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verse50 · 3 years ago

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Heat

It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.

I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.

“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.

“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.

His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths.

He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.

But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.

The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.

“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”

“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.

“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”

“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”

After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.

You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...

Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.

“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.

“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”

I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”

“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.

“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.

“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”

Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”

“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”

My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”

“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”

I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.

“I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“What?”

“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”

Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.

“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.

“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”

I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”

Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”

“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”

I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.

“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.

I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.

Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.

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#verse50original #relationships #nature #writersontumblr #married

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artsy-hobbitses · 3 years ago

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Lately I have been wondering how birthing works in beast mens work become in mammal types its work normaly but in case like bird, lizards and etc they will lay and hatch from eggs and some sea best men's and amphibians types work very different?

You're correct! Laserbeak was basically hatched from an egg. Eggs are generally laid marginally smaller than a human infant (about ten inches) and during the half-point mark of pregnancy (usually at five months) and the rest of those months is spent incubating it. When a Bird-man baby hatches, they're considerably smaller and more helpless than a human infant as well and there's a three-week-ish touch and go period where they go through a bit of a rapid growth stage to grow to the size of a standard infant. Reptile-men go through the same stage though they skip the helpless part and are basically tiny wide-eyed palm-top hellions from the get-go, size be damned, who have to be stuffed in slings or specialized harnesses by harried parents to stop them from running wild in a crowd and gleefully snapping at heels (they're not pack/flock/group oriented, so early socialization is necessary!) . They also go through a major growth spurt as tiny hellions and molt a lot!

Things get a little more interesting/awkward with sea-based Beastmen! If they're not cetacean or turtle-based, then the eggs appear shell-less and the fetus is surrounded by a nutrient-rich amniotic fluid in a sac with a membrane layer that has the rough consistency of aspic. This is basically the riskiest gestation-type of all the subsets, so parents get super broody and tend to hide away with their egg until it safely hatches. The babies are not as helpless as most bird-men/mammalian infants and can basically swim and move around unassisted on birth, but do not come into the world with the will to fight god like reptile-men babies and have zero self-preservation skills so they still need care to ensure they survive living in the vast ocean.

#inbox #save for later

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whataboutmyfries · 4 years ago

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Russian roulette

Its here its here its finally heeeeree!!!!! I’ve been so excited for this fic for the longest time and I am so so excited to finally share it with you guys!! It’s been quite a while in the making cause I was nervous about my overall ability to keep up with a multi-chapter thing, but here we are!!!

Before you start reading this, I just want you all to know that this fic comes with a LOT of trigger warning. All of them will be in the tags of course, but I just want you guys to know to proceed with caution.

credits as always go to @lumosinlove Haz I have utterly CORRUPTED your characters in this one, I’m so sorry

enjoy!!

Chapter 1

Logan could still remember the day it had happened, the defiant fury in his friend’s eyes as he’d gone down, guns blazing

Logan still remembered it, blood splattering his arms and face, his mouth curved in a deadly smirk as he shoved Logan out of their way, going down, guns blazing, winking at the brunette as he dived into the fray.

Logan still remembered the primal fear that ripped the scream from his chest, his arm numb from the kickback of the M4. He still remembered the screaming darkness that had taken over his head after. He still remembered him.

It was the memory of that night, a job gone wrong that had him working himself to pieces, returning to the sparring ring day after day, week after week. The mere thought of it pulling him from sleep with the sharp edge of nightmares. The what if’s and if only’s shoving his mind into a rabbit hole of unending misery.

Logan huffed in frustration, shoving down the cool rage that threatened to send him over the edge. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose, roughly shoving his hair off his forehead. The sweat dripped off his brow as he leaned against the punching bag, flexing his fingers against fabric wrapping his hands.

Even through the wrappings, he could feel the gentle throbbing of the rage and sorrow that had him back at the punching bag day after day after day. He looked down at his knuckles. Shit. That was going to bruise beautifully tomorrow. He sighed, walking over to the backpack on the far end of the room to get his towel and a drink of water.

Logan hefted his pack onto a shoulder, heading over to the sparring area to clean up, unrolling the fabric from his hands as he did so. He examined his knuckles, his hands a tapestry of bruises. He couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t been a splotchy purple-blue.

The door slammed open, and Logan instinctively ducked to the floor, his hands going for the gun in his backpack, his posture relaxing a little when he saw who’d walked in.

“What the fuck do you want, Nate? He grumbled, tugging his t-shirt to rights, glaring angrily at the floor as he did so, his cheeks warming at his aggressive reaction.

Nate rolled his eyes at Logan’s attitude, raising an eyebrow at Logan’s reaction to his presence. He leaned against the door, drumming his fingers against his bicep “He’s here, sir, the rookie’s here.”

It took Logan all of ten minutes to shower and get dressed to meet Finn in their office. He shook the water out of his hair as his quick steps echoed in the marble hallway. The palatial mansion was HQ. He lived here, slept here, ate here. They were his family, the lions, they’d taken him in after Wyatt had died and had stood by him through every damn thing he’d been through. Regardless, it was home. It had become Logan’s home after— Logan growled, shoving the intrusive thoughts away.

Finn met him halfway to their door, casually tugging the cuffs of his shirt to rights.

Finn was impeccably dressed as always, looking really damn good in that white button-down, the gold chain on his neck dipping into where he’s left it unbuttoned at the neck. His bespoke trousers did wonders for showing off his legs, the gold belt buckle matching the golden rings glinting in the sun.

Logan swallowed.

“So, the rookie’s coming in today. The only thing we know is the father sent him. Be on your guard.” Finn said, raising an eyebrow at Logan to make sure he understood.

Logan nodded, cracking his knuckles as he accompanied Finn into their office, the redhead making a few calls to get extra security detail around the house. Dons couldn’t take risks, no matter who sent their visitors.

Logan shook out his hands, sucking in a calming breath before collapsing onto his chair.

“You have to meet Dubois at the Excelsior tonight. We got a tip he’s been skimming the funds.” Finn said absent-mindedly, his mind more occupied with reading some file. The Excelsior was one of their biggest casinos, three floors of opulent revelry. And Dubois was the sleazy good-for-nothing who ran it for them.

Logan grumbled, flipping open a file of his own, the name Dubois emblazoned in sharp, black letters on the cover. Being a Mob boss wasn’t all it was made out to be, and Logan never thought he’d get used to it. He could scarcely remember how he and Finn had come to build the Lions, one of the biggest crime syndicates in the world, second only to the snakes; a family of vicious, rabid psychopaths who cared for nothing and nobody, dispatching their targets with gruesome efficiency.

Finn had a suspicion the snakes had been doing recon work at the Excelsior and had told Logan as much. Considering that Logan had to deal with the slimy manager, anyway, he thought he might as well look into the matter. Finn looked at him over the gold rim of his glasses, as though reading his thoughts.

“Take Potter with you, ask him to get two of his best with him,” Finn said, referring to their head of security.

Logan huffed, about to shoot back a retort about how he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself thankyouverymuch when there was a knock on the door. Nate leaned against the wood, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He’s here.”

The rookie as it turns out was no rookie at all, rather son to the most infamous pickpocket and street magician of all time, Wyatt Knut. The man had stolen and pickpocketed thousands of dollars’ worth of goods and cash in his time, there was even a rumour going around that he’d been involved in some of the biggest heists of the era, driving his worth up to millions of dollars.

And this was his son. Sitting in front of him, idly flicking a folded sheet of paper between his fingers, making it disappear and then appear again, his leg bouncing under the table. He looked nervous, his eyes flicking around the room, drinking up the opulent mansion around him. He snapped to attention when Finn cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“The name’s Knut, Leo Knut. Lizard sent me.”

Logan’s eyes widened at the nickname. There were very few people in the world who knew it, and this baby faced blond kid sitting in front of them sure as hell didn’t look like someone who would. The fact that he did calmed Logan’s suspicions. This was real. He wasn’t kidding.

Logan felt more than saw Finn’s interest pique. The redhead leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. The tension in the room was palpable, and it took every inch of self-control in Logan’s body to not stiffen, sit up straighter, show he was on his guard. Let blue eyes make the first move. Logan was in charge here, not him.

Leo’s eyes dipped to the folded note in his hand as he vanished it into his sleeve and brought it back. He sucked in a breath, calming his nerves before raising his eyes to the two men sitting before him.

“Lizard said to come to you if he didn’t return or communicate his….being alive within four days of that mission.” Leo braced for the confusion and chaos that was going to follow his next words.

“He had a plan to take down the snakes.”

Logan’s jaw dropped, his hands going slack from where they were crossed across his chest. Lizard had what?!? Granted, he was one of their best reconnaissance men, but this seemed a stretch, even for him.

Finn, ever the diplomat, had kept a straight face, not a hair out of place. It was only through eight years of being his friend that he noticed the tension and suspicion radiating off him.

The redhead cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you have any proof of this…..plan?”

Leo grinned, the simple expression lighting up the entire room.” I thought you’d never ask”

He raised his slender fingers, pulling a flash drive out of thin air, setting it down on the table before him. “It’s in three parts.” he nodded to the drive. “The drive, a……” He waved his hand in the air, trying to find the right words. “Map? With the targets and the blueprints and an encrypted folder on his laptop.”

Logan barely registered what he’d said. The second Leo has flicked the drive out from between his fingers it was game over for him. Logan was mesmerised. He couldn’t stop staring at those hands, long thin fingers flipping the note in and out of sight with hypnotic movements, drumming on his thigh, gesturing broadly as he spoke.

Finn seemed to have noticed, pressing his thigh against Logan’s under the table. He froze at the contact, Finn’s warmth seeping into him through the fabric of his jeans. Shit. Now was not the time. He shook his head, clearing his throat and focusing on the task at hand.

Finn leaned back in his chair, his finger steepling under his chin. “And you’re just trusting us with this information? It’s been a month, why haven’t you approached us sooner? What’s in it for you?”

Leo’s smile disappeared, shadows dancing behind those blue irises. “Lizard was like a second father to me. I’ve known him since I was a kid, he and my dad were friends.” He let out a shaky breath. “And when he didn’t return from that raid….I wanted to get revenge. I wanted to hurt anyone who dared to so much as lay a hand on him.” Leo met Finn’s eyes. “I was...hurt for a long time after his death, couldn’t figure out how to deal with the loss. It’s the reason why I’m only here now. And as for trusting you with the information…” He trailed off, putting a piece of paper on the table.

Logan realised it was the same folded note that had been weaving in and out of Leo’s fingers as he’d spoken to them. The paper was worn, the edge soft in a way only repeated use could make them. Finn’s eyes flicked to Leo before he picked it up, glancing at Logan as he opened it.

Logan leaned in, reading over Finn’s shoulder. In a familiar, stocky script it said:

‘Sun, I’m going out on business. It’s the usual. Same as always, If I don't communicate in 4 days, ask around for Logan Tremblay and Finn O Hara, Tell them about mission troy. They’ll know who I am, say Lizard sent you -P’

Logan’s hands shook, and he stuffed them into his pockets, still reading the note, scouring it over and over for clues, anything that would tell them that he was still alive— though he knew he wasn’t going to find anything. His eyes caught on the first word. ‘Sun’? Logan wracked his mind, trying to find any reason why Lizard has called him that. Realisation struck and Logan looked over Leo, sizing him up.

Leo ‘the Sun’ Knut had was famous for his brilliant smile, those dimples distracting even the most stubborn of men while he swindled them out of their money. Bright as the sun and just as blinding, they said. Logan allowed himself a smirk at that. Like father, like son.

Leo didn’t back down from his stare, raising a blond eyebrow at the intense look, cocking his head to the side. A shiver of excitement ran through Logan, bigger men had backed away from that look of his, yet this lanky child didn’t so much as falter. Interesting.

Finn rested his elbows on the table, ever the portrait of unruffled grace. “How do we know this is real?” He asked, nodding his head at the drive sitting on the table.

Logan could practically see the effort it took Leo to not roll his eyes. The blond shrugged, crossing his arms on the desk. “Believe me, or don’t. It’s your loss. I have my orders and if you aren’t willing to provide the resources, I’m sure I’ll find other people who are.” His gaze sharpened to a flinty glare, “I’m just trying to do right by a friend. He asked me a favour and I will not let him down” He nudged the drive forward with a long finger, the little black device sitting in the middle of the table. “Help me or not, it’s up to you, but don’t you fucking dare get in my way.”

#russian roulette #whataboutmyfries #my writing #lumosinlove #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #Leo knut #mafia!fic #tw:implied death #tw:bruises #tw:mourning

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weirdthinkingdragon · 4 years ago

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Slithering Chains PT (1/3)

Yandere naga present mic x reader

quirkless/aged up au. Warnings: Only swearing for now

“C’mon Y/N! It will be fun! Rumor has it there are friendly nagas on the island!” Gushed Mina. That makes me cross my arms. She’s seriously out of her mind if she thinks it’s a good idea to go to an island for something that’s a supposed rumor.

“I highly doubt they’d be friendly. Especially since we’d technically be invading their territory.” I reply. She rolls her eyes and huffs.

“Besides, why should we go looking for a damn overgrown lizard?” Katsuki cuts in with a scowl and his arms crossed. Hanta shrugs. “I’m with Mina on this. It would be really cool to see one,” he turns to Eijiro. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping we could go camping instead somewhere. Katsuki still has to show me those incredibly manly skills he learned back in boy scouts he hasn’t shown me yet.” Katsuki’s face went to full-on pride.

Mina suddenly jumps up and down. “I have the PERFECT idea! We should go camping at the island!!! That way we could do both!”

“Ooh! That’s a great idea! Count me in!” Exclaimed Denki.

Katsuki’s face falls into a deep frown. “That actually sounds like a good idea!” Eijiro cheerfully replies. Mina fist-bumps the air and tackles Eijiro into a tight hug. “You can definitely count me in!.” Hanta pipes up.

I can already tell we’re not going to win this argument. Wait, didn’t Hanta go to boy scouts as well? “Weren’t you in boy scouts too? Can’t you do the same things?” I question. He sheepishly smiles at me. “Eh, I didn’t last very long in it for a few different reasons.”

“Not showing up half the damn time and hanging out with dunce face really didn’t help.” Katsuki informs. They both flinch at his words. “Uh… let’s not talk about that…”

They all suddenly turn to me expectantly, even Katsuki, probably hoping I deny. You know what? There’s nothing too bad that could possibly happen, and they most likely won’t stop begging until we do. “... fine,” I turn to Katsuki. “You better have some mad skills.”

He glares at me annoyed. “Of fucking course they’re good!”

I smirk. Sometimes he’s so fun to piss off. “Well, pack up guys. We’re going camping.”

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It took a little longer than we thought to find a boat that would take us. No one wanted to go to the island. We eventually found a place around the ocean that would bring us for a rather large fee. None of us were happy about that but it was the best shot we had. Also if something happens to us on the island we’re on our own since they won’t come back for four days to pick us up. Good thing we packed extra food. We also only brought three tents since they’d be a hassle to carry otherwise and we can take turns carrying them if needed.

We get right up to the island and get dropped off on a sandy beach. The boat immediately pulls away from the island. A nagging feeling was rising in the back of my mind. “You wonder why none of them wanted to come to this island?” I suddenly question.

“It does seem a little odd. Even the one we came on left pretty quickly. I’m sure it’s nothing important though!” Eijiro replies.

I refuse to let it fly by. Something about that seems more wrong the more I think about it. Looking at Katsuki, he seems to be thinking the same way I am. The other four take off towards the tall trees not too far from the beach. With the sun being at its highest peak, the trees are casting a large shady area half over the beach. I’m a little jealous of how he’s carrying two of the tents and his backpack so effortlessly.

Luckily they waited up ahead for us. “Seriously, if you and I weren’t around, I swear they’d have died of their crazy antics years ago.” He grunts in confirmation. Denki sees something and takes off in another direction.

“Denki! Get your ass back here! We need to stick together for now!” I yell at him.

“Come here then! This place has weird blueberries!”

Oh no. “Denki! Don’t eat them/Don’t even touch the fucking bush!” Katsukii and I yell simultaneously. We quickly get up to him with the other three trailing behind us. Katsuki goes right up to him and slaps the small black berry in his hand out of it. “You fucking dumbass, that’s nightshade!”

Looking at the bush, it wasn’t just any nightshade. I facepalm. “We haven’t been here for even ten minutes and you already almost ate deadly nightshade.”

From the fear that grew on Denki’s face, he understood well the name of the plant and stepped away. “Whew, well, uh… Good thing I didn’t eat one yet, huh?”

The only reply was Katsuki smacking Denki on his forehead.

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” He shrieks.

Boisterous laughter comes from above. We look around, and my eyes catch onto a long tail draping across a few of the branches higher up. It was light green with darker green lines across and a pale yellow underside. “Good thing ya caught your friend! I was just about to stop him myself!” The large serpent body trickles to the floor like molasses until the too human-like torso comes down as well. His hair is incredibly long. It’s past where his torso ends and the snake part begins. He’s. Fucking. Massive. I look at Mina. “You didn’t tell me they were this big!”

“How was I supposed to know!? The news never said anything about their size!” She yells at me. Katsuki goes into a fighting stance like he could actually do harm to the giant thing. Judging from the chest and face, it’s a male. His green eyes match the light green on his tail, and his hair matches his underside.

The naga replies with another laugh, leans down, and pokes my nose. “Well, I am! And you guys must be curious humans, huh? There haven’t been any here in quite a while!”

My brain is still trying to process how large he is. He’s longer than four of me together. An intrusive wanting of touching his tail pops up in my mind. Seriously!? I JUST saw him and want to touch him? What the everloving FUCK mind!?

He looks at our backpacks. “Ooh! Ya guys stayin’ for a few days? That’s great! You guys can tell me more about your place!” Mina wasn’t kidding about them seeming to be friendly. “Those bags seem heavy, would you like me to help?”

I shake my head. “Nah, we got it. Do you know a place we could set up a camp though?” I ask him. He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! There’s a pretty good open area by my cave!” He takes a sharp left turn with his body a little ways ahead of us.

We all look at each other and shrug. He seems friendly enough. Well, Katsuki is the only one still not on board with being around the naga. The naga could be faking, but he seems pretty genuine. My bet is it just hurts Katsuki’s pride he wouldn’t be able to take the naga down himself if a fight breaks out. He’d still try though knowing him.

The naga kept stopping and looking behind to make sure we were following. Most of us were falling a bit behind since he was still rather fast despite his constant stopping. It must have been about twenty minutes until we got into a clearing with a giant cave next to it. Denki is breathing rather heavily. He throws off his backpack and faceplants into the soft dirt. We all laugh at him, even the naga. Throwing my backpack off, I roll my already stiff shoulders. Man, how do hikers keep those giant backpacks on for so long?

I look over at Katsuki. Once again, the all-powerful man doesn’t even need to do that. “Dude, I seriously envy you sometimes.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re just weak, dumbass. You’re also not used to it.”

“Hey, hey, hey! No need to be talkin’ like that! We’re all friends!”

Katsuki’s face goes into a snarl. “You can’t tell me what to do, you fucking overgrown lizard.” The naga has an astonished facial reaction for a second. “Sorry about him, he’s always like this.” Eijiro sheepishly informs.

He shakes his head, and grows a smirk. “Well, good thing you’re all used to it! I gotta say, haven’t been called an overgrown lizard before! Also, shouldn’t it be ‘an overgrown reptile’?” He goes up to Katsuki and starts poking his forehead. “What other so-clever names ya got hidden up in there?” Katsuki tries to bite his finger, making him quickly pull his hand away. “Feisty!~”

“We all kinda have a nickname he gives us. Mine’s shitty hair, but uh, please just call me Eijiro! What’s yours by the way?” He questions.

His eyes widened. “Right! Name’s Hizashi! Ya probably heard of me at some point!” We all look confused at each other. “Nope, sorry, that name doesn’t ring any bells.” He grew sad for a moment about that, and mumbled something.

