapes and bruises littering his handsome features. There was even a cut that had needed stitches on his forehead.

If it wasn't for the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, you would have assumed he was dead.

"Oh, Kojiro!" you exclaimed, emotion suddenly taking over as you lunged toward the bed. Tears collecting in your eyes, you bent over him and rested your head on his chest, quiet sobs escaping your shuddering body. Finally, you let yourself cry.

"The doctor said he was given some pretty heavy pain medication, so he might be out for a while," Cherry said, coming up beside you and ghosting his fingertips over Joe's cheek. "But he should be okay."

Those five words were the best five words you had heard in your entire life. "He'll be okay," you repeated to yourself in a soft whisper. "You'll be okay." You directed the comment to Joe this time as you ran your fingers slowly through his messy hair. "Karou and I are here now. You're going to be just fine."

"Come on." Cherry placed his hand onto your lower back and guided you to the armchair. "We're in for a long night. Let's sit."

Lowering himself into the rather comfortable chair, Cherry scooted it closer to the bedside before he pulled you into his lap, the two of you sitting and holding each other the same way you had been back home in his desk chair . . . the way you had been sitting before your entire day had turned on its head.

"Don't cry." Cherry wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You know that if Kojiro wakes up and you're crying, it'll just make him upset too and then I'll have two blubbering babies to deal with."

You choked a subtle laugh through the sobs and gasps for air. "Shut up." You smacked his chest lightly as you cuddled further into his chest, your actions effectively contradicting each other. "This is the scariest moment of my entire life," you craned your neck to look at Joe and reached your hand out to grab his limp one, "I'm allowed to cry."

Cherry pressed a kiss to your temple. "I understand . . . this is the scariest moment of my life too. When I first picked up that phone call, for a split second, I thought we had lost him."

"I can't even imagine life without him," you said, trying not to let the dark thoughts invade any more than they already were. "I wouldn't be the same person I am today without him . . . without either of you."

Cherry cracked a small smile, the expressions of amusement completely standing out among the solemn atmosphere in the room.

"What?" you cocked a brow, wondering what had suddenly sparked such joy.

"Nothing, nothing . . ." He tried to play it off, but when it was obvious you weren't going to let him get away that easily, he caved. "I was just thinking about the first day we met you," he let out an airy laugh, "stumbling into his restaurant soaking wet from the rain, seeking shelter like a stray dog."

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "Oh, God, don't remind me. Of course I picked the only closed establishment with an unlocked door on the entire block to seek refuge in. The way the two of you just stared at me, glasses of wine in hand while I stood there, dripping and embarrassed. I felt like dying on the spot."

"You were cute," Cherry told you before shrugging nonchalantly. "At least, that's what Kojiro said. I'm pretty sure he fell in love with you right then and there."

"Oh, but not you, mister 'keeps all his emotions locked away until he dies'." You rolled your eyes.

Cherry just smiled. "I may not have declared my undying love for you right on the spot, but as you sat in Kojiro's sweater that damn-near swallowed you whole and sipped steaming tea to try and warm up, I could tell you were going to be special to us."

Finding yourself getting lost in the reminiscing of happy memories, you relaxed into Cherry's arms completely. "It's funny that Kojiro fell for me before you did," you looked up at Cherry and pressed a soft kiss to his neck, "because I fell for you before I fell for him."

Cherry quirked a brow down at you. "You never told me that."

"It wasn't by much so I didn't think it mattered . . . especially since I love you both the same now." You shrugged before elaborating, knowing that Cherry wanted to hear the story. "It was when Kojiro insisted we go to that fancy new restaurant that he wanted to scope out but he had underestimated how hard it would be to find parking, so we ended up having to walk like ten blocks."

Cherry nodded. "The area with the busiest, newest establishments was low on parking on a Friday night. Who would have thought?"

"Exactly," you agreed. "Anyway, we were walking and the wind was cold as fuck. I was shivering because, hey, I thought we'd be walking two or three blocks at most. Then, without even a glance in my direction . . . you just wrapped me in your coat. No words, just actions. I fell in love right then."

The corners of his mouth twisting up into a smile, Cherry kissed you softly. "I fell in love with you that same night," he said, surprising you. "Exactly ten seconds after that when you thrust my coat back into my arms, grumbling about how you would have much rather used the adrenaline from strangling Kojiro to keep you warm."

"I hope you know I appreciated the gesture . . . I just didn't want you to think I was going soft or something." You knew the words sounded beyond stupid as they were coming out of your mouth. "Love makes you crazy."

"That it does," he agreed. "But, for whatever it's worth, I've never once thought you were soft. Especially not that night when you were seconds away from killing Kojiro the entire time."

The two of you broke out into soft fits of laughter, careful to keep the volume down.

"I get hit by a car and even then the two of you can't be bothered to say nice things about me?" a weak voice mumbled from the bed.

Laughter dying out immediately, you and Cherry looked over to see Joe smirking up at you, his eyes slightly droopy and hand slightly squeezing yours.

"Kojiro!" You jumped out of Cherry's embrace and moved to place a kiss on the green-haired man's chapped lips. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Kojiro winced slightly as he pushed himself up into a slight reclined position in bed. "I think I'm okay," he answered, obviously trying to put on a brave face. "I'm glad you guys are here though," he clocked the glint of concern in your eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you guys a scare."

"Don't apologize," Cherry told him, cupping his cheek with his hand. "We're here for you, whatever you need. We're just glad you're going to be okay."

Kojiro forced a smile, ignoring the aching pain it brought to his bruised and scraped face. "You guys know I love you, right?"

"Of course." You kissed him once more. "We love you too."

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 #sk8 cherry blossom #sk8 joe #joe #cherry #kojiro nanjo #sakurayashiki karou #angst #lostinthewiind #fanfiction #reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #polyamarous #polyamory #polyamorous relationship #through thick and thin

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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A Dangerous Game

part 4

masterlist

Never in Y/N’s life had she run so far so fast. She almost thought her heart would explode but whether that was from the exertion or from the panic she didn’t know. The only thing she consciously knew was that she had to get away. She had to get away quickly.

She ducked into a coffee shop and ripped out her phone hurriedly searching for Eun-ho’s number. Each ring of the phone seemed like a knife to her heart, and she could only pray that Eun-ho would answer his phone while constantly peeking out of the window in hopes that neither RM or his men had followed her.

“Y/N?”

She nearly sagged to the floor in relief. “Oh thank God.” She sobbed.

“Y/N? Y/N, what’s wrong?” came the confused voice from the other end of the phone.

“He knows.” She spoke hurriedly panic coloring her tone and drawing the eyes of the patrons in the coffee shop. “I was in the market and he was there. He knows.”

“Who knows?” he asked and one could practically hear him scratching his head in confusion. “And what does he know?”

“He was in the market, and he knows I’m trying to go home. He has someone at the station. He knows everything.”

There was a pause that seemed to go one for ages before he spoke again hushed and suddenly just as worried as she was. “He has someone in the department? Our department?”

“Yes.” She hissed gazing out the window keeping a sharp eye out for RM, Jimin, or any of his lackeys that she might be able to identify, anyone even remotely suspicious really.

“Where are you?” he asked and she could hear movement on the other end of the phone. “I’ll come get you.”

“I’m at a coffee shop near the market. I… I don’t know what to do. I just ran out of there. He could still be in the market. He could be coming here. I don’t know I just… I panicked. I ran!”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Hurry.” She begged. “Eun-ho!” she suddenly yelped just before he could hang up.

“Y/N?”

“Don’t tell anyone. I don’t know who he has on the inside.”

“I promise. Just stay there, and I’ll be there soon.”

She didn’t know how long it took Eun-ho to get there but it felt like hours. Each moment moved by at a snail’s pace. She sat there staring out the window with her heartbeat pounding in her ears like a drum counting off the endless seconds. Each moment that Eun-ho wasn’t there was another moment were RM or his goons could find her and take her away to whatever fate RM had cooked up for her. He was a man with a plan and somehow over the course of a few weeks and two meetings, he had decided that she was a part of his plans.

What could he want with her though? She wasn’t of any use to him. She didn’t have connections or money. She had herself and a cat back home that looked more like a loaf than a cat, and she doubted RM’s interest was in her loaf of a cat. What was his interest?

Marcus was dead, and most of his associates were in prison or dead. And Marcus wouldn’t have had enough influence to even be noticeable to a man like RM so it couldn’t have been because of him or his former partners. Jackson. She needed to call Jackson.

She dialed the number with shaking fingers and waited for him to pick up. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. She was about to give up hope when the familiar voice echoed through the speakers. “Hello?”

“Jackson!” she cried out in relief thankful that the man had answered.

“Y/N? What are you doing calling here? Are the cops over there not taking good care of you? Need me to beat someone up?” the man joked not knowing the seriousness of the situation at hand.

“Papillon.” As soon as the word was spoken there was dead silence on the other side of the phone.

“Y/N.” his tone was solemn. He knew just as well as she did what that word represented. Of all the people from her life before, Jackson was the only one she still had contact with, the only one she trusted. “Y/N, what happened? Are you safe? Can you speak freely?” It had been years since either of them had had need of this system, and they had both hoped there would never be a need for it again.

“I’ve run into a problem, and I’m coming home. If you haven’t heard from me within the next two days, something went wrong, really wrong.”

“Damn it.” He hissed. “I knew sending you over there was a bad idea. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’ll take twice as long to get out of here if I wait for you to come.” She shook her head though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll be back as soon as I can get on a plane, but I needed to let you know what was going on.”

“Who is it, Y/N? Who did those bastards get you mixed up with?” he growled.

“I don’t know what his real name is, but they call him RM. And he’s…” she paused taking in a shuddering breath. “Jackson, he’s worse than Marcus ever was. The guy’s like a freaking James Bond villain.”

“Two days, Y/N. If you’re not home in two days, I’m coming to get you myself.”

“Okay.” She whispered relieved just to hear his voice, relieved that he knew.

“Two days, Y/N.” he sighed heavily, and she could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to work out a plan. “Be safe, Y/N.”

“I will.” She promised as the phone clicked signaling the end of the call.

She took another deep breath and peeking out the window again to see if Eun-ho was there yet. Having Jackson know the situation had settled her racing heart somewhat, but she wouldn’t be able to breathe gain until Eun-ho was here and she was safely on a flight out of Korea, far away from RM because whatever he wanted from her it couldn’t be good. God, how she wished she had never come here.

She could have been home. She could have flat out refused to come, and she should have. She never should have let them talk her into this. She knew it was idiotic, but then again maybe she was an idiot. She’d been an idiot all those years ago when she’d first become involved with Marcus and she was an idiot now.

“Y/N!” Eun-ho asked walking into the coffee shop looking every bit as frazzled as she felt. Granted she probably looked just as frazzled.

She rushed towards him and pulled him right back out the door. “We need to go.”

The rest of the day was a blur, a horrible blur. Every moment was spent glancing over her shoulder to ensure that she wasn’t being followed by a man she was coming to firmly believe was the devil. There were plane tickets to buy, suitcases to pack, a landlord to tell that the apartment would no longer be in use. And all of this had to be done with just the two of them because who else could they trust?

They knew that there was someone in the department who worked for RM, but was it only one? She wasn’t entirely sure that she could trust Eun-ho, but she didn’t exactly have another choice.

“Y/N? We need to go to the airport.”

They had been extremely lucky to get onto a flight out of Korea on the same day, and neither of them was willing to risk being late to the airport especially for an international flight especially when it was already so late at night.

“I know. I’m coming.” She called after him pulling her suitcase behind her as she went hurrying to the car.

Within the next few minutes they had packed up the car and were on their way to the airport.

“Deep breathes, Y/N ssi.” He smiled at her though neither of them found the gesture particularly comforting. “You’ll be on a plane and out of here in two hours.” He promised. Though she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled like a rock in her stomach.

There was a chance no matter how careful they had been that RM knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. There would always be a chance with that man. She might not have known the man well, but she knew that with such absolute certainty that it was ingrained on her soul. There would always be a part of her that even when she was safely home with her loaf of a cat and Jackson that was looking over her shoulder for RM just like she would always be looking over her shoulder for the remnants of Marcus’ old empire.

“You’ll go home, and he’ll lose interest.” That should have been reassuring. That fact should have been like a weight lifted from her shoulders, but it wasn’t all because of that dread that had made its home within her.

“What does it mean?” she suddenly asked looking over at him. “The word he called me before I ran. What does it mean?”

Even though it was dark she could still see the way he tensed his hands gripping the steering wheel like his life depended on it. “It doesn’t matter.”

Somehow she was unconvinced. “Eun-ho.”

“It doesn’t matter. Trust me.”

“You’re holding onto that steering wheel like it owes you money. I think it matters.” She glared at him though he couldn’t see it with the way his eyes were glued ahead of him in an attempt to avoid her gaze.

They sat there in a tense silence for a few minutes before he finally relented. “It like dear or sweat heart or honey. It’s a term of endearment.”

The silence returned only heavier this time. “Oh.” She murmured the word barely even a sound as it left her. He was right. She didn’t actually want to know that.

Jagiya. It was her new least favorite word. Knowing that he had called her that sent a shiver of disgust down her spine. Marcus had had pet names for her. Doll. Babe. Bitch. Slut. Marcus had called her a lot of things over their time together not all of them either good or endearing, but she had never hated a pet name more than she had hated jagiya. Or perhaps it was the fact that she hated the man who said it. As much as she had hated Marcus he had never frightened her as much RM did.

“Hey, Eun-ho. That car behind us is really close.” Her gaze was glued to the car riding their tail. “They’re getting closer.”

Everything in her was screaming that something was very very wrong. Eun-ho hummed his agreement and sped up hoping to put some space between them and the SUV behind them.

“Eun-ho.” Her voice warbled as the panic began to rise as the car sped up as well.

“I know. I see them.” He assured her while speeding up a little more.

“Eun-ho!” she shrieked as they collided with the car behind them.

The world was all spinning and screeching tires for a few horrifying seconds. There was screaming but whether it was her own or her companion’s she didn’t know. And then they were still again. She looked over at Eun-ho only to see him still bent over the steering wheel. Blood was dripping from a cut on his forehead.

The next crash was just as unexpected as the first. It was as though a bull had ran head long into the driver’s side pushing them even further off the road with a sickening crunch a spray of glass. This time she knew the scream was hers before the world was black.

There was a buzzing in her ears, high pitched and annoying. Where was it coming from? Wherever and whatever it was did not make the pain in her head any better, it even seemed to make it worse. it was a harsh throbbing pain spreading out from the crown of her head and working its way back. But it was the buzzing that bothered her most.

She tried to move a hand to her forehead but found herself whimpering in pain instead. The movement had exacerbated both the buzzing and the pain causing instant regret.

“Don’t move, jagiya.” Cooed a voice to the side of her, or at least she thought it was coming from her side.

“Eun-ho.” She groaned out searching for the other passenger, wincing as the buzzing became worse.

“Everything will be alright, jagi.” The voice cooed as she was gently shifted out of the car though the movement still elicited a pained whimper from her. “I know.” He cooed. “Hush, jagi.”

“Eun-ho.” She whimpered again as she was settled into what she assumed was a pair of arms. It was either that or she was floating. The buzzing and the pain made it hard to tell.

“I know, jagi. Everything is going to be fine now. Just sleep.”

And she did.

part 5

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #namjoon #namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon #mafia namjoon #rm #rm x reader #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #soft yandere

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

The Mechromancer

There may be more to this.

This started out as an attempt to write something completely different, but it was determined to do this instead. So you have a pile of fishTank, just a different pile than expected.

Warnings for angst, hurt/comfort.

Many thanks to @scribbles97 @janetm74 @tsarinatorment and @flyboytracy for all their help on this one. My brain fried in the middle of it and it is a little odd as a result. These wonderful peeps put up with an extremely whiney Nutty for a few days there so they should be congratulated for not hitting my over the head with something solid :D

I hope you enjoy this anyway.

-o-o-o-

They say mechromancy is born of the Earth, of rock and metal and the energies that drive the planet.

He can feel it.

Feel metal spinning as it is cut and cries out in its making, its shaping, its becoming. It resonates in his soul as he gives birth to a new creation.

He pulls the new shape off the lathe, the smell of hot metal curling in his nostrils. A rough edge catches skin and pricks a scratch.

Red iron smudges grey steel, metal on metal.

Virgil wipes it away with a stained rag and the cog gleams in the light of his workshop.

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s days were grey.

At first, waking was pain and fog. Everything was broken. The fine instrument he had built his body into no longer worked and was little more than a source of ongoing agony.

The doctors were brutally honest. He could not expect more than a life of grey walls and kindly nursing staff for the rest of his life.

That’s if he had one. There was always the opportunity of a sudden infection and an early termination of that agreement.

His family was there.

Always.

Grandma was in charge, no matter what the hospital thought. You didn’t cross his grandmother and survive. The fact there was a looming grey-eyed and very wealthy Jefferson Tracy gave much more weight to Doctor Tracy’s demands.

His father was there.

This was something both expected and unexpected. Father was a very busy man, but each time Gordon woke in those early days, his eyes would clear to find the silver-grey suited millionaire somewhere in the room. He didn’t say much, not being a man to show a great deal of emotion, but the fact he was there and there so often said enough.

Said how dire things really were.

The most consistent presence was Scott, of course. The man’s cane was heard in his sleep. Sometimes Gordon wanted to reach out and shake it from his brother’s grasp and break it in two across his knee.

But it was a fantasy. Because not only did he not have the strength to grab the cane, he no longer had any knees to break anything.

His legs were gone.

The thought flickered through his mind and he shied away.

Alan…Alan tried to cheer him up while trying not to cry himself. It was heartbreaking.

John reached out to brush fingers through his hair, a single tear falling unacknowledged down his cheek.

Gordon was in so much pain himself and yet also the cause of so much more. It tore at his heart.

Had his sole purpose in life been reduced to a bane on his family?

And Virgil…

He dreamt of his brother. His loving and gentle mechanic brother.

But he never saw him.

In the early days after Gordon had first opened his eyes after the accident, he had asked after Virgil. Scott’s eyes had been full of…something. His eldest brother always kept up his military stance, hiding his true thoughts should they present a vulnerability and those defences were ever so thick at the mere mention of Virgil.

Even in his bleary, pain-filled state, Gordon sensed there was something wrong, but he didn’t have the strength to pursue the question.

His days were awash with painkilling concoctions of his grandmother’s recommendations that took his mind along with the pain. Distorted versions of both his father and Scott were his earliest memories after the accident.

And the dreams…a sense of heat, holding him down, burning, preventing his escape. His own fear overlapped by someone else’s desperation and panic. Flame burning down his nerve endings demanding he stay.

Stay.

Whispers in his mother’s voice.

Denial and determination.

Ever so hot and hurting.

They always ended in such a flare of light and sound, he woke up yelling.

And Scott would be there. Words of reassurance and love.

Gordon always asked for Virgil after the dreams. They meant something, he was sure of it and they had something to do with Virgil.

And Scott never quite answered.

-o-o-o-

He stokes the fire to exactly the right temperature, the coals glowing eye-blinding white, forcing his goggles onto his eyes. His skin pricks with the heat.

Cahelium requires it.

Metal hits flame in a shower of sparks and sucks up the energy, shining as brightly as the sun. He feels it breathe in, draw in the life-giving energy of creation.

His hammer shapes with each strike, the metal thinning as he bends it to his will. Muscles flexing as he swings, the energy of his body fighting, forcing form.

Sweat trickles down his brow as he frowns with the effort. His leather apron protects his vulnerable body, but the sparks still sneak through to embed in the bare skin of his arms and burn holes in his shirt.

He doesn’t care. He can feel the metal with his mind and it is becoming.

Scars in the making only record the process.

-o-o-o-

Days turn into weeks and still Virgil didn’t appear.

Scott had excuses but none of them rang true. Gordon created all kinds of scenarios in his head. Maybe Virgil was injured. Or sick. Maybe he had died. All of the above terrified him until one day while they were alone, he yelled at his big brother, demanding to know.

Only then did he get to see Virgil.

Scott wheeled him in.

Gordon stared. His engineer brother looked terrible.