I decided to try bringing him out of… whatever he’s getting into. “Mine is Y/N. The crabby one is Katsuki, the other blond is Denki, the pink-haired is Mina, and the black-haired one is Hanta. We may not have heard of you, but maybe you could tell us about yourself after we set up camp? As long as you’re truly okay with that.” I say, a little concerned we might still be intruding on his territory.

“I’d love to! And of course you guys can stay around here for a while! It’s probably better since some nagas don’t like humans too much.” Katsuki crosses his arms. “Well, I dare them to take me on.” Hizashi pinches his cheek for a second, only to be nearly bitten again. “Aw, like ya could do much harm to us! Your enthusiasm is great though! They’d easily crush you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m not going down without a fight.” I roll my eyes at him. The others snicker at my reaction. “Anyways, we’re burning daylight. Let’s set up camp, and maybe our new friend could show us around a bit.”

He mock bows. “Gladly, your highness!” Mina snickers and whispers “I ship it” jokingly. I give her a “really bitch?” look, making her almost keel over in silent laughter. It doesn’t take long for us all to take out our things and start setting up the tents. I pull out my rolled up sleeping bag to place next to the tent. “Yellow, huh?” Questions Hizashi. He gets a far-off look in his eyes for a second. I look down at the giant obnoxious yellow sleeping bag in my hands.

“Not my choice of color, but it was on sale for a really good price, so I thought I might as well. Is there something wrong with it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, not at all! It just reminds me of another human that came here a while ago!” There was a look in his face that almost seemed obsessed. None of the others noticed the possibly red flag. Mina was too busy goofing off with Hanta and Denki, which were having trouble setting up their tent. Eijiro was trying to help Katsuki, but he kept messing Katsuki up, making him get multiple smacks on his head.

“Is it okay to ask what happened to him?” His face turns into a harsh glare. It was easy to tell it wasn’t directed at me. “His “friends” took him from me when he left my cave one night. I waited years for him to return, but he never did. They must not be letting him return!” His tone went from angry, to sad, back to angry.

Something doesn’t seem to add up with that. If he really wanted to return, he would have visited a while ago. Then again, it was pretty hard finding a boat to bring us here, and life can get hectic quite easily. I decided to put it in the back of my mind and focus on the now.

The sound of tazing brought my attention to Denki, Mina, and Hanta. Mina has an electronic flyswatter in her hand, and smacked Denki with it. “Mina! That’s not what that’s for!” I yell at her.

She laughs. “Come on, it’s not hurting him too badly!”

“Easy for you to say! How about I zap you now!?” He swipes it from her and smacks her forearm with it, making her shriek.

I facepalm. “Which one of you idiots brought the flyswatter?” Hanta and Mina point at Denki. I glare at Mina. “What were you doing digging in his backpack when you could have been helping me put up the damn tent?” She replies with an embarrassed smile.

I’m struggling to keep the tent up and push the tent pegs into the ground without a hammer. “I can help ya! What should I do?” Hizashi asks. “Could you help me push these in?” He nods and I move out of the way to hold the tent tight. He slams the tip of his tail on the peg, pushing it all the way down in one go. It honestly startles me. “Jeez dude! A little warning would be nice!”

He rubs his neck sheepishly. “Sorry!” As we do the other three pegs, I can’t stop looking at his tail. He seems to notice, and wags the tip of it. “Like what ya see?” He teases. I look away in embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it! I was kinda the same way the first time I saw one of your kind!” He puts his tail in front of me. “I can tell you wanna touch it. Go ahead!”

I’m unsure about it, but place my hand gently on the top of his tail. It was the back of it closer to his human torso. Nothing but raw muscle, and the heat it radiated was phenomenal. I quickly take my hand away.

“You two are getting along well quick! And to think you didn’t want to come Y/N!” Mina comes up and teases. Hizashi seems surprised by hearing that news. “Aw, good thing ya did though! It’s already fun having you guys around!”

“Yeah, yeah. Enough of that stupid cheesy talk or whatever. Show us around.” Katsuki says half-heartedly like he really doesn’t want to be here. Hizashi ignores his lack of enthusiasm and nods with a smile. He then starts to move his body to the right of us.

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

A few hours after, we arrive back to our camp exhausted. The sun was close to setting. Even Katsuki’s breathing was slightly ragged. We’ve learned a lot about this place. Mostly not many nagas are too open to humans, and there aren’t that many due to most being quite territorial as well as females being rather rare. The four of them were horrified learning we could have met a bad end. Katsuki and I called it that they wouldn’t be too friendly.

There is also the giant pile of wood he’s been collecting in case any humans visit. That’s so nice of him. He told us it gets pretty boring since not many talk to him, even the others on the other side of the giant island. That makes me feel rather bad for him. Of course, Mina being Mina, hugged him then. He returned the hug with no objections. He also told us the lifespan of nagas can be an average of 800 years. He himself is only about 300 years old. We all almost fainted from the shock of that.

He helps haul a ton of rather large pieces of wood and sticks next to his cave. The pile was a bit farther out so it wasn’t in his way of his cave. Katsuki starts setting up the fire with a bunch of giant rocks that Hizashi still has around. It takes him no time at all to start a good fire.

“Way to go dude! Knew you had the skills!” I tease. He glares at me in a way that shows he’s dangerously close to smacking me. I only give him a smirk in return. “Of fucking course, dumbass. Why would I not?” I shrug in reply.

“Hey, you guys want marshmallows? I brought a few bags.” Hanta says, grabbing a bag of marshmallows out of his backpack, along with two short roasters that can extend.

“Sure dude, pass me the bag. I’d rather eat them not roasted.” Denki informs. Hanta passes him the bag while he extends the roasters and passes one to Eijiro. After Denki opens the bag, Hizashi reels away a little bit, catching my attention.

“You alright?” I ask him. “Heh, yeah! Those things just smell a little too sweet for me, ya know?” I nod in understanding.

“Oh yeah, I guess it would be pretty weird, huh?” Mina wonders aloud.

“Would you like us to put them away?” I ask. Denki hugs the bag of marshmallows to his chest. Hizashi shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for being so considerate though!”

After a bit, we decided to tell scary stories. The cheesy usual thing to do. Hizashi seems rather invested in every story told, no matter how bad it is. Right now, Mina is saying hers, and it’s actually pretty good. It’s about a male serial killer that fell obsessed with a male victim of his. The male refused to be with the killer for the obvious reason of them being a killer, and that they’re not interested in men. They were able to escape the chains the killer put them in, and picked up a large piece of a broken mirror that was near him. He decided to give the killer the element of surprise by pretending to still be chained.

“And so, while the killer’s back was turned, the male plunges the glass through the killer’s back!” she brings her hands up for some sort of dramatic emphasis. “They ran towards the still-chained other person and helped them pull the chains free while keeping an eye on the killer who fell to the ground. The man knew the killer was still alive, there was no way they died that quick. He helps the victim pass the killer and tries to pass himself, only to be grabbed by the ankle by the killer! He was still weak though, so it was easy enough for the man to break free and run outside. Luckily for them, they were in a neighborhood with a house not far away.”

We’re all honestly at the end of our seats listening intently. Well, minus Denki who seems rather terrified. Hizashi has an unreadable expression.

“The neighbors were terrified, but called the police for help. The only problem?... There was no body on the floor when the police investigated. There was only blood. To make things scarier, the blood belonged to someone not in the system.” She grows quiet.

“Is that it?” Denki questions.

She shakes her head. “The man knew the killer would come for him again. He moved to the other side of the country. Everything seemed fine for him years later, starting his own family and moving on. At least, until he came home from work one night to a rather quiet home. He enters the home to the copper smell of blood overpowering him, bringing back memories he’s tried so hard to forget. He turns on the light to see his wife in her own blood, his blood freezing in fear. The familiar voice of the killer whispers behind him “You want a family? Well, now we can be.” and the last thing he saw was his children with nothing but fear tied up on the couch in the living room.”

I was in shock that she said a story so dark. “Damn Mina, that was a wicked story! Where did you learn such a story?” I ask.

“It was actually from a book a friend told me about!”

“They sure have a shitty taste in books.” Katsuki quips.

“Like yours is probably much better, little boy scout.” I sarcastically reply. His fists clench.

“Uh, hey! Maybe we should all go to bed! We have another big day tomorrow of exploring.” Eijiro pipes up, trying to prevent Katsuki from doing anything drastic. Katsuki growls and stomps off to his and Eijiro’s tent.

Mina lets out a big yawn herself, stretches, and goes towards our tent. Denki and Hanta go to their tent as well. Hizashi puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, uh… Would ya mind hanging out with me for a while yet?”

I shrug. “Sure, just let me get my sleeping bag.” I go and get it, Mina giving me a teasing smirk. “Don’t you get those thoughts in your head.”

I drag the sleeping bag over close to the still burning fire. It grows quiet between us for a bit, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the chirping of the crickets. His tail wraps around the bottom of my sleeping bag, trapping me from moving if I decided to by being around my feet. I reach down and pat his tail.

“So, is there anything you want to talk about now?” I ask, lowering my voice to a near whisper so the others could sleep. “Well, how long are you guys planning on staying?”

“After this, three days. We couldn’t get them to change the amount of days. It was so odd and hard getting here.” Hizashi perks up at that information. “Anyways, what are we doing tomorrow?” I ask.

“Ooh! There’s a waterfall not too far from here I think you and your friends will like! It’s kinda hidden, and we’ll have to be careful since it will be close to two of my kinds territories, but as long as we don’t do anything it shouldn’t be a problem. One of them is the other most friendly naga I know! He may even come say hi!”

“I bet Mina will be happy about that.” I felt more of his tail stealthily trying to go farther on my legs.

“You’re really not being stealthy you know,” His tail stops. “Sorry. I just can’t help but wanting to touch someone as cute as you!~”

Heat rushed to my face. “Well, you can hug me if you want. You just had to ask.”

He didn’t have to be told twice before his tail wrapped more around my sleeping and his bare torso went against my back. This isn’t exactly what I had in my head, but I did say hug. He’s still rather warm to the point of it slightly going through my sleeping bag. “How are you still so warm?”

“This place usually doesn’t get that cold. My body’s most likely used to that.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

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

I wake up to feeling something tight around me, and whispering. I can’t move my arms either. It’s obviously Hizashi. “Katsuki bro, you don’t have to do anything! He’s not hurting them.”

“I don’t fucking care. There’s something about that damn thing that isn’t sitting right!”

“Aw, you truly care about-” Denki starts. He suddenly stops.

“You’re probably just overreacting. We’ve only been here not even a full day. He’s still pretty friendly.” Eijiro sounds almost desperate.

“That’s the thing you fucking dumbasses! Did you not hear him last night with Y/N? It’s not fucking-”

“Well, mornin to you guys too!” Hizashi suddenly pipes up, silencing all of them. Ugh, it’s too early. I groan and nuzzle closer into his tail in front of me. I don’t feel like opening my eyes to look at them.

Hizashi laughs. “Morning to you as well!”

I felt someone get close to me besides Hizashi. “Mina, I swear if you touch me with that fly swatter…” She steps away, confirming my prediction. “How did you know?”

“You dumbasses are known for doing such stupid things. Not really a surprise.” Katsuki replies. “Aw, Katsuki, you don’t have to be so mean about it!” Denki jokes.

“Shut up guys. It’s too early.” I grumble.

“Early? The sun is already half way to its highest point!” Hizashi replies with a teasing tone. I only reply with a groan again.

Hanta clears his throat. “So, uh… What are we doing today?”

“I already told Y/N last night, but we’re going to a waterfall today!”

“A waterfall? How did we not hear it on our walk yesterday?” Eijiro asks. “Simple! It’s the other direction over a cliff!” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “C-cliff? Isn’t that dangerous?” Denki asks.

“We will be fine! I’ve done it many times before!”

“If you say so…” Eijiro replied, sounding quite unsure.

Hizashi unwraps around me almost reluctantly. He rubs the top of my head, waking me up a bit. “C’mon, ya gotta get up so we can go Y/N!” I ignore them and try to sleep again, using my arms as a pillow since Hizashi is no longer by my head.

“Tzzt” Something touched my arm and sent a sharp pain through my arm. I instantly knew what it was, and I am NOT happy. I get up instantly. “Minaaaa!”

“Oh shit!” She drops the electric fly swatter and takes off running behind Hizashi.

Denki and Hanta start laughing. “Get her Y/N!!!” Hizashi blocks me with his hands and holds Mina by his tail while chuckling. It wasn’t light like usual though. This sounded slightly darker if that makes sense. All I know is it sent a chill up my spine. I glare hard at Mina.

“Now, I know whatever that thing was woke ya up, but let’s not focus on that, and let’s get going to the waterfall, yeah? If you want, I could carry you for a bit more sleep!” I back away in embarrassment. “That’s okay. Let’s just get going then.”

He laughs normally again and lets go of Mina.

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

It didn’t take too long to start climbing the cliff to the waterfall. The crashing waves of it is able to be heard in the distance. Hizashi is leading the way with us rather close. It’s getting rather narrow and crumbling with a really high view in front of us. It’s beautiful with the trees, but terrifying how one step can make you fall off the edge. More ground crumbles under my shoe. My foot is basically off the edge at this point. I look up at Hizashi. I’m right beside him while the others are a bit back. “This seems like a bad idea. I think this is more-” My foot slips and I start to fall. My heart feels like it stopped. “Shit!”

“Y/N!” they all yell. Faster than someone can even blink, Hizashi’s tail wrapped around my torso before I got too far down the cliff. I look down to see a very deep drop that would obviously kill me, but what was even more concerning was the naga looking up at me. It has to be twice the size of Hizashi.

Hizashi kept a very tight grip on my torso as my legs shakily kept trying to give out as he had me stand up. We all stopped for a moment. “That’s it, fuck the waterfall. This isn’t worth going for.” Katsuki says, even more angry than usual.

I can feel Hizashi shaking as well. “Heh, that was not a part of the plan. We’ll be going down towards the waterfall soon. I’ll see if Toshinori would let me bring you guys through his territory on the way back.”

“Well, why didn’t we do that in the first place!? Y/N could have died!” Eijiro exclaims. “I’ll admit, I thought the fear would be funny. Definitely not now!”

He kept me closer to him as we went down the cliff. It felt better the closer the even ground came to be. The giant naga I saw earlier comes fast into our view. He has a bright golden tail that matches his hair. The most obvious part of him is a giant scar on his side. His eyes show great concern. “Are you all okay!? I saw what happened a bit ago,” His eyes squinted at Hizashi. “And I TOLD you to stop taking that way with visitors!”

Hizashi replies with a teasing roll of his eyes, but it’s showing that he understands and does regret taking that route. “Very shaken up, but fine I think.” I reply. It wasn’t until now I noticed how the waterfall is much louder. He nods. “That’s a relief. I take it you’re going to the waterfall?”

We nodded. Mina quickly goes up to him. ‘Hey, what’s your name by the way? Mine’s Mina!”

He grows a kind and friendly smile on his face. “Toshinori. Nice to meet all of you. We haven’t had any humans visit in quite a while.” In quite a while? So people DID used to come here. That’s making the unnerving feeling rise up again. Something must have happened to make them stop coming. But what could it possibly be? These two are friendly. Is it because they might be the only ones that are friendly? Maybe he’d know. I could ask Hizashi, but something feels like that’s a bad idea.

Mina suddenly pulls out a camera. “You brought a camera?” I asked. “Well, duh! I forgot earlier if I could take pictures of them, but seeing the one even bigger than Hizashi reminded me!” she looks up at Toshinori. “Could we take some pictures to show my other friends?” he perks up at that. “Why, of course! Why not wait until we get to the waterfall? We could do a group one!”

Mina fist-bumps the air. “Yes! In front of the waterfall would be a GREAT view! Let’s go!”

The rest of us told our names to him, well, Eijiro did for Katsuki again, on our way to the waterfall. Hizashi still hasn’t let go of me. Toshinori’s brows seem to crease in worry about that. I pat his tail twice. “Uh… Hizashi? Could you let me go now?” He does reluctantly. Mina giggles again. I decide to ignore it. The waterfall was finally in view, making the others grow more excited. Toshinori was farther ahead with the others.

Now would probably be a good time to ask Toshinori a few things. “Why don’t you go ahead with my friends for a bit? I want to ask Toshinori a few things I’d like him to answer personally if he can.” He almost seems to go on guard after hearing that, but makes himself relax. “What about? Ya gonna talk about me?” He teases.

“No! Of course not! I want to hear the story about that crazy scar on his side.” I lie. The scar might be interesting, but there are more important things at the moment. He seems unsure of my answer, but nods and heads up to lead the way.

“I need to ask you a few things.” He looks down at me. “Is it about my scar?” I shake my head. “No, I want to know if you know why no humans want to come here lately.” He looks at Hizashi, who I can swear started moving more slowly, then back to me. He nods.

“Do you know why humans no longer want to come to the island?” His smile disappears. “To prevent you from being afraid, all I will say is it’s safer for you to leave the island sooner than later.”

My face scrunches up in frustration and confusion. “That doesn’t make sense! Why though? What could be here you guys couldn’t help us from?”

“At least a little more information, dumbass.” Katsuki pipes up from behind me. Toshinori shakes his head and goes back to the others. I look beside me to see Katsuki crossing his arms. “I still don’t trust these overgrown lizards. Especially now.”

“You and I both. Well, I trust they aren’t going to kill us, but I don’t trust they’re not telling us what they should.”

“It’s good we’re staying here two less days.” I look at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“I told them to make it two less days, or when we get back I’d make their lives hell. I wanted to be here the least amount possible.”

“Are you sure they’ll listen? They might leave us here if you threatened them.” He grew a sadistic smirk. “Kyoka is making sure.” I shake my head while smiling at him. “Always the ever-clever one, huh?”

“Someone has to be since you dumbasses sure won’t.” I roll my eyes at him again. “Can’t argue with that.

Nerd.” I take off running to catch up without looking back, afraid of being smacked if caught. “Y/N!!!” He angrily screams, and it’s easy to tell he’s running after me. “Hahahaha!” I ran past Hizashi. His tail slams down between Katsuki and I. “Let’s save rough play for later, yeah?”

I pout. “Aw, Hizashi, you’re no fun!”

He pouts back. “No fun? I’m PLENTY of fun! C’mere!” He wiggles his fingers, signifying what he’s going to do. I shriek and jump away, but with no success since he's faster and uses his tail to get me stuck in place.

“That’s enough Hizashi.” Toshinori harshly says, and takes me out of Hizashi’s grip, keeping his body closer to mine so Hizashi can’t.

The others seem confused by Toshinori’s reaction, but shake it off. Katsuki glares harder at the two nagas. I decide to ignore everything and look at the waterfall. It’s really high up and beautiful. I stop. “Hey, wouldn’t this be a good area for the picture? We could get a large portion of the waterfall in it!”

Mina quickly takes out her camera again from her pocket. “Yes! Let’s do it!” We get situated. Toshinori is on my right with Eijiro and Mina. Katsuki stays close on my left with Hizashi next to him, with Hanta and Denki unnecessarily crouching in front of him and doing the peace sign. Toshinori grabs the camera with his tail and is able to hold it out to hopefully show all of us in it. No doubt Katsuki isn’t going to smile in it.

He took a few, and they all turned out great. We then wander close to the bottom of the waterfall where there’s a rather slow stream that goes half way up my calves. I know since we all took our shoes off and entered the shallow stream with the nagas not too far away just in case. While the others are messing around and throwing water at each other, I saw a really cool looking rock a bit farther in the water. It’s in a bit deeper water though… I could possibly ask someone to help. Nah. I look over to see Hizashi being busy talking with Toshinori. It doesn’t seem too friendly whatever they’re talking about judging by their movements. Katsuki is fairly close to them without them realizing, and he doesn’t seem happy with whatever he’s hearing. His face is crunched even more than usual.

I look down towards the rock again and reach for it. The water goes up past my shoulder, getting my shirt wet. The current in that part is much stronger, almost making me lose my balance. My hand touches it, and I try to bring it up. It’s rather stuck in the ground. I firmly grip it and yank it. It comes free, kicking up a lot of dirt with it. Rinsing it in the water a bit more, it came out clean and was a rather large agate. It’s the size of my palm. A really cool one with multiple lines in it too. I dry it a bit on the bottom of my shorts and put it in my pocket.

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

The day went by rather quickly until we returned to our camp. Toshinori didn’t come with us, much to Mina’s dismay. We definitely got some kind of sunburn today. Denki looks like he’s gotten the worst of it. Katsuki nearly slapped him until I prevented it. I’d rather not hear how loud he can scream in pain.

We didn’t feel like doing stories tonight. “Ugh, after this, I don’t think I’m ever going outside again.” Denki complains. “You will, even if I have to drag you.” Katsuki threatens. “Aw, big old buff boy truly does have a heart for us!” I tease. He harshly slaps my shoulder. “Point taken.” I say in a bit of pain. “You shouldn’t hurt your friends like that.” Hizashi pipes up being next to me on my right. Katsuki ignores him. “Forgot to mention, the boat will be here tomorrow to pick us up.” Hizashi tenses up.

“How do you know that?” Hanta asks. “It’s Katsuki, how else?” I reply. “But we’re having so much fun here! And Hizashi has helped tell me so much about nagas!” Mina whines. “True. well, it was fun while we were here though!” I look at Hizashi. “Thanks for that!” He nods. “Of course!” Something didn’t feel too genuine or enthusiastic with his answer. I heard Hanta snoring. He must have passed out not too long ago.

Eijiro yawns. “Man, today sure was fun though! Hopefully we can come back some day!” Katsuki and I share a look. “Yeah! It’s hard to find a boat to take us though, so it might be a while.” I inform, trying my hardest to not give away that we won’t be coming back.

“Hey, Katsuki, could you bring Hanta to our tent? I can’t carry him.”

“No. The dumbass fell asleep out here, he can stay out here.” Eijiro rolls his eyes at him. “I’ll do it.” He gets up and bridal carries Hanta to the tent with Denki following. Mina goes to ours. Katsuki pulls me close. “Don’t trust that fucking naga. Stay away from him.” He hisses, gets up, and goes to his tent. What was that about? He hasn’t been wrong before though, so it might be best to listen. It stayed silent for a while after Eijiro went to his tent and most likely everyone was asleep.

I put my hands in my pockets and felt the rock. “I want to give you something to remember us by when we leave,” I take out the rock and give it to him. Something glinted in his eyes and he took it and cupped it with both hands like it was the most fragile thing in the world. A feeling is telling me I just made a big mistake. Why though? It’s just a rock? “It’s not much, but maybe you’ll like its memories?”

“I’ll definitely treasure it!” his voice becomes more quiet. “Just like I’ll always treasure you.” He means like everything we’ve done the past two or so days, right?

“Well, goodnight Hizashi!” I say, and go towards Mina and I’s tent. “Could we please do the same thing as last night? As a parting gift or something? It will get so lonely again.” His tone became rather saddened. I almost gave in on pity for him. I remember Katsuki’s words though, and try to think of an excuse. Right! Sunburn! “Sorry Hizashi. I really don’t want to be touched tonight, especially with this sunburn. That will hurt.”

“Maybe the cold of my cave could help with that! Why don’t we try that?” He sounds desperate. Him being desperate sends off another red flag in my head.

“Sorry. I’d rather be alone tonight.” I say and enter my tent, zipping it up.

He must have given up since he goes quiet after that. It doesn’t take long after that for sleep to start to overtake me.

...Did the zipper just open? I was too tired to check. It’s most likely nothing.

#yandere present mic #x reader #yandere present mic x reader #quirkless au #naga present mic #yandere naga present mic

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hello-yue-here · 3 years ago

Note

hi liv!

how you had a good rest? how long did you sleep? hope you remembered to brush your teeth and drink plently of water!

i fell asleep at like.. five and woke up at ten? so i think im good. been cleaning my leos tank since i woke up, he is not happy about it.

did you get anymore good "hate" anons? how are you today? do you have anything planned?

hope you have a wonderful day!! 💓

HEY BESTIE

i slept like fourish hours which is more than i usually do so GO ME!! go us rlly we rlly did be sleepin last night.

my teeth are clean but i do not keep myself properly hydrated but this has reminded me to drink water so imma do that rn

WHO IS LEO. IS LEO A FISH OR A TURTLE OR A SNAKE OR A LIZARD I WANNA KNOW

i got one more “hate” anon lol i need to go look at it

im doing great today! its my first day in six days where i dont have to go to work and im ao excited that i get to relax. todays plans for me are doing laundry and cleaning my room and doing some more packing for college as well as ATTEMPTING to write stuff!

ur so sweet and kind this is so nice

have the best day jingyi 🤹🏼‍♀️

#i hope u like the lil juggler i think its cute #asks #flamboyantfireferret

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reinepadova · 4 years ago

Text

To Be Seen

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Pearls don't lie on the seashore. If you want one, you must dive for one.

...Light. So soft, and sweet. It surrounds me...

...Warmth. Radiant, and gentle. It brushes against my skin...

...Heart. Steady, and loud. It beats beneath my ear...

...Fingers. Unwavering, yet delicate. They caress through my hair...

...Voice...

...What voice?...

...Who?...

「...is closed...port...settled. Go get...」

「Who?」

「...rest...」

「Who are you?」

「...go get some rest.」

Stella reached out, slow and surreal, out to the space, both wide and close. Infinite, yet enclosed. Her thoughts echoed loudly, yet quietly, both near and far.

Where are the shadowed walls? I should not see.

Where is the cold? It should chill my flesh and soul.

Where are the jeers? They should be ringing and malicious.

「Why?」

「...」

「Why do you care?」

「...」

「Please. Who are you?」

「...」

Stella's eyes stuttered open, gradual and confused, feeling engulfed, but not suffocating; strangely more secure. Her arms tightened instinctly, fingernails digging into strange grooves – did she fall asleep outside? Why is she hugging a tree? Didn't she make it to the village?

She felt disoriented, and not the usual kind – the kind where she would feel even more empty and tired, dependent on the stamina-boosting dishes instead of her own replenished energies. Nor is it the kind that makes her alert and paranoid, heart pounding like a frightened bird. Stupid green slime. Thing. I hope its choking in its dirt, she grumbled mutely, head burrowing more into the fuzzy moss the tree is probably covered in.

Overall, its such an unfamiliar feeling. This state of wakefulness and oblivion. She can't remember the last time she had a quiet morning like this. Or is it afternoon? Mei was pounding on something before I slept. She was giggling too. I'm glad she's smiling again. Her crying makes me uncomfortable. It's like how Selene looked before she let go.

Stella unconsciously frowned, shoulders tensing slightly, before relaxing back on her side when something nuzzled against her hair.

After a few more minutes of blank ruminating, her 'tree' moved slightly, making her blink back her lethargy, groggily raising her head. She winced, reaching up to rub carefully at the deep sleep lines on her cheek. Clearing her vision, she recognized jewel-like eyes staring back at her – a sight she's wondering would become a habit to see. The corner of her lips twitch up, feeling the weight of the guardian curl around her in a comfy cocoon, and realizing its tail served as her cushy, albeit ticklish pillow. She was about to say her thanks before she stopped, raising a brow instead. Why does it look so... grim?

She tilted her head, staring at somber eyes that studied her for a good long moment, not unlike the solemn paintings of her ancestors in her clan's compound, judging and eternal, captured in paints that lasted until her time –

Shaking her memories away, Stella began to wonder anew how old Mr. Guardian really is, how many people and places its seen, how many it helped or come across. Her thoughts cut off when it suddenly shook its own head, tapping at her nose with one of its whiskers, and teased her face with a small puff of breath. She blew back with her own at its snout, giggling when it tried to smother her with its large mane, pushing her head back in a gentle headbutt.

“Alright, okay. I'm awake, I'm awake,” Stella grumbled, scratching on the bridge of its nose with careful fingers. “You're more cuddly than I thought a serpent should be.”

It reared back its head, snorting, as if indignant, but with eyes still glittering with play. Stella rolled her eyes, sitting up straight while taming down her bed hair. Her gaze fell lazily on the creature, noting absently its suddenly stiff form, a strange new glint in its eyes. Was it's pupils always that big? I could have sworn it was like little diamonds last night. Huh. Must be a predator thing. “I don't know what you are, honestly. That's how I always thought of you before.” She covered her yawn with a dainty hand, a habit from years of etiquette training coming into play despite her non-human bedmate. “I'll ask Mei later. She looked like she knew what you are,” she appeased, dryly smiling at its suddenly thoughtful demeanor.

After a long pause where she was tempted to lie down again, it snorted in agreement, uncurling completely from her before shrinking down his size. It gently spiraled up, drifting in a large circle around the room, before nodding its head to the changing screens. Stella's eyebrow twitched, mumbling about 'pushy, dramatic lizards' before doing as directed, keeping in mind what mischief Mei had been doing while she was down for the count all morning.

I hope its nothing expensive.

Checking to see the bed made, her pack readied, and patting at her last outfit for this trip, Stella walked out, stretching out the kinks to her shoulder when she immediately swerved her wide gaze to the small plot of land that was formerly the receiving area of the hut.

“Lalaaa~ Lookie! Mei mixed the things, like you said! Can we put the Lilies in now?”

Stella stared at the debris covered, char-filled, sandy mess that is formerly a floor, a blank smile frozen on her face. “That's. Great. Mei. How. Did you manage to get...all of this?” she asked faintly, doing a vague, circular gesture of her wrist.

“Oh! The village uncles and aunt helped Mei! Uhm, one uncle has a number in his name. The other uncle says his name is a cold blade. It's strange. But they helped Mei with the soft dirt and the soft rocks. Another uncle said Mei could have his extra wood. Then the aunt that cooks helped Mei cook the wood and rice huskies. She had plenty! She told Mei to not eat the rice huskies, or the wood though, even though she makes yummy dishes,” Mei babbled brightly, her whole body vibrating with energy.

“...ah. Then... they helped you bring it here?” Stella kneeled gingerly before the small mount, not knowing where she should look at first. She couldn't check the sand if its the proper consistency because its mixed in too much with the clay. She's not sure if the clay was pliable enough for the Lilies' roots. The husks were supposed to be smoked, but she can see some badly burnt ones. And the wood... well, she'll have to cut them down to a better size.

“Mhmm~ They super nice. The auntie that cooks even gave Mei a dish so Mei could give it to her Lala!”

Stella smiled gratefully, reaching out a hand to rub Mei's head affectionately. “Thanks, Mei. But give me an hour. I'll be able to sort the materials by then.”

Mei scrunched her brows adorably, pouting. “But Lala should eat first?”

“I know, Mei. But this isn't your house. Granny Ruoxin will come in anytime. She might trip and fall. You know Gran-gran was prone to that too with her poor vision.”

“Oh.” Mei looked down, thoroughly conflicted, playing with her hands as she tried to work through her little head the dilemma of feeding her special person as soon as possible, but also wanting to work on the Lilies as soon as possible.

On the other hand, Stella's mind whirled with thoughts of how to resolve this without making Mei cry, a vibrating energy surrounded them, shaking the two out of their heads before grasping each others hands in instinct.

A large, condensed piece of clay floated, expanding and contracting, with tiny particles of sand dropping immediately from it, while the rice husks flew upwards and away. Stella quickly ducked to cover Mei's eyes, tucking her little head under her chin, face turned away until the golden, mini vortex settled and cleared. Warily opening her eyes, Stella looked around, and gasped.

A pile of softened clay shaped like a cube sat near the wall, while a neat heap of sand was placed next to it in an elegant, gilded, brown pot Stella has never seen before. The rice husks though were still in a pile in front of her, as well as the wood, but its more manageable to sort through now with broom.

Mei squealed excitedly, hopping in place, turning awestruck eyes at the forgotten guardian floating behind them. Remnants of glowing particles circled the creature in slow curves. “Thank you, thank you, Bìxià! Lala can eat now.” Mei stated, more than asked, smile turning smug. Stella retaliated by tickling her ward's sides, making her squeal and laugh, before giving the lady a heatfelt neck hug with her tiny arms.

Stella's smirk turned affectionate, giving the little girl a squeeze in return. “Looks like Mr. Guardian is starting to spoil you. Okay. Give me ten minutes to prepare everything. Divide the food for me, please?”

Mei giggled, surreptiously glancing at the creature who's now inquisitively looking over the planks of wood, before holding up three fingers at Stella's eye level. They shared a secret smile before Stella winked in agreement. The little girl pattered off before Stella walked over to the creature's curled form, with arms akimbo.

“So! You control anything related to the earth, do you?” Mr. Guardian glanced at her in amusement before nodding. “Well aren't you smug? But, I guess its more useful than what I can do,” Stella whispered lowly as she grabbed a broom to sweep the rice husks. But at the vigorous shake of the creature's muzzle, she realized Mr. Guardian understood exactly what she meant.

-{-}-

“You heard me sing last night,” the lady stated, a sad glimmer shining suddenly in her eyes. “That's how you found me.” Gazing at her quietly, Morax waited. He neither denied nor agreed, intuitively giving her space to think. She finally sighed, her words spilling like lava upon the surface of the earth – slow, with painful fire. “Singing isn't something I do for myself, or even for a living. It's...what I have to do, especially when forced.” She gulped, seemingly forcing her next words out before she runs out of air. “I am... not quite normal. For a human. But I mean no harm to anyone, I promise. Only to myself, when I sing. I – ” She cut herself off, turning away, becoming absentminded as she swept. Morax let her be, busying himself with slicing the planks with his claws, cutting them to the size of a Ley Line Sprout – the appropriate length he thinks she might need for the Lilies.

He is saddened at her distress, after comforting her in her sleep, having to slice through the dark shadows that caged her shining, pure soul – a sight he thought he would never see again. Her answers explained one question, but added upon hundreds – his intrigue for her may yet be extinguished.

Rising after finishing his work, he was surprised she stopped him from heading towards her quarters to conceal his presence, and directed him to the dining table instead. He could only stare as she smiled bashfully, yet charmingly, with the afternoon light complimenting her healthier complexion.

Surely a song of pure joy from her will welcome more praises.

He could only blink, taken aback by the direction of his thoughts, but not shameful of them either.

Sliding the etched ruminations at the back of his mind for now, he touched down gently on a vacant chair, adjusting his size so he fit better, keeping his head at the height of the table, but keeping his arms off of it.

She has shown great consideration for myself even without the girl present. It's best I also mind my manners as a good example.

When said little girl pushed a familiar plate made out of crispy mushrooms and lotus head, with a mouthwatering seasoning of Jueyun chili and plated on shiny green cabbages, he tilted his head and looked on at the delightful surprise, wondering why he was given a second offering in less than a week. Is there something they need more from me?

The lady then startled him from his focus with a short laugh, a wider smile gracing her beautiful face as she patiently explained. “Eat up. The spice on them isn't bad. It's pretty good overall. I will have to thank Ms. Bai before we set out back to the Harbor,” she mused out loud, before catching on, no doubt, to his still befuddled form. Her demeanor seem to soften, like Ice Flowers turned Mist when exposed to a flame, a stroke of understanding painted softly on the curve of her lips. “You're hungry too, right? I know you're used to taking care of others, like how you take care of me – don't think I didn't notice! But, you're also worth taking care of. Rest. You deserve it too,” she stated, as if its a proven fact in the world, before she faced little Mei, inquiring about his form and regarding something else he could no longer hear. His thoughts had turned blank, questions and suspicions fell away, like the fan leaves of the ginkgo trees surrounding his land, from the peak of his mountain forests, to the plains down below.

As Morax took careful bites of the meal, his meal, bearing in mind the placement of his fangs, the relaxed banter of the lady and the child as they discussed their plans held his entire attention, his own musings a mystery to them.

For now.

-{-}-

“Zhongli-xiānsheng! Welcome back, sir,” Ferrylady exclaimed in a breathy gasp, gloved hands almost dropping the ashy incense burner she was supposed to clean before its next use. She hastily set it on a nearby end table, bowing formally to the well-dressed gentleman with his back to her, nevermind the ashes now covering the bottom half of her uniform. When she didn't hear a reply, she took a confused peek. Strange. He never fails to greet back, no matter how late into the night.

What is he holding? Are those the customer logs? Oh no, have I forgotten to write something down again?

“Hm? Ah, thank you. It is good to be back,” the consultant finally said, acknowledging Ferrylady with a nod after he neatly placed down the book on the reception desk, and turned to smile at her warmly. Ferrylady had to smother a cough, both from the blessed sight as well as from the dust. But maybe more so from the former, than the latter, she internally sighed.

“Have you had a good trip, sir?” she inquired quietly, busying herself with the cleanup at the designated corner before she gets caught staring too long. Again.

“Mm. I supposed it is. Ha! And what a surprising gift it is indeed.” Ferrylady had to stop herself from snapping her head back to him, giving away her surprise at his unusually good mood.

Despite his youthful appearance, Zhongli-xiānsheng always exuded a serious demeanor. Aside from playing as the good host – to establish good relations – and a generous customer – within reason – the normal face of the most knowledgeable consultant employed by the funeral parlor is earnest formality wrapped in respectful cordiality. The kind of bearing all undertakers strive for, as their hall is now well-known far and wide because of his measured suggestions for each type of rite, great and small.

That's not to say Ferrylady was content their consultant is perpetually unsmiling. But when he does...

She held her cleaning brush a little firmer, imagining the radiant glow of the consultant's handsome visage. Her heart might not be able to take it if she has to see it in person. There are just things that have their time and place.

The trip did do him better than expected. I must apologize to the Director as soon as she's back. She is wiser than her years would allude to. I still have much to learn.

She was surprised again when the dapper gentleman spoke next. “Ferrylady, can you tell me more about the current wake you are catering to. This is the third day, is it not?” Ferrylady heard the shuffled pages of the logs again, making her pause in her work.

“That is correct, sir. An old lady, recently passed. Quietly, in her sleep. She is survived by a granddaughter named Meilin,” Ferrylady explained concisely as she silently tidied up, looking up to give the consultant her undivided, yet confused, attention.

Very strange. He wasn't as interested in any of the other ordinary ceremonies before.

“Only one relative?” Zhongli-xiānsheng posed thoughtfully in his usual stance, giving the Ferrylady more questions than answers in her head. Maybe his inquiries have a deeper meaning. Could he be already aware about the Fatui? As expected of our most knowledgeable lecturer. She stood straighter and answered more readily.

“Yes. She is only a little girl though. She does have a guardian with her but they seem unrelated. They don't look alike at all. I can't tell where the lady is from. Her clothes don't look Sumerian or Inazuman, or even those of Liyue fashion, whether traditional or in vogue. But they reflect aspects of the mentioned nations regardless. It's actually an attractive combination, with the wearer herself being a beauty.” When the Ferrylady noticed the unreadable gleam in the consultant's gaze, as well as a a twitch in the corner of his lips, she blushed daintily, realizing she thought out loud.

“Apologies, sir. I digressed. To conclude, they paid generously for the full seven days. As such, the director said to respond accordingly.”

“Generously? Is the memorial plaque included in this?” he casually inquired, turning to gaze out the window, chin still placed lightly on his fingers.

Is the lady guardian a suspected Fatui member, I wonder? Ferrylady shook her head, biting her tongue. No. I shouldn't think this way. She and the girl are still good customers. It is not my place to judge them on this life.

Although, I still do not see why Zhongli-xiānsheng seems interested in this particular ceremony.

“Without, unfortunately. When I mean generous, I meant for everything except that. The guardian said she understood the cost of a certain material little Meilin wanted for the plaque. We assured her it's alright to leave it until later when she has enough Mora saved to commission its carving.”