“W-what happened?”

Virgil’s hands were swaddled in bandages and he was literally wilting in the chair. “Hey, Gords.” His eyelids were drooping.

Gordon looked up at Scott and his big brother’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“What happened?!” His body was busted but there was nothing wrong with his brain bar the concoctions they kept stabbing him with.

Virgil reached over and lay a bandaged hand on Gordon’s chest. “I’m well. I promise.”

“You look awful, Virg. What happened to your hands?” He stared at the swathed fingers on his broken body. Virgil’s magic fingers. His eyes widened, dreams and reality suddenly merging. “What did you do?!”

“Gordon…” His name was weariness itself, his brother’s usual baritone barely there. “You were dying. I had to.”

Gordon’s eyes shot to his brother’s bloodshot brown, so like his own. “You fix machines.”

“The human body is only another type of machine.”

“You fixed me?”

Virgil shook his head, his eyes closing. Scott, who had remained silent, knelt down beside the engineer in his chair and placed an arm around Virgil’s shoulders.

Virgil’s hand was still on Gordon’s chest. He fought with the sudden need to want it gone, yet desperately wanted to hold it in his own.

He settled for slowly, ever so slowly moving his right hand to land on top of Virgil’s as gently as he could.

“What did you do?”

“I fixed enough.” An exhausted exhale. “Just enough.”

“What has it done to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You look half dead.”

Virgil closed his eyes again. “I am well, Gordon. Don’t worry about it.”

Gordon turned to Scott, whose eyes again dropped to the floor. His big brother swallowed.

Back to Virgil. “You are a pathetic liar. You know that.”

Virgil’s eyes joined Scott’s on the floor. “I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“What?! It’s obvious that you foolishly did something that might have saved my ass, but trashed yours. Scott, tell me! What the hell did he do to himself?”

Virgil straightened up and a more familiar fire flared. “I did what had to be done. And I would do it again.”

“Then why the hell are you apologising?”

Virgil shrunk back and shook his head, but didn’t say anything further. If anything, he wilted in his chair further.

“Virgil…” It was an exhalation of his brother’s name. His eyes darted again to Scott seeking answers. His eldest brother still had a protective arm around Virgil’s shoulders. Whatever had happened, chances were it was bad.

Blue eyes looked up and caught Gordon’s. Scott’s lips thinned and his jaw tightened.

Very bad.

Virgil’s hand on Gordon’s chest was trembling.

“Tell me you will be well.” He begged Virgil to look at him so he could see the truth.

As if summoned, that dark-haired head rose, bloodshot, brown eyes caught his. “I will.” A swallow. “I promise.”

“And your hands?”

“They will heal.”

“And be as they were?” Please.

“They will heal.” It was a repetition, almost a self-reassurance.

Gordon swallowed hard, almost terrified to look beneath those bandages to discover exactly what his brother had done trying to ‘fix’ Gordon’s machine.

Virgil was suddenly pushing himself to his feet. Scott hurried to steady him. “Virgil, what are you doing?”

But their brother didn’t answer. He took a shaky step towards the bed and, leaning over, wrapped his arms as best he could around Gordon without disturbing him. “So good to see you, Fish.” There was an emotional shake in his voice and that tremble in his hand proved to be system wide.

Gordon lifted one hand the best he could and rested his temple against Virgil’s. “Glad to be here.” His voice was suddenly hoarse. “Thank you.”

There was a muffled sound in Gordon’s pillow he couldn’t identify. Then a rough, but firm, “Anytime.” Virgil shifted and pushed himself up a little, enough to catch Gordon’s eyes. “Anytime.”

And Scott was hauling Virgil up and back into his chair.

Gordon didn’t want his brother to go, but the man was sagging where he sat, alarming Gordon even more. A glance at Scott and he encountered that same worry there.

“Time to go back to bed, Virgil.” Their eldest brother secured him in the chair and unlatched the brakes.

If Gordon could have, he would have stretched out his arm. “Be well, Virgil.”

His weary brother nodded once and Scott pushed him out the door, leaving Gordon to stare at where his brother had been and what he had done.

-o-o-o-

He lines up the fine golden metal cladding and, with a punch he cast himself, embosses a detailed etch of an octopus into the hot cahelium-brass.

Beside it, he chooses to place a shark, its fins a sharp dent in the metal.

His breath is evaporated as he peers closely before punching in a twirled sea shell.

His fingers ache to touch the metal.

On the desk beside him lays the mechanisms. Setting the section of the cladding aside to cool, he returns to the final touches, the fine tuning of the gears and the delicate gyroscopes that will balance movement.

His fingers flicker as he reaches for information.

There is a thin screwdriver in his mouth, held across his lips as his hands correct and make minor adjustments. The metal tastes like possibilities.

His fingers twitch. There is still stiffness in his skin. They remember the feel of his brother’s broken body. Feel what was being lost.

What he was losing.

The heat needed to forge, to fix, had been unbearable, and it took from him, so much.

Now he is different. Part of him is with his brother, keeping him alive, like a donation of a body part. A donation of part of his soul.

Given willingly.

Virgil sighs and returns to the forge to shape more cladding.

The metal is warm under his fingertips.

-o-o-o-

FIN?

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #an attempt at Steampunk #Where there be dragons AU

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jeromesxreader16 · 4 years ago

Text

Such a Joker (53)

Part 52 Here!

~o0o~

I pack two sandwiches in my purse and proceed to cover my hair with the large silk scarf. "Where are you sneaking off to?" Babs asks walking past me and downing a drink. "Secret date? I figured you would get sick of the pale faced clown." I smile at my hands. I could never tire of my boy. I'm as crazy as him, maybe more, but he would never turn me away, and I could never leave him.

"I'm married." "Even better." I narrow my eyes at her. "Babs, I'm going to see my dad." She widens her eyes. "Now you're asking for a death wish." I walk out the door, my heels clicking every step. "If you say so."

I walk into the GCPD and can sense the chaos and tension thickly canned in the air. Not seconds later two individuals start brawling over bread. "Hey! Break it up!" My father pushes them back. "For all the new people here... everyone is welcome in Haven, but there are rules. And one of them is we leave the fighting outside. Government already thinks we don't deserve help. We have to show otherwise. Gangs want to tear themselves apart outside, that's their business. In here, in Haven... we help each other survive." I hum with a slick smile as the two dispute the issue and the tension falls. Saved for another day.

I walk up to him nudging his arm. "Nice speech. I think it worked." He turns to me and gasps, but recovers quickly. "(Y/n). You're so big. No... Just-" "Pregnant, dad." He nods smiling. "So what happens when they find out the government abandoned them?" He sighs, shaking his head. I pat his back. "Come on paper man. You need some real food." I pull him into his office and remove the disguise. "Italian sub for you, and tuna for me." "You hate tuna." I smile sitting down. "They don't." I pat my swollen tummy. "So there are two of them?" I nod smiling.

"And you're happy? He treats you well?" I nod again smiling at him. "Of course he does. He's not a monster, dad." He grabs my hand over the desk and squeezes it. "I don't... like him. You know this. He destroyed the damn city for christ's sake, but he is the father of my grandchildren, and the husband of my only daughter, so I can promise you... I will never kill him." I kiss his hand and smile. "Who knew that'd be so comforting to hear."

I walk into the elevator with the smile ghosted over my lips. Crackling from the speaker erupts my mind causing me to shake and grab the wall in fright. "Aw, honey, I'm sorry." Ecco's voice pipes up from the speaker. I wave my hand in front of the camera with a smile. "No worries. All good here." I laugh placing a hand on my stomach. "Where is Jerimiah?" "Working down below. Would you like me to get him?" I smile up at the camera. "Let me go down."

"Uh... Miss, I think we should wait. He doesn't want you around the-" I press the button to the bottom floor faster than light. "Oops," I smirk up to Ecco as the elevator skips the main floor and descends below.

The two doors slide open revealing a steamed room with the funk of hard labor. I step on the uneven ground and see Jerimiah fanning himself as he watches his workers. I rest my hands on his shoulders and kiss his cheek. "You're working hard." He spins around with a glare. "And you're not supposed to be here." He grips my hips pulling me towards him.

"I missed you." I nuzzle into his chest. He hums as we rock back and forth. "I missed you, my love. Come on. No lady should be exposed to this heat." He places his hand on the small of my back leading me to the elevator.

Holding me the entire way up and then carrying me to our bed, never letting us go. "Are my darlings all suggled up?" He asks resting my head on his chest. The icy colored flesh proving wrong to the touch of fire on my fingers. "Yes, Jer." I mumble feeling my eyes draw to a close. "Never will I go a day without my family... even your father." He kisses my head before I can ask the question.

Jeremiah POV:

My workers work endlessly day and night to break the walls of the under the earth. Slowing down each day, getting on my nerves in the end. You're pushing my men way too hard. "We're not gonna break through for at least a couple more days. There is absolutely no way to make it on schedule." The leader of the pack of sweat cogs comes in.

My wife doesn't need to be kept in this filth any longer. How dare he disrespect my future. "Well, not with that attitude, you're not." I slice the man's throat, as he falls to the ground, blood flowing on the dirt.

"Now... everyone... let's reach inside and dig... a little deeper, shall we? 'Cause that's the only way you're all making it out of this hole." I hum watching their fear thicken.

Two taps on my shoulder break my gaze from the project. "Oh, Echo. Are these all the recruits?" Skinny, no brains, slim Whitted. These are my soldiers?

"Well, I thought you would want quality over quantity. Not everybody can pass a .38 caliber test of faith." I smirk thinking of the trials and tests they've suffered. "Yes... you certainly have set a very high bar for devotion."

"Oh. Almost forgot. Bruce Wayne and his sidekick Curls... Or is he the sidekick? Anyway, they tried to infiltrate our little operation here."

"Oh?" " Oh. And Curls can walk, really well, especially... for a paraplegic. Ah. And she wants to kill you." I glare at her with a snarl. This doesn't help that my wife is being cared for in the same building.

"A lot, FYI. If I see her, I'll give you a shout. Oh... and kill her." I nod rolling my eyes. Finish the job and move on for the better of my wife and children.

I walk into the GCPD questioning room with my scarf wrapped around my head, and my belly protruding out. Quite the look I must say. I open the door to see Victor Zsasz pushed on to the table by Harvey.

"Ow. This is a really nice table." I snicker and take my glasses off. "You do realize her thrives on the pain." The three pairs of eyes look at me. "We got a dozen witnesses that saw you walk out of that building before it went kabooey."

"Yeah. I heard some gangs had taken over." Zsasz says turning his eyes to me. "Figured, with you guys occupied, I might help myself to some of your supplies. Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's. Maybe little baby Maniax's." He laughs reaching for my stomach before Jim swats his arm down.

"If you're innocent, why shoot up a city block full of cops?"

"Because it was full of cops." Zsasz and I say at the same time.

"Who were also trying to shoot me. And, guys, those were warning shots. I mean, if I really

wanted to kill you... you'd be dead. You got a pen? I want to write this guy a thank-you letter. Do the math. If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered

every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars. Mrs. Valeska... want to do a strip search?" He winks before my father punches him. "She's married, pig."

I lock arms with my dad and walk through the station. "Got Lucius on the horn for you, Cap."

"Lucius, talk to me." I grab the phone holding it close enough for the both of us to hear. "Haven wasn't destroyed by a bomb. It was an RPG, like the one that took down the chopper."

"You sure?"

I'm holding what's left of it in my hand right now. We found pieces of it in the rubble. It was fired through the basement window, detonated the fuel oil tank. And we're still trying to figure out exactly which rooftop it was fired from.

"Rooftop?"

"Yes."

"Dad, the only angle you could hit this place from is above. Zsasz was on the ground. Looks like you need a new suspect. I think we need to-"

"Jim! Ah. I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide- a modicum of grease."

Rushing up towards the front, Oswald, the Mayor of fallen Gotham, stands tall and proud.

"You need to leave right now."

"Still claiming he's innocent, is he?"

"Yes. And as much as I hate to admit it, the evidence is backing him up."

Harvey busts out, "What the hell's going on?" "Harvey, according to Lucius, Zsasz couldn't have done it."

Oswald huffs with a smile. "I did not expect you to go soft, Jim. Actually, I did. Behind a grandpa and all must've changed your ways. Which is why I didn't come alone." Several gunmen come out armed and ready to fire. My father huddles me close and shields me from the view of guns.

"Bring me Victor Zsasz!"

"Leave, (Y/n). Go home!" Jim pushes me away towards the doors.

Jeremiah POV:

I wave my hat fanning my pale skin placed upon the crippling bones. It's so damp and hot in here, but I'm freezing. My heart has gone cold without her scent around. Not a touch, not a wiff, not a glace for days it seems. Where is my angel with my bundles of joy?

"You see, a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence. So what do we do when we feel like giving up? Dig a little deeper. And what do we do when we can't possibly go on any longer? Dig a little deeper. And what do we..." A sharp blade stabs into my side crippling my speech. I look down seeing the masked figure in the striped coat. I gasp feeling my footing slide as the attacker shoves the blade into my stomach further.

"Deep enough?" The individual removes the mask revealing the little pussy of them all. "Well, Selina, I must say..." She pulls the blade out plunging it back in sharply.

"Don't say anything." Over and over again the blade is shoved into my side. The light dimming, the hot steam hitting my brow, the devilish laughter of my brother. This is near my end? Maybe so...

"Selina!" The rat is stripped away from me causing me to fall to the ground barely clinging to the life of happiness I have.

"Selina!" Bruce Wayne holds the fierce kitty back. "Stop. It's done! It's over."

The building is quiet. The entire place is quiet... Not one swing of an ax hitting limestone, making a light clink sound. Not the ring of my husbands voice calling to his men. Not even Echo meeting me at the door with my slippers and milkshake. Something is not right.

"Jeremiah?" I call out as if he could hear me from below. If not him then someone. One of the members at least, but no one came. I proceeded to enter the elevator only to see blood on the buttons and floor. They were having the graduation today, not everyone makes it.

The doors open to the pool room and I could almost drop to my knees at the smell. Thick scent of blood coating the walls. I walk out of the elevator and down into the pool counting the dead. No Echo or Jeremiah. Good so far.

I make my way down to the tunnels where silence has taken over. Just a simple lone man sitting in a chair. "Where is Jermiah?" I panic pulling my jacket closer. Could he have left me?

"Mrs. Valaska!" "Where is my husband?" "He's off in the tunnels. He's got injured. I'm supposed to take you to him." "Well, go on!" He shuffles his feet in a pace of nervousness, tripping over rocks and pickaxes. "How did he get hurt?" "Someone came in and just stabbed the boss. She was taken away by Bruce Wayne." I feel fire ignite in my blood. Selina and Bruce. What a treat. Trying to kill my husband in my own home.

Down the tunnels I hear him. Groaning in pain as Echo stitches him up. "How could you let this happen?" I shout at her. "She was fast." "And you're supposed to be faster." I glare at her as she cowers at my words.

"Don't stress, darling. It's not good for the babies."

"Jeremiah." I kneel down next to him grabbing his face. "Are you alright?" He places his hands over mine, kissing them each. "I'm still alive. One thing I've still got on my brother. How are you, my love? I'm sorry. You must've been wrecked with worry." Jeremiah pulls me into his lap. I nod with my bottom lip out. "Yes, I was. I was so scared, Jer." He pulls me to him. "Aw my darling. I know. I know."

I shift my weight slightly causing him to jet in a sharp inhale. "Oh, honey. Stitches still sore?" He nods. "Never would have happened if you wore that armor I prepared." Echo hums, causing me to roll my eyes. "That bullet makes you sentimental of the wrong things." I huff out pushing her out of the view.

"Why would you not check who was working? You always do. You're always prepared." Jeremiah places his hand on my cheek again. "I had to let Selina thrust the knife into my flesh at least once. Verisimilitude trumps precaution, you see." "They think you're dead." I think putting everything together.

Echo stands to the side bouncing with information. "What is it?" She giggles jumping on her heels. "All systems go." Jeremiah lifts himself, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading us along behind Echo.

"You could've died." I whisper looking at the dirt. "I didn't." "But you could have, Jeremiah. That's my point. You have two children growing, and soon they'll be out in this world. They need their father. You've kept me safely away, but that won't mean shit if you're not around to protect your children." I move ahead of him in a fit of fire.

A hand grabs my shoulder spinning me around. Jerehimah dips me and pushes our lips together. His grip on my arm and hip so tight, keeping me pulled to him with no fight. He pulls away only an inch, looking at my eyes, looking into the soul. "Now, you may not understand everything I do, but I do it for you and these two kids. I think and I plan for hours. You sit up in the bed resting your feet like I tell you. When you start questioning if I'm going to make it, that's when this will fall apart. You're my darling. You've been mine for thousands of years. Never doubt me, (Y/n)." He places his hands on my stomach and pecks my forehead. "Come along now. We have things to do."

Leading me through the tunnels I start to see less of the dirt and more solid grey rock already formed into tunnels. "Where are we?" Jeremiah giggles pulling me alongside.

"Doctor. I'm hearing good things." Jeremiah says holding in laughter.

What is he up to?

The Doctor nods. "The bandages are ready to come off. Your assistant thought you'd like to see the results." Echo shakes her head in praise like a dog while Jer nods his head. "Indeed, I would."

He turns to me. "You won't want to miss this, (y/n)."

The Doctor unravels the bandages on the individuals faces revealing a profile built from professional lifestyle and diets. This is Thomas and Martha Wayne before my eyes... ALIVE!

"Oh, you two look beautiful." I smile looking down at her pearl necklace. "Down to the very detail with you." Jeremiah kisses my cheek. "I love family reunions, don't you?" "More than Christmas!" I cheer and giggle.

#jerome #jerome x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska smut #Gotham #Gotham City #gotham cast

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koorinohebi · 4 years ago

Text

They Called Him Death

=== + ===

@raichoose in relation to that one ask.

Characters

Sidapa – He is known as the Visayan God of Death. Once also considered a god of the skies, Sidapa descended from the Heavens and instead made residence atop Mt. Madjaas. Here, he carries out his job of overseeing the existence of men. On his tree, he carves lines that signify a human’s lifespan. He is also in love with the seven moons that are up in heaven.

Bulan – He is the youngest of the seven moons and is the consort of Sidapa.

Hangin – A Diwata or Fairy of the Wind. Her name “Hangin” literally means wind.

Mermaids/Sirens – They are water spirits that possess an upper body that resembles that of a human girl or woman while their lower halves resemble fish tails. Apart from being beautiful, they have enchanting voices which they use for singing.

Saragnayan – He is known as the Visayan God of Darkness. He is considered as the god whom the evil creatures of the night obey as their leader. He is also known to cause chaos in a peaceful community. Saragnayan is said to be a superb spell caster who can control malevolent spirits and that he causes men to do evil things. Despite this, he is a very loving and loyal husband to his wife.

Luyong Baybay – She is known as the Goddess of the Tides. It is said that she is the one who controls the rising and falling of the tide. Luyong Baybay is also in love with the moon.

Kaptan/Makaptan – He is the Visayan Sky God and is considered to be the King among all of the Gods. In myth, he is said to be the equal of Kan-Laon. His stature reminds the Visayans of a proud Datu and he is very protective of his domain. He also has a fiery temper and is easily displeased when people worship other gods or idols before him.

Bakunawa – The Bakunawa is considered to be a creature that resembles either a sea serpent or a dragon. In most legends, he is in love with the moon. He finds them so beautiful that he eats them.

Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata – She is the wife of Saragnayan.

Kan-Laon – He is, among the Visayans, known as the Supreme Deity. Unlike Kaptan, he is a kind and gentle God who chose to live in solitude in a magical hut that is located at the top of the Kan-Laon Volcano.

Minokawa – The Minokawa bird is considered to be a creature that belongs to a family of dragons. It is also a creature that eats the moon and could possibly eat the sun too. The Minokawa’s feathers are as sharp as blades, his beak and claws are made of steal and his eyes of glass/mirrors.

Kataw – The Kataw are mermen of the highest rank and the rulers of the ocean. They resemble humans almost completely except for the fact that they gills and they have fins on their arms. Unlike the mermaids, they don’t have tails but instead have feet. They have the capability/skills to manipulate water.

***

They called him death, yet all I could see from him was life.

Love is perhaps the most curious of things, vaguest of concepts and the sweetest of thoughts. It is probably the only thing that moves the cog wheels of one’s heart no matter how much time and feeling has been eroded by both emotions and senses. It is truly a most beautiful thing that gives a sense of completion to those who feels it.

Yet it is also wicked despite its splendor. How many have lost their lives for love? How many had been driven mad by the very notion of it? There are those who were forced into silent desperation, always longing and always wanting. Those who yearn for love were always in the company of despair and insecurity. There is always a certain fear that lingered in their hearts one which, when realized, could make even the strongest of those beyond or beneath Heaven and Earth break and crumble.

Oh, what fragile creatures are those who are in love; hearts became malleable despite possessing a spirit of insurmountable will.

Though perhaps that is the beauty of it all; despite the consequences of taking a road led by love, almost everyone still threads it. While hesitant, those influenced by it allowed themselves to be enraptured by it as they miraculously find comfort in their strange actions. Regret hardly exists if the sensation is real. It is a cause that unites not only the mind and body, but also both heart and soul.

Love is indeed, despite its pristine magnificence, a terrifying thing for love is the only pain that humanity gladly embraces.

Of course, Love was never exclusive to humanity. Before them or more appropriately, like them, even those within the seat of divinity also fell prey to this beautiful monster’s embrace.

***

“Bulan! Bulan! Let’s play, let’s play!” A choir of melodic voices called to a passing young man.

A smile was easily painted on his face when he heard and saw them.

Oh how gorgeous they were, the inhabitants of the lake hidden within Mt. Madjaas. A myriad of beauty paraded themselves along the water’s edge. Their iridescent fins under the light of the sun were truly the embodiment of magnificence. These fantastical creatures often did not come out during the day but whenever he came to pass this heavenly retreat, they were always there. They were always waiting with vigorous eagerness. They were wonderful...as wonderful as their peerless hymns.

“Oh...!”

“Oh”

“Oh...” A unison of murmurs resounded. Even those seemed like a song. Their gentle voices coupled with the sound of splashing water made them appear shyer than their normally playful selves. There was of course only one reason for this.

Ah, they must be the younger mermaids. Bulan thought.

Along with the boy was a rather dreaded existence, or so thought the blooming sirens. With him was Sidapa—The God of Death and ironically the ruler of a place that flourished with life, Mt. Madjaas.

Sidapa was a handsome man, and in Bulan’s eyes did not pale in comparison with the other spirits or deities that lived amongst them. His skin was as pale as the ash that had fallen from freshly burned wood. His raven colored hair was as dark as the night, but was as soft as the light of day. Though his countenance was stern in nature, he was quite a gentle god. More than anyone he understood the value of life because he was the one who marked its end. It was a little sad that humanity, along with some of the inhabitants of his own abode, saw him only as a monster.

Though according to the God of Death, none of this mattered so long as Bulan himself didn’t believe it to be so.

And Bulan never did share the majority’s sentiments. Along with the others who had seen the softer side of Sidapa’s nature, he understood that he was not someone who deserved the reputation that preceded him.

“Sidapa,” Bulan called. There was an almost childish gleam of playfulness on the boy’s face that made the temperamental god loft a brow out of curiosity.

“What is it?” He demanded.

“Can I go and play with the sirens?” The boy asked.

How could he say no to that face? Bulan had the exuberance that could be matched by no one. Such a pure boy he was that Sidapa was rendered helpless to the child’s innocent whims. How hard it was for him to say yes…ah, he wanted to greedily keep the boy for himself because they did not always have the leisure to stroll around like this.

What was harder to do though was deny Bulan of his request. Ever since the boy arrived, he had never made any selfish claims (If wanting to get to know him could even be considered selfish) and instead willingly followed whatever it was that Sidapa himself wanted.

Of all the days the mermaids had to come out, it really HAD to be today. This was giving him a headache.

"I can't?" Bulan asked once again.

The Lord of the Mountain groaned his approval. "Do as you please."

Overjoyed, Bulan wrapped his arms around Sidapa briefly before joining the mermaids by the lake. The boy's kind gesture caused the god to freeze momentarily. Even up till now he still could not get used to feeling another person's touch. He was, after all, death incarnate. Whatever he touched was forced to draw their last breath and it frightened him that one day he would accidentally steal the boy's.

But Bulan had been patient, and had ask to be taught a workaround for the curse. Now, even he could hold hands with the boy without it being fatal.

He smiled to himself discretely. Bulan was such an enchanting existence.

Leaving the child to his devices, the Death God went ahead and took his rest under a tree whose shade extended over to the waters. From there, he watched his consort associate with the playful water sprites.

Oh how bittersweet it was to see his lovely Bulan smiling while he was not by his side.

…A dreaded reminder that he could be perfectly happy without him.

“Bulan sure has grown.” Said a voice.

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the forest, Hangin?” Sidapa said without even sparing a glace to show his evident distaste for the unwelcomed intruder.

“You shouldn’t be so grumpy since you’re watching over the boy Moon, Lord Sidapa.” Hangin said. The god simply quirked a brow before facing her; she was at it again with her witty but unnecessary comments.

Hangin was one of the Diwatas of the Wind (Wind Faeries) that resided within the expanse of the mountain. Though the Fae was quick-witted and wise, he often overlooked this due to how mischievous and playful a sprite she could be. Despite such, he still considered Hangin one of his more trusted confidants as she was both a friend that he had learned to accept and a guardian to whom he had entrusted his forest. The wind fairy initially insisted upon this for being allowed to make Mt. Madjaas her home.

“Look, Bulan’s waving over here!” She said.

In an instant Sidapa’s attention fled the mischievous nymph only to find that his dear Bulan was still busy fraternizing with the sirenas.

“Made you look, tee he he!” Hangin teased.

“As always, your jokes are distasteful.” He snarled. “Though I suppose it matters not,” He said, continuously gazing at the boy. “You are correct, however; he has grown quite a bit hasn’t he?”

“He has. The first time he came here, he was barely taller than me. And now look at him; the sirenas are enamored by his presence.” She agreed.

“MUST you point it out? Look at how annoyingly they fawn over him.” He still couldn’t believe they stole Bulan away from him just like that. Willing the thought away, he instead focused on Hangin’s sentiments. “The first time that he came here, how long has that been now…?” Sidapa’s voice trailed off when he decided to lean back and close his eyes. He reminisced that time, that turning point in his life when he had been saved by this unsung hero of his existence.

Bulan’s descent from Heaven was the pinnacle of Sidapa’s happiness.

***

Ah, how beautiful they are…

Atop the mountain and under the comfort of his tree, the God of Death looked up at the sky and watched as the seven moons danced amidst themselves in a sea of stars. To him, they were far more radiant than the sun. Their brightness did not outshine one another as they illuminated the gloomy veil of night.

Night time was Sidapa’s favorite part of the day because of this. It was only during these few hours that he could revel in the grace and elegance of these celestial bodies. He often would think that they danced just for him…a silly delusion, but that alone brought solace to the life of solitude that he had chosen. Seeing the seven moons play amongst themselves made it a little easier for him to continue his work. He was the one who oversaw the end of things— the end of life, surely no job was more depressing than his. A night like this up in his mountain was his only saving grace, a reverie that he chose to drown in for even just a while.

And he was content. To look at them from afar was enough. He dared not to covet the moons that he loved so much for his touch was the very kiss of the end itself. Ironic how despite being a god he was cursed by the very thing that he was; all he did was take and take and take…he could not even begin to imagine the horrors he would feel if he caused one of the moons to draw their last breath.

He was like a madman in his desire for them, wanting them for his own, only to keep holding himself back because that was how it should be. A sentiment kept for the sake of those that he held dear.

“If you don’t act soon someone else might steal those precious moons that you love so much.”

“Saragnayan, who allowed you to step foot on MY mountain?” He didn’t even need to take a look to know who had arrived. And of all those that could, it really had to be another who was as vile as he was; maybe even more.

“Is that how you treat your friend?” Saragnayan scoffed.

“Go back to Gadlum, I don’t need you causing trouble here, again.” Sidapa ordered, whisking the other away from whence he came.

“You can’t still be mad about that, it was just a joke.” Said the accused instigator of chaos.

Sidapa should learn to take a joke or better yet get used to what it is that I do. Saragnayan was the God of Darkness and Sidapa of all people should know the kind of things that he enjoyed. So, he may have manipulated some of the people who got lost along the steep trails of Madjaas; and he may have influenced them to set a few things on fire…but it was all in good clean fun…for the chaotic god at least.

“A joke?” That sent Sidapa’s senses ablaze. “A JOKE, SARAGNAYAN? LEAVE. Leave now before I carve whatever life you have left onto this tree!” Came the god’s outburst as he stood from his place, marching over to his unwelcomed guest.

How could he see something like that as a joke? The creatures under his protection almost lost a home along with their lives due to the mischief that the distasteful god created. While the animals on his mountain were unharmed, the same could not be said for the forest itself. Had he been slower, his home would have probably burned to the ground. How could Saragnayan even think of doing such a thing when he himself, from time to time, gathered flowers for his beloved wife from the flora and fauna of Madjaas.

He considered him his friend on some occasions, on others; he was the type of companion that needed a proper beating.

“And you’re just a stick in the mud.” The other taunted further.

“Get off of my mountain unless you want me to k—!”

“Fine, I shall take my leave. It IS clear that you are not interested in Luyong Baybay’s attempts to coerce the moons to descend from Heaven.” Saragnayan didn’t even give the Death God a chance to finish his rant.

This was the part that he loved the most. Sidapa’s expression drastically changed. His already pale face was getting whiter and his body quivered; practically shook from the news! Saragnayan knew of his friend’s infatuation with the dancing beauties that illuminated the night sky and often saw him gazing at them longingly; lovingly as if a child possessed. How could he not share this little piece of information to him? The deity had every right to know, every right to feel agonized and had every right to act upon his desires. For him, that was how gods like them should act.

“What has Luyong Baybay been up to?” Finally, the silence was once again broken.

“NOW you want to know?” Saragnayan goaded.

“Just say it.” He answered, an apparent jealousy beginning to seethe through his voice.

“She has been singing to them.”

"Singing?" Death repeated. The building frustration he felt simmered and was slowly replaced with curiosity instead.

He had noticed it lately. Was Luyong Baybay’s song the reason for this? Was it her singing that made those seven heavenly creatures more joyous during their nightly affairs? Were they happy because they were fond of the singing...

...They were happy because of Luyong Baybay?

“Sidapa, are you alright?” Asked Darkness.

The Death God couldn’t have been in a more murderous state than he was right now. Even Saragnayan felt the ominous intent emanated by the other. He could not blame Sidapa because more than anyone, he knew every nook and cranny of this thing called love. After all, Saragnayan had himself a beautiful wife that was sought after by most. Of course, no other fate befell those heathens other than death. Their efforts though were valiant and commendable...foolish, but commendable indeed.

This was how he knew of feats that were fueled by jealousy.

Envious men were dangerous since they exhausted everything for the sake of obtaining what they want. They were desperate enough to cross the threshold of madness.

And looking at Sidapa now, he was envy personified.

Saragnayan had to admit that he liked it this way. By being in the midst of anger, he could compel Sidapa to his will. For an alleged God of Death, he always viewed the other as somewhat soft and sentimental. It was unbecoming of his post and surely needed a little push in the direction of chaos. What better opportunity than now, right? Now that Death was green with envy, the God of Darkness was all the more compelled to sow and nurture seeds of discord.

“Saragnayan,”

Or perhaps he didn’t need to do anything more. That odious glimmer in Death’s eyes said it all.

“I hope you told your wife that you’ll be gone for quite some time. You’re not leaving until I drive that harlot Luyong Baybay to her knees.” Sidapa informed his guest.

“My darling is an understanding woman, I’m sure that she’ll—wait…what?” And here he was about to boast about the good qualities of his beloved only to realize that he had been dragged into something that he initially only wished to see…not participate in.

“This is me cutting you some slack for almost destroying Madjaas, Saragnayan.”

“But…but my wife!” He protested.

“Your wife can wait.” Sidapa replied coldly.

***

“Ahaha!” Hangin laughed. “I’m sorry Lord Sidapa. I really just can’t see Master Saragnayan allowing himself to be dragged around like that.”

“You’re right in thinking so.” He chuckled, remembering how valiantly the god tried to escape again and again as he declared disinterest in participating in the little revenge plot.

Saragnayan deserved whatever it was that the God of Death had pitted him with. Besides, he was also the one who told him of Luyong Baybay’s infatuation with the moons.

“No need to feel anything for that one. Whatever misfortune that befell him was of his own doing.” He said, actually quite pleased for once. Just remembering how Saragnayan endured those countless nights at sea without as much as a word from his other half was a spectacle.

“But what happened to Luyong Baybay?” Hangin asked curiously.

“I tortured her, of course.” He answered, an air of indifference suddenly hanging over his features.

“You would torture someone merely for singing to the moon?” She asked again.

“Yes.” He confessed.

“Was it even Bulan that she sang to?” Hangin questioned further.

“At that time I did not care which of the seven moons she sang for. I loved them all, you see.” Sidapa chuckled.

Now that he thought about it, perhaps he had been too drastic in his approach.

If he cared to try hard enough, Sidapa could still hear the agonized screams of the Goddess of the Tides, Luyong Baybay. The Death God kept her confined in a veil of darkness, away from the prying eyes of those who held her sacred. There, in Saragnayan’s domain, the goddess was bound and shackled by shadows that slowly ate away from the knee down. Her shrieking was like music, while the curses that spilled from her shaking mouth were not unlike the sweetest of delicacies. To see her desperation was enough. A quick death was not something that the deity of the tides deserved. Sidapa had no intentions of ending her. What he wanted was to watch her suffer.

“Lord Sidapa?” Hangin called out, putting an end to his bittersweet memory.

“Tell me, Hangin.” He started. “If someone threatened to steal away that one thing you loved and cherished, would you not entertain thoughts of cruelty against your rival?”

The wind fairy thought about this for a while. As someone who had not experienced the same feelings as her lord, she could not tell. She was a simple free spirited sprite and cared only for what she wanted to care about. For now, the only real thing she saw as important was Mt. Madjaas itself, her home. Without it, where would she be? If it wasn’t for this place, Hangin may still have been wandering the land. She might have simply left her fate to the unforgiving winds that blew. If what Sidapa felt was anywhere close to how it felt like being robbed of a home, then that was the closest that she could possibly comprehend.

“I don’t know.” She said with a light-hearted smile. “But if someone tried to steal something that I love, I think that I’d be really sad.”

“You would be devastated.”

When it came to others trying to take what he saw as his, Sidapa had bigger problems than just Luyong Baybay…rather, that pitiful goddess barely scraped the surface of his nuisances.

If obstacles had a living, breathing form then Kaptan was probably the biggest one he had encountered next to that unsightly excuse for a sea dragon, Bakunawa.

What did he have to do just so that he could live in peace with the one person that his heart held dear?

***

“KAPTAN!” Sidapa’s voice echoed throughout Heaven as he stormed the Sky God’s palace gates.

How dare this man? How dare Kaptan for invading his mountain and simply taking Bulan away? The child went to him on his own accord, so why did he have to take his little Moon Deity back? He had done nothing wrong apart from falling in love with the child who had descended from the skies. It was not his fault that he was enchanted by his endearing smiles and his kindness…nor that he helplessly grew to love the boy for teaching him how to feel. So why…why was he being taken away from him?

“Sidapa!” The god heard a familiar voice. And up above, as he looked beyond the gates of Kapata’s heaven, Bulan was imprisoned. The boy called out to him. For a second there, he felt his chest throb. This must be how Saragnayan felt whenever Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata, his wife, called for him.

“Bulan, I’m coming for you!” Sidapa cried out, letting the boy know that he had heard his cries.

“No one is coming for anyone.” Without much as another warning, a volley of thunderbolts rained down upon Sidapa.

This bastard! The God of Death barely escaped the thunderous onslaught that was hurled at him. While he was able to deflect a few of them with his blade, he still suffered damage from the assault. Drawing in breaths, Death held his ground and searched for where the attacks were coming from.

Floating above the steel gates of his ethereal abode stood the one recognized by all as the king of all the gods, Kaptan. His dark eyes looked down at the lowly God of Death as if disgusted by this very presence before him. Raising his hands up, the space above seemed to distort itself and thunder bolts began to gather atop his palms. With a simple flick of his wrist, again, those bolts of pure electric energy plummeted towards Sidapa.

“You dare invade my heaven after abandoning it once? What an insolent cur you’ve become, Sidapa.”

“I only came here for Bulan!” It didn’t matter to the Death God that he was sustaining injuries despite parrying Makaptan’s bolts of lightning, what was important right now was for the pompous bastard to see how serious he was in terms of taking the child back. So despite his bleeding arm and labored breaths, Sidapa ignored the pain and once again stood his ground.

“Ho…” Lofting a brow Kaptan descended from his station, landing merely a few feet away from the other god.

He had to admit despite not wanting to, that Sidapa was holding himself quite well. No one had yet survived that large an assault from him. As much as he did not wish to recall past events, even his grandchildren were unable to survive his rage. And yet here was the other former sky god, holding his own against he who was Kan-Laon’s equal.

“Hmph, I suppose you are deserving of a chance.” Kaptan said, drawing his own blade from the sheath that hung by the side of his hip. With a smirk tugging at his lips, the Sky God pointed the jagged zigzagged blade at his adversary. “If you win against me, you are free to take the boy.”

“Consider it done.” Sidapa did not waste another second. Brandishing his blade, he sped towards Kaptan to take the offensive.

The two exchanged one blow after the other with neither of them falling to each other’s tricks. Whenever the God of Death would deal a blow, the God of the Skies would block it and return a strike of his own. To the young Bulan who watched, it was as if the two were dancing, locked in steps that could only bring about ruin for either one of them. Even if the Moon feared for Sidapa’s safety, he could not help but be mesmerized by their bout. As much as he wanted them to stop, he could not speak a word as the two locked themselves in battle.

“What a magnificent sword you have there.” Kaptan praised as his eyes noticed the shimmering silver blade that Sidapa used against him. It absorbed his blows well and sustained not even a single dent or scratch.

“The Minokawa isn’t feared for nothing.” Answered the other as he pushed Kaptan back. He could feel the frenzy coursing through his veins as the heat of battle consumed him. And as he charged once again to deliver a critical strike, the King of Gods blocked it with uncanny ease.

“You chose good but that sword is wasted on the likes of you….GHUAAAA!” As their weapons once again collided and Sidapa was at close range, Kaptan grinned wildly. In an instant, his sword was enveloped in a blue-ish silver light that erupted upon impact. The rawness of the electricity propelled Sidapa back, knocking him off his feet, his sword flying from his grasp.

The shock of the attack cause the Death God’s breathing to become shallow. His body felt like it was on fire after being caught by that explosive mass of energy. He was on his back right now with blurred vision and aching limbs. How could he have allowed for something like this to happen? Was he going to lose right here? Was he going to be killed by Makaptan on the spot?

No.

Was this where he’d lose Bulan?

NO.

Flinching, he tried to get up only for his head to be met with Kaptan’s foot.

“Did you really think that I’d let you stand?” Now that his enemy was on the ground, the furious god continued on with his abuse. He dug his iron sandaled feet against Death’s skull before stepping on it repeatedly, laughing as he did.

This was only halted when ear piercing screams broke through the groans that were emitted by Sidapa.

“Who dares—“ Kaptan’s eyes widened. Another one, there was another one who dared invade his territory.

This time it was that troublesome dragon serpent, Bakunawa.

As Kaptan moved away from Sidapa in order to deal with the new problem, the Death God instantly rose to his feet and as if a man possessed, and began to make his way to where Bulan was. Before he could though, Kaptan grabbed him by the foot before slamming him on the ground.

“And where do you think you’re going? I am not done with you yet.” He snarled.