The consultant hummed and asked no more, staring up at the passing clouds under the moonlit night. The peaceful tick of the clock surrounded the space as the Ferrylady gathered the incense sticks, joss paper, and other materials their clients might prefer during the procession. Moving to let herself out, she understood by now that this type of silence is what the consultant needs for his solitary thinking.

As she neared the door, it's a good thing she has a good hold on her items, especially the burner. She finally gave in to the urge of whirling around to stare at their most revered lecturer with wide eyes as he surprised her yet again with a genial smile and a simple, voiced request.

“May I assist you in the final days of this rite?”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

[←Previous] | Chapter 5 | [ Next → ]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A/N: I finally have it where I want it to be! A long weekend sure helps a lot. I had to post this before my muse flew away into the void.

Also, for future reference: don’t flirt during funerals, people. This my disclaimer.

If any one else would like to be tagged in this story if you are having problems seeing it, just let me know~

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Follower Tag: @meladollsims

#to be seen #zhongli #zhongli x female OC #zhongli x oc #fanfiction #companion mini exuvia #shapeshifting archon #ferrylady #ferrylady is all of us

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 26

It turns out, however, that I didn’t need to. As I cower and make a half-hearted, dog-tired attempt to throw myself to the side, the – well, the bird, I guess, whatever the hell it is – swoops just next to me, close enough to feel a better of greasy wings against my back, knocking me to the ground with one powerful downswing, and then it juts its claws forward and digs them into Marcus. He shrieks; his gun clatters squelchily to the gnarled floor and he flails in the thing’s grip; it’s holding him by the shoulder and by the hip, and for a moment, just a singular moment, it glares at us balefully, its squat, recessed head and luminous eyes swiveling over us, before it adjusts its grip on Marcus briefly and then pushes itself powerfully into the air again, winging into the darkness. Marcus’s screams recede quickly, and I am left open-mouthed on the ground, heart pounding, my entire body shaking as I come hesitantly off the adrenaline. Erica is trying to get a bead on the thing with her revolver but her hand is too unsteady, and I reach out for her and cry out for her not to shoot, and she glances down at me quickly. Her eyes are wide and panicked and I realize that this is the first time I’ve seen her lose her cool. Even in the hotel room she was completely locked down.

“Erica,” I say urgently, “if you shoot that gun everything down here is going to know exactly where we are.”

I give the murky ceiling a glance filled with trepidation then get to my feet slowly. My foot nudges against something – Marcus’ gun. I look down at it and then up at Erica; she raises the revolver again and points it at me.

“I’m just going to pick it up,” I tell her.

“Don’t.”

“Erica, I am not going around unarmed down here. You can either let me pick the gun up or we can just shoot each other right now and get it over with. What’s it going to be?”

A nice speech, I guess. Maybe it’d have more impact if I had more than about an ounce of energy to deliver it with. Whatever rest I’d managed to get has been depleted by now and my legs and arms and back are aching as before. I need to get out of this goddam place, I think to myself, but even my thoughts don’t have any energy to them, everything flits around very enervated and airy.

Erica is still staring at me and I bend down, very slowly, and pick the gun up. I hold it between thumb and forefinger, keeping my eyes locked on her, and then stick it slowly into the front pocket on the suit. “Alright?” I ask, and she swallows, then nods.

“Marcus,” she starts, and I look up again, shake my head.

“He’s gone,” I tell her. Stating the obvious.

“I didn’t think he’d –“ she starts, and then she cuts herself off. She wipes at her eyes hurriedly and then pulls out the PDA again, points down the slope. “That way,” she tells me, and I nod.

The way down becomes gradually easier, the slope levelling out into a long rough bumpy undergrowth of muck and slime. Mushrooms bud down here, great towering broad-capped things the size of small trees, and I feel a little safer, at least, knowing that any of the birds that might be circling above, glaring down and looking for prey, probably won’t be able to see us beneath their wide fleshy brims. They grow thick, too, leaving us to pick and push our way through them, struggling against their elastic, fibrous meat. Paths trail here and there but they are meandering and circuitous and dirty, piled with organic detritus – pieces of mushroom, guano from the birds above, foamy congealed blood from where sores in the Pit’s skin have rubbed open. The air is thick and sour and revolting and I can see Erica taking shallow breaths through her mouth. She wipes her eyes frequently but I can’t tell if it’s because they’re stinging or because she is mourning Marcus. After maybe fifteen minutes of pushing through mushroom stalks in silence I reach out for her and catch her by the hand lightly, and then flinch as she whips around, the pistol coming up.

“Relax,” I tell her quickly, showing her my empty hands, “it’s just me.”

“What is it?”

“I, um,” I start, wondering immediately why I’m bothering, “I just wanted to say sorry. For Marcus.”

She stares at me for a moment longer before she nods rather stiffly. “Thanks,” she says. The silence stretches onward until I look away.

“If you want to talk about it…”

Erica stays silent for about five minutes, and I assume that that is her way of turning down my offer. I don’t know why I even bothered, really, especially for her – why try and comfort the person holding you hostage? Stupid, Roan.

Then Erica turns and sags against a broad mushroom stalk and gives me a dark, hopeless glower. “Marcus was one of the first people who joined the little group I run back in town,” she says. I squat down on my haunches, shut my eyes and then unlock whatever lingering bone of resignation is running cordlike through my conscience and then lean back into the muck until I’m half-supine, propped against a stalk of my own. I can feel the fingerlength-deep layer squish and shift beneath my ass in a decidedly unpleasant way but the relief of not having to be on my feet any longer wins out in the end.

“The cult,” I nod, cracking an eye open to watch her. I see a spasm of anger flit across her face.

“It isn’t a cult,” she snaps, and then I see her relax and let it go. “It isn’t a cult,” she repeats, more calmly. “It was never a cult, we don’t fucking worship the Pit. It was just about – about having something there that was bigger than yourself. A frame of reference. You wouldn’t understand.”

I roll my eyes at her but she isn’t looking. My eyes hurt, rolling upwards like that. Closing them doesn’t help much. “Why’d you bring him down here?” I ask.

“I needed someone to help me. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get the crystal by myself, I’d need backup of some kind at least. Of all of us I trusted Marcus the most, and I figured he was the most capable outdoorsman. The others, well, there aren’t a ton of them, and most of them have more on their plate. Marcus is – was,” she corrects, her voice growing raw, “like me, he didn’t have many attachments, didn’t have a ton to tie him down.”

Oh. That would do it.

“I’m – sorry,” I say, surprising myself with the amount of delicacy I’m able to muster. “I know it can be hard to lose someone you love, it can…”

I let myself trail off. Erica’s eyes have grown harder. “We weren’t lovers,” she tells me. “I felt…responsible for him,” she says. She pulls out a battered pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I feel myself practically salivating for one, despite my best efforts. Erica notices and tosses the pack to me, and I murmur my thanks and let her light it for me. I cough a little at first but then it comes back to me and I really do feel better. This and some more coffee, maybe…

Erica shakes her head. “Goddam it,” she mutters quietly, in a way I recognize so deeply I can feel it in my bones, and for a moment, just a moment, I’m able to feel sorry for her. Then I remember that she shot Elena and I can go back to hating her.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I try not to think about what Marcus must have felt, feeling those foot-long talons sinking into him, probably dying from the instant they had gone in. It would have crippled him, that one in the shoulder, he would never have been able to use it effectively again without a lot of surgery. I wince to myself, thinking about it. And then the other one in the gut – it must have been horrible. A horrible feeling, knowing that something like that is about to do something to you that you can’t stop, can’t fight. It makes me shudder just to imagine it.

I look around warily; so far we haven’t seen any of those massive pale lizards but I can’t imagine they’d be any less aggressive than the birds. They have to eat something, after all, and if they’re that huge they have to eat a lot of something.

“Tell me the truth,” Erica says. “Are you working for the Company?”

I blow out a big sigh and open my eyes, stare at her. “You really think I am?”

“Is it the FBI, then? What is it?”

“I’m just somebody who was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” I tell her. “I’m just down here to take photos.”

“Makado wouldn’t have sent you down here for that,” Erica says. She sounds very confident. “There’s some angle she’s working, there’s some reason she’s got you down here. What are you –“

“How well do you know Makado?”

Erica shrugs. “Well enough, I guess.”

“What’s her middle name?”

“Not that well.”

I toss the cigarette on the ground. “If I’m here as part of her plan, it’s as a pawn. That’s all.”

“How reassuring,” Erica says dryly. “What about that blonde commando friend of yours, what’s the deal with you and her?”

“I thought it was obvious,” I murmur, and Erica laughs.

“Is that your partner?”

“Um. Well, I guess that’s one way to describe –“

“You know, your secret FBI partner.”

“Will you just let the whole FBI thing go?” I growl. “Fuckin’ Alex-Jones-ass –“

“I know the FBI is in town,” Erica says. “I think they’re investigating Makado. Or something she had to do with.”

I stop, look at Erica. She doesn’t appear to be joking, or leading me on. Her gaze is narrow but even. This is something she believes.

“This isn’t some, like, tinfoil hat shit, is it? Because if –“

“I don’t know what shit Peter talked about me while you two were shacked up –“

“We weren’t shacked up –“

“Whatever,” Erica says, getting to her feet. She rounds on me, points an accusing finger at my slumped form. “I have it on very good authority that the FBI is here in Gumption. Peter might have talked about his sources inside the Company but I have my own, ones he didn’t know about, and they all tell me that something big is about to go down. This crystal thing, this is Makado’s Hail Mary shot.”

“What even was your plan, Erica?” I ask. The cigarette got me a little perked up at least but I can feel the fatigue lurking behind my eyeballs whenever I’m not focusing. “You come down with two people and get in a shootout with ten? What was the idea?”

Erica makes a sour face at me. “For your information,” she says, “I have a little more than just one other person on my side. And the plan was, I paid someone in security a lot of money to plot the route you guys were taking, so that it would pass through a path that has a sphincter with an exposed nerve ending right along the route you were slated to take on the return trip. We were going to hide there, wait until everybody but the one with the crystal came by, and then tickle the nerve and trap them on our side while we locked everyone else out. Then it’d have been easy to grab it.”

I frown. “Erica, how big do you think this crystal is?”

She gives me a nonplussed face. “Well, it’s –“ she starts, and then her eyes widen. I frown and then turn my head slowly, glance over at where her gaze seems to be going, and see the massive snub-nosed head of the pale, eyeless lizard that has pushed its way through the mushroom stalks and into our clearing flare its fist-sized nostrils and surge forward towards me.

I shriek and roll to the side, scrambling away from it through the muck, and to my immense surprise the lizard freezes and then takes a hesitant step backwards. It opens its mouth and a broad flat tongue flutters outward briefly. Its teeth are widely spaced, flat little enameled pegs like those of an elephant or hippopotamus. Herbivore teeth.

Wait a minute.

I look at the lizard, watch it closely. I open my mouth again, make a short hissing sound, the same kind I might make if I were trying to get a cat to go away from me, and it freezes again, mid-step, retreating backward. It has a narrow, shovel-like head, like one of those weird salamander-like lizards that live in pools in caves and have grown blind and pale and fat down there in the darkness. I don’t recall what they’re called.

“Erica,” I whisper, glancing back at her. She’s gotten to her feet, gotten her hand halfway to her holster. Her eyes flick down to mine. “They’re fucking herbivores,” I tell her. She looks at me like I’m crazy.

And then the lizard bulls its way further into the thicket and fixes its jaws around a particularly thick and succulent-looking mushroom stalk and bites it hard enough to snap it nearly in half. A froth of syrupy white sap or dew spreads over its thin lips as it eats, and then when it’s done it trundles off into the murk, leaving a trail of snapped stalks and giant flattened footprints.

“Well,” I say, getting to my feet. “Maybe not herbivores. Fungivores? Is that a word? Whoa –“

I break off. I feel utterly strange for a moment, like I’ve caught a bad headrush, but it fades after a moment.

“You alright?” she asks. I wait for a moment, probing the inside of my head like a sore spot in my mouth, but I nod.

“Yeah. I don’t think these spores are doing me many favors,” I say, rubbing my fingers together; everything down here has a fine layer of them, like a greyscaled snow, a light misting of it everywhere. It makes me a little nervous but I don’t see any way to avoid it, any way to protect myself. We’d left my helmet back in Oyster’s Shame, Erica had made me leave it so I couldn’t be tracked.

“Better hurry, then,” Erica suggests, and I nod, and then we push onwards.

It’s hard work, but we get into the groove of it eventually; it’d be easier with a machete or something, but even without it the mushrooms aren’t as bad as trees or saplings or even the kind of jungle undergrowth and brush machetes are intended for. The mushrooms are soft and pliable, at least the young ones are; you can push them aside and the only thing you have to look out for is making sure that you keep a grip on them so they don’t spring back and whack you in the face. It’s easier with two people, and as Erica and I coordinate we begin to pick up the pace, at least until we get deeper into the – let’s call it the Fungal Jungle. It’s a stupid name but it’ll do. There, though, in the depths, the mushrooms are far too large to deal with in the same manner, but they’re spaced further apart, the vast trunks hardening and crusting and thickening so that you’d need a chainsaw to make space and fit between them with any degree of comfort. We end up forced onto the beaten paths and game trails that dot here and there between the stalks. There must be something here other than the lizards – hell, there must be an entire ecosystem down here, an entire food chain with the birds perched right at the top. The lizards must be like water buffalo or something, only maybe less aggressive, more cautious; that one we’d ran into earlier certainly seemed more inclined to flee than fight, even though it knew we were there. Or perhaps the only predators it has are the birds, maybe whatever other four-legged freaks there are down here only prey on each other and not the lizards.

Olms, that’s what they’re called. Except olms have only got two legs, I think, and they’re aquatic. Maybe they’re related? Distantly so?

My mind’s wandering. I let it to keep the tedium and physicality from sinking into me, soaking into my bones. As long as I can keep daydreaming about something cerebral I can stay sane. On alternating occasions I think having to think is the worst and the best thing about life.

We take breaks, we take frequent swigs from our dwindling supply of water, and I become more and more convinced that I’m never going to make it out of here, that I’m going to die to something really fucking stupid and I’m going to end up as a skull stripped bare along with a couple of other cracked bones in an overgrown owl pellet somewhere up in the canopy, just like Marcus, just like Erica. I ask her more questions about her plan, about the FBI, about anything I can think of to try and divine whether or not she’s a lunatic, but she either refuses to answer me or gives me responses that are infuriatingly sane and reasonable. They were going to strip the tracker from the crystal – easily enough, apparently, it comes with a quick-release – and then take the same way out as they went in and then fade, take the crystal somewhere far away and hide it so that the goddam gummint couldn’t take it and break it and make things worse everywhere for everybody. Of course they could have gotten away with it, she assures me, the Company’s funding is so lax that they’d never dare mention that they let one of the crystals get away, much less by a redneck clandestine operation like that.

I want to cry. I want to talk to Elena, I want to hold her. I hope very fervently that she’s okay, that she’s making it out, that everything is going to be okay for her. I maintain a faint hope that at some point the cavalry will come charging in with guns blazing but the more I listen to Erica talk with a faint derision about the absolute state of the Company right now, the more I doubt it. They won’t waste time or money on me, just mark me down for missing, presumed deceased, and forget about me. The only person I can rely on is me.

Can I do it? I muse ponderously, in between shallow breaths, calculate my odds and fudge in my favor as much as I can. I’ve got a stitch in my side and sometimes I put my hands wrong and Erica has to wait for me to reposition my grip to the side of a fungal thicket so she can pass through. She bears it with patience; she’s tired too, I can tell. But the PDA tells us the crystal is close.

The Leechman will be there, I tell her, and Erica shakes her head, stays silent. I can tell what she thinks of the Leechman; she doesn’t believe me. But when I had said it earlier she had reacted differently, she’d gotten a little spooked – she knows of the Leechman, at least, that’s for sure, but she’s convinced herself I’m mistaken. How could I be right? The Leechman isn’t real, doesn’t exist, it’s a fairy tale.

And then, when we push past the next line of mushrooms and out into an unexpected clearing, we find the Leechman in the flesh, twelve feet tall and just as wide, carrying the crystal like an awkwardly-shaped package beneath its arm. It stomps along, a faint glutinous slopping noise coming accompanied by the crushing thuds of its writhing feet. I look over at Erica, feeling faintly triumphant, and see her staring, open-mouthed, not so much at the Leechman, but at the trunk-sized, five-hundred-pound crystal it’s lugging. She shuts her mouth eventually and looks over at me. “I guess I see why you kept asking how big I thought it was,” she says, and I nod.

“Well, you did keep saying you had a plan,” I point out, and she squats and buries her face in her hands.

“Fuck,” she groans.

Out there across the clearing I hear a high whooping shriek and watch as one of the birds stoops, wings folded, at the Leechman, which seems to raise its abraded, conical head and regard the thing diving at it, and then it drops the crystal and reaches up and plucks the bird from the sky. “Holy shit,” I murmur, and Erica sits up and comes to stand next to me.

We watch in silence as the Leechman pins the struggling bird down on the floor and then vomits a stream of leeches into the bird’s clacking beak. I swear I can see the bird bloat a little just from the sheer volume streaming into it. It goes slack finally and the Leechman lets it go and turns and picks up its crystal and then just walks away into the forest. The glossy shine of the leeches disappears and then all I can see of it is a trail of mushrooms being pushed aside and snapped like candlesticks, and then it is gone entirely. The bird, meanwhile, has staggered to its feet and after a moment of what I can only describe as confusion, spread its wings and fluttered shakily into the air.

I look over at Erica and again feel a pang of sympathy for the woman. I don’t know where it comes from or what it’s doing inside of me but I feel it anyway, and I don’t want to. I heave out a huge sigh and nudge her; she looks up at me with a glum face. “Why don’t we just go?” I ask her. “I know it isn’t what you wanted but that thing is probably going to do a good job of keeping the crystal out of the Company’s hands as well.”

She nods after a moment. “I just don’t like thinking that Marcus died for nothing.”

I don’t have anything to comfort her with, so I stay silent. After a moment I can see resolution in her face. She gets up and stretches and then points. “It’ll be useless trying to do more today. Why don’t we see if that station over there is still liveable? We can stay there tonight and make a fresh start tomorrow.”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to register the combination of words in my brain, before I turn and follow her outstretched hand and see, off on the other side of the clearing, squatting evilly like a swollen tick, an overgrown and abandoned ranger station, clearly of an older model than the similar one up in Oyster’s Shame, but even so a mark of human habitation, a mark that someone somewhere was insane enough to build down here. That, I think, is what I found most disconcerting about the entire place – that lone ranger station, the one singular piece of evidence that someone had come before…

“Wait,” I mutter, as Erica fumbles with her pack. She glances up at me, starts to ask what the matter is, and then she sees what I’m looking at and quiets as well.

There is a flickering orange glow of firelight from one of the station’s shattered windows, and as we watch a shadow, man-sized and shaped, passes heavily along the far wall and then vanishes. Erica and I stare at each other as the significance of what we’ve just seen sinks in, and then she has drawn her revolver and is stomping off towards the station without even bothering to wait for me.

* * *

We enter the station as cautiously as we can, the muzzle of Erica’s revolver advancing ahead of her as she leans around corners, checks all the darkened spots. The station is a mess – it’s clearly been abandoned for a long time. Everywhere there are tiny stalks of growing mushrooms, and things have been living and shitting and dying in here for quite a while. The fire is just in the other room; I can hear it crackling. Erica and I glance at each other and then she nods and we burst around the corner. There’s someone there in an orange suit just like mine, his back to us, but after a moment, just from his frame, from the way he holds himself, I recognize him, and it’s like lightning has struck me.

“Oh my god,” I blurt. “Peter! You’re alright!”

Peter’s head lifts and he drops the can of food he had been holding to the floor. We must have startled him. “Peter!” I say again. I’ve almost reached him by now; I didn’t even realize I had gone to him, I hadn’t even thought about it. I am so relieved I could almost cry. Peter’s alive! Peter is –

Peter turns then and what is staring at me from behind his one remaining eye is nowhere close to being Peter. I can feel my gorge rise as I stare and I hear Erica jump, hear the high, throaty beginnings of a woman’s scream as she comprehends what we’re looking at.