“Bulan…is crying…he needs me…I have to go…” At this point Sidapa had already drowned out the king’s voice. The only thing that he could hear was the flood of screaming voices, but among them, heard Bulan’s as clear as day. The pain in his body did not matter to him anymore. Even if every movement was an excruciating effort, he didn’t care. “I have to go…I have to go…I have to go.” The light in his eyes were replaced with an animalistic glow and in the moment when Kaptan forced him down once again, Sidapa mustered an unseen force that eroded the air, making it stagnant. This caused Kaptan to jump back lest he wanted to get caught in that ravishing air of decay.

Again, he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t control the essence of demise coming from him but because of that he was able to free himself. Instincts overrode his thoughts and now that he was undeterred by anything he charged at the moon-eating dragon.

“How desperate you’ve become…” Though in a way Kaptan could understand the feeling…

Once upon a time, he too had been a prisoner of love.

I will treat this as your test then.

Kaptan merely watched as Sidapa fought Bakunawa in an attempt to rescue the boy, Bulan, from being eaten. Why did he even bring that child back? The Sky God was not infatuated with the moons unlike the rest. He simply thought of them as children who needed to be protected. So wasn’t it only natural that he brought Bulan back home? Though perhaps it was part of his sentimentality that allowed for such a thing to transpire. Bulan reminded him of his beautiful and kind granddaughter. They were both sweet and shy, and shone brighter than any gem. He simply could not let him fall in the hands of someone or something that displayed the picture of decay.

“What a helpless man you are.” He whispered to himself, amused. Just this once he would allow someone to whisk away something of significant value.

Kaptan would join the fight then, striking the great Bakunawa with one of his prized bolts in order to catch its attention.

“Go, before I change my mind.” The King of Gods ordered the moment he saw that Bulan had been secured.

“You have my thanks.” Sidapa said.

“I have no need for it. Go.” Kaptan urged.

***

Suddenly the young mermaids were in a flurry of giggles.

“So he saved you from the moon-eating monster?” One of the sirens asked, giddy.

“He did.” Bulan replied with a nod.

The water nymphs had been so adamant today. Since they were the ones who did not know of the story yet, they couldn’t help but be curious after expressing a clear fear for the Lord of the Mountain.

Compared to Bulan and the older inhabitants of Mt. Madjaas, the younger generation of creatures and spirits still saw Sidapa as a terrifying god. He was, after all, the one who oversaw the end of days for all. He carved it on his tree atop the mountain. Sidapa probably had the loneliest job as a god. And on top of that he was wrongly feared and was in fact misunderstood.

The Moon glanced at where his husband was and saw him talking to a familiar spirit. No wonder it became slightly windy, Hangin is here. He noted.

His train of thought would come to a halt when he felt a light tug on his arm. When he looked toward his left, a curious young siren was holding onto his arm.

“Um—aren’t you afraid of Lord Sidapa?” She asked.

“I’m not, but there was a time back then when I was,” Bulan explained.

“I remember those days. You were so young and you always cried when you saw Lord Sidapa’s face.” Said another nymph.

Surprised, Bulan looked to see who had spoken and in an instant, he found himself walking into the water. “Kataw!” He cried, giving the woman a warm embrace.

Kataw returned this with equal fervor and even brought a hand to pat the boy on the head. No matter how much Bulan grew, he would still be a little boy in her eyes.

“So the lord really IS scary!” One of the mermaids chimed in.

“Lord Sidapa may have a scary face, but he’s not THAT scary.” The Kataw explained. “He is a very handsome god. Now, he just looks scary because he paints it so. He’s doing that on purpose.” She added. Oh how the water sprite knew of Sidapa’s agenda. The more the others feared him the fewer problems he’d have keeping Bulan to himself when others were being too bothersome.

Today, his plan seemed to have backfired.

Though perhaps more importantly, Kataw knew that their lord’s frightening façade kept others from being accidentally hurt. Fear was a very important weapon for Sidapa. It was a means that enabled him to sternly keep others away from harm’s way.

“Speaking of scary, I should go back to him,” Bulan chimed in.

There were a couple resonating protests coming from the sirens, but the Kataw had willed them into silence by offering to tell another story. That bought the Moon God enough time to finally escape and return to Sidapa’s side.

When he finally reached the tree where the god rested, he saw that his husband had fallen asleep.

“He’s been talking about you, you know,” Hangin suddenly spoke up.

“It’s good to see you, Hangin,” Bulan greeted.

“Likewise, hehe!” Replied the wind fae.

“The mermaids were asking for stories about Sidapa and I. I think we got a little carried away with the time.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Sidapa and I were talking about the same thing,” she explained. “A long time has passed and none of us believed that you’d stay by our lord’s side.”

“Even I, Hangin…even I.” The Moon answered as he took a sit beside the sleeping god. When he looked at Sidapa like this, he seemed completely harmless. Then again, he never meant to harm anyone. The animals of the mountain loved him and the flowers bloomed for him. The older sirens sang hymns for him while the newly sprouting life within their residence grew curious of him day by day.

More than anyone, he was oozing with life no matter how much he may deny it.

Bulan could never forget the day that they met. Even now he could still remember the alluring scent of flowers that perfumed the air.

Even now, when he closed his eyes, Bulan could still see the sparkle of fireflies as they lit his way to Mt. Madjaas.

Even now, when he drew close to Sidapa, he could almost hear the sirens sing.

“You are the light that makes the flowers bloom.”

Bulan hummed it softly. The mermaids’ hymn was like a mirror that reflected the Lord of Madjaa’s heart. He was certain that the particular line of the song was meant for him…that to Sidapa, he was something that showered him with a feeling that made his heart bloom into love, but the same could be said for the god.

“You are the life that’s breathe into me.”

For Bulan, Sidapa was the life he had never known. To be in awe yet at the same time feel fear. To feel like there was something that he didn’t want to lose. Recalling that time when the death god fought with Kaptan was the first time that he felt a feeling of fear. Would he be lost to him? It was a thought that he could not bear. Things were much different now than it was back then. During that time, he was so young that he mistook fear for something that mesmerized him…but now, now that they were together, he understood what it was that he really felt.

In a way they were each other’s mirror, without the other their reflections did not exist...could not exist. It was only when they were together that everything was clear.

How frightening it was and yet at the same time, so beautiful…

Bulan careful laced his fingers with Sidapa’s and leaned in beside him. The Moon closed his eyes as well and enjoyed the breeze that the wind fairy gifted them upon her departure.

It was alright like this. No matter what they were or how different they seemed to be…just like night and day, one cannot exist without the other.

They call him death, yet he breathes life into me.

#|| The mun's art Things ||#|| Story Time ||#So this is the thing. About Sidapa and Bulan.#enjoy #Sidapa #Bulan #mermaids #sirens #lore #Myth #fiction #Bakunawa #Makaptan #Saragnayan

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flimflamfranky · 4 years ago

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Day 19 - Broken Hearts

Franky takes the time to mourn.

Franky had missed the funeral. Which-- of course he had. He had been lost at sea, on an abandoned ship, turning himself into a cyborg so he wouldn’t die. And he only ended up there because he had been trying to stop them from taking Mr. Tom, and he definitely didn’t regret that. He regretted a lot from that day, but not that. Still. He felt bad for missing it.

Kokoro had told him what they had done, she and Iceburg. It had been a small thing, of course, the traditional funeral by boat, but still. Iceburg hadn’t mentioned it, but then, Franky hadn’t even seen him since their only talk o his first night back. Which, was for the best, he knew - they both had to be careful, with the blueprints at stake. Kokoro, at least, told him where the memorial was. It was on Scrap Island, of course. The company building had been their home, but they all had spent most of their time on that island. Collecting material, building ships - Franky’s fondest memories were on that island. He meandered his way through, taking a look around. It was different, of course -- that was the nature of Scrap Island -- but it feels familiar regardless. It was almost nostalgic, and he had to swallow down a thick well of emotions. He pushed on, making his way to the coast, where Kokoro had said the memorial was. It didn’t take him long to find it -- a model of the sea train, a-fixed with a plaque. It stuck out like a sore thumb, refined and polished amongst the trash. The wood was high quality, and Franky worried, for a moment, that someone would want to take it. But then he laughed - that was exactly what Mr. Tom would want. He made his way over, and that was when he noticed the other memorial, right next to it and-- it was for him. He came to a grinding halt when he read his name, surprise socking a gasp right out of him. He supposed, numbly, that it shouldn’t be surprising -- everyone thought he had died, after all -- but he didn’t think that anyone would-- no, he didn’t want to finish that thought. Kokoro hadn’t mentioned it, in any case. It was a model of his first Battle Franky, expertly carved and detailed, with a plaque that said ‘Cutty Flam’. Beneath his name was ‘Tom’s Workers’ and beneath that, in precise and neat letters, ‘Beloved Brother and Son.’ Franky had to clench his fists to stop himself from destroying it. He ignored it, instead, trying to get a grip on his twisting emotions, and turned to Tom’s memorial. The sea train was just as expertly carved. He reached out a hand, and ran his finger along its wheels, taking in the decorations on the windows, the detailed cogs and gears. Each detail brought back the memory of building it, the blood, sweats, and laughs -- the way Tom looked so happy, even after failure after failure, because he was building his dream. His dream ship... Franky snapped his hand back, and looked down to the plaque, feeling shaken. The plaque has Tom written on it, of course, and the company name, but it also had a lengthy description -- who Tom was, and how he and his workers built the train that saved Water 7. It made no mention of the last trial, or that he built Roger’s ship. Franky frowned when he noticed that -- Tom had been damn proud of that! His memorial should absolutely mention that! But he, reluctantly, understood -- better to be safe than sorry. Man, he hated being cautious. And there was nothing he could do about it, unless he wanted to vandalize the thing, which felt-- wrong. He couldn’t do that. Instead, he sat down in front of it, legs crossed. He sighed. “Hey...Mr. Tom.” Franky scratched his chin awkwardly. It felt weird, but this was why people visit graves, right? To talk, get some closure, or whatever. It was why he came down here. So, he powered through. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. Becoming a cyborg, ain’t easy, I’ll tell ya that. Wish I could show ya what I’ve done, I bet you’d be real impressed.” He picked at the metal beneath, easily making small grooves with his enhanced strength. “I’m...sorry for a lot of things, actually. I’m sure you don’t need me to list everything, but...yeah.” Franky shook his head, scowling. “Man, that’s depressing. Focus on the happy. Uh, I’m thinkin’ about starting a gang, or something. There’re still a lotta down-trodden folks around here. Figured I could help ‘em out, maybe give ‘em a job, get ‘em on their feet. Haven’t thought out what, yet, exactly, but I figured that’s what you’d want me to do. Make this a better place, and whatnot.” Franky looked up at the sky. “I’m thinkin’...dismantlers, maybe. I’m good at that and it’s not build-“ Franky cut himself, and frowned. Tom wouldn’t want to hear him say that. “It’s easy to teach,” he said instead, swallowing. “Or maybe even bounty hunting. There’re still loads of pirates around here, causing trouble. And I’m super strong now, too. Not as strong as you were, of course, but...” Franky trailed off, gazing up at the sky. He closed his eyes, and sighed, drawing up his legs to rest his chin on his knees. “I’m just...tryin’ to be like you, I guess. It’d be better if it was you. You did so much for this town, and for m-me,” his voices stuttered and he had to take a deep breath. He buried his head in his arms. “I’m such a fraud. I’m no good at this fixin’ stuff. I’ll just destroy everything, like always.” He was silent for a moment. Then, “I jus’...wanna carry on your dream a-and,” his voice wavered again, and this time, he let it break. “I- I can’t jus’ let it die with you...” He was crying, now, tears and snot running down his face as his breathing shuddered in his chest. He couldn’t stop it either - he tried but it’ was just too much, and he had to let it run its course. He felt pathetic, curled up and sobbing like this in broad day-light, but...Tom never judged him for it, not like his no-good parents had. He never shouted or told him to be a man - Tom had only ever been gentle and understanding. And Franky did feel better, by the time his tears finally dried. Huh. Maybe there was something to this whole crying thing. He wiped at his eyes and cleaned off his sunglasses, and then stood up. He faced the memorial one last time. It shined in the sun, almost gleaming, like a treasure. Behind it, the ocean lapped against the metal shore, and in the distance, the sea train chugged on, doing what it had been built to do. “I’m...I’m gonna do my best for this place. Make sure your dream comes true,” Franky said to the model train. “And hopefully...that’ll be enough. I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” And then, he turned, and left.

#one piece #opfanfic #franky #cyborg franky #whumptober2020 #no.19 #broken hearts #grief #mourning loved ones #survivor’s guilt #getting all the prompts in this one babey!!#have a sad frank #also small headcanon: water 7 has a unique burial process since there's not any land to actually bury people #so they do ship burials and send the dead out to sea #when someone really important/famous dies they do funeral parades through the canals #anyway #my stuff #thepilotsfic

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varian-and-the-seven-skies · 5 years ago

Text

Cor Meum | Chapter One: City of the Sun

Synopsis: In a world of floating cities and steamships, Captain Rapunzel runs the fastest ship in all the skies. But this rowdy crew is not without its secrets—or its treasures— and Hugo, newly-hired, is ready to discover them all. Now if only Varian, the whip-smart lead engineer, would get out of his way.

A TTS & 7k AU of epic proportions, featuring cool fight scenes, steampunk machinery, and an inevitable romance. Written by @littlemisslol-fic and @izaswritings.

AO3 Link is here!

Fic Playlist can be found here!

Chapter One: City of the Sun

“Need a hand there, goggles?”

The voice, barely audible over the sound of welding and banging metal of the mechanic’s shop, draws Varian’s attention away from the chaos of the engine above him. With a beleaguered sigh he stares mournfully up at the greasy gears and other assorted guts of the machine. His eyes flick down to see a pair of black, perfectly polished leather boots waiting patiently near the edge of the suspended machine, and it takes more than a little willpower not to groan.

Varian grits his teeth. He does not have time for this. He only has until tomorrow to fix this stupid thing before the ship’s due to take off; he’s already been working on it for three days, and if he can’t get it running the Captain is going to flip.

The leather boots that Varian can see past the edge of the engine shift slightly, and Varian can feel more than see the light kick of someone else’s shoe against his own. The large silver buckles on the boots flash just enough to be annoying, and Varian makes a face. The voice drifts back down to where Varian has hidden himself under the engine, and it takes everything in him not to groan.

“Hey, can you hear me under there?” it says impatiently.

Varian plants his back a little more firmly on the rolling mechanic’s bed he’s lying on and pulls on the outer casing of the engine, rolling himself out from under the machine with a small grunt.

He slams his eyes shut against the sudden change in light, blinding even behind the protective lens of his goggles. When he opens them again he can see a tall figure leaning over him, blocking out most of the sunlight coming in from the skylights embedded in the iron ceiling of the shop. Varian cricks his neck, looking around in a last desperate attempt to ignore the person hovering over him.

The mechanic’s shop is certainly distracting enough, stuffed full of people just as grease-covered and irritated as Varian, all of them suffering together in the heat caused by welding and hard work. Made of thick stone and wrought iron, the large space offers room to spread out that you just didn’t get in airships, making it the best place for Varian to do his work with big projects like engine twelve’s sad, hollowed out corpse. Large windows dot the ceiling like stars, offering light and just the smallest hint of the blue skies above. The shop is, if anything, supposed to be a safe haven for the mechanically minded. People aren’t supposed to try and talk to each other, which is something Varian cherishes. Nothing worse than trying to piece together penny-sized cogs or a delicate engine part only to be interrupted by a nosey crewmate.

Which is why blondie being here is certainly quite the insubordination. Society has rules, damn it.

Varian wipes his gloves clean off his apron before pushing his goggles up onto the top of his head, linking his fingers and stretching his arms out towards the ceiling. He lets his arms flop back down with a sigh, and finally locks eyes with the person above him.

Varian arches a brow, and the blond’s smile splits just a little wider.

“I’m sorry?” Varian asks, not exactly friendly. By the Maker, he really doesn’t have time for this.

“I asked if you needed a hand,” the blond replies, a glint in his green eyes. He’s tall, is Varian’s first impression, tall enough that he’s likely got at least a head of height on Varian if they were to stand shoulder to shoulder. Varian would say he’s muscular, but there’s the sneaking suspicion that it’s really more the black leather coat that makes the teen in front of him look that way. Varian has employed similar tactics in the past; he knows the tricks. Get a big coat with a large, pointed collar and massive cuffs and boom, suddenly you’re twice as intimidating as you were before. It's a good coat, though, if a bit heavy for Corona weather. Shining silver buttons line the length of the jacket, and it has deep pockets that Varian can only assume are full of fun little tricks from experience. The silver continues on the blond’s vest as well, a trim piece of green fabric with polished silver buttons and a faint embroidery.

Blond hair, chopped in a rough undercut, frames the other teen’s thin face in an annoyingly aesthetic kind of way, held back from his face by the wire frames of the other teen’s circular glasses. Green eyes meet Varian’s own, and the blond smirks at Varian’s blatant staring.

In all honesty, he almost looks out of place, dressed up just a little too much to be skulking around with the grease-monkeys Varian calls his contemporaries. If anything, the quick flash of a silver rapier on the blond’s belt cinches it. Whoever this teenager is, he’s either from money, or pretending to be from money, both of which are irritating in their own way.

Varian bites the inside of his cheek, trying to find a way to reply politely.

“No, thank you,” is what he spits out instead, grabbing at the engine and starting to pull himself back under it. The blond’s heavy boot slams down on top, the mechanic’s bed jerking to a halt, and Varian’s teeth click uncomfortably together at the force of it. The engine swings a little dangerously from where it’s suspended between two large chains, holding it high so the underside of it is easily accessible. Varian stops mid-yank and glares.

The boy just smiles, annoyingly unphased.

“Aw, c’mon, goggles,” the blond says with that same irritating smile, green eyes bright behind his round glasses. “Isn’t that a little heavy for a tiny thing like you? Don’t you want the extra help?”

Varian huffs in offense, already done with this conversation. The shop’s agonizingly hot, even with the windows thrown open. It’s loud, dirty, generally rather unpleasant with the stink of grease and sweat, and though it’s the best place to work in the dockyard it’s still chaotic at best. Varian only has another eighteen hours to figure out what the problem with this engine is before they’re due to take off from Corona again, and Varian knows it’s his ass on the line if the work doesn’t get done. He doesn’t have time for some uppity asshole to think he knows more than Varian and try to upstage everything.

“I have a name, you know,” Varian says, coldly, looking the guy dead in the eye.

“Can I know it?” The blond winks at him. He seems to think he’s making headway.

“Nope,” Varian replies with a peppy smile. There’s a moment of shock, and that’s all he needs to yank his mechanic’s bed out from under the blond’s black boot, disappearing back under the engine.

Finally. Back where he belongs, the annoyance avoided. Varian scratches at his face idly, bringing his googles back down over his eyes, setting his mind back onto his work. He peers up into the open panel at the bottom of the engine, noting the interweaving cogs that should in theory be working by now. After the bloody pirate attack a week ago, engine twelve, or specifically this part of it, had taken a hell of a beating. The Captain had pushed her too far again, causing something inside to rupture and spew parts across the engine room floor like a geyser, and in turn Varian has spent the last three days desperately trying to piece it back together. Something is still wrong with it, though, and it’s driving Varian insane trying to figure it out.

“Come on, darling,” Varian mutters to himself, taking a wrench to one of the bolts. “Talk to me.”

He gets no answer. Instead a small plume of dust and grease spurts out of the machine onto Varian’s face, only just splattering onto his goggles instead of his skin. Lovely. He grits his teeth, reaching in to really give it a piece of his mind—

“It’s the bolt on the timing belt,” the blond pipes up from beyond the engine. “If you leave it as-is, it’s going to fall apart the minute you try to take off.”

…Oh. Varian looks up to the timing belt, tucked away neatly near the upper left side of the engine, and lo and behold, one of the bolts holding it in place is missing. Damnit. Varian peeks up through the engine, up to where the top panel’s been removed as well, and just catches a glint of green eyes peering down at him through the guts of the machine. There’s a minute of debate in him, how much does he value his pride? Enough to admit he was wrong to this irritating little—?

“Look, pipsqueak,” the blond says, his voice filtering through the cogs and gears. “I know machines. Just trust that I know what I’m talking about?”

Varian clenches his hand around the wrench, wondering how long he can go without committing murder. Maybe if he made it look like an accident…?

He rolls back out from under the engine again. The wheels make a protesting noise against the cobblestone floor. This time when he comes to a stop, he sits up properly, shoving his goggles back up to rest haphazardly on his forehead.

“Can I help you?” Varian finally spits. His ire only seems to encourage the blond, who grins.

“I mean, it seems like I’m helping you,” Green-eyes says, idly pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. How he’s dealing with the heat of the day in that giant coat Varian would never guess, but that’s besides the point. Varian rocks his weight a bit, thinking, the mechanic’s bed under him shifting with the movement. Decided, he finally pushes himself up to his feet, noting with irritation that the blond is, in fact, at least a foot taller. Scowl setting deep on his face, Varian turns away and kicks at the mechanic’s bed roughly, sending it rolling back under the engine for safekeeping.

There’s a chattering noise of gears and steam, and Varian feels a weight land on his shoulder. He only just adapts to the heavy weight of copper, steel, and brass, before he feels his first creation clambering for his attention. Varian absently reaches up to pat at the metal body of his pet, scratching at a place between the exposed gears of Ruddiger’s ears that he knows the little automaton likes best. Ruddiger coos out a puff of steam, settling his weight onto Varian’s shoulders fully, the automaton having jumped from on top of the engine. Aperture eyes snap open and close with content, breaking the glowing green light of Ruddiger’s eyes for just a second as the raccoon-shaped automaton purrs.

The blond lets out a little huff of a laugh when he sees Varian and Ruddiger together, green eyes flicking between them. He gestures to his eyes, biting his lip. “Look at that,” he says, grinning. “You’re twins!”

Sure enough, when Varian peers into the polished brass sides of the engine, he can see that his eyes are ringed with grime and soot, giving him a distinctly raccoon look. Varian scowls at his reflection, turning back around with an angry gesture of the wrench in his hand.

“If you weren’t right about the engine—” Varian begins to threaten, but the blond cuts him off.

“But I was,” he says with a smarmy smile. “Right, I mean.”

Varian can feel his eye twitch.

“You’re rightly annoying,” he grumps, crossing his arms. Ruddiger makes an offended puff of steam at the movement, digging mechanical hands into the shoulder of Varian’s shirt a little tighter. Varian grits his teeth a little as tiny claws dig into his skin through the thin fabric.

The other boy holds his hands up in an innocent gesture, head cocking to the side. “I know what I’m doing, all right? Let me help fix the engine.” Green eyes glow with mirth as the boy looks down at the engine again. “Because, clearly, you seem to need it.”

Varian scowls, his hands clenching into fists, fingers digging into the leather of his gloves. The wrench in his hand is temptingly heavy, but Varian simply grits his teeth and ignores the plots for murder, taking a deep breath. Instead he reaches up and over the engine, using the wrench to try and tighten the bolt on the timing belt one last time. It creaks a little dangerously, but Varian knows it’ll hold. He designed it himself, after all.

Ruddiger keeps an eye on the blond behind Varian, making curious noises, a soft clicking sound that mixes well with the quiet ticking of his clockwork heart. Varian has to use two hands on the wrench to get the bolt tight, giving it a few violent tugs. The blond is watching him—Varian can feel eyes on the back of his neck—but Varian steadfastly ignores him, either out of focus or spite… or maybe both.

Work done, he finally turns back around to the blond, stepping forward with a threatening gesture of the wrench.

“Look,” Varian says, pointing the wrench an inch away from green eyes. “I don’t particularly care for your tone, so—”

“Varian!” a third voice calls, and Varian stills mid-rant. Both Varian and the irritating boy next to him turn, locking eyes with a young woman—a familiar woman. Her grin is a mile wide, bright as the sun and twice as warm. Her purple dress swirls around her ankles, cinched tight at the waist by a black corset, with billowing sleeves of white fabric. Her green eyes crinkle when she sees the two of them turn to her, scrunching up the spattering of freckles on her face and wrinkling her button nose. She’d look a proper lady, she certainly holds herself with the decorum expected of one, if not for the pixie cut she’d chopped her hair into. It’s stylish, with shorter sides and a longer top, nearly defying gravity in the way it fluffs up from her head into a windblown wave.

Varian notes, with quite a bit of amusement, that she’s holding onto a pair of flats in one hand. Barefoot again, then. Classic.

“Rapunzel,” Varian sighs, dropping the arm holding the wrench back down to his side. He can feel the embarrassment of being caught picking fights seizing him. He’s eighteen now, he really should know better, and Rapunzel is nothing if not determined to keep him on the straight and narrow.

“Who’s this?” Rapunzel says with interest, her eyes flicking between Varian and the other teenager. The taller boy seems to stiffen under her gaze, which is unsurprising. Rapunzel is notorious in these parts, and in the dockyard especially. Varian rubs at the back of his neck in the presence of his Captain, and can feel his cheeks burn red.

“He was just leaving—” Varian starts to say, turning away from her to glare at the blond, but Rapunzel cuts him off.

“Oh, did you make a friend?” she asks, coming closer and leaning on Varian’s shoulder. It’s infuriating the way she’s taller than he is, even after his growth spurt.

“Sure,” Varian says through grit teeth. “A friend. We’ll call him that.”

Rapunzel brightens at that, and Varian can already sense the trouble on the horizon. “And you are?”

The boy shrugs. “New.”

There’s a pause, but Rapunzel pushes forward. “Oh! How are you liking Corona, then?” she asks the blond, her grin a mile wide at the thought of Varian having friends. Varian’s not sure if he’s offended or not, really.

“Loving it,” the blond says. “The City of the Sun could never disappoint.”

Varian wants to roll his eyes, but Rapunzel leans further onto him, putting more of her weight onto his shoulder in a silent bid for him to behave himself. He goes along with it—she’s typically right in these sorts of situations.

“Glad to hear it,” Rapunzel grins. “What brings you to our fair city, anyways?”

“I’m here looking for work, actually,” the blond says quickly. “Just got back from a contracted expedition to Vardaros, so now I’m on the hunt for another engineering job.”

Rapunzel’s face brightens, and Varian grows concerned. He knows that she’s been contemplating hiring extra hands for their next expedition, seeing how important it is, but there’s no way she would actually—

“Well, you’re in luck!” Her face splits into a wide smile. “We’re actually looking for a junior engineer, and any friend of Varian’s is a friend of ours. We’d be glad to have you aboard, if you’re willing.”

Varian’s face must do something funny, since Rapunzel’s full weight is near crushing him now. He tries to catch her eye, but she’s ignoring him with a grin. Rapunzel knows exactly what she’s doing and Varian can’t help but feel the slight pulse of irritation sink into his gut. She’s planning something, he thinks, glaring at her as she steadfastly ignores his gaze. Only the Maker knows what goes on in that woman’s head, honestly.

“Well, can’t say no to that,” Varian’s new most-hated-person says.

By the Maker, what did Varian do to deserve this? Has he really been such a terrible person to deserve this kind of treatment from the universe? Honestly, you’d think he was a horrible murderer in a past life for the kind of penance he’s paying in this one.

“Perfect!” Rapunzel crows with a clap of her hands. “Varian can show you how to get back to the Aphelion—right, Varian?”

“Yes, Captain.” Varian grunts, idly wondering if he could brain himself with the wrench in his hand in such a way that would guarantee he wouldn’t survive. Rapunzel doesn’t seem to mind, finally letting up on Varian and gently pushing away from him with one last squeeze of his shoulder.

“Alright, you two,” she says, winking to Varian as she leaves. “Just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing— I’ll see you both back at the ship! Play nice!”

Varian can’t help but feel like he’s been played.

If Varian had his way, he’d turn around and fire the blond here and now. Varian’s the head of the engineering section of the Aphelion— that’s got to count for something, right? In theory it should, but Varian knows that Rapunzel, as Captain, had final say in everything. If she wants to be a busy-body and force Varian to try and make friends, then by the Maker, it’s happening whether Varian likes it or not.

In this case? It is decidedly in the not category.

He turns to the blond, who looks back with a smug smile. Varian can feel his face scrunch up in distaste at it, and knows that the twitch in his eye is probably back with a vengeance. Ruddiger chirps with contentment on his shoulder, idly pawing at his hair in an attempt to calm his human down. It doesn’t work. Varian sighs, and finally sets the wrench down on a nearby table, jabbing a finger at the other teenager.

“I don’t like you,” is all he says. “But if Rapunzel says you’re in, then you’re in, I guess.”

That stupid fucking grin gets wider, and Varian wants to punch it.

“Who are you, then?” Varian asks, trying for more neutral territory. If they’re going to be stuck together for the next six months once the Aphelion takes flight, then he wants to at least try to work towards something non-hostile.

“Your new crewmate, obviously,” the blond shoots back, and Varian loses all sense of decorum at that point. There’s a beat of silence as Varian tries to reel his temper in, and another as he tries to relax his jaw enough to say something that won’t get him arrested.

“In that case, you should know that you’re speaking to your boss… mister junior engineer.”

The blond splutters, and Varian can’t help but give a little smirk of his own. Nothing better than reminding people of his position, the one he’d clawed for for years before Rapunzel finally gave in.

“Wait, what?” Varian’s new underling asks, going a shade paler.

“My name is Varian,” he says, the smirk growing larger and larger. He brings a hand up to the center of his chest, fingers splayed slightly. “Lead Engineer of the Aphelion, and your new boss. So, tell me, glasses.” Oh, this was so much fun. “Who are you?”

Green-eyes seems to know when he’s dug himself a hole he can’t climb out of, and for the first time there’s something other than an irritating smirk on his face. If anything, Varian would say he looks annoyed. The thought of finally managing to wipe that smirk off the blond’s face is delicious, and it does wonders for Varian’s mood. Varian sticks a hand out, much like Rapunzel had, and while the blond glares at it, he still takes Varian’s smaller hand in his own.

“Hugo,” the blond grits out, holding Varian’s hand maybe just a little too tight. It’s still worth it to see this boy squirmthough.

Varian waits, but the older boy—Hugo—says nothing else, and after a moment Varian draws his hand away. “Good talk.” That’s that, he supposes.

A pause, and then Varian shrugs and moves away, looking back to the engine. Screws in place, broken pipe replaced, timing belt bolted... it’s about as fixed as it can get. Varian reaches up and slams the top back down with a loud clang. Hugo jumps. Varian grins, and kneels down to lock the top back into place.

Ruddiger chitters in his ear, scolding; Varian shakes him off and straightens back to his feet, peeling off his gloves and shoving one hand back through his hair. Ugh, city sweat and oil. He can taste it. “Well,” Varian says, resigned. “Might as well make yourself useful, I guess. Help me push this back to the dockyard.” Hugo opens his mouth but Varian cuts him off. “And if I hear one more comment about my physical prowess—!” He pats the wrench twice with a sweet smile, the threat more than obvious.

Hugo closes his mouth. He’s grinning. By the Maker, even when he’s quiet, Varian can practically hear what Hugo wants to say anyway. This is already a disaster; what the hell is Rapunzel thinking?

He has a sudden and vivid flashback to her winking at him, and shudders without knowing why.

Ruddiger coos at him with a puff of steam. Varian tugs at Ruddiger’s ear in return, annoyed with the chiding—he knows how to play nice, thanks, why does no one have any faith in him?—and then walks to the shopkeeper, thus far ignored in the back of the workroom. “How much for the parts?”

He pays for the replacements and manages to haggle for a cart, and in a few minutes’ time he and Hugo have winched the engine down and rigged it up for transport. Varian braces himself against the cart handle and sighs. “Westside dock,” he tells Hugo, squinting sadly at the streets through the large double doors of the shop. It’s market day. The crowds are crazy. This is going to suck. “Pier 48.”

“You sure you know the way, goggles?”

“It’s ‘boss,’ actually,” Varian replies sweetly, and grins with all his teeth at the way Hugo winces. Hah. Varian could get used to this.

They exit the repair shop to a faceful of steam, and Varian coughs hard, waving the smoke from his face as he and Hugo shove their way into the crowd, the cart rattling loudly on the uneven cobble. Corona at midday is as bustling as ever, the city life in full swing. Whole families wander the streets as merchant carts and stores push out their wares; steam-powered bikes rocket past, their riders laughing high and bright. In the distance, Varian can hear the ever-present screech of the train whistles, the trails of steam drifting up from the stations. Above them, the sunlight warps and twists, broken apart by the furious rattle of passing trains and the railroad looping high above their heads in arches and spindly bridges.

Varian squints against the light and shades his face, elbowing Hugo hard to get his attention. The other boy looks almost lost in thought, staring up—his eyes tracking the trains as they pass, looking almost blinded by the sheer gleam of the city in motion. “We’re heading right,” Varian explains, raising his voice above the din, and waves his pocket watch at Hugo’s face, tapping the compass in the upper corner. “Come on.”

Hugo pulls his gaze away and follows, and together they push the cart through the streets, slowly but surely carving a path for the dockyard. When they finally break through the main crowd, Varian pushes them toward the side-streets, shadowy and empty and safe from wandering feet. If they hurry, he thinks, they might make it to the dockyard before the heat really sets in. He gives Ruddiger one last absent pat and starts to pick up the pace.

Hugo is slowing, though, trailing behind, and then for a brief moment he stops completely, hand slipping away from the cart. Varian yanks the cart to a stop, glancing back, ready to give the other a piece of his mind—but then he sees Hugo’s face. Varian follows his gaze, and closes his mouth. He understands now: in the break between the buildings he can see the whole upper half of Corona, the spires of the Sun’s temple and the curving arches of the bridges rising high over the city, shining bright and glossy in the sunlight. It’s designed to look like the sun crest, if seen from directly above—a tourist favorite.

“First time in the city?” Varian wonders, and when Hugo eyes him, just shrugs, Ruddiger chattering loudly on his shoulder. “You’re staring.”

“It’s bright,” Hugo says, dryly.

“And that would be why it’s called the city of the Sun.” Varian blows out a hard breath, trying to get sweat-soaked bangs out of his face. He plants his hands on the cart rail and starts pushing again. A moment’s pause, and then Hugo joins him. “But no, seriously, who are you? You’re already hired or whatever—” Damn Rapunzel for that, now Varian has to deal with this jerk for six months, “—but why are you even here?”

“Luck,” Hugo says, which is such an obvious lie Varian outright rolls his eyes at him. “Money. Look, goggles, I came here for a fresh start, so—” He gestures. “Let’s just not do the whole interrogation thing and say we did, okay?”

Varian presses his lips together, but lets it drop. As irritating as Hugo is—well. Varian understands fresh starts. And the money issue. If it was someone prying into his reasons, then…

“Fine, fine.” Varian says, and turns his head away, only just catching the way Hugo startles from the corner of his eye. He almost looks surprised, Varian thinks, but when he glances back again Hugo just looks as smug as ever, not even out of breath from pushing the cart. His hair is even still slicked perfectly back.

Maybe his imagination? Well, whatever; Varian hates it either way.

It’s not far to the docks, and Varian knows the path like the back of his hand; by the time the midday heat really starts sinking in (and Hugo, in that stupid leather coat, is noticeably starting to sweat—hah, serves him right), they’ve reached the edge of the city. It’s quieter here, the rumble of the crowd replaced with distant whistles and rhythmic banging, the symphony of a dockyard hard at work.

Varian heaves the cart to a rolling stop by the stairs, waving at Hugo to step back, and cups a hand around his mouth. “Xavier!” he shouts down at the shipyard, pitching his voice high. Ruddiger props up on his head and yawns, puffing steam like a smoke signal. “Send Cass up here, would you? I’ve got that engine part fixed!”

“Oh, wonderful!” Xavier waves back. “I’ll send her up— we’ll get it reinstalled right away! Grab Yong for me?”

“Where is he?”

“On the ship!”

“Got it!” Ruddiger crawls from his shoulder down into his arms; Varian cradles the racoon close—ouch, hot metal—and finally looks back to Hugo, humming. “Well, come on then.”

“Yong?” Hugo wonders aloud, as Varian makes his way for the ship. It’s in Pier 48 now, the main dock for repair work, which makes this a longer walk than usual. Damn pirates, punching holes in their ship— who did this Donella think she was? For someone with such a fearsome reputation, they’d gotten away pretty light…

“Xavier’s assistant,” Varian explains, clutching Ruddiger to his chest and hopping down the stairs two at a time. He hears a snicker, and whips around to glare. Hugo looks away, one hand covering his mouth. Varian narrows his eyes. “Xavier was that man down there, he runs the engines, and— would you stop laughing?”

“Sorry,” Hugo says, with a grin that says he isn’t sorry at all. “You were saying?”

“Okay, I’m not doing this.” Varian spins on his heel, ignoring him. “Come on, it’s just around the corner. She’s a little... battered right now, some hull damage, but we’re set to leave tomorrow— and I mean tomorrow— time is money with this next shipment, understand?”

Hugo smiles, leaning closer to Varian. “What’s so special about it?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “Is it expensive?”

Expensive, one of a kind, irreplaceable—there’s a lot of words Varian could use for it. If the Aphelion’s last cargo had been valuable, this next shipment is near-priceless. “That’s on a need-to-know basis—” Varian says tartly, “—and until we’re in the air, you don’t need to know. Now, will you be ready?”

Hugo shrugs. “I’m ready to go now.”

Varian blinks at that, looking Hugo up and down. Even Ruddiger lifts his head from his nap to sniff a disbelieving puff of steam. No luggage, just the clothes on his back and the sword on his hip. “Um… you sure?”

Hugo’s smirk widens. “Aw. Worried for me, goggles?”

Ha-ha, nevermind. Varian pivots back around. “Nope.” He is not allowed to punch his new assistant. He is not allowed to punch his assistant. Rapunzel would be disappointed. There would be lectures. She would make charts. Not worth it. “Now, where is that ship—”

He ducks around the corner, stepping out of the way of horse and cart, and then, like the sun splitting the clouds: there she is.

Varian trails to a stop, annoyance already forgotten. He turns, for once wanting to see Hugo’s full reaction. If Hugo had blinked twice at the city, then… “Here we are,” Varian says, grinning now, pride bubbling warm in his chest. “The Aphelion!”

Hugo looks, mouth opening, and Varian can just see the rude comment he’s about to make—and then Varian really doesgrin, wide and bright and smug smug smug, because he can also see the moment Hugo loses all his words entirely.

Varian has always loved Corona, despite everything—the spiny skyline, the arching bridges, the whistling steam and winding roads curling up to the temple like a conch shell. Varian has lived in this air and breathed this city for all his life, and he loves it with all he is— but of all the places in the city, the dockyards, and the ships they harbor, are where his heart truly lies.

If the city is bright, then the dockyards are blinding. They sit on the very edge of the city limits, the cliff-face drop of the flying city. The copper paneling that makes up the dockyard decks has turned near solid-gold in the sunlight, and beyond that edge the whole world falls at their feet. Miles upon miles of dotted green farmland, blocks of gleaming metal towns, curving roads like man-made rivers. The horizon burns gold and blue, the distant silhouette of other flying cities dotting the landscape, poking out from distant clouds. None of the cities fly as high as Corona, of course—the cities of the Sun and Moon are meant to float above all the rest—but it still makes for quite the view. With other airships hanging in the sky, colorful backdrops against the full white clouds, the dockyards are most certainly a sight to behold.

But the jewel, Varian thinks with a smile, is his ship—Rapunzel’s ship—their home.

The Aphelion.

She’s a work of art, Varian knows, and she looks it, too. Aphelion is a whole three hundred feet of dark wood and solid brass, long and sleek and sharp as any blade. Her half-moon windows are stained glass and shining; decorative copper and silver wires wind down her front and all across her sides like trailing vines, or maybe wings, or maybe the unfurling edges of the sun. She’s got four sails and an envelope made of the best weave, the cloth of the balloon so thick it’s near impossible to cut, set to hold them afloat for nearly two decades even if the engines and the fires both die. A heavy copper turbine sits at her back; the sails, flapping loose in the breeze, are decorated in off-hand embroidery. She’s golden and shining in the sunlight—and it’s right, that Hugo goes dead silent at the sight of her, and Varian can’t help but grin. Because anyone who stops and stares at the Aphelion, anyone who goes breathless at their first glance… well, as annoying as Hugo is, he can’t be too bad, then. Not if he sees the Aphelion for the treasure she is.