The Leechman has gotten Peter. About half of his head is left, and it lolls at a sickly angle; his neck is broken, clearly. Sprouting from the right side of his body like a bouquet of flowers, tucked awkwardly into the shoulder of the suit, wriggling slowly over each other like a mess of eels, are leeches, thousands and thousands of them, tiny ones, large ones, ones like snakes, ones ribbed and venous and pale and dark. I can feel myself screaming as he reaches out for me, his eye dark, dull, glazed, the leeches sprouting from his neck wriggling in anticipation, and then he has bowled into me, knocked me over onto my back, and then he is on top of me trying to force his fingers into my mouth; they taste like dirt and mold and decay and I am going to vomit –

The revolver thunders one, two, three times, and I feel him shudder with the impacts, and though they knock him around a little he is clearly far beyond the point of being able to be put down by bullets. That hole in his neck yawns wider and leeches start to pour onto me and I scream, then snap my mouth shut, close my eyes. They press against me, bite at me, and I scrape desperately at my face, trying to clear it. Their teeth are sharp and they bite in and hang on for dear life. I am making horrible strangled screams through my gritted teeth because I know they want to get inside my mouth and do – and do whatever it is they do, and I realize that some unhinged part of me is trying to beg Peter to stop, trying to do anything to get him to stop –

I hear glass shattering from the left and a strange high-pitched shrieking sound, and something thuds into Peter very fast, and it is warm, insanely warm, very near to me. I still have my eyes shut, I can’t see. He is screeching, a long, drawn-out, hissing thing, and he gets to his feet, I can feel him get off of me. I sit up and claw the leeches away, crush them between my gore-slick fingers, toss their deflated bodies aside, and then I can finally see – Peter has gotten lit on fire somehow. He is staggering around the room, a bowlegged shuffling gate probably as near a sprint as he can get, slamming into the walls. He looks as though he’s headed for Erica and she, panicking, tosses the revolver at him – it bonks into his head and snaps it back, and he changes his course, and finally trips over the makeshift firepit he – it – had made in the center of the room. He collapses over the smouldering blaze, and then writhes until the movement and that horrible noise finally stops.

There is a crunch of broken glass off to the right and I look over and nearly give myself whiplash with the doubletake – Klaus, of all people, is clambering in through the window, taking care not to cut himself. He has a bright red flaregun in his hand and I realize what must have happened. “Oh, thank god,” I blurt, and Klaus’s eyes rest on mine for a moment, but he doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything to reassure me. I start to frown, start to ask what the matter is, but Erica is stepping out, a wide smile on her face. “Klaus,” she says, “you got here right in the nick of time.”

Klaus crouches and picks up the revolver, examines it casually. “This is yours?” he asks, glancing up at Erica. “Hi Roan,” he adds, finally, but something about this is still odd, there’s something strange. I look over at Erica.

“Do you two…know each other?”

Klaus laughs, but it’s rather mirthless. Erica offers me a hand and I take it shakily, let her haul me to my feet. She gives me a shaky grin. “I told you I had sources,” she says.

Erica reaches out for the revolver and Klaus holds it up. It looks as though he’s aiming it at her and for a moment I see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but it passes quickly, and she takes a step closer to him. “Klaus,” she starts, “give me the –“

He shoots her. I see the slug tear a chunk from her throat and she spins and flops to the floor. I scream, and some force of instinct made me hunker, my hands up to cover my face. I take them down, start to straighten, and then scream again as I see Klaus aim the revolver at me next. I cower there, waiting for it, before I hear the snap of a firing pin on a spent cartridge. I look up and see Klaus staring down at the revolver, a faint curl of disgust on his lips, before he tosses the gun aside. It clunks to the floor next to Erica and she shifts faintly, moaning. Her voice is thick and awful and terrified.

I get to my feet shakily. “It was you,” I say, staring at Klaus. It’s all coming together, it’s all starting to make sense. I can hear Erica choking quietly at my feet and I step around her, move closer to him. His eyes are dark and calm. The pit of my stomach is crawling and I recognize it as the same itchy feeling of anticipation that I used to feel back in Oklahoma whenever I stepped into the dojo for sparring day, two hours every Thursday. “It was you the whole time,” I tell him. “Wasn’t it? You lured her down here, fed her false information, made her think the crystal was something easily portable, told her that bullshit about a sphincter with an exposed nerve.”

Klaus spreads his hands modestly. I pull Marcus’s gun out, train it on him. His eyes flicker down, then back up again. He’s ice-cold, doesn’t even flinch. “You’re going to shoot me?” he asks.

“Erica said the FBI were in town, investigating Makado,” I tell him. “Are you with them?”

He nods after a moment. “She’s going down,” he tells me. “Hard. They finally got enough to nail her with. Letting people into the Pit, working with Peter,” he nods to the charred corpse over to the left. “Shit, I don’t know the full list of charges, I’ve been undercover here so long, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they could get the death penalty for her.”

I shake my head. “Fuck. Why did she send me down here, then? Why did she –“

“You’re an insurance policy,” he tells me, rolling his eyes like it’s obvious. “You’re somebody who’s got a strong sense of curiosity, a drive to figure out the truth. You hear what they’re going to slap her with, you’ll know it’s bull, you’ll try and get to the bottom of it. She figured we wouldn’t be able to get to you down here, but…” he grins. “She didn’t count on me.”

I swallow hard. “I’m a US citizen,” I remind him. “I’ve got rights.”

“You’re a statistic,” he corrects me gently. His hand whips out, smothering mine, and then he’s torn the pistol from my grasp. He laughs at me and then ejects the magazine, tosses it and the gun aside. It lands with a clunk near the fire.

I am, I notice, sweating. My eyes are very wide.

“You’re one of several hundred people who die every year trying to get in here,” he tells me. With exaggerated care, he takes the knife from his belt, holds it up to the light, knocks an invisible speck of dirt from its side. “Mostly indigents,” he says, taking a step towards me. I take a corresponding step backwards. “Nobody anyone would take any notice of.”

“Stop,” I tell him.

“Or what?”

Then he lunges and I am fighting for my life.

Ali told us back at the dojo once that there are no winners in a knife fight. It is such an intimately dangerous kind of fight to have that it is nearly impossible to come away from one without being hurt one way or another – the difference will be whether you’re the one who ends up in the hospital or the one who ends up in the morgue.

But if you don’t have a knife…

If you’re in a real fight, one where you need to murder the fuck out of someone with extreme prejudice before he succeeds in doing the same to you, blunt force trauma isn’t the way to go unless you can bring a lot of it to bear in a short period of time. But I have nothing, I haven’t got a brick to slam on his head, I haven’t got anything, just my fists, while he has a wickedly sharp eight-inch bowie, and if he sticks that in me, one way or another it’s game over.

Erica has died at some point; some detached portion of my brain heard her last rattling gurgle before she fell silent and took note of it, but I couldn’t say when – time has elasticized itself, stretched like taffy. I can feel my heartbeat like drums in my head, deafening, and all I can see is Klaus, his wiry frame enormous, slashing at me as I back off further and further. He’s cautious, he knows that I could still do some damage to him if we end up grappling, but he knows he has a massive advantage as well. Sooner or later I won’t be able to back up any further and then he’ll have me.

So I don’t wait. On the downswing I lunge after him and seize his wrist. He punches me in the face with his other hand and my head snaps to the side beneath his knuckles and stars burst in my eyes, but I cling to his wrist doggedly and then bring my leg up with as much force as I can muster and knee him in the balls. The air shoots out of him and he staggers but he won’t let go of the damn knife. We struggle for a moment longer before he kicks my feet out from under me and I land hard on my back. I take a few gasping breaths and try to scramble away. The gun is just there ahead of me, its polymer grip gleaming in the flickering firelight. I can see the yawning emptiness of the magazine well but even so I grab it and train it on Klaus. He has murder in his eyes. He points the knife at me.

“You stupid fucking bitch,” he says, his voice thick. “You don’t have any bullets - !”

I can see him swaying, a little like a tiger about to pounce, and then my finger finally curls inside of the trigger guard and squeezes the trigger, hoping against hope -

The roar of the pistol is like thunder, even if it’s just a little shitty nine-millimeter, and I scream with the surprise of it, with the shock of it, and then I remember – Marcus kept a round in the chamber. I had only noticed after – after Euler, and then I had completely fucking forgotten. When Klaus took it away from me he never racked the slide to clear it, he just ejected the magazine.

He’s choking on his own blood now, the knife forgotten. I shot him through the throat, just like he got Erica. He looks at me and tries to say something but just gurgles instead.

I leave him in there, leave all three of them in there, Erica and Peter and now Klaus, and sit down on the steps up to the ranger station. I leave the door open behind me in case I need to scramble back inside if a bird spots me. My cheek is still throbbing like hell and there is a mess of blood all down my front. Not all of it, I suspect, is mine. I look down at my hands and watch them shake, and then I make fists, squeeze them as hard as I can, until my nails are digging into my palms.

And then, amid the mushrooms and the lizards and the birds, who knows how many miles deep, sitting at the bottom of the rabbit hole and staring at the tiny pinprick of light above, I can think of nothing sane to do but weep.

END OF BOOK TWO

Continue with Part 27

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#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #alt lit #disaster #mystery #Michael Crichton #caving #thriller

16 notes · View notes

writeyouin · 5 years ago

Note

May I then request female reader with TFP Megatron? He was fighting with Optimus (as usual), noticed the Autobots human allies and ordered Vehicons to destroy the pests. Fast movement caught his eye and with utter disbelief, he saw a new human ally shooting his men down with a miniature Energon gun and doing athletic maneuvers to dodge them and her beauty and ferocity smitten him. After defeat, he has Sounderwave look her up and decides to convince her to join their side and become his.

Megatron X Reader - Powerful

A/N – Now that I am safe in my den, I can proofread this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Ughhhh,” Miko groaned dramatically, much to Bulkhead’s chagrin. “Come on Bulk, it’s not fair. Why can’t I go?”

“Miko,” Bulkhead said warningly, not that it had much effect.

“It’s only a recovery mission. You’ll never even know I’m there.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Miko clasped her hands together, “Please.”

Bulkhead turned to you, seeing that you were checking the computer console for Decepticon activity, “Uh (Y/N), a little help here?”

You sighed, wondering why you were stuck explaining your mission to Miko again. On one hand, she was right, it was a simple recovery mission. A Unit E surveillance drone that had been sent to monitor Decepticon activity had went offline in the middle of the Grand Canyon. All you had to do was recover the drone, repair it, and see what it had found before it went offline. However, on the other hand, you were sure it was a trap. A drone that expensive shouldn’t ever have crashed out of the blue; you had a sneaking suspicion that Laserbeak had something to do with the drone’s ‘malfunction.’ That was why you were taking an army truck and Optimus, Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Arcee would be escorting you. Should you be ambushed in the Canyon, you would be prepared.

You pinched the bridge of your nose exasperatedly, “Miko, we’ve been through this. When I��m not here, you are free to join whatever mission the bots will let you in on, but this is a Unit E mission. It will be my ass on the line if Fowler catches you out there.”

“What? Fowler’s coming? No fair.” Miko whined.

“Fair or not, he’s my boss. Sorry Miko, you can’t go this time.”

You went back to monitoring the computer, mapping out the route that would be taken to get to the drone. Another thing that bothered you about this job was that the ground bridge had recently started malfunctioning and couldn’t drop you off at the drone’s exact coordinates. You chewed the inside of your cheek; the mission hadn’t even started yet and it was already going wrong.

While you pondered the route to your goal, Miko was already concocting her own plan. Once she was away from Bulkhead, she planned on grabbing a blanket and sneaking into the back of your cargo truck; it was so simple that she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.

You glared at the rocky surroundings of the Grand Canyon, cursing that the drone had crashed right in the middle of it rather than somewhere more defendable. While Fowler drove the truck towards the drone, you surveyed the rocky outcrops that surrounded you.

“Give it a rest, (L/N),” Fowler said amiably, for once in a good mood since the mission was an easy one thus far. “We’ve only got to drive a little further and then we’re done. Easy as pie.”

You didn’t reply to the statement, instead asking Fowler a question, “Permission to end radio silence, Sir?”

“Permission granted.”

You nodded your thanks and commed the Autobots who were driving in formation around you to protect whatever was on the drone. “Everything clear, Optimus?”

“So far, Agent (L/N), however I have Ratchet running scans from the base as we speak.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Agent.”

Listening to you converse with Optimus from her position under a tarp in the back, Miko rolled her eyes, wondering why she’d even bothered to sneak aboard in the first place; this mission was a big dull dud. If only there had been a way to sneak into Bulkhead without him noticing; then she might have picked up some decent conversation at the very least.

In her head, she started a prayer to the only God that mattered; Jimi Hendrix, the God of rock. ‘Oh, Lizard King, great guitarist of Legend, please, for the love of your greatest fan Miko, make this mission more interesting, so I don’t die of boredom. Seriously dude! If I die of boredom before I’m the new God of ROCK, I will not be happy.’

After her impromptu prayer, Miko waited. Then she rolled her eyes when nothing happened. She tried again, mainly to give herself something to do. ‘Alright, so the Lizard King didn’t work… Guess I’ll have to go straight to the source of all the best music. Hey Freddie Mercury, it’s your gal, Miko. You didn’t like boredom either, so if you could do me a solid and-’

Miko was interrupted by the sound of screeching tyres. She lurched forward as the Land Rover came to an emergency stop. Something was finally happening and judging by the sound of Cybertronians transforming, and metal hitting metal, it was sure to be exciting.

‘All hail the QUEEN!’ Miko thought gleefully.

Forgetting any semblance of cover, she jumped out of the boot, eager to see what was going on. It was another trap, set by the Decepticons. Megatron, for once forgetting his usual flair for speeches had leapt down from the Canyon’s edge to battle with Optimus, who had clearly taken a bad hit.

Having not yet seen Miko, you breathed a sigh of relief once you were sure Optimus was okay and that he was going to fight back. Megatron was joined by a horde of Vehicons as well as Starscream and Soundwave. The rest of the Autobots transformed into bot mode, putting into play one of their battle strategies for such an occasion. Fowler was about to floor it, as was the plan; Optimus had made the two of you promise that you would leave should a battle occur, so the Autobots wouldn’t be distracted trying to protect you.

“STOP!” You screamed at him, grabbing his arm so he couldn’t put the truck into gear.

“AGENT!” Fowler bellowed back. “WHAT IN HELL DO YOU THINK-”

“Miko,” You pointed out the window. “She’s here!”

“Damn it!” Taking command of the situation, Fowler nodded towards the storage compartment on the passenger side, “Energon pistol there. Rescue that girl, Agent.”

You didn’t have to be told twice; this was exactly the kind of situation you had trained for. While Fowler was good at management, you were his top field agent, which was why he had introduced you to the Autobots in the first place. You grabbed your gun while Fowler drove away, employing evasive manoeuvres so the truck wouldn’t be destroyed; if it was, there would be no way to get Miko back to the base, should the Autobots fail.

You prayed that nobody would notice Miko; although you were fully prepared to fight a bot ten times your size to save her, you would rather get her out of any danger before the Decepticons took advantage of her human frailness. Unfortunately, your hope was dashed as Soundwave spotted Miko from his position above the canyon. It was rare he came on missions but Megatron had demanded his presence to record the demise of the accursed Autobots. Seeing you chasing aster Miko, he sent out Laserbeak.

“Laserbeak, capture the young organic.”

Eager to follow his master’s orders, Laserbeak swooped down into the fray, dodging and weaving between the warring Cybertronians.

“Soundwave, report,” Megatron commanded through his comm-link upon seeing Laserbeak flying behind Optimus.

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” Soundwave replied dutifully. “Laserbeak is to apprehend the Autobots’ organic allies.”

Megatron blocked a punch from Optimus, countering with one of his own. For the few seconds he was free from the fighting, he saw the pest that often travelled with the oaf, Bulkhead, being pursued by another human who he had never seen until today.

He growled, taking advantage of the situation to distract the Autobots, “SOUNDWAVE, DON’T WASTE TIME WITH THE HUMANS. RECALL LASERBEAK, NOW. VEHICONS, DESTROY THE HUMAN PESTS!”

Optimus’ optics widened in shock and he spun around to look at you. He reached out desperately, whispering a muted, “No.”

Using the distraction as an opening, Megatron leapt onto Optimus’ back and the two grappled with renewed vigour; Megatron eager to finally rid himself of his enemy, and Optimus struggling desperately to preserve all organic life, and his own.

“Bulkhead,” Miko cried, suddenly aware of the danger she was in now that six Vehicons were surrounding her, weapons raised.

Bulkhead roared angrily, and jumped in front of her. The Vehicons converged on him, and though he was fighting with all his might, he could not possibly last long against all of them. Avoiding a Vehicon on your own trail, you began shooting, never missing a target, which wasn’t much of an achievement, considering the Decepticons’ massive size. A normal pistol wouldn’t have done any good, but yours wasn’t any ordinary pistol; the weapon had been designed by the Autobots using a slither of their energon supplies. You were only ever supposed to use it in an emergency, since any more ammunition would cost your comrades more precious energon, so this was the first time you had used it, and it certainly packed one hell of a punch.

You almost went down from the recoil alone, though you soon got the hang of it. Employing years of training, you kept shooting until Bulkhead was free and the Vehicons attacking him weren’t getting up. There was no time for gratitude as the battle raged on, and you quickly realised that you were in this till the end.

With more Vehicons pursuing you, you had no choice but to keep moving, taking shots whenever you could.

Optimus managed to kick Megatron off him, though he had little time to follow up, needing a few more seconds to recover from Megatron’s ferocious beating. Megatron was about to finish off Optimus when one of his own soldiers fell on top of him. He was going to kill the fool for incompetence alone, until he noticed that the bot was already dead, a burning hole leaking energon close to where his spark was.

Megatron scanned the battlefield, wondering what had caused such a violent death, and then he saw you for a second time. Although he knew he should have crushed you where you stood while you were unaware of him lurking behind you, he simply couldn’t. He was fascinated by the way you moved. Throughout his long life, Megatron had seen the very best of Cybertronian fighters; he had never seen an organic of any form fight so effectively, especially against a Cybertronian.

Megatron wondered if you were afraid. If you were, you never hesitated to think about it, throwing yourself into the heart of the fight to protect the youngling Miko, who had foolishly run the wrong way. Your hair was plastered messily to your scalp, held in place by sweat and energon. Did you even know you were bleeding from your right thigh? Megatron doubted it; he had heard rumours that human adrenalin made the squishy organics forget their pain temporarily.

Unable to help himself, Megatron reached out for you. Afraid he was planning to kill you, Optimus pulled Megatron’s arm back, stretching it as far back as it would go, until the cables were taut and Megatron was grunting from the pain.

“(Y/N), RUN!” Optimus called to you, and you looked over to him. Instead of running, you snarled, aiming your pistol straight at Megatron’s spark while he was restrained. You pulled the trigger, but nothing happened; the pistol had finally run out of ammo.

Megatron broke free of Optimus’ restraint, then pretended to look around at his fallen soldiers, trying to find a reason to leave. You and the Autobots had taken out enough Decepticons for him to call a retreat. He would normally stay and fight till he was down to his last few bots, but if the fighting went on, he was afraid you might be killed, and you were far too valuable an asset to lose, even if you were an Autobot asset.

“This isn’t over Prime,” Megatron growled. “Decepticons, leave the fallen and retreat.”

His soldiers looked at him questioningly, but complied with his orders, afraid to receive a trip to Megatron’s worst torture devices if they didn’t. Not even Starscream dared argue with Megatron’s odd behaviour in case he put him to work with that brute Predaking again.

You looked around to the Autobots, checking they were alright. When you were sure they were, you glared at Miko.