She hadn’t always been this way, of course; she’d been a broken thing once, before Rapunzel found the shattered shell of a ship and coaxed life back into her. It’s Rapunzel’s way, after all, to find broken and trapped and hiding things, and bring them out to the light—but Rapunzel had asked Lance to do the tarp weave, and Varian had built the metalwork, and in the end, it was all of them, together, that brought the Aphelion to the skies, blinding and beautiful and larger than life.

Varian steps away and sets Ruddiger down on the cobble, still grinning wide and pleased at Hugo’s shock, and waves up to the small figures settled around on the Aphelion’s balcony. Rapunzel—standing at the helm with Eugene, Nuru, and Yong—looks over, and she leans over the railing to wave back. Her eyes draw to Hugo next, and even from this distance, Varian can see her smile.

Varian turns back to Hugo, radiating smugness. “Well?”

Hugo blinks fast and shakes his head. “Well,” he echoes. He shakes his head again, and then he gives a little laugh. “Well.”

“What do you think?” Varian presses, intent. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” And maybe Hugo catches something in that, maybe he can tell Varian really and truly wants an answer, because he looks at Varian, eye to eye, and then— he smiles.

Months later, this memory will stand out to Varian. Years later, Varian will look back on this day in the sun and finally recognize the moment for what it was. A beginning. And an end.

Their only warning.

It’s bright, the smile Hugo gives him. It’s blinding. But for some reason, something about it makes Varian falter. A chill runs down his spine. His mouth goes dry. Because there is something in that smile—in the curve of it, the sharpness of teeth—something about the way it creases at Hugo’s eyes. It unnerves him. It unsettles him. There is something about it that doesn’t sit quite right, and if Varian had known better, then, perhaps he could have read the smile for what it was.

But instead Varian looks away, feeling cold and not sure why, telling himself it is just the wind—and beside him, Hugo, his eyes fixed back on the ship—

Hugo smiles.

“Yes,” he says. “She’s perfect.”

#tangled the series #varian and the seven kingdoms #varigo #vat7k #hugo tangled #tangled varian #varian #hugo #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rapunzel #tts #rta #chapters #fic: cor meum

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rinari7 · 4 years ago

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@slytherintothedragonsden and @ciara-jane Many many thanks for the topic suggestion! And I have other reports I’ll have to do, so I’m saving the other topics away as well for those! :3

All right, buckle up folks! By popular demand, we're talking about bicycle gears!

This will probably be more information than any average consumer wants or needs to know, but I had to make it report length, so my apologies! But I'll try to be concise, and I'll do my best to keep the maths to a minimum for those of you sensitive to such things. ;)

The term "gear" or “speed” in this particular context refers to a particular arrangement of toothed wheels, disks, or shafts that translates torque generated by either a motor, someone’s pedaling, or a combination of both, into the physical speed of the bike on the path. Put more simply, a “gear” is a particular “translation” of turns of the crank arms to turns of the back wheel.

So people have more of an idea of precisely what I’m referring to, here on a modern utility/mountain bike chain drivetrain and gear setup:

1. crank arm

2. chainrings

3. front derailleur

4. chain

5. rear sprockets (together also called a cassette, that are attached to the hub of the rear wheel and drive it)

6. rear derailleur

The first bikes only had one “gear” — the pedals and crank arms were affixed directly to the wheel hub. One crank arm revolution equals one wheel turn, one wheel circumference traveled. Incidentally, this is also why penny farthings became a Thing, as ridiculous as they looked and as dangerous as they were — people wanted to get farther with one crank arm revolution, and they were only really limited by the length of their legs and from what height they were willing to risk falling.

Still, gear-less bikes were less than ideal. Issues getting up a hill? Too bad, get stronk. Want to go faster? Pedal faster, lazybones. :P

For the people with a little more common sense or a healthy fear of heights, the “Safety” bicycle (coming to stores near? you in 1886!) got rid of such stupid things as an enormous front wheel, and sat the rider much closer to the ground. More importantly for the development of our modern bicycle transmission, it sat the rider in between the two wheels and used a chain to transfer torque from the pedals to the rear drive wheel.

(For the less physically gifted… physics-ly gifted? torque is force applied over a distance that makes something turn. However, distinguishing between torque and force is more an issue of pedantry and math-ish nerdery than any real key to understanding.)

In the early days, some people came up with the bright idea of putting two different sized cogs or sprockets on the opposite sides of the wheel. Two gears! Too bad you had to stop, get off, remove the rear wheel to flip it around, secure it again, and then get going again in your new gear. This only really became a Thing in racing, where the difference in speed mattered enough to justify that whole song-and-dance.

How does a different-sized rear sprocket make a difference in speed? I’m so glad you asked! (Warning: maths ahead, but I’ll try to make it painless.)

Y’all remember levers, right? (Excuse the terrible Microsoft Paint drawings I made at 11 at night, please.)

You can apply less force at the end of a longer “lever” and have the same effect as if you’d applied more force to a shorter lever. Mathematically, the equation is: F1 x l1 = F2 x l2.

(In the diagrams, F1 is the force of gravity pulling the box down, and F2 is the force exerted by the person, l1 the blue length and l2 the red length. They were originally color-coded like most of the bolded stuff but tumblr didn’t feel like working with me there.)

Now let’s take a look at the rear (driving) wheel of a bicycle. (Proportions exaggerated.)

Y’all see it too, right? Like, uh, either way the torque the chain applies to the sprocket (the blue side of the lever) is on the less advantageous side of the equation (smaller than red), but the larger gear offers a less-bad ratio.

So, why would anyone use a smaller gear? More force actually applied to the wheel on the road is better, right?

Not necessarily. If you’re moving forwards at a good clip, you’re good. If you apply too much force, there’s also the risk of the wheel slipping and losing traction on the road.

Also, I picked the icons I did for a reason. Notice how the larger gear has more teeth? That means it takes a longer length of chain to tug the larger gear around one complete revolution.

What if your chainring has only half as many teeth as your rear sprocket? The teeth are the same distance apart, same chain. That means you have to complete two revolutions of the crank arm to move one rear-wheel-circumference forwards.

There’s an equation for this, too: transmission ratio i = teeth of chainring ÷ teeth of rear sprocket = radius of chainring ÷ radius of rear sprocket = rotations of rear sprocket ÷ rotations of chainring. Any of those three possibilities will get you the same answer.

Note here that the lever principle applies to the pedal and chainrings as well.

In this case, a smaller chainring works in our favor, transferring more torque to the chain and thus to the rear wheel, but less speed.

If we put both of these aspects together, we have the combination small chainring + large rear sprocket giving us the maximum transmission of force from pedals to the rear wheel, but not much forwards speed. Conversely, the combination large chainring + small rear sprocket gives us a lot of forwards speed, but not much force — if we hit a hill we’re going to have a hard time.

Practically speaking: most bikes have two or three chainrings (controlled by the left gear shifter) and between 6 and 10 rear sprockets, though the trend is shifting back to one chainring and many rear sprockets in the super-high-end systems. (Also, with the advent of pedelecs and electric auxiliary motors, most people are now just switching the motor’s boost level instead of shifting chainrings).

To make things more concrete: my bicycle has 8 rear sprockets and 3 chainrings, in bike lingo 3 x 8 gears or speeds. I could say 24-speed, technically, but realistically there’s some overlap in there between different sprocket-chainring combinations, and some combinations I would realistically never use, like small chainring + small rear sprocket, or large chainring + large rear sprocket (not to mention that those kinds of extreme gear combinations can exacerbate chain wear).

On your gear shifters, the thing to remember is: if pedaling is difficult, shift down, to the lower numbers on the left and right displays. The indexing (assigned numbers to cogs) is nicely uncomplicated that way.

I’ve sprung forwards a bit historically, but hopefully that answers the questions of “what even are bike speeds and what do these wizard numbers mean?”

I’ll cut the history and rambling a bit short at this point: in 1930 the predecessor of modern chain-driven gearing systems, the Vittoria Margherita, was invented, and in the 1950s the basic design of modern derailleurs and chain gearing systems popped up, and has stuck around ever since. Shimano did a thing in the 1980s, designing hubs, cassette, pedals, chainrings, front and rear derailleurs, and most components of the drivetrain to specifically work best with the whole set of their parts, which… uh. Like, good that they offer a well-performing, smoothly-designed system, but locking you into buying only their stuff if you want your thing to work right? Not a huge fan. (The corporate side of bikes is. Uh. A whole thing. A whole-ass other ramble.) And now there’s electronic and wirelessly controlled gear shifters, but that’s most of the major developments in gear shifting.

The first widely available transmission system that could be operated without, uhhh, stopping and taking your bike partially apart, was actually an internal gear hub, invented by William Reilly in 1898. It had two (2) different settings. Eventually someone invented the luxury of three-speed hubs!

Internal gear hubs have a different construction, but the principle of the gears are the same: different-sized cogs translate the torque of the chain into more wheel rotations or more applied force to help you get up that damn hill. Nowadays there’s even 14-speed internal hub gears, and an interesting gearbox concept (Pinion is the company) that does the whole translating-through-gears at the bottom bracket and crank arm, entirely between the pedal and chain, instead of between chain and drive wheel.

There’s actually an interesting debate to be had on chain gears versus internal hub gears — they’re both good for different things. Vaguely, internal hub gears are less maintenance-intensive, since most of the mechanism is protected from the elements, but they’re heavier (not the choice of racers). Though you can shift gears at a standstill, you can’t shift if you’re putting much force in the pedals and getting the rear wheel out is a bit more complicated with a hub gear system, if you have a flat. Chain gearing systems are the choice of competitive bikers, generally more efficient at transferring power and offering a broader range of gears.

Hopefully I haven’t offered too much information, or an overwhelming amount. If y’all want clarification on anything, just poke me. :3

Sources:

- I have a 500+ page textbook on all things bicycles. “Fachkunde Fahrradtechnik,” 7th Edition, from the publisher Europa-Lehrmittel if y’all wanna look it up

- Seriously, I’ve been learning this stuff for like 9 months at this point. Theoretically and practically. And I’ll be taking a whole-ass apprenticeship midterm next month. At some point your own education should count for something.

- Also, simple physics.

- A few Wikipedia pages for random references, in particular pertaining to the history of hub gears (and “oh shit what is the thing called in English” moments).

- https://evelo.com/pages/history-of-the-bicycle for a few historical tidbits

- https://bikeradar.com/features/when-were-bicycle-gears-invented/ for more histoical tidbits

- Pictures and icons from Wikimedia, specifically (x) (x) (x) (x), commentary and colorful drawings by me

#rinari rambles #rinari reports #bicycle gears #seriously thank you all so much #you definitely saved my ass #and i had a lot of fun typing this up for you all #and making those shitty memeified drawings #i hope it is actually helpful #if y'all could use clarification just ask! I know sometimes i make weird leaps that seem logical to me but aren't always to others :3

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sigritandtheelves · 5 years ago

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I hope we have a Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa miracle (throwing all the religious holidays out there) and maybe have a new chapter of Simple?!? Pretty please?!!!🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

how about... um... Martin Luther King day? or something? lol sorry, i tried

Simple

Chapter 11

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

PG-13 | 1.8k wds | pre-XF AU | MSR, Melissa/Samantha

A/N: For what it’s worth, I do plan to finish this. Thank you to folks who have continued to ask about this story. The inspiration comes in very small flashes, but there is a trajectory toward some kind of ending, even if I’m not so great at getting there quickly.

_+_

March 18, 1990 - Alexandria, VA

He trailed fingers along her salty back and watched her breathe. She seemed to have hardened in the weeks since he saw her last: her muscles had firmed, her bones sharpened. She was making herself a stone that would not crack under pressure at the FBI, he supposed, but she was smoothed out and loose-limbed now across his sheets. “I love you,” he whispered to her sleeping form, just trying out the words again. She did not stir. She slept much harder than he.

Fox made himself a pillow and pulled her to lay against him. Dana moved willingly enough, despite the depth of her slumber. She made only soft murmurs with strawberry lips, rubbed her cheek on his chest and hooked her knee over his hip. He held her with both arms and felt the cogs of some great universal wheel settle back into place. Dusk turned to night. He let himself drift with her, though it wasn’t late.

When he moved upward out of slumber some minutes or hours later, her fingers were in his hair and his head was heavy on her breasts, his jaw pressing stubble into the skin over her sternum. He pressed his lips to her skin instinctively as he woke, smelled sleep and sweat and the remnants of some clean powder or soap. He murmured, tasted her, and listened to her breath catch in her throat.

Raspy and low, she asked, “You awake?”

“Mmhmm, getting there.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes in the dim. She smiled at him, blinking sleepily, raised her hand to curl fingers along his jaw. He thought how this was all he really needed, how he could muster the will to battle human monsters forever if she would be the engine of his determination and his refuge. We will be each other’s strength, he thought. Counterpoints and balances, science and intuition. He moved to let her body slip over his, to hold him firm in his place while she kissed him.

“This is right,” she said when she’d broken the kiss.

“It is,” he assured her, hands on her hips, drawing small circles with his thumbs.

She bent her head again, but instead of another kiss, pressed her forehead and nose to his. “It’s love,” she whispered. “I love you.”

He felt the words like the tingling of nerves coming back awake. They felt strong, like forged iron, like truth. Whatever happened, this would be their bedrock. Her knees slipped to either side of his hips and he said the words back to her before his lips pressed to hers again.

—

April, 1990

The machinations of select men, his father included, brewed alongside the presumption of Fox’s settled love. There were other hands at work, fingers steeped in a project content to murder children and scrape the wombs of women under the guise of great sacrifice for an even greater purpose. He neither knew nor wanted anything of these plans, yet they irrupted around him like weeds connected to some vast underlying structure. Beneath his feet, the sidewalk was beginning to crumble.

In Arlington, Fox confronted his father about the upsetting conversation he’d had with Diana Fowley: cases the State Department wanted him working on, connections to something bigger.

“Roping you in, are they? I should’ve figured.” The older man settled in his armchair and gestured for Fox to sit on the sofa across from him. The air held the faint scent of bourbon but there was none in sight now.

“It wasn’t you?”

“Me? No, not me. I didn’t want you involved, that’s why I left.”

Fox considered this. He’d thought his father left because Teena Mulder threw him out. Or dragged the kids away and told him never to come after her. He felt something like an uncomfortable itch, a call to remember something buried deep in the past: dinner parties with strange men and a handful of wives, Fox and Samantha sneaking glances from the stairwell. “But you know these people.”

Bill Mulder grunted.

“What do they want from me?”

The old man rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling. “To use you, most likely. Or to pull you in, get you to do something they can use against you. It’s a dangerous game, Fox, and one you shouldn’t play.”

“Dangerous to me?”

He nodded. “To you and to everyone you love.” He looked over his son, half squinted at him. “You got a girl?”

Fox swallowed and felt something cold in his belly. Dana was in Stanford, finishing her last two months before FBI training and residency at Quantico’s labs. Her family knew about their relationship, but he and Dana were hardly flaunting it in front of State Department officials. “Why should that matter?”

“These are old men with old ideas, Fox. They see a woman as a vulnerability, a means to get at you and nothing more.”

Fox thought back to the panic in Diana’s face when he’d rejected her invitations to the case. The vague coldness in his gut turned to dread. You’ve no idea, she’d said. She’d been afraid. He dropped his face into his hands and rubbed at his eyes. “They don’t know this woman. She’ll be FBI soon.” But even as he said the words, they felt hollow. Fowley was FBI too.

“Doesn’t matter.” His father’s words were terse, almost angry. “You can’t have anything to do with them, Fox. Their game will ruin you, just like it ruined me.”

A future that Fox had been half envisioning—he and Dana in a little house in Virginia, polishing their guns together, sharing notes over spaghetti and meatballs, making love on the couch in front of bad movies, maybe even, someday, ending up with some precocious, brown-haired and freckled Mulder babies—all of it seemed naïve now. She’d worried that her relationship with him could make her vulnerable, and she might have been more right than she knew. The thought of pushing her away, though, was impossible. He could no more do that than he could perform open heart surgery on himself. But the thought of putting her in danger felt no better. “What do I do?” He asked.

His father sighed, as if he had no great answers either. He’d ended up this way, after all: alone. “Fly straight,” he said after a moment. “Do good work. Keep your hands out of any messy business, and maybe they’ll leave you alone.”

Fox thought back to a strange case he’d worked the year before, to the way he’d been used to catch a woman named Susan Modeski and the three mismatched men who’d tried to uncover the government’s lies. Could he make himself complicit with that? Could he walk on with blinders, knowing others were being hurt, just to save his own skin? To save Dana’s? He nodded at his father, though he was nowhere near sure. He stood, somewhat awkward, and held his hand out to his father. “Thanks, Dad.”

The old man shook it and nodded back at his son, but did not get up to see Fox out.

—

“You tried to push me away to protect yourself… maybe you were right.” Fox held the phone to his ear in the dark, sucking on his third beer and feeling miserable.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me a victim or a pawn.”

“What if they try to hurt you, Dana? To get to me?” God, it made him sound so self-absorbed.

He heard Dana’s breathing change, sensed her frustration building. “I won’t be some damsel, Fox. I’ll have FBI training. I’ll know how to protect myself.”

He winced, not knowing how to make her understand. FBI training wouldn’t matter if they were always three steps ahead. “What if it’s not enough?” Fox thought about his father. He’d always thought of him as a terrible man, but what if he’d only been protecting them? “Maybe my father pushed my mother away to save our family.”

“And you want to push me away, too?”

He shook his head, which swam with the effects of the beer. “No.” He was emphatic. “No, I don’t want that.”

His words seemed to ease her tension somewhat, and her voice was gentler when it came back through the line. “So what do we do?”

He breathed and thought of her face, felt the depth of their connection and its surety. The path cleared in front of him. He would begin with whatever truth he could get his hands on, but he would not act on it. He would talk to those three men but play dumb for the FBI. He would follow Fowley’s lead, but not let himself be caught in a trap. “Right now, nothing. You finish your term and come back to me. Then you start your time at the Academy, and we’ll be careful, okay? We’ll be careful.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, like he was reassuring them both. “It will be okay.”

May, 1990

In a Baltimore fertility clinic, Melissa Scully overcame her resignations—hesitations based on some sense she could not name—and purchased donated sperm for Samantha, who swore to her that lesbians had been doing this for years. She’d been warmed by Fox and Dana’s reconciliation, grateful for siblings and would-be in-laws, full to the brim with the feeling of family. She kissed her love, held her hand while the doctor performed the quick procedure.

“What’s next?” Samantha asked, knees still in the air. Melissa squeezed her fingers.

“Well, now you wait a few weeks and take a test,” the doctor said. “Just like most folks. You can follow up with your own OBGYN.”

“It’s that easy?”

The doctor smirked. “Well, for some people it’s even accidental. You can head out to the front in about five minutes. Just get changed and meet the nurse at check-out.” Then she walked out of the room, leaving the two women alone.

Samantha brought her hands to her face to cover her grin, brown hair spilled out all around her on the paper of the exam table. She laughed and Melissa couldn’t help but smile too. “Did we really do this?” Samantha asked.

“Seems like it.”

Samantha peeked between her fingers. “It doesn’t feel real.”

Melissa bent to kiss Sam’s head and began collecting up her clothes. “Let’s give it a few weeks,” she said, though she had a sense of fate’s tumblers clicking into place. A February child, like Dana, if this worked. A little pisces maybe, lord help her. Another dreamer in the house. Sam sat up and began tugging on her underwear, careful to line it with a tissue first. She made a face at Melissa and laughed again.

Had Samantha’s last name been on the forms to set off the alarm bells of those same complicit men Fox was determined to avoid, things may have gone differently. Perhaps worse. But the families were deeply entangled now, and one sister-partner was as good as another to those men. A plan unfurled, rolled out like a carpet before them, and each stepped to a place on its pattern.