She shrugged her shoulders awkwardly, “Heh… Guess we won this time?”

“Get in the car Miko, now.”

Miko’s shoulders slumped and she made her way over to Fowler, who had successfully kept the truck safe. Normally, she would have asked to ride with Bulkhead, but quite frankly, he looked disappointed in her too, and she didn’t want a lecture from him of all people; so much for an adventure, instead she had only caused more trouble than she was worth.

Once Miko was safe on her way to the ground bridge with Fowler, you approached Optimus who transformed, opening his truck door so the two of you could talk in private. Megatron’s behaviour was unsettling at best and the two of you would have to talk for quite some time about what might have caused it.

In his hab-suite aboard the Nemesis, Megatron sat in a chair, resting his servo over his spark. When he was retrained, you didn’t even hesitate about shooting him; it was glorious. Megatron found it ironic that you hadn’t managed to shoot his spark, yet you had still captured it all the same.

The second he had returned to the Nemesis he had sent Soundwave on a mission to locate you and bring you to him. All Megatron needed now was a way to turn your vivacious ferocity onto his enemies. Well, he had spent many a year using Deception to get what he wanted; he would most certainly use it again to make you his.

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#Megatron X Reader #Megatron #tfp #transformers prime #maccadam #miko #bulkhead #optimus prime #william fowler #agent fowler #soundwave #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #powerful #landismorgenstern

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penabrams · 4 years ago

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𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙿𝙴 𝙰𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙼𝚂 𝟸 . 𝟶 . . . hey , my wonderful friends ( from one of the best rps i have been a part of in a while ) . i have decided there’s going to be a few changes to penelope , nothing drastic but just in correlation to her backstory and bio . she’s still the same penelope at the core of all things . please give this a like , we’ve most likely plotted but if we haven’t shoot me a message . also i can’t believe i forgot but her fc is changed to miss kristine froseth , she radiates the quirky nerd preschool teacher energy i needed and fits penelope a add better !!

BIO / INFO ( TW : DEATH , LOSS OF A PARENT , CAR CRASH ) :

penelope was the product of two high school sweethearts , who didn’t plan on having kids as early as they did . soon later , her mother and father got married , a shotgun wedding in which she was mainly the reason for . her parents were still kids themselves , feeling a great deal of pressure from their own parents to get married and ‘ buck up ’ . penelope was born in mapleview , her parents have their own reputation around mapleview as ‘ that couple from my year who had their baby while they were still in school ’ . at first they tried to make it work raising penelope in mapleview with both parents under the same roof but it wasn’t working as well as they liked . her mother and father loved her so much , they both wanted the best for her and decided as much as they wanted to raise her under a two parent house - it wasn’t worth this . this meaning the constant fighting , not having enough time for penelope and their relationship - one of them had to pay the price and they let it be their relationship .

they got a divorce . it was really bad before the divorce but after both of them felt a sort of weight off their shoulders like they could be their own person again . they still cared for each other , wanting nothing but the best even if it wasn’t each other . when penelope was five , her mother decided to move all the way across the country bringing penelope with her . her father tried to fight it but honestly , this way he could build his career more . he loved penelope but was a career driven man at heart . penelope doesn’t have much memories from mapleview her first time around . her earliest memory is her fourth birthday with both of her parents .

life in california was extremely different from her short lived life in mapleview , california was fast paced but penelope’s mother loved it . she loved the smaller things in life like giving money to a musician on the street , eating peanut butter out of the jar , shopping trips with penelope , staying up til one am on a school night just to dance and sing to some music . she was amazing . she worked at a florist shop on the corner of their street , she was magical and sometimes penelope feels her mother around her .

when penelope was fifteen , her mother passed away in a car crash while she was at school . she remembers the principal and guidance counselor telling her what happened . instant panic crept in because her mother was all she had here in california , what would she do ?? what was going to happen ?? her dad came to california as soon as he heard , the pair had shared custody this meant that he was now her full guardian . he now had a teenage grieving daughter to bring home with him . he helped her pack the things in her house and let her bring whatever she wanted and she kept a lot of her mothers things , her distinctive perfume and that fluffy christmas sweater they always laughed about . her locket , her pearls , pictures of them . then she left for mapleview .

her relationship with her father is actually pretty good . she is his only child , he spoiled her every birthday sending a card filled with money . they’d talk multiple times a week on the phone until it turned into texting all the time . throughout those fifteen years , her father had visited her multiple times until she turned ten then she was able to make the long plane ride from california to north carolina . once she got to spend an entire summer with him in mapleview , they all together have a pretty good relationship . pancakes on sunday , sending embarrassing selfies while she’s at work , walks in the park with her dog and trips to the city .

the first few months were hard , she’d never felt this alone and then three months later she was sixteen and starting at mapleview high trying to find her place in this brand new life . it felt like someone else's life like she’d possessed someone and taken over their life . she knew some place around mapleview from her weeks spent when she was younger but she still didn’t quite feel at home . she missed her mom every night .

she didn’t make friends right away . she struggled with that because back in california everyone from school knew her and she was somewhat popular but here she was the new girl in a small town . that stemmed a lot of gossip . she didn’t have much to do so she dove herself into her school work and penelope’s always been smart . it wasn’t hard to end up graduating as one of the top of her class . in high school , she became a tutor and she had a few people that she tutored but it was the first person she got that she remembers still to this day . lane morrison .

meeting a boy and having a somewhat cliche teenage romance wasn’t originally what she thought would happen when she moved to mapleview . he couldn’t be more different than penelope and instead of letting that scare her off , it intrigued her . she tutored him for a few months before he dropped out , it was at the time crushing because the first person she reached out to help didn’t want it but they kept up with their sessions and the rest is history . a two bedroom bungalow , lizard , dog , spider , turtle , lumpy couch , john lennon the fish , a van deemed the shag mobile laterrrrrr they’re still together .

college wise , penelope majored in elementary education before changing it to early childhood and development with a minor for elementary education . she currently graduated last year , she works as a preschool teacher of sorts at stepping stones . this is her second year working at the preschool and she loves it . it’s everything she’s ever wanted career wise .

PERSONALITY / HEADCANONS :

her mother actually loved flowers . back in california , at her old house she and her mother had a garden in the back that they grew and tended too . penelope tried to get one started after she moved in with her dad but it didn’t take at the time . she has little flowers and plants that she keeps and waters . lilies were her mothers favorite flowers , penelope made sure that they were there at her grave every time she visited .

art . now penelope got her love of her love of flowers and plants from her mother but one thing that was truly hers was her love for drawing and painting . mainly painting but she was good at sketching . the beforehand and painting over it . she has a little corner in her house where she paints . most of her paintings are of her mother trying to remember every curve of her face without looking at pictures . some are of california and the places they visited . some are more personal .

she has a few tattoos , mainly she’s picky because she draws her own art and wants to watch the tattoo artist trace them . they’re nothing clashy because she is a preschool teacher . they’re all small and minimal but there’s several scattered in places she can hide them with under her clothes .

penelope loves to cook . she cooked for her mother most nights back in california and when she first moved in with her dad . for her , it’s a way to show the people she loves that she loves them .

personality wise , she’s more soft spoken but ready to speak out if she feels she needs too . she’s observant , intelligent , honest and adventurous . part of her wants to get an RV and just drive and go anywhere . she’s also forgetful , flight - over fight , clumsy as shit this girl gets a new bruise or cut every day . she’s definitely got a maternal personality , always wanting to take career of others and the people she loves .

#mapleviewintro #* ♡ ❁ ─── ☀ - 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒 » intro.#* ♡ ❁ ─── ☀ - 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 » speaks.#death tw #parent death tw #car crash tw

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years ago

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From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 4)

It is only after they part ways that Azula realizes she hadn’t gotten his name. And she thinks about that for a long time afterwards. It is a stupid thing to have nagging her in the back of her mind. A trivial matter. He was a friendly face and a good companion but she didn’t know him all too well.

They’d spent a good week or so together. He helped her craft some tools like a good fishing spear and a bow and some arrows for hunting. She has an abundance of blankets so she traded one for a pan to cook her fish and game over.

They had talked a good deal, nothing of where she is headed or where she had come from. She didn’t have to drop a false name because he didn’t ask for one at all. There had been an unspoken courtesy, a knowing that she didn’t want to be known. So he settled for talking of his wife and of folklore that he’d heard during his travels.

She warned him of a rather troublesome group of bandits just to the south of where she had been before she’d entered the plains.

Azula steers her mongoose-lizard towards the skyline. She can see the outlines of buildings through a thin veil of mist. She hopes to be there before the clouds open up and soak her to the bone.

The man had told her a tale about how he and his wife had been in a thick forest huddling in a cave as they waited out a storm. He claimed that they met a spirit there; one that looked like a rabaroo but spoke like a child. They followed it out into the storm and it led them to a babe. They had taken the babe in and that, that was why he was on this journey. To trade furs and other goods for coin. He promised his wife that he’d have them plenty of food by the time he got back and toys too.

The village is in unobscured view now. And so her nervousness unveils itself too. There is always a pinch of nervousness when entering a new town; the smaller it is, the greater her sense of foreboding. She is more elusive in the bigger towns. In the smaller villages they want to get to know her.

She is almost certain that there is another larger town some miles away but she is just as certain that she won’t beat the storm. As though to diminish any figment of doubt, she spies the first fork of lightning stab into the cloud diagonal from it. She urges her mongoose-lizard to move faster. She reaches the village as the first drop of rain spatters on her cheek. The streets are desolate save for a vendor who had been late to pack in. The woman’s hair whips into her face. A face screwed up in distress and concentration. The wind is certainly picking up, it blows a few more fat droplets into Azula’s face. She hears the woman cry out as she fumbles with the protective tarp and it flies from her hand.

The sky opens up with a fury and Azula chides herself for pausing to gawk. The woman takes notice of her and she inwardly berates herself a second time. And then a third as she steers her mongoose-lizard towards the woman. She slides down from her mount and grabs the other end of the tarp. The woman grunts at the effort of securing it.

“Why did you wait so long to close your stall?” Azula questions over the storm.

“Why didn’t you plan your travels better?” She shoots back.

“I noticed the storm miles back. I can only get my mongoose-lizard to run so fast.” She swats at the wet strands of hair that plaster to her forehead and finds herself relieved that she had chosen to chop it short. The other woman doesn’t have such luck, her hair is flapping into her eyes and sticking to her bare shoulders.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“I was hoping that you could give me a place to wait out the storm.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “So you’re that sort.”

“That sort?” Azula asks. She wishes that the woman would have this discussion with her inside.

“You do things for things.”

“Well yes, that’s how it works.”

“Have you ever done anything helpful just to be generous?”

She thinks for a moment. A moment that turns into a minute and then a span of time long enough for the woman to say, “I didn’t think so.”

Azula frowns. “Fine.” She climbs back to her saddle, there is a decent puddle in it. It doesn’t matter she is drenched down to her last layer of clothing and then some.

“Wait. I didn’t mean anything by that.” The woman calls up to her. “You can stay with me if you want.”

But she is agitated already, perhaps wrongly so, and can’t imagine spending another moment with the woman. She gives the mongoose-lizard’s reins a flick and ventures into the storm. And really, what does it matter? Her sense of urgency has been washed away by having already failed to keep herself dry.

Thunder shakes the cobblestone, she hears a tree branch split. She thanks the spirits that she can bend lightning and has watched Zuko redirect it enough to have a sense of how it’s done. She finds herself an alley to steal away in.

The storm lets up as suddenly as it had come, tapering off with a few final patters. It had raged for a respectable ten minutes, but such a powerful burst can never seem to sustain itself. The village inhabitants are slower to emerge. She wonders if she is due for a second onslaught; she finds that storms like these usually come in pairs or several short sets.

She emerges from the alley dripping and shivering. Her mongoose-lizard looks just as miserable.

The streets don’t fill until the sun has been in the sky for at least an hour. And even an hour later, she is still sopping wet and dripping as though she herself is a raincloud. Her mood goes darker still.

Now, with a crowd, her nerves are flaring again. As wet as she is, she is twice as likely to draw attention. She will draw it thrice over being an outsider who is unmistakably Fire Nation.

She clenches the reigns much tighter than she needs to and guides her mount through the crowd. She watches three children, two boys and a girl kicking up puddles and giggling. An older child floats a paper boat down the stream of the sidewalk gutter. The children pay her passing by no mind. That is one constant from town to town; the children are always oblivious. At least until the adults make a fuss, then they get curious. She doesn’t like children, when they do take an interest in her they ask far too many questions and with all the social grace of a village drunk.

She scans the buildings for an inn. She will stay here for some time, earn herself some more coin, and be on her way. She resigns herself to the possibility that she might have to bypass the inn and sleep in the village green if she wishes to keep her earnings. She might have to do so regardless, this village is so small that it may not have an inn at all.

As she ganders at street signs and buildings, she feels eyes on her. Most are drawn out passing glances, some linger long enough to send a vibration up and down her spine. A very particular set of eyes refuse to leave her.

“Missus, you’re all wet!”

“So I am aware.” She answers dryly.

“I have hair too.” He beams up at her, one of his front teeth is missing. “See!” He points at his hair.

“That isn’t what I said.” She grumbles.

“I also have teeth, missus. But not all of them! Do you have all of your teeth?”

Azula blinks. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because sometimes, for some reason your tooth gets all wiggly and then it falls out. My dad says not to yank it out. Or if you’re like my friend’s brother’s dad...” He stops for a breath and starts over. “If you’re like my friend’s father’s dad you got into a fight and got punched in the face!”

“Yes, well my teeth are fine.”

“Atsu!”

The child jerks. His smile seems to dim. “That’s my dad.”

The man, he can’t be much younger than she, approaches and with a sigh and a nervous chuckle asks, “he’s not bothering you, is he?”

“Yes, he is.”

The man flushes.

“I’m sorry, he just likes talking to people. I’ve tried to tell him that it isn’t polite.”

She shrugs. “Have you tried other means of discipline?” Really it is only a question that borders on being a suggestion, but the man seems to grow more uncomfortable. “Some children only respond to strict lessons and…” She falls short watching his expression flicker into something of concern. Sometimes she forgets that the Earth Kingdom isn’t so rigid with their children. “Nevermind.” She grumbles, her own face growing red.

“Did I do something bad, dad?”

He shakes his head. “No. Fire Nationals tend to be...stern and blunt.” He puts a hand on the boy’s back.

Azula swallows, something in her belly flutters with unease and regret. She shouldn’t care. She has no reason to care. But something in her itches to make a better impression. She opens her mouth to call for him to wait but she doesn’t utter a word. She can’t come up with anything to say afterwards. By the time she thinks up something, the man and his boy have slipped into the crowd. Apparently children aren’t the only ones that have the tact of a town drunk. And so she is left to navigate the town alone. She supposes that she should simply buy some new shoes and make her way to the city over. She has enough food to last until then.

That day she learns that children will probably be her second great downfall. Or maybe it is something about not being so rigid? She learns that she still isn’t a good person. That she’s unlovable at worst and hard to be around at best.

.oOo.

Navigating the palace for the first time in years is not unlike getting used to a new town. It is hardly recognizable, easy to get lost in, and she doesn’t know many of the inhabitants. A lot of them openly and unrelentingly eyeball her as she passes. The stares aren’t particularly malicious. In fact, she doesn’t think that they are ill-meaning at all. Mostly they stare at her as though she is a phantasmal spirit.

“So there are some new portraits up.” He gestures to the gallery. “As in some I mean, one.”

She catches the faintest of jolts as he seems to recall that the feud for the throne is still a delicate topic. She eyes the image of Zuko standing tall and proud, flame in one hand, olive branch in the other. She doesn’t find herself simmering and seething. It is more or less a solemn acceptance. There is a residual tickle of envy that seeps through the cracks. She thinks that it has less to do with the crown and more to do with the respect it represents. The honor she has lost and the purpose she has yet to find. The content and peace he has found that she can’t seem to grasp even when it is securely in her hands.

“He picked a fine artist.” She remarks. And that is all. They are onto the next hallway.

“It doesn’t bother you?” He asks.

“The only thing that bothers me is that you’re starting the questions thing again.”

“How am I supposed to get to know you if I don’t ask questions?”

She shrugs. “Watch. Observe.” She accidently meets the stare of one of the passing servants. “Like everyone else.” She fidgets with the excess folds of her robe. There is a part of her that wonders if she should open up, to tell him everything from start to finish. Perhaps to slip her journal into his bag before he leaves. She backtracks, not knowing what she was thinking.

“Zuko also had a new room added to the palace.”

“A new room?”

“Yeah it’s full of trinkets from the other nations. He thought that it would be a nice way to show that we’re trying to move away from the war.”

Azula nods. “It seems like most nations are. I hadn’t expected people to be so...inviting in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Because you’re Fire Nation?”

“That’s correct.”

“They didn’t recognize you, did they?”

“I have a feeling that they wouldn’t have taken as kindly to me if they did.” She confesses. She wonders if any of the people she had met along the way would still care for her if they found her in the palace with a prettily and painstakingly styled hair and a full face of makeup. Granted, she hasn’t gotten around to that yet.

“Oh! And we can go out to the garden!” Sokka exclaims. She readily allows the subject change. “That’s different to. Your mom and uncle planted this tea garden and Zuko had some flowers imported. There are more turtle-ducks too!”

“That sounds nice, I suppose. Hajime would have enjoyed it.”

“Hajime?”

Azula stiffins and scolds herself for letting that slip. “I’d like to see the spa, it has been too long.”

Mercifully, Sokka gets the hint. “The palace spa is different too.”

She frowns. “Not the spa. I liked the spa.” She folds her arms. “It was perfectly fine the way it was.”

“I think that you’ll like the change. Come on.”

At some point Azula had come to lead the way. Like muscle memory, she finds that she can still find her way about the palace. Mostly anyhow. There are things that throw her off, decor that hadn’t been there before, a new portrait, or something that has been moved from one place to another. The spa though, upon arrival, is both the same and different. It still has the frameworks of what it once was but it is grander now, more elegant. The fountain and its adjoining chair are exactly as they had been and a small tree in a large pot still sits on either side of the staircase leading to it. The carpeting is also much the same and sunlight spills in through a large window on the ceiling.

But there are new dragons that join the ones already accenting the back wall. And these ones jut forward with mouths spilling flames of gold. She notices that they too are fountains that lead to miniature fountains, presumably for hand washing. There are also several small crystals dangling from the ceiling, casting prisms all about the room. And when the sunlight strikes them right, they bounce off of the jets of water. There are also small turtle-duck statues resting near the potted trees.

It is so familiar yet so changed. She admits that she does like the change.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s nice, Zuzu.”

“I was about to have my hair combed, but you can go first if you want.”

She would very much like that. It will take less time for them to wash her hair anyways. Where hers has been mournfully hacked, his locks have lengthened so gracefully. She thinks it somewhat cruel how he is now the one with all of the splendor both visually and in status. She feels ruefully unremarkable. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

The serving girls file into the room. “You hired them back?”

“They weren’t supposed to have been banished in the first place.”

She isn’t sure that he had meant it as anything more than a statement of fact, but it still stings. She reclines in the spa chair, feeling terribly uncomfortable and out of place. The longer that she stays the more she feels as though she shouldn’t have come back. It is one thing to be plain in an ordinary world and another to be lackluster when surrounded by splendor.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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asterekmess · 4 years ago

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S3A - E1

Okay, instead of making like massive reblogs of thoughts as I have them for the episodes, I’m gonna just make a massive bullet point list that I’ll add to throughout the episode, so you get One post per episode instead of “Like all nine million of them.”

I put Read-More’s because I care.

Thoughts (of which I have far too many):

I’m in the first ten seconds of the fuckin episode. Why the fuck is Braeden electrocuting Isaac? Like, look, I wanna like Braeden. I have issues with her entire moral system, but I still wanna like her cus’ she saves Isaac. But...how am I supposed to do that when the literal first thing she does is electrocute my boy??? He’s knocked out, not DEAD (not that that’s how shocking someone’s heart even Works) and it’s not like she needs to trigger the healing process. He’s already got Gaping slash wounds on his chest. He’s hurt enough. ALSO. “Be quiet”?? R U Serious? You’re electrocuting him. YOU try being quiet with fucking jumper cables on your chest.

The CGI...is so bad. Oh my god. What the absolute fuck. it looks like Sharkboy & Lavagirl. And why aren’t Ethan & Aiden’s claws doing anything to the bike?

I AM CONFUSION. If the twins don’t have to take their pants off to do the Transformers shit, why do they have to take off their shirts? Can...can I just skip that? Make the big bad werewolf wear an ugly hybrid of two of their stupid ass sweaters? Or do Ethan and Aiden really just like being shirtless that much? (I wouldn’t put it past them)

What is with Braeden and the electricity?

The writing in this show, what the fuck? “I thought I told you to hold on” EXCUSE ME, ma’am. He literally just passed out. His bad I guess.

Guess who has to add the anti-scott tag to this now? Anyway, I hate that Allison’s bit in the intro is her kissing Scott and then drawing the bow. Like, they’re broken up. They don’t get together in this season. Why are they kissing in the intro? That had to have Totally pissed off Scallison fans.

There’s my boy, holding up lizard tattoo designs. Pls tell me he took a pic and sent it to Jackson with the caption “It’s YOU.” Like, yes, way too soon, but man it’s fuckin funny.

This tattoo artist is a good-ass salesman. However, p-sure he’s not a good-ass artist if he had to wrap Scott’s arm up That badly. Like...they have stuff for that. Fuck, the one I got on my ankle, they used SaranWrap and Tape. Just needs to be kept out of the open air for a bit. You don’t need like eight layers of gauze. I do feel for Scott tho. That tat probably cost him like $50-75 before the tip. Oof.

Eyyy, time to be salty. Ya’ll know I love Allison, but does it get any more clear that she totally bailed on everyone after the warehouse? She went to France! She doesn’t even know what happened to Jackson after he got cured. ALSO. Lydia says “Derek taught him the werewolf 101.” Not Scott. Derek. XP

Lydia, honey, leave Allison alone. If she doesn’t want to go on the double date, go alone and make it an orgy. Fun, right? Wait, no. Don’t. You’re 16. Don’t do that!

When exactly did they “agree to give each other the summer”? She said “I’m breaking up with you.” he said “I’ll wait” and then she cried into her dad’s arms. Like...why didn’t we get to see this apparently incredibly important conversation? (maybe because it didn’t happen??)

I fucking LOVE the “I’m just gonna say hi. HEYYYYY! You know....they probably didn’t see us.”

The most horrific thing about that moment was the bad CGI.

I WANNA POINT OUT how cute it is (in a like, sad way cus’ she’s terrified) that Lydia is close enough to Stiles now that she immediately goes for his side and they like insta connect with the eye contact. Not in like a Stydia way, but like, they’re close. she trusts him and goes to him when she’s scared, even though he’s human and you’d wonder if she shouldn’t go to Scott instead, since he’s the werewolf.

SCOTT WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THE DEAD DEER. Your ability to smell chemosignals/sense emotions has nothing to do with touching. Stop poking the dead animal.

Wait, WHY is there a full moon in that shot? The full moon isn’t for like a week! I COUNTED.

...what? Why the fuck does Braeden think Scott’s an Alpha? Why tho? Like, seriously? WHY? He’s not an Alpha yet. Nowhere near it. And if she knows bc Deaton told her (i think he was the one who hired her) then shouldn’t she know he isn’t one yet? IF SHE KNOWS that she can tell Melissa abt werewolves, WHY doesn’t she know that Scott’s Melissa’s son? Where is the LOGIC?

Scott’s morning routine is giving me Legally Blonde vibes. ~my perrrfectt dayyy, nothing standing in my wayyy~

I can’t tell. did Allison get highlights, or straight up dye her hair brown?

This sweet moment between her and her dad. Yes. Pls.

I will admit, I like getting to see each of their mornings.

Lydia...who are you fucking? Honey, you’re sixteen. Why isn’t whoever the fuck is in bed with you also getting ready for school? What.....the fuck?

Completely different Beacon Hills High School set. I really can’t blame the writers for that.

Wtf Davis? You list Erica and Boyd as being 17...since when? They’re supposed to be entering their Junior Year of high school. They would be 16 GOING ON 17. ANd what the hell do you mean Erica’s birthday is August 16th? She said in the last season that she’d “Just turned 16 a month ago” that was Spring semester. ???? Come on, guys. Seriously. Writing 101, getting to know your characters. I don’t know anyone writing a novel who doesn’t know the exact birthday of their characters. Plus, they cut 2 in. from Gage Golightly’s actual height, while adding an inch to Sinqua’s (according to google, which isn’t always reliable) Whatever. Boooooo.

Uh...that principal was threatened by the Argents. Victoria herself promised to torture him if he didn’t resign. Why does he look so surprised by the fucking sword in his office? For that matter, why is he at the school at all? He KNOWS the Argents attacked him. This should cause problems!

Honestly, Lydia, I love you. Like, go for it. Nothing wrong with not wanting to date and just wanting to have fun. My issues stem from YOU BEING 16. Yes, teenagers have sex. But this is ridiculous. Why is there so much sexualization? I knew a grand total of like....two teenagers who had sex at 16? and like one who did at 15 (which they say in canon she and Jackson were banging before her birthday). Like, it’s not nearly as common as y’all are making it out to be. Knock it off.

WHEN DID MELISSA MEET ISAAC PROPERLY? WHEN did that HAPPEN?

....so why didn’t Derek answer the phone? They literally never explain? He shows up, so...why didn’t he answer?

I’m SO InCredibly Disturbed by Jennifer having everyone’s phone numbers. HOW? In What Way is that REMOTELY appropriate? WHY did no one question it? Why didn’t STILES or LYDIA question it?

So tiny, bugs me so much. He didn’t turn his phone off. He turned his screen off...is it that hard to have him do the right one?

uhhh. Werewolves can smell other werewolves. Wanna tell me why Isaac can’t tell a werewolf just walked in the room? An ALPHA no less?

why TF are Kali’s iris’ and pupils so fucking massive?

So...what was the deal with the birds? Don’t they say later that Jennifer like summoned them? So they aren’t from the Alpha pack scaring animals? And also, how would the Alpha pack be scaring animals if they’re like, in the middle of town? They said in S1 that “wild animal sightings are up” like what 75% or something? “As though something is scaring them out” but that made sense, bc we knew Peter was running around in his full-shift (it’s a fucking full shift, it’s just fucked up) in the woods. But these Alphas aren’t, they’re integrating. So is it Jennifer that the animals are afraid of? Like, does she have sPoOkY aura or something?

More bad CGI.

WHy is no one responding to the woman stumbling around in nothing but a hospital gown?

ONCE AGAIN. Werewolves can Sense Werewolves. SCOTT you sensed Isaac in a BOYS LOCKER ROOM. DUKE IS RIGHT THERE. WHT THE FUCK?

angry smoker doctor “Why don’t you wheel this joker out of here?” “I’m gonna go smoke” Grrr

Sir. clearly your mask wasn’t tied on appropriately. it shouldn’t just Fall Off when you touch it. there are Protocols! STOP THE SPREAD. also, someone wanna tell me why none of these alphas can keep their claws in? A lil flashy flashy red eye would’ve done the trick just fine.

Okay no, seriously what the FUCK is up with these contacts, you guys? THEY”RE MASSIVE???

Ugh, can I just *swoons* “I’m an Alpha!” slice “So am I.” That is just so fucking smooth. Woo. I feel so safe ohmygod. PLUS. Derek KNOWS Ennis. I can’t imagine how satisfying that had to be.

Uh, Derek, honey. You’re Isaac’s legal guardian. You can just Sign Him Out of the hospital. With clothes and everything. What are you doing?

Honey, what do you mean the county took it over? If they were gonna do that they’d have done it six fucking years ago. Unless you gave it to them, it’s still yours? I did the research. Like HOURS of it.

What do you MEAN there’s a magic healing herb that helps with Alpha wounds? Since when do Alpha wounds need extra healing, I thought they just took a lil longer? ALSO why is it growing INSIDE your house???? SCOTT. Isaac is fucking UNCONSCIOUS. Can your tattoo fucking WAIT A MINUTE?

I have so many questions. WHY does Braeden know who Allison is? If Lydia’s immune to magic, WHY is Braeden able to bruise her? WHY can Braeden DO magic? and WHY is Chris allowed to take Lydia out of school?

ALLISON you had Geometry LAST YEAR why are you holding a GEOMETRY BOOK??

ohhhhmygod, Derek. Derek. DEREK. Your eyes are pretty on a normal day. That little Blink and ruby reds thing? Ohmygod. I just. I wanna take a picture and just stare at it BUT. how tf does this whole red eye thing work? You can see in the dark....but now you also have x-ray vision? You know, I could believe it was thermal vision...maybe? If Scott was still healing for some reason maybe the tattoo would be brighter? Otherwise I have no idea what is going on.

BUT SCOTT”S NOT 18??? He’s Still fucking 16, or even 17, but not 18. WTF? He needs parental consent in the first place (i should’ve mentioned this in the other note abt the tattoo)

uhh...seriously? When someone breaks up with you and tells you not to talk to them anymore...why do you need a reward for doing as they asked? Like, yeah, you’re sad, I feel that. But making it a ‘reward’ sounds kinda weird. You know what makes it really easy not to text the ex that doesn’t wanna talk to you? Delete her number.

WHY THE BLOWTORCH? SOMEONE WANNA EXPLAIN? Peter’s not covered in tattoo from when he was literally burned alive, why the FUCK would a blowtorch create a black tattoo on Scott’s skin?

DEREK. HONEY. Why would Stiles be able to hold Scott still??? Scott’s a werewolf.

All this bullshit to explain away Posey’s tattoo that he got. Like, damn dude, we all like tattoos, but you have a job that needs bare arms on the regular. That was kinda rude.

Where did braeden get clothes? I forgot to ask.

uhhhh. Ephemeral might technically work in that sentence, but that’s still really awkward.

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DESTROY HIS DOOR? YOU FUCKING ASSHAT. And WHY the instant fucking grr face? “why’d you paint the door?” uhh, leave him alone? He can do what he wants? It’s his house? Also, don’t get all fucking rude about the alpha pack. He told you it was a rival pack.

KALI. PUT SOME FUCKING SHOES ON. JESUS.

Why exactly does Scott see the symbol and INSTANTLY put together that it’s got anything to do with the Alphas or the animal attacks? Where is the logic jump there?

What exactly was the POINT of popping your claws if you were gonna kick her in the face???

UH, Melissa? Why didn’t you tell Scott that there was a whole other person with Isaac?

What is with the face touching, Duke? I’ve never known a blind person who actually wanted to rub their hands on my face to ‘find out what i look like?’

Really not a fan of all these weird jumps and camera angles with the awkward reflecting.

WOah WOah. Allison gets to PAINT her APARTMENT? Wtf kinda BULlshit is that? My landlord won’t let me do that. Rude.

I know they’re imprisoned and it sucks, but they’ve been there for four months, they had to have gotten bored. Do you think they broke into any of the security deposit boxes to see if anything was left behind?

Last thoughts: They really went for it with this episode. I have plans to change a lot of it. Hopefully I can mesh the changes with the general plotline.

#personal #TeenWolf-Rewatch #anti-scott mccall #for safety reasons

19 notes · View notes

stillyourprussianblue · 4 years ago

Text

libations and burnt offerings;

under the moon, long shadows are cast Part III of III

Author: feuillemort [AO3] / stillyourprussianblue [tumblr]

Rating: T

Pairing: 5986 (Gokudera/Haru), 1896 (Hibari/Chrome), DS (Dino/Squalo), 10088 (Byakuran/Bianchi), 8027 (Yamamoto/Tsuna), Lampin (Lambo/I-Pin)

Event: KHRWeen2020

Prompts: Graveyard | Costumes

A broken fourth wall and ramen deliveries on the spookiest night of the year.

[AO3] [image] [Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

“So he’s supposed to be loosely based on a kappa, but throwing a komodo dragon in there with an idol is so wrong!”

“Well at least the animal handler is on standby so Chrome-chan is safe,” Haru responded. “Same with her security team,” she added, eyeing the idol’s bodyguards lining the edges of the set.

Gokudera scoffed. “That airhead’s no use,” he grumbled. “He’s probably playing with the dogs again.”

He kept his back to the rows of grave markers that Haru gazed out over. He’d turned away from the set uncomfortably as his half-sister had thrown off her robes for the scene, Haru keeping watch to let him know when it was safe for his eyes to resume his post. “I meant that’s a sorry excuse for a kappa, even if they use CGI on it later. And those dogs are way too friendly to pass as werewolves.”

“You want them to release aggressive dogs onto set with this celebrity cast?” Haru gave him a look. “There’s a pop idol, a famous youtuber, and supermodels out there and you want to use dogs that are less friendly?”

He returned the look. “No, I’m saying that their cryptids are unrealistic! I’m a fan of the director’s work but no professional would half-ass their research like this!”

“I heard that it’s based on a dream his godson had,” Haru said, frowning slightly as she saw Tsuna chatting with Yamamoto, a leashed cat held in his arms. They shared a laugh over something they were too far away to hear. Sure enough, a bunch of dogs stuck close to his side, tails wagging.

Chrome’s bodyguard stood up from his relaxed perch on a spare tombstone just off the set and moved quickly through the fake cemetery, ducking under boom mics and low hanging branches. The sudden movement caught Haru’s attention.

“Hey!”

“What do you want? Gokudera growled as the back of Haru’s arm smacked into his side. He turned to her furiously, but saw that she was already running out into the graveyard. It only took him a moment longer to process what was happening as more thundering explosions rocked the movie set and he ran to catch up to the costume designer.

“Shit! Oi! Stay off the set, it’s dangerous, you idiot!”

___

Chrome stared up at the dark haired man that was the head of her security detail as he casually tossed aside the explosive he’d snatched in midflight as it had rocketed towards her. It blew up somewhere behind him but all it did was silhouette him for a moment, ruffling his hair and untucking the hem of his shirt. Hibari’s eyes remained locked with hers as she stared up in awe at the cold steel of his gaze that cut through the mayhem and promised murder to anything that dared to cause her harm.

All around them, fire crews were rushing to the scene to put out the minor disaster that was threatening to take over the set. Chrome pushed herself to her feet in the shallow grave.

“Cut! Cut! Cut!” Reborn’s voice boomed through the megaphone.

There was a sharp whistle and the dog actor that had accompanied her into the hole they dug was bounding away. Yamamoto whistled again. “Hey, hellhounds! Come back!”

The rest of the runaway pack was slobbering over a laughing man on the ground. She could only make out blond hair and flailing limbs before he was completely overrun with dogs.

Hibari turned to leave, but paused when Chrome called out. “Wait.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see her looking down at the huge lizard, knowing what she intended to do.

“He can’t get out,” she said, kneeling down beside the Komodo dragon, at least twice her size. She put her whole weight behind it, but couldn’t heave it out of the hole like she wanted to. She was well suited to the role she played despite what critics were saying –he knew she had the heart of a warrior inside such a small body.

The disgruntled lizard turned towards her and his eyes narrowed as its venomous maw reached for her exposed leg.

Before Hibari could jump into the pit and likely incite the wrath of dozens of animal welfare groups the world over, Yamamoto leapt in to wrangle the lizard back into what looked like an elaborate harness, a pack of dogs at his heels.

“Now, now, be good,” he chastised the lizard as he wrestled it into a harness.

Chrome climbed out of the hole to join Hibari, taking in the scene of destruction around them and the loose perimeter of security around the set. If this had happened years ago, the paparazzi would have been waiting to greet her with their dizzying flashes and intrusive lines of questioning. Now the only one waiting for her was her personal bodyguard, his presence enough of a warning for them all to stay back and give her the space she needed.

Hibari gave her a quick once-over.

“I’m okay,” she answered.

Satisfied, he turned away and she followed.

She was joined by Fran who seemed to materialize beside her, but because she didn’t react in alarm, Hibari did nothing. Over the months of filming, Fran had taken a shine to his co-star despite not knowing the idol prior to meeting on set, and Hibari had grown to accept that he would follow Chrome around though neither of them acknowledged the others’ existence.

“You have to stop breaking the fourth wall when we’re filming,” Chrome chastised lightly, referencing their takes from earlier in the day.

But Fran was staring off into space. “Huh?”

“You can’t just start listing off everything you see when you forget your lines,” she continued as they walked side by side.

“Oh, I’m narrating,” Fran replied airily.

“The film already has a narrator,” Chrome replied, looking ahead at Hibari’s retreating back.

“That creepy prophecy girl,” Fran said.

“Oh... mmhm,” she agreed softly.

“I mean she’s here.”

Chrome looked over with an owlish gaze. Hibari stopped a ways away but cast a watchful glance over his shoulder when he sensed her hesitation. He regarded the newcomer curiously.

Yuni approached with a bright smile. “Chrome-chan! Could I get your autograph?”

After a pause, the popstar nodded and accepted the poster and pen that Yuni held to her.

“What do you do after filming?” Yuni asked, hands clasped in front of her, leaning in with inquisitive politesse as Chrome signed the poster.

“Go back to my trailer and review my lines for tomorrow,” Chrome responded, handing the items back.

“I always knew you were dedicated!” Yuni smiled, holding the poster as if it were a treasure.

“We never do anything fun,” Fran complained.

“Can I join you?” Yuni asked. “We can order dinner and go over our lines together! It’ll be fun!”

Fran looked over at Chrome, thinking she would decline, tilting his head curiously when she nodded. “Ohh?”

Yuni fell into step beside them. “Chrome-chan, don’t you ever get lonely when you’re touring?” Yuni asked.

“Ah! Well...” She averted her eye, looking at Hibari’s retreating back. He had gotten bored and decided to go on ahead by himself. “No,” she replied, “not lonely.”

___

“He’s going to tear you apart later,” Haru said as Gokudera ran past them, shooting a glare at Yamamoto. She had collected Bianchi’s robe from the centre of the set and was holding it tightly to her chest until she could more carefully examine it at her workdesk.

Pushing the lizard into its cage, Yamamoto laughed sheepishly. “You think so?”

“Especially when he finds out you weren’t paying attention.”

Yamamoto laughed again. “What do you mean?” But his laugh had given him away and Haru raised an eyebrow at him.

But before she could say anything about how he had been chatting up the director’s godson who had come to visit him, he went on the offensive, his smile charmingly disarming. The pack of dogs milled about around his legs, bumping him this way and that, and he reached down to ruffle their fluffy heads as their tongues lolled out. “You’ve been spending too much time together if you’re making that face!”

Haru’s cheeks coloured immediately but she couldn’t hide the brief scowl that had preceded it. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

He didn’t spare her. “You know, Gokudera!” he replied, leaving her fuming as he ran off, followed by chorus of happily barking mutts. “Put in a good word for me, thanks!”

___

“Luckily Hibari-san saved most of Chrome-chan’s outfit,” Haru said, letting the light material of Chrome’s dress flow between her fingers as she inspected the fabric.

“You mean luckily she’s unhurt right?” Gokudera corrected with a raised eyebrow.

Haru plowed on as if she hadn’t heard him, pretending she wasn’t very aware of the way his eyebrow arched after Yamamoto had pointed out the habit she had picked up. “But Bianchi’s dress is completely ruined! That was our last set for the take before we went onto the scene where she destroys the dress in the lake with the selkies!”

He looked over at the scraps of white material that Haru held onto. It didn’t look like there was much left of the robe; she would have to make another one from scratch. “Yeah well just make another one or something.” He wondered if she would be able to find a replacement in time.

Her head whipped around and she finally fixed her attention on him. If only she wasn’t glaring daggers. “Excuse me! I can’t just make another one like you replace your fireworks.”