— end chapter 11 —

#a thing i wrote #simple #chapter 11 #pre-xf au #msr #melissa/samantha

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wingsofkpop · 5 years ago

Text

Finding SKZ - 9: JY01

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, barely any Fluff, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of trauma, mentions of abuse, mention of death

word count: 4,5k

synopsis: After rescuing an abandoned hybrid from his fate of death, he has one other favor to ask of you. Not only do you have to find his eight other hybrid brothers, but you have to keep them safe from the deadly dangers of your city: Miroh

chapter directory

You watch the shadows of the night dance across the car window, occasionally disturbed by the flurries of snowflakes dancing through the air. The comforting buzz of the radio carrying from the front of the van brings heaviness to your eyelids, but you refuse to surrender to your drowsiness. As tired as you were, you didn’t feel like sleeping.

How could you with everything that happened?

A soft whimper steals your attention from the outside view. You peer over your seat into the row behind you, discovering a sleeping Jisung. His spotted ears were compressed back against his brown locks. His long tail wrapped tightly around his waist. You could also see his visible claws, jutting out from beneath his fingernails, scratching at the leather seats. His expression was one of fear, his lips parted and releasing gentle gasps.

You recognize the signs of a nightmare and swiftly scale over the seats, careful not to kick a snoring Felix in the head. Settling yourself on the floor, you attempt to shake the feline awake, “Sung… Sung, wake up…”

Jisung’s body convulses against your touch as his eyes snap open. A high pitched scream emerges from his throat. The sound bloody murder within your ears. He wrenches himself away from you, huddling in the corner with violent sobs spilling from his lips. You sigh and cautiously scoot toward the hybrid, “Jisung, it’s just me… It’s (Y/N)...”

“N-noona..?” Jisung raises his head from between his knees, gazing at you with teary eyes. You barely get the chance to nod before he’s throwing himself into your arms, hands clawing desperately at your back. His tail ties around your own waist this time, almost as if he was afraid you would pull away. You do none of the sort, wrap your own limbs around the trembling hybrid and attempt to soothe his hysterics.

“It was just a bad dream, Sung. You’re safe.”

Jisung shakes his head, “I-It felt so real… The collar…”

“Shhh…” You gather the hybrid into a more convenient position. One where Jisung’s knee wasn’t digging into your hip. You allow the boy to ride out the aftershocks of his traumatic nightmare against your body. Having dealt with your own bad dreams a number of times, you know how these things go. Fear. Panic. Helplessness. You’ve gone through it all.

The bengal’s cries slow after some time and his body gradually stills. While he was still quivering, it wasn’t as severe as before. You deem it safe to lean backward and peer at Jisung’s flushed and tear-swollen face, wiping away any remnants of liquid sadness. The smile you send him is weak, but genuine. That’s the best you can give him,

“It was so real…” Jisung trails off, thumbing at his throat. “It was like I was back in that club again… God, the shocks-”

“-Don’t think about it.” You caress the hybrid’s sweaty forehead, ridding a couple stray hairs from his skin. “You’re safe with me, Jisung. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Promise?”

His whimpered phrase reminds you of Seungmin. An ugly pang strikes right against your heart. You swallow your doubts, replacing them with the fierce determination stirring inside your stomach. You ruffle his hair and murmur, “I promise, sweetheart. We’re gonna get your brothers and then get you the hell out of here.”

“You’ll come with us, right? To Yellow Wood?”

You hold back a grimace. This time, an image of Chan manifests within your mind. His pleading eyes. His hopeful expression. His dreamy voice. And you think back to the answer you gave then. Back in that bedroom where for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe and loved. Then again, with the boys, you always felt like that. Loved.

This time, you really didn’t want to say no.

“We’ll see.” You choose this answer before gesturing Jisung to lay back on the seats. “Try to sleep, Sung. Just remember I’m here, okay?”

Jisung smiles sleepily, “Okay, noona.”

You hold back a laugh as he falls asleep almost instantly. His face settled into an adorable pout. You climb your way back into your seat, ready to retire yourself for the night, before a curious gaze catches your eye.

Throwing Minho a pointed glance through the rear view mirror, you maneuver your way into the front seat. It’s a little more difficult this time, since there’s not much space to squeeze through. Luckily, you do so without injury or fault and get comfortable in the passenger’s seat. The two of you sit in silence for a short while. You can feel Minho’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you keep your eyes on the moving starless sky outside the windshield.

A sigh sounds, followed by his whisper, “You ever gonna tell me about that gun?”

Surprise shoots through your veins. Your head snaps to stare wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights, at the coyote hybrid. He chuckles at your panic and shakes his head, “You’re not as sneaky as you think. I smelled it on you the second you came out of your room.”

“It’s-It’s not what you think-”

“-Relax, (Y/N)-ah.” Minho sighs, reaching over to pat your hand on the center counsel. “You have it for self-defense. Just in case.”

You furrow your brow, “How did you know?”

He shrugs, “Figured as much. Your mother’s boyfriend is in jail and can get out anytime. It’s clever actually.”

You’re not exactly sure how to reply, but push the issue aside. Instead, your thoughts wander to the aftermath of what happened those couple days ago when you came home to an empty and overturned apartment. The worry over Chan, Woojin, Hyunjin and Seungmin had been slowly killing you from the inside out. Along with the guilt. Maybe if you had called when the chance came up-

“-You’re overthinking again. I can hear your mind fucking itself from over here.”

“Hardee har.” You cross your arms with a frustrated huff. “This is all my fault-”

Minho groans, “-Please don’t start with this bullshit again. There was absolutely no way you could have known, (Y/N)-ah.”

“But I should have.” Your hand raises to your face where you pinch the bridge of your nose with your forefinger and thumb. “If only I hadn’t been selfish and went to see my aunt-”

“-Then we wouldn’t have found Changbin. Seriously, (Y/N)-ah?” Your companion shakes his head with a snort, “You have to stop blaming yourself for absolutely everything. Your compassion is making me sick.”

You chuckle, “You’re still an asshole.”

“Only the biggest.”

Another comfortable silence stretches between the two of you. You direct your attention back onto the violet sky. The moon peeking through the falling snow. Your mind wanders again to a certain wolf hybrid. Wherever he was, maybe he was looking up at the same moon thinking of you too.

You hope he’s okay.

“(Y/N)-ah, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

A shaky breath invades your ears, and the sound makes you a little uneasy. You keep your eyes on the windshield. Too afraid to turn and find what kind of expression was pulled across Minho’s face.

“I... I haven’t been... entirely honest with you…”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s… You know what, nevermind.” You turn back to see Minho feverishly rocking his head back and forth. His bottom lip was pulled tightly between his teeth. Tight enough to draw the beginnings of blood. “Just forget about it-”

You lean forward, “Hold on a second. Minho, if you need to tell me something, then just tell me.”

Minho visibly debates with himself for a moment. You can see the cogs running inside his mind, bouncing thought after thought back and forth. A strange chill eases down your spine. One that fills you with apprehension and suspicion. You’ve never seen Minho like this before. Almost as if he was… hiding something.

Finally, after what seems like eons, Minho releases a heavy sigh before answering, “I… I know Paula Friel. And she knows me.”

“What?” Your eyes embiggen to moons, recalling that moment back in your apartment building. “How in the hell do you know each other?”

“It’s complicated,” He cards his fingers through his hair, his other hand tightening on the steering wheel. Anxiety written all across his face as he speaks, “She was… the mother of my owner. The one who abandoned me.”

You don’t respond, again not knowing what to say. Your heart drops at the sadness that crosses over Minho’s features. His long ears tilting just slightly to the side. The temptation to reach over the counsel and pull him into a hug was strong, but you knew you couldn’t. You had to let him finish first.

“Her daughter and I were… close… Closer than we should have ever been…”

Your lips purse, “You were in love. Weren’t you?”

“Yeah… I loved that woman with every piece of my fucked up heart.” Minho smiles. And you can almost see the happy memories through its sparkle. His expression doesn’t remain and it quickly clouds with anger, “But Paula didn’t like that, so she made her choose. Me or her inheritance?”

“Minho-”

“-She didn’t even hesitate.” He hisses, “She left me on the side of the road without so much as a goodbye. I tried to stop her but she just… didn’t care.

“That’s why I’ve never trusted another human since then. Because they just don’t care.” When Minho angles his head to meet your gaze, you swear you’ve never seen so much pain in your life. It makes your heart ache. But also flutter at his next confession, “And then I met you. The first human who was willing to lie and sacrifice everything, even her own life, just so I could see my brothers again.”

You sigh, “You give me too much credit.”

“No. You don’t give yourself enough.” The coyote sighs, “I thought… I thought you were just like the others. All talk and no game… But the look in your eyes when you told me about your mom…

“I’m sorry it took me this long, (Y/N)-ah.” Minho sends a weak smile your direction. A smile that is neither a smirk nor cynical. A genuine, heartfelt smile that brings tears to your eyes and a tightness in your chest. Right over your heavy heart. “I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did…”

“You didn’t know any better.” A single droplet cascades down your cheek, staining your skin with relief and prowess. “I’m sorry too. For everything.”

While you didn’t exactly say it, you knew Minho knew that you were apologizing for just as you said: Everything.

The pain. The loneliness. The loss.

All your kind has done to hurt him.

“I’m glad you’re here, (Y/N)-ah. Truly.”

“Me too, Minho. Me too.”

***

When you arrive at the laboratory, everyone in the car grows silent. Even when Minho drove around the entire facility a few times just to scope everything out, no one uttered a single word. You can’t blame them. They were afraid, and frankly, so were you.

You soon learned that District 9 Laboratories were located on the literal outskirts of Miroh. You’ve never been this close to the border. It’s crazy to think there’s more beyond the wall that separates you from the outside world. Although, all that’s out there is wasteland from the war. Historians weren’t lying when they said everything was destroyed.

Minho was able to hide the van in a patch of thick, overgrown brush. It’s not easy to find, but when you need a quick getaway, your escape will be clean and effortless. Hopefully.

Minho didn’t know exactly where they would be holding the four hybrids, but he had a pretty good idea. The plan was to get into the building and make your way into the confinement sector. Since you were basically going in blind, you trusted Minho and Changbin to lead you there safely which sounds like a good idea… but you were a little apprehensive.

One wrong move and it’s your ass on the line.

“Sung, Lix, stay together.” Minho murmurs to the two feline hybrids, “We don’t know how shits going to go down. So just be wary.”

“Got it.” Jisung nods, placing his hand on Felix’s knee. “We’ll go scope out the front. You, Changbinnie-hyung and noona head around back and see if you can still get into that courtyard vent.”

The coyote smirks, “Nice thinking, Sungie. Be safe.”

“Always.” You watch as the two youngsters retreat off into the dark woods, likely using their night vision to weave through the pitch black. Unfortunately, you don’t get the chance to watch them completely dash out of sight because Minho tugs at your arm and starts walking. He didn’t want to waste any time.

You maneuver your way through the darkness by utilizing the side of the building as a crutch. The cool, jagged bricks scratch harshly against your palms. You wouldn’t be surprised if you received a few nasty cuts in the process. You pay it no mind, too focused on the ghost of paranoia breathing down your neck.

“Are you sure no one’s watching? This seems too easy…”

“They station their guards at certain spots. The closest one is miles away. Don’t worry, (Y/N)-ah.”

You roll your eyes at Minho’s reply, “You telling me not to worry makes me worry more. There’s a lot that can go wrong right now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not very wise to think about that, now is it?” You nearly bump into Changbin after nearly tripping over a rock. Minho steadies you before you can fall. You can’t see his face, but you know he had an amused expression judging from his voice. “Careful, (Y/N)-ah.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to be careful! I can’t see shit!” You hiss, wrenching your arm from the coyote’s hold. Instead you reach down to lace your fingers through his before doing the same to Changbin. The panther doesn’t seem too happy to be holding your hand, based on his feather-like grip, but you could care less. The last thing you need is losing both of them in the dark.

“Okay. Lead the way.” Slow and steady, Minho takes the lead and guides both you and Changbin forward through the snow. You nearly stumble again, but with your grip on both of the boys’ hands, you’re able to regain your balance fairly quickly. Each step is taken lightly. Your eyes seem to grow blinder with every one. It drives you crazy. But you persevere. You have to.

For your boys.

Minho stops suddenly, nearly sending you spiraling into the snowy ground. You scowl, “Minho, seriously? What the hell was that for?”

“There’s someone following us.” His inquiry shoots goosebumps across your flesh. Your chest tightens and it’s not from the cool winter air. The hybrid shoves you backwards, “Changbin-ssi, protect (Y/N)-ah.”

Changbin obeys his brother and shields you behind his broad body. Through the darkness and snow flurries, you can just barely make out Minho’s silhouette leering toward the woods. An animalistic growl emerges from his form, “You have three seconds to show yourself before I drive you into the fucking ground! Three! Two-!”

“-Minho, relax! It’s me!”

Your eyes widen. You push past the panther to where Minho is stood, your eyes squinting against the blindness. Once the stranger steps into a more visible line of sight, your assumption proves to be correct. Without hesitation, you rush forward and throw yourself into the larger figure.

Chan chuckles and wraps his own limbs around you, “Miss me?”

“More than you could know.” You reply, leaning away to peer at his face. All you could really see were his glittery irises, but just by looking into them, you feel most of your anxiety bleed away. He smiles at you, stretches his neck and places a gentle peck against your temple. Your heart flutters, and as much as you wanted to relish in his touch, you had bigger fish to fry:

You shake your head, “What the hell happened to you guys? We came home and the apartment was wrecked. The boys said you were taken here.”

“It’s a long story,” Chan murmurs, his eyes bouncing between you, Minho and Changbin. He raises an eyebrow, “Looks like you’ve got one to tell too.”

“Channie-hyung...” You barely have the chance to duck out of the way as Changbin rushes toward the older hybrid. The two partake in a tearful and heartfelt embrace, one that reminded you of the reunion between him and Minho all those weeks ago. You remember Chan saying one time that between all his brothers, him and Changbin were by far the closest.

You can definitely see why.

“I can’t believe you’re here…” Chan sighs, squeezing the shorter hybrid tight against his body. “God, Binnie, I’m so sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Channie-hyung.” The panther sighs, “You couldn’t stop them from taking me.”

The pair grow silent, merely taking in one another’s presence. Their moment doesn’t last long as Minho pipes up, “You guys can catch up later. Hyung, where are the others?”

“Inside.” Chan answers. “The laboratory guards stormed the apartment that night. Woojin and I tried to fight them off, but they knocked me out. When I woke up, Woojin, Hyunjin and Seungmin were all gone.”

“Why didn’t they take you?”

He shrugs, “I have no clue.”

A frown stretches across your lips. Too many unanswered questions were floating through your mind, creating a hurricane of confusion and frustration. You exhale harshly, “None of this makes any sense. I still don’t understand how they found us in the first place.

“And what do they want with you boys again? They’re the ones who released you, didn’t they?” None of the boys say anything. They were probably just as clueless as you were.

“We’ll figure all of this out later. We need to focus on getting the boys out first.�� Chan is the first to break the tense atmosphere. His hand appears on your elbow, leading you in the direction you were heading before. “We need to find a way to get inside and make our way into the confinement sector. There should be a vent right up ahead we can squeeze through.”

“Hang on.” Another hand grabs your hand and keeps you in place. Confused, you turn back to peer at Minho who’s staring at the oldest hybrid. It was too dark to see what kind of expression was strewn across his face, but whatever it was, you could tell by the intensity of his grip that it wasn’t positive. “(Y/N)-ah and Changbin-ssi should go find Sung and Lix first. It’ll be better with more hands-”

“-There’s no time, Minho. Don’t you remember what they used to do to us?”

“I’m just saying, hyung. This will be dangerous, we don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“And I won’t let that happen.” Chan hisses. His fingers tighten around your arm and something stirs in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know exactly what it is, but something felt off.

Still, you allow Chan to lead you along the side of the building. Minho refuses to release your hand throughout the journey, keeping his fingers woven through yours. The four of you make it to the back of the large laboratory, carefully avoiding a search light sweeping the area. You keep your back pressed against the wall as your feet carry you through the packed snow. They come to a halt when Chan signals, lets go of your arm and whispers, “Bin, help me with this grate.”

Changbin passes you to join his brother. You couldn’t see past Chan, but you could tell they were doing their best to haul the cover off of the ventilation shaft. A painful creak emerges followed by a brief clank of metal. Minho curses under his breath before yanking you to the ground, just in time for the beam of light to swing over your head. A shaky breath blows past your lips, “Th-Thanks…”

“No problem. Did you guys get it yet?”

“Yeah, Changbin and I can’t fit our shoulders. It’ll have to be you and (Y/N).”

You nod, “Okay, I’ll go first-”

“-(Y/N), wait.” Just as you were about to slide into the vent, Chan takes you into his arms. From the searchlights, you were able to see the absolute fear present across his handsome features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so afraid before, not even for his brothers. It strengthens the strange feeling in your gut.

“What is it?” You murmur, cupping his left cheek. Beneath your frozen palm, his skin is hot to the touch. You want nothing more then to cuddle in his body and forget all the horrors of your reality. Maybe you would be able to one day.

“I… I wanted to tell you something, in case anything happens…” He smiles sadly, laying his own hand along the one pressed to his face. “In case we get separated again…”

You return his smile, “Tell me on the way to Yellow Wood.”

His eyes widen, “You… You’re coming with us?”

“You guys are my family. I’d follow you until the ends of the earth.” You chuckle, “I love you, Chan. I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you.”

A single teardrop emerges from the wolf’s eye and cascades down his cheek. You catch it with your thumb, his relief and sadness bleeding through your fingertip. You lean forward to catch his lips in one last kiss as if to say goodbye. A brief goodbye, that is.

When you pull away, more droplets were making their way down Chan’s cheeks. The smile he gives you sends a flutter through your chest. He whispers softly, “I love you too, (Y/N). I’m sorry for everything.”

“(Y/N)-ah…” You peer over your shoulder to see Minho stood in front of the vent with a sad expression on his face. He tilts his head. You understand immediately.

Turning back to Chan. you murmur, “I’ll see you soon.”

You don’t have the heart to hear his answer, so you sprint away from him and climb inside the vent. Your body just barely fit inside the metal tube. It reminded you of that stupid garbage chute from when you met Minho for the first time. What a stupid coincidence.

You hear the coyote shuffle in behind you before saying, “Follow the path forward. When you come to an intersection, go right.”

“Got it.” You begin to crawl along the metal floor, ignoring the heavy warmth bleeding through your winter clothing. Even so, after a couple minutes, sweat manifests on your skin. You were almost tempted to shed some of your layers, but you doubt you’d be able to with how little space there was. Plus, the faster you move, the faster you can get out.

At the intersection, you turn right just as Minho instructed. It may have just been you, but the air flow seems to grow even hotter in this particular vent. Your breathing deepens, lung pulling air through the humidity. Minho must have heard your panting, “(Y/N)-ah, you okay?”

“Fine.” You gasp, quickening your pace. “How much longer?”

“Down this shaft and take another right. There will be an opening at the end that we’ll be able to get out. Can you make it?”

You nod, “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

You scale the rest of the distance with no issues other than the perspiration pooling in your clothes. When you reach the opening, you have to carefully maneuver yourself stomach first from the vent onto something tall and composed of metal. Minho is right behind you, scrambling to his feet and flicking the sweat from his silver ears. He releases a relief-filled sigh, “Okay. They should be around here somewhere.”

Your eyes flitter around the area. Similar to outside, it’s completely dark all except for a couple spotlights. The lights weren’t related to security though, instead they lit up the glass cells likely meant for their hybrid creations. Most of them were empty.

Except one.

“Minho… Is that Jeongin?”

Minho’s head snaps to where you point. His eyes widen to saucers, mouth dropping to the floor. In the nearest cage was a young hybrid, maybe a fennec fox based on the large, beige ears jutting out from his blonde head. You never found the chance to read Jeongin’s file, but none of the other boys had any idea where the lab would have sent him.

What if they didn’t send him anywhere at all?

“He’s been here all along.” Minho hisses. His claws digging into the sides of his trousers. “Fucking bastards.”

“C’mon, I think we can get over there.” You take a step forward into the center of the square structure, pointing toward a ladder in a nearby corner. “If we get over there, we can head down and-”

Your plan is cut off by a low rumble. You and Minho exchange a confused glance before peering warily around the dark room. A shudder crawls down your spine, the waver present in your voice, “What was..?”

Suddenly, the ground disappears beneath your feet. Your body drops along with your stomach. Your fall is brief, because when you look up, you see a panicked Minho holding onto your arm and preventing you from dropping into what looks like one of those cages Jeongin was inside. You try not to panic, but the horror across the coyote’s features makes it so much worse not to do so.

“M-Minho…”

“You’re fine, (Y/N)-ah! Just hang on-!”

Another rumble sounds through the laboratory, obviously catching your companion off guard. Minho’s arm buckles beneath your weight, so he lurches forward to grab you with his other limb. He inhales a deep breath before saying, “...This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! God, (Y/N)-ah, I-I’ll pull you up! Just- No!”

Minho is wrenched away from you, leaving nothing else to keep you afloat. Your body slices through the air and cascades the rest of the distance into the cage. You land against the linoleum floor with a loud thud. Pain shoots through your hip and shoulders. You pay it no mind and launch back to your feet. Looking up just in time, you see the hole you fell into close up again.

No sign of Minho.

“What the hell!?” You screech, hands flying to tug at your hair. Furious and terrified, you glance around the glass barriers, finding a figure standing just opposite where you’re stood. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright, fluorescent lighting, but when they do, you swear your brain is still playing tricks on you.

Your hands fall to your sides as your eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. Once again, the storm of thoughts hits you like a civil war in your mind. The conscious and disillusioned parts of your brains fight for control as the figure moves closer. Even with their face entirely visible, you didn’t know what to believe.

That, or you didn’t want to believe it.

With tears welling in your eyes and betrayal forming in your heart, you whimper, not at all liking the name that fell from your lips.

The name that you’ve uttered so many times before.

“Ch-Chan…?”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #bang chan x reader #bang chan au #stray kids #bang chan #woojin #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #i.n.#kpop fanfic

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ninja-go-to-therapy · 5 years ago

Note

Came back wrong for Cole

@precious-cosmos-lurks also requested this prompt, but with a different character. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: came back wrong

Fandom: Ninjago

Character: Cole

Trigger Warnings: major character death, brief suicidal thoughts, self-harm, murder

Spoilers Warnings: this fanfiction is an alternate aftermath of March of the Oni

The ladder snapped.

Jay’s scream ripped out of his throat, eyes wide and arm reaching out, but it was no use. Cole’s body plummeted through the air. Their eyes met, and for a few, sickening seconds, all Jay could hear was his blood rushing and nothing more. Cole’s eyes were wide, wider than Jay’s could have been, but no sound came out of his mouth. The darkness swallowed his body whole, and Jay could only breathe again when he realized that the Bounty was flying away.

Distantly, he heard Kai screaming, arguing with Nya, trying desperately to get her to turn back. He heard Nya, sobbing, telling him that they couldn’t, that they had a responsibility to the people, that it wouldn’t do them any good.

Weakly, Jay made his way up his own ladder, wondering if it would do him any good not to jump.

Kai was trembling, head in his hands. He was on the floor, wailing with such hurt that it made Jay’s heart ache a million times worse. Nya was holding the steering wheel with an iron grip, staring straight ahead despite the tears pooled in her eyes.

The ache numbed, and for a moment, all Jay could feel was stone-cold fury. How dare Nya not go back for Cole? They could have saved him!

As quickly as it came, it dulled. None of them could survive in the darkness, trying to go down there would have only doomed Ninjago as they knew it. On the off chance that the fall hadn’t killed Cole, the darkness would have cursed him anyway. There was nothing they could have done.

This revelation caused a new wave of pain to wash over Jay, dragging him under and drowning him. He fell to the floor beside Kai, shaking. Cole was—he was—the hurt in his chest was too much, he was going to burst, the emotions were too much, how was he going to live?

***line break***

It was only thanks to Garmadon that they’d defeated the Oni. The cloud was gone, the citizens were awake, and—Jay had to know.

He left the first chance he could sneak away, getting to the Ninjago News Station building in record time. He searched the area around the building thoroughly. Outside, there was no trace of the earth ninja, which could only mean he was inside the building, somewhere.

Breath held, Jay entered the news station. Looking up, he saw that the glass portion of the roof was absolutely shattered. He didn’t want to look. If he didn’t look, he wouldn’t know, and in a way, wouldn’t that be better?

He looked. There on the ground, mangled body surrounded in a pool of dark red, was Cole. Shattered glass lay under him, lacerating his skin. Jay swallowed, hesitantly approaching. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be, he’d seen Cole just a little bit ago, he was alive, he’d been okay, how could this be happening?

He dropped to his knees beside him, weakly taking Cole’s limp, cold hand in his. No pulse. He didn’t know what he expected.

He squeezed his hand.

“Dammit…” he whispered, tears threatening to spill. “Dammit!”

The feeling was familiar and foreign all at once. He remembered something like this, descending on him like a plague, after Zane died. But something about that was… less real. He’d never seen the body, then. And that specific instance, wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have done anything, then.

But here, today, his best friend’s blood was practically on his hands. He could have — oh, he didn’t know, he could have grabbed his hand, caught him, something!

Thinking about Zane’s death directed his thoughts to Chen’s tournament of elements, which in turn, made him remember Clouse’s spellbook. Which they had.

The cogs in Jay’s mind were turning, a plan forming. He didn’t even know if a proper spell would be in the book, but maybe, even if there wasn’t, he could rest easy knowing he’d done everything possible to fix it.

***line break***

Getting his hands on the spellbook was easier than he thought it would be. It was locked in the same place the Golden Armor had been, which was easily accessible after Garmadon and Lloyd had gone in.

Jay paged through the book, watching carefully for the spell he needed. He hoped beyond hope that it would be there. If it wasn’t…

Well, he’d figure it out if it got to that point.

“Oh wow…” he whispered, as the spell of his needing finally presented itself to him. He read through the page three times, nearly shaking. Shaking with what? Excitement? Terror? Maybe a dull mix of both.

The others would never, ever approve. That’s why he couldn’t tell them. Hell, he couldn’t even tell Cole. He’d have to convince him that he’d passed out from the pain, or something.

If he didn’t hurry, though, they’d find him doing this, and then they wouldn’t let him go through with it.

The spell called for something the dead person had been connected to, five candles, and the body.

Jay made quick work of collecting these items, nabbing Cole’s sketchbook for the personal item. Cole protected that thing with his life, and he hardly ever let anyone look at his drawings. Jay had to stop himself from looking through it and focus instead on the matter at hand.

He placed the candles in a circle, with the sketchbook inside. Said circle was right next to Cole (whom he’d cleaned up before transporting, because nobody wanted a trail of blood everywhere).

Jay took a deep breath, then began to recite the magic words. He wasn’t sure he was pronouncing them correctly, but when Lloyd had used the spellbook to banish Garmadon, his pronunciation had been pretty trashy, so.

When Jay said the last word, nothing happened, at first. The flames on the candles danced, illuminating Cole’s pale face, but that was it.

For a dreadful moment, Jay was sure that it hadn’t worked.

And then a breeze came from nowhere, flipping the pages of Cole’s sketchbook from cover to cover. The candles’ flames went out.

And then a sharp intake of breath.

Cole, eyes open, sitting up, alive.

Jay couldn’t help himself. He wrapped Cole in a hug, practically jumping on him.

“Never do that again,” Jay sobbed, squeezing Cole tighter.

Cole just buried his head into Jay’s shoulder.

***line break*

“Cole!” The ninja screamed, rushing to him as Jay carefully led him into the Monastery’s courtyard.

They engulfed him in a group hug, all talking over each other.

“What happened?” Lloyd asked once everyone had finally calmed down.

“I… don’t know,” Cole said, looking at his hands. “I remember falling… and then the darkness, I remember it was cold, colder than anything I’ve ever felt… and then I woke up, and Jay was there.”

“I went looking for him.” Jay said, “I needed to be sure. I’m just so glad that you’re alright, Cole.”

“We all are,” Kai agreed, “I don’t know what Jay would have done without you.”

“Oh, like you weren’t broken up over it too.” Jay shot back.

“Indeed,” Sensei Wu said, stepping in. “We are all grateful to see you well, Cole.”

“We need to get you looked at!” Nya cried. Cole didn’t even try to protest as Nya took his hand, guiding him inside, and presumably, to lie down.

Jay didn’t know what he’d been so worried about, nothing had gone wrong in the slightest.

As the days passed, Cole stayed relatively quiet. He talked almost exclusively to Jay, but would talk when someone spoke to him first. Jay was pretty sure it was just because of the shock of death. Not that he knew he’d died.

The other thing was that Cole was growing more and more… well, twitchy. Jay knew a lot about being twitchy, but this was almost excessive. However, Jay was sure it was perfectly normal in a scenario like this.

The biggest issue, however, was that Cole’s powers weren’t functioning properly. When he called upon them, nothing would happen. When he didn’t call upon them — well, they would practically go haywire.

Speaking of Cole, Jay hadn’t seen him in a while.

Cole liked to train, though, so that would be a good place to start. Opening the door, Jay stepped out into the training yard. Almost instantly, a kind of surreal chill buried itself deep into his bones. Something was wrong.

He could hear… scuffling. He hurried in its direction, then freezing at what he found. Kai, on the ground, Cole practically on top of him, hands wrapped around the former’s throat. Kai was kicking and prying at Cole’s hands, mouth moving like he was trying to scream. No sound came out other than a few choked whimpers. Cole was staring down at him with cold, lifeless eyes.

Jay snapped out of it, sprinting over. He barreled into Cole, knocking him off of Kai. The pair rolled on the ground, then finally got to their feet. Jay stood between Cole and Kai.

“What’s gotten into him?” Kai asked, rubbing at his throat. “I mean, we were training, like regular, and then he just started attacking me! Well, more than training calls for. I’m not above getting a little banged up, but it was like he was trying to kill me!”

Cole just stared at Kai, his face void of emotion. Jay was pretty sure that if there was any kind of look underneath that, it would be a glare.

“Maybe he’s…” Jay racked his brain, trying to come up with a plausible answer. “Having a panic attack! Maybe he started hallucinating or something! Here, I’ll just take him back to his room, you can just, uh, keep training. Oh! And maybe try to keep this quiet, I’m sure that once Cole comes to, he’ll feel really bad.”

With that, Jay grabbed Cole’s hand, leading him back inside. Once they were firmly in Cole’s room, the door shut, Jay pushed Cole onto his bed in frustration.

“What the hell, Cole?”

Cole blinked, but other than that, offered no reaction.

“Why did you attack Kai like that? I mean, I know he can be annoying, but you can’t just try to kill him! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Cole shrugged.

“Cole,” Jay said, trying very hard not to absolutely scream. “I love you, buddy, but you can’t just act out like this. If you don’t take it down like ten notches, somebody’s gonna wanna take a look at you, and then they could find out—” Jay barely cut himself off in time before he could reveal the secret he’d kept so carefully hidden. “That you uh, have been hiding that one injury! On your back, yeah.”

Cole stood, the movement stiff. Jay felt incredibly small, with the expression Cole was giving him.

“You brought me back.” He stated, as if everyone knew. Jay didn’t want to ask how he knew in the first place. “For that, I’ll give you a single warning.” He stepped closer, getting into Jay’s personal space. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Way.”

And with that, he left, leaving Jay shell-shocked. Maybe something had gone wrong after all.

***line break***

It had barely been an hour before Jay heard Lloyd’s weird prepubescent scream. He had a pretty good idea what had caused it.

He rushed to the kitchen, where he was pretty sure the sound originated. He was right.

This time, Cole was slashing at Lloyd with — oh shit was that a knife? Lloyd was blocking him with nothing but a cutting board, growing more frantic with his breathing.

“Jay!” Lloyd yelled, batting at Cole once again. “Do something!”

Cole didn’t look so expressionless this time. There was something in his eyes akin to anger, but not quite.

“Use your powers!” Jay yelled back.

“I don’t want to hurt him!”

On that note, Cole threw the knife, sticking it firmly into the wall, nabbing Lloyd’s shirt with it.

“Cole!” Jay yelled, jumping in front of the boy and throwing his arms out, hoping he would stop. “You need to stop!”

Behind him, Jay could hear Lloyd struggling with the knife, attempting to pull it out. Apparently, Cole had exceptional knife-throwing skills.

Cole full-on growled, shoving Jay to the side with his super strength. Jay slammed into the wall, slumping down to the floor.

“That wasn’t very nice…” Jay muttered, grabbing the counter to help himself stand again.

Lloyd finally yanked the knife free, holding it out at Cole. “I mean it, Cole, stop.”

Cole cracked a smile, but it was anything but friendly. “You think making me bleed will make a difference?” He asked, his voice darker, more sinister than Jay thought he could be capable of. Cole shook his head. “I’ve bled out, Green Bean.” He laughed, as if he’d told some sort of joke. “And if you would hold still, soon you will too!”

“Enough!” Apparently, Sensei Wu’s voice was enough to take Cole’s attention away for just long enough for Jay to hit him over the head with Zane’s favorite frying pan. Cole slumped to the ground.

“Jay,” Lloyd said, his voice low, “get the vengestone cuffs.”

Jay, his skin burning, complied.

They put Cole in the med bay, cuffing him to the bed he lay in. It didn’t take long at all for the remaining ninja to file in.

“He attacked Lloyd?” Kai asked, fists clenched and face burning red.

“I’m fine, Kai,” Lloyd assured, putting a hand on the former’s shoulder.

“No,” Kai shook his head, resisting the urge to bat away Lloyd’s hand. “He attacked you. With a knife! He’s lucky I won’t kill him!”

Jay shrank in on himself, hoping that nobody would notice him.

“He attacked you, too!” Lloyd all but yelled. He exhaled, massaging his temple. “Okay, we all just need to take a minute, okay? Let’s think about this rationally. Cole would never do any of this on his own, so maybe… the Oni! Maybe one is possessing him, or something!”

Jay wrang his hands, staring a hole into the floor. If he didn’t look then he wouldn’t spill.

“I don’t think Oni can do that,” Zane replied, scratching his head.

“Umm…” Jay said, laughing awkwardly. “Sensei, I have a, uh, hypothetical question.” Oh God, why did he open his mouth, again?

Sensei Wu raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue.

“If Cole, you know, happened to like…” he swallowed harshly. “Die… and then someone like, brought him back… would that um… affect anything?”

“Jay…” Lloyd began, eyes alight with a sorrowful fury. “What did you do?”

“I…” he was going to drown under all the shame and guilt, wasn’t he? “I couldn’t just let him… I had to… I… I…” Jay slid to the floor, finding himself unable to breathe. He’d done it to help, he couldn’t just let Cole die, he’d saved him!

“Jay,” Sensei Wu said, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I understand why you did it. But you do not know the evil you’ve unleashed.”

“Cole’s not, he’s not, he’s just scared, he’s not dead, I saved him,” Jay whispered frantically, shaking his head back and forth.

“While bringing lost souls back from the departed realm is not unheard of, it cannot possibly end well. The departed soul ends up damaged beyond repair when you create the tear between the realms; it begins to unravel. The only way Cole can find peace is to send him back.”

This, of course, resulted in an absolute uproar.

Jay couldn’t make out hardly anything his friends were saying, only that they were all yelling over each other. All he could do was bury his face in his hands and try to block it all out.

All at once, everything went silent. Curious, Jay brought up his head. Instantly, he saw the reason why. Cole was awake.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes were dark, and his hair was an absolute mess. It was like the First Spinjitzu Master was trying to drag him back to the Departed Realm himself.

Belatedly, Jay realized that that may have very well been exactly what was happening.

“Cole,” Zane said, taking a step forward, hands held out non-threateningly. “I do not wish to harm you.”

Cole sat very still, hands by his sides. Zane seemed to take this as a positive sign, and continued on closer. As soon as he was within range, though, Cole snapped at him, clawing and growling, much like an angry dog.

Nya yanked Zane back by the elbow with a gasp.

“Sensei…” Nya said, shaking her head. “There must be some other way.”

Sensei Wu looked down sorrowfully. “I’m afraid there is none. Cole must return to the Departed Realm.”

Cole screamed with such utmost rage that it sent Jay scrambling to get farther away from him. He began to yank at the handcuffs with complete disregard for his own well-being, ignoring the red that began to stain his ever-paling skin.

“Cole, stop!” Lloyd yelled, tears in his eyes. Everyone knew that Lloyd couldn’t bear seeing someone he loved being hurt.

This only seemed to make Cole angrier. He slammed his head backwards against the wall, then again, and again.

Zane burst forward, wrapping his titanium arms around Cole. Somehow, it worked. Cole struggled, but Zane was more composed, more determined, and maybe even stronger.

“I cannot bear to see you like this, brother,” Zane whispered. If Cole wasn’t struggling so harshly, it would have been a tender moment.

“Who’s gonna… you know…” Kai asked, arms crossed and slumped against the wall.

“I’ll do it,” Jay said, surprising even himself. “It’s my fault we’re in this situation anyway, so I’ll… I’ll do it.”

“Jay, you don’t have to,” Nya said, but Jay shook his head.

“No, I do,” he said, giving his love a watery smile. “Can you all please just… give us a few minutes?”

After a tense moment, the group agreed. “We love you, Cole,” Lloyd said. “Remember that.”

The others expressed the same opinion, until finally, the only two left in the room were Jay and Cole.

Cole was glaring at Jay with such a hatred that Jay wanted to run and never return. But he had to do this.

“Hey, Cole,” Jay whispered, scooting as close as he could get without being quite within Cole’s reach. “I dunno if you’re even you anymore, but… even if you’re not, I hope you know I love you. So much, Dirtclod, I love you so much.” he wiped his eyes, forcing himself to keep going.

“Hey, remember that time me and you fought over Nya? Heh, that was pretty dumb, huh?” he forced out a bitter laugh. “We wasted so much time arguing, didn’t we? Remember when you sacrificed yourself for me in the tournament? God, that feels like an eternity ago…”

The storm in Cole’s eyes began to calm, somehow.

“And remember when you sacrificed yourself to get the scroll of airjitzu for Lloyd? You were devastated, but we all know you would have done it again. It’s who you are, you know? And remember when—” he cut himself off, belatedly realizing that, technically, the whole Nadakhan thing hadn’t happened in this timeline. “Oh, what the hell. I know you don’t remember this one, buddy, but trust me, it happened. You saved my life. You know that? You saved my life, and if you hadn’t, Ninjago would have fallen. It’s all thanks to you that any of us are alive.”

Cole cocked his head curiously.

He looked so… innocent.

Jay had never known that something so pure looking could bring so much sorrow. “I love you so much,” he sobbed, not even bothering to wipe his free-flowing tears this time. “You’re my best friend, Cole, you’re my brother. I’m sorry I did this to you.” he swallowed. “I’m so, so sorry… this is all my fault. If I’d just managed to catch you in the first place, I never would have thought to bring you back. I never would have needed to. I don’t know how I’m going to live without you. I don’t know how any of us are going to live without you. God, your dad is going to be so sad…”

“You remember when we were stuck in the First Realm, and you and Little Master Wu had to save me and Kai and Zane from the Dragon Hunters? Did I ever properly thank you for that?”

When Cole offered no response, Jay just continued on. “Well, I mean, thank you. Thank you so much, for everything. I’m sorry, Cole, I really am. I can’t even… God, I can’t even express how sorry I am. I don’t want to do this.”

Cole remained still, for the most part.

Jay decided to risk it, and wrapped his brother in a tight hug.

“I love you,” he muttered.

He took a deep breath, he readied himself, and he allowed his fingers to spark with electricity.

The electricity leaped from his fingers to Cole’s body. He watched as what light there was left in his brother’s eyes snuffed out. He watched as his body hit the floor. He watched as Cole exhaled for a final time.

Jay let out a wail of despair.

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