He glowered right back. “They’re not fireworks, they’re pyrotechnics. You know this; I’ve explained it to you a million times.”

“And I’ve explained it to you ten million times –these costumes take time!” Haru huffed and laid the pieces of fabric down on the table between them. He could still see the pieces of golden thread wound through the white material, frayed where his devices had torn through them, scorched like the earth on the set that was still smouldering.

She didn’t say anything else, turning her attention back to the work that needed to be done, only noticing that he had walked out after he was gone. He came and went, and she continued with her spot checks on Chrome’s skirt, only giving him a cursory glance when he entered and exited, collecting more objects each time until the table between them filled with flammable compounds all labelled in Gokudera’s neat script, various accelerants, and an assortment of casings and ignitors.

But she paused to look up from her sewing machine when his last trip had him kicking the door shut behind him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes as he deposited in front of her a few bolts of white fabric and golden thread.

“They all look the same,” he grumbled. “I brought them all so you won’t lecture me on the difference between them again.”

“Thanks,” Haru said slowly, turning over the bolts in her hands; there wasn’t much left so she had no margin for error, but what he had brought her was enough. She could make it work.

She pulled a bottle of milk tea from her yellow-polka-dotted lunchbag sitting on the ground next to her, followed by a can that she had grabbed as an afterthought from the convenience store the other day. She placed them both on the table and slid the canned coffee over to him, avoiding the minefield spread out between them.

Gokudera took his seat across from her and accepted the drink, cracking it open with one hand while he swept his hair back out of his face with the other. “Thanks,” he said quietly but she had already turned her attention back to her work. He took a drink of the coffee – she had managed to keep it cold in her insulated lunchbag for him.

The first time they had had to put in overtime like this, there had been a large accident and all spaces on set were being used by the production team and crew members and the two of them had ended up crammed into an abandoned cast member’s room that was purported to be haunted.

She had been anxious to share a crammed workspace with him at first, worried about the potential of something going wrong or of an accidental misfire. But then she had seen how precise his movements were, how carefully he measured out each component and assembled the explosives. His hands were steady as he wired each device, each component meticulously labelled and accounted for.

This night was no different. Gokudera worked in silence, headphones on, expression focused and serene, goggles secured, sitting crookedly on his chair. His usually prickly personality evened out his aura was almost peaceful as he ran his fingers over a length of magnesium ribbon thoughtfully. He reconsidered and picked up the firefly aluminum instead, pushing aside a container of iron oxide to make more space for it.

Haru always grew too engrossed in her work to notice how he observed her in return; the subtle way her brow furrowed as her eyes roved over her work to ensure perfection in each detail, whether it be correcting a crooked stitch or dyeing a slight discolouration in raw materials she received. Her fingers worked nimbly as she straightened out the large pins that kept her creation in place, each movement deliberate and careful as gold ran through her hands and became something more.

They looked up at each other when their stomachs growled, faces aglow from the flickering lights of the jack-o-lanterns that lined the edges of their shared workbench.

Haru smiled and did a quick back stitch to hold her place before she picked up her cellphone. “It’s going to be a long night. I’ll order us some ramen!”

___

“So you didn’t go on?” Dino asked.

“No we couldn’t shoot any of the selkie scenes because you started a fire on set,” Squalo replied as they walked down the dark street, unevenly lit by streetlights. He kicked an empty can down the road as they walked.

“Aww it was an accident! I thought I’d be able to catch you in your mermaid suit today,” Dino said, bending down to pick the can up when they reached it. “I didn’t think that there would be so many cute dogs on the set to play with.”

“It’s not a mermaid suit! It takes fucking forever to get the selkie makeup and prosthetics on in the morning. It’s heavy as shit.” He glowered. “I thought a supermodel would get it.”

Dino tossed the can up and down in his hand, chuckling softly. “Nothing super here, just a model,” he replied. “How’s Reborn treating you?”

“The man’s tough. I can see why you gave up on acting,” Squalo answered.

“Yeah he said I’ve got the charisma but couldn’t act to save my life. Then he shot at me!”

Squalo threw his head back, laughing uproariously. “Fucking kills me every time you tell that story. They say he’s unorthodox but they’ve got no fucking idea.”

The can slipped from Dino’s fingers and hit him in the head before bouncing over the pavement. He sighed before leaning over to pick it up, only to be yanked backwards by his friend. A motor scooter zipped by right where Dino had been standing moments earlier.

“Lambo, step on it!” a voice commanded as they flew past. “Halloween’s a busy night for delivery requests!”

“VOI!” Squalo took off after them, yelling obscenities. He scooped up the can that Dino had dropped and whipped it at their retreating backs. “Watch where you’re going!”

When he realized that Dino wasn’t following, he retraced his steps only to find him crouched on the sidewalk with two children at his side. The older one had red hair and was dressed as a storm trooper. The only reason that Squalo could tell that he had red hair was because his helmet lay on the ground. The younger child was clinging onto Dino’s back, yelling at a group of teenagers across the street.

“I’m the mighty Skull! You can’t talk to me like that!”

The trio of bullies laughed and jeered.

“Give us our candy back!” Skull yelled. “O-or you’ll pay the consequences! Enma! Show them!”

“Oh yeah?” they jeered. “What’s going to happen? Are you going to get your stormtrooper to shoot us?”

Enma turned red and looked down at his shoes.

“That’s enough!” Dino said sternly. “Give them their candy back.”

But Squalo had enough experience dealing with Dino’s bullies during their school days to know that wouldn’t work. So he loomed over behind them. “VOI! What are you shitheads doing?”

His sudden appearance and shouting startled them and they jumped in surprise, spinning around to face him. His smile was sinister as he cracked his knuckles.

“Squalo! You can’t hit kids!” Dino exclaimed, putting his hand over Skull’s eyes, or at least where he assumed his eyes to be under his visor.

“I don’t see any brats here,” Squalo said, smirking down at them. “I see a shitty vampire, a half-assed wizard, and a... what the hell are you supposed to be?”

The teen responded indignantly through the furry mask covering his face. “A werewolf!”

Squalo squinted. “And crackhead bigfoot here.”

He unsheathed the sword he had at his side that Dino had told him not to take off the set.

“Oh shit he’s insane!”

“Yo let’s dip!”

The teens turned to run, and Squalo followed in pursuit.

Dino sighed and turned his attention to the two kids that stayed with him. Enma watched in silent dismay as Squalo chased down the bullies, catching them by the end of the block.

“What are you dressed as?” Dino asked.

“I’m Skull! The World’s Greatest Hitman!” he answered as if that didn’t leave Dino with more questions than he had started with. “And this is my brother Enma!”

Dino picked up Enma’s stormtrooper helmet and brushed off the scuffs and leaves as best as he could before giving it back to him. He thanked Dino so quietly that he thought the child had mouthed the words.

Squalo returned to their side, sheathing the prop sword and shoving the pillowcases full of candy at Enma. He stuttered a surprised thank you, gathering the superman and Mickey Mouse pillowcases into his arms, grimacing a little as some candy spilled out.

Dino scooped them into his hand and pressed a lollipop into Skull’s fingers before straightening up and putting the rest of the candy back into the pillowcases that Enma held tightly.

“Hey, I know a place that hands out jumbo-sized candy bars,” Dino said.

“Really!?” Skull’s face was obscured by the oversized biker helmet that he wore, but Dino could tell his eyes had widened by the way his voice jumped an octave.

“Haha yeah!” Dino assured. “It’s where we’re headed now if you want to come along?”

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to follow strange men that offer you candy?” Squalo shouted.

Enma looked between apprehensively but nodded. “Stay close,” he murmured, holding his hand out to Skull who ignored it and ran ahead.

“I’ll lead the way!”

“You don’t know where you’re going!” Enma ran after him across the street.

“Look both ways!” Dino called, starting after them, but tripped halfway through the crosswalk.

Squalo caught his arm and righted him gruffly. “Watch it.”

“Thanks Squalo!” Dino grinned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Squalo waved him off. “There’s idiots out here on their shitty vespas; if you got killed by one it’d be pathetic as fuck.”

___

“Thank you!” Yuni called from within the trailer.

“Ah, yeah, thanks,” Fran mumbled, already digging into their order.

Chrome thanked I-Pin as she stepped away from the door.

“That extra order won’t last until a midnight snack,” I-Pin warned.

“There’s no extra order,” Chrome replied, a little confusion bleeding into her tone.

“There were four orders,” I-Pin said, quickly checking the order ticket on her phone. “But three people.”

Chrome placed the fourth order of ramen on at the top of the stairs and looked up. “It’s not an extra.” I-Pin followed her gaze up to the moon. Seeing nothing, she shrugged and wished her a good night before bounding down the stairs to return to where Lambo sat waiting on the vespa.

“Ready?” she asked, putting her helmet on.

“W-w-what’s that?!”

I-Pin looked back at Lambo’s whimper to see him pointing up above the moonlit trailer with a trembling finger.

A silhouetted figure sat on top of the trailer, reclined comfortably with one leg bent in perfect repose. The moon was too bright to see the features of the figure’s face but she could tell they were being watched with lazy predation.

“I-Pin, let’s go!”

The waver in his voice made her trailer and hop on the back of the vespa again, knowing he wouldn’t drive off without her, but that he would cry if they stayed any longer with the spooky atmosphere.

Sitting in reverse with her back against Lambo’s, holding the rest of their deliveries close to her chest, she kept her eyes on the spirit that watched over Chrome until the trees grew so tall they obscured the moon, folding themselves over between them until she could no longer see the trailer or Chrome’s protector as they sped away through the night.

Only when Chrome went back inside did Hibari leap down gracefully to eat the dinner she had left for him.

___

She heard his approach but did not acknowledge it. Byakuran stayed in the entryway of the greenhouse, just watching her care for the toadflax that was a stand-in for the fantasy silk sage. He thought it ironic that she dedicated her attention to a plant that symbolized the desire for the recipient to notice of the giver’s love.

“You noticed the plants were dry when we were filming?”

Bianchi lowered the watering can from the silk sage plant and set it down beside the pot.

“You did too,” she replied. “And you almost broke character.”

“Not all of us perfectly embody our personas,” he said a little plaintively.

She registered his petulant pout and exaggerated expression and thought he fit the bill of a self-indulgent demon rather well.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” he repeated a little more softly.

They lapsed into silence as she ran her fingers over the soft leaves that the fictional plant was named for.

She looked up when he approached, painfully aware of his proximity like they had been over the last months of filming together, in a weighted and measured dance with the other, like the gravity of stars drawn together, or the certainty of waves to the shore.

He held up a cluster of flowers to her that looked to be what they used in place of the blood blossoms on set, except the rich colour was much more pigmented and there was an enigmatic scent emanating from them. “What do you think?”

She leaned towards the flowers he offered, holding a strand of hair away from her face; her eyes closed slowly and she inhaled deeply.

“An amaranth.” Bianchi pulled back slightly, the strand of hair slipping over her shoulder to trace lightly over his forearm. She looked up through her thick lashes at him, eyes lidded and lips parted in a small smile. “Decadent.”

He smiled back, pulling away entirely, that strand of her hair trailing down his arm. He let it slip through his fingers. “An amaranth,” he agreed. “For immortality.”

“Immortality?” she repeated breathily, stepping over to close the distance he had created between them.

Byakuran took another step back with a teasing laugh. “For an undying love.”

He seemed to float out of her reach even without the animatronic wings and the wires he wore during filming, but she kept pace with him, used to his movements from the time they spent on set together, with him as her shadow. They were very familiar with each others’ bodies.

“Now why would you give me such a flower?” she asked, her voice low.

He pulled the flower close to his chest before lifting it to his nose to breathe in its scent. “I didn’t give you anything!”

She continued her approach until he found himself with his back against the wall, the moonlight slanting through the glass panels of the ceiling.

“Maybe I’ll take it,” she murmured, plucking it from his fingers and placing it in his breast pocket.

“Should I keep calling you by pet names?”

“Well, it’s gauche to ask a witch for her true name.” He played along; it was hard not to recognize her as the face of the perfume industry, from magazine covers and red carpet events.

“You may continue to call me Byakuran; after all, you named me, witch.”

She played along too; she knew him from his youtube channel, avidly watching his every dessert mukbang video, every unboxing, and every sweet shop review.

“Is that right, demon?” She purred against his lips. He could feel the warmth emanating from her as her body pinned his to the wall, dizzy from that citrus scent wafting from her skin.

“Hurry! The noodles are getting soggy!”

Byakuran pulled the woman further into the shadows, whispering a quiet shhh in her ear, and Bianchi pressed closer still as two people rushed through the greenhouse, one in a red uniform and the other in a cowprint shirt. They darted through the set without so much as a glance around them and then they were gone out the other end.

“Okay, okay, there’s a shortcut through here... Geez, It’s not like Haru will let Gokudera kill us if we’re late again.”

“I’ll kill you if we’re late again!”

Bianchi didn’t even so much as glance over at them, taking the opportunity to pin him against the wall with her gaze. He watched their exit over her shoulder with a dispassionate smile. She wanted to make him feel something.

Wearing her shroud of night, she pulled him under, but the angel wasn’t as unmoved as he seemed. She leaned in to test the waters, just simmering below the surface, and he closed the distance himself to have a taste.

___

“Take care!” Tsuna waved to Enma and Skull as Yamamoto put the bowl of candy down on the side table. The green paint on Yamamoto’s neck and face was starting to rub off on the collar of his shirt, and Tsuna tried not to worry about the staining it would cause in the laundry.

Leave it to his boyfriend to use stage makeup taken from the film set to turn himself into a classic zombie.

Dino hovered just behind them, staring out down the path after them. “You think they’ll be okay?” he asked.

Tsuna shut the front door as Squalo laughed, having already made himself comfortable on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. “Go trick-or-treating with them if you’re that worried,” he called.

Yamamoto put a jumbo chocolate bar in Dino’s hands before leading him over to take a seat beside Squalo. “They’ll be fine!” His flippant tone was somehow reassuring and Dino allowed Yamamoto to take his coat. “They’ve got enough candy in their pillowcases to use them like clubs now!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Tsuna said, making a face.

An orange tabby cat immediately jumped onto Dino’s lap.

“Even the cat loves you,” Squalo remarked as Natsu settled in and curled up on him, purring up a storm. “Just like the dogs today,” he finished, inclining his head towards Yamamoto who only smiled up at Tsuna, perched on the armrest.

Remembering the hours it had taken to get the prosthetics on only for it to have been wasted and then taken off, Squalo frowned at Yamamoto’s feigned innocence and Tsuna’s flustered guilt.

“Dino and I wanted to visit everyone,” Tsuna began.

“We wanted to get a sneak peek,” Dino said. “Especially since Reborn was making a movie based on Tsuna’s dream!”

“And you got distracted!” Squalo reprimanded, not letting Yamamoto off the hook even though he just laughed it off.

“Tsuna told me I forgot to buy the Halloween candy!” Yamamoto recounted. “But he forgot to prepare dinner for us, so we’re even!”

The doorbell rang again and Tsuna turned away from Dino and Squalo lounging on the couch to answer it, but Yamamoto beat him to it, jogging over with firm hand on Tsuna’s shoulder to tell him to stay put and enjoy his chat, and a quick kiss pressed to his cheek in passing to casually remind him he was adored.

“You said there would be dinner!” Squalo shouted after him.

“Yes, yes,” he called back as he scooped up the bowl of candy and answered the door.

On the other side of the doorframe, Lambo jumped in surprise as a zombie opened the door.

“Delivery!” I-Pin said brightly.

“Oh! I-Pin! Lambo!” he greeted. “That was fast!”

I-Pin rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be nice, Yamamoto-san. Lambo took his time today. I would’ve driven like you taught me.”

Yamamoto laughed as she handed over his order of ramen. He held the bowl of candy out to I-Pin and she selected a few lollipops for Lambo.

“Yeah, but Lambo,” Yamamoto asked. “I thought you had a Halloween party to go to tonight?” He hesitated when Lambo flapped his hands and began waving his arms, giving him a panicked look.

I-Pin looked between the two of them confusedly.

“Ahh!” Yamamoto smiled knowingly. “I know! You’re helping her out on the scariest night of the year instead of going to the party!”

“VOI!”

Lambo and I-Pin jumped at the voice of the man that had pursued them doggedly earlier in the night. Squalo stalked over to the door to confirm that they were also the one and the same.

“It’s you on that shitty vespa!” Squalo growled.

“Um, trick or treat?” Lambo squeaked, backing away.

I-Pin was one step ahead of him, running back to the motor scooter. “Lambo, let’s go!”

He stumbled away from the door, jumping onto the back of the scooter and grabbing onto the seat for dear life as she took off without warning.

“I-Pin, slow down!” Lambo screamed.

“We gotta’ get to your party!” she called back.

He held his helmet to his head as the chinstrap flapped in the wind, staring at her back. “Don’t we have more deliveries to do?”

“I’ve only got one more for the night,” she replied, “and it’s me getting you to your Halloween party!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Lambo shrieked as he saw that Squalo and his fury were gaining ground on them. He spun around in the seat, throwing his arms around her waist. “I-Pin, speed up!”

“That, I can do! Hold on tight!” she called back as they raced off into the night, or at least as quickly as the scooter would allow. Lambo held her tightly and hoped that they would arrive unscathed; but also that maybe when they did, she would accept his invitation to join him.

___

The sky was a bright grey, with golden rays filtering through. The full moon had cast long shadows in the night and it would soon pass the torch to the sun’s radiance. Daybreak was eminent over the graveyard, and the night was almost over, but not just yet.

Haru stretched and yawned, uncurling from the position she had held over her sewing machine through the night. She laid out Chrome’s repaired garments and the new robe that she had worked ceaselessly on for Bianchi. After the work was done, she was left with about a yard of material – too small to do anything with besides being used as scrap. She shook it out to remove loose threads and then folded it neatly at her side.

Gokudera had put his head down to rest hours earlier. Haru had noticed when he did not get back up. His back was rising and falling evenly with each breath, his goggles discarded beside his sleeping face. Crates of neatly stacked sticks of dynamite sat around him, carefully prepared and ready to be set off at a moment’s notice.

She stood to clear the empty takeout boxes overturned on the table between them, the disposable chopsticks unbalancing the empty Styrofoam containers. She hoped he liked the ramen she had ordered more than the instant noodles he would have made for them with the electric kettle he had kicked into the corner a few days back; she knew he would not have easily allowed himself the luxury of ordering food if he could find a quicker alternative on his own.

But then again, he was unused to someone else caring for his needs.

Smiling, Haru fluffed out the scrap of fabric again; it wasn’t large enough to be useful in any other way, but it would serve well enough to keep him warm. She settled the small white sheet over his shoulders and reached down to touch his cheek, but paused with her fingers hovering just over his face. Reconsidering, she picked up his can of coffee, swished it around, and finished it. He would wake soon and grumble about the makeshift blanket, but not just yet.

___

[AO3] [Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

#KHRween2020 #5986 #1896 #10088 #DS #8027 #Lampin #this is mega long and multiship haha why #Happy Halloween :)#feuillemort #prince supersharky #stillyourprussianblue #khr #khr enma #khr skull #these cutie patootie foster brothers make an appearance too #under the moon long shadows are cast

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passiveinsane · 4 years ago

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Fic Recs

two weeks of procrastination special!

Teen Wolf

Support by Epibreren | stiles isn’t in the loop au

In which Stiles and Derek are dating, and Stiles is under the impression that Derek is a furry.

Welcome to Rosie's Diner can I interest you in an eye-opener? by crossroadswrite | diner au

An entire diner is shipping sterek because they believe they’re a couple. Stiles and Derek, of course, are not (yet).

i wait for you like a lonely house by bleep0bleep | future au

“Derek isn’t sure why he buys the house.”

The (Figurative) Death of Destructo-Derek by newtypeshadow | Werewolf boyband au

“Derek Hale is a clumsy destruction magnet.

Except that he isn't. Unlike everyone else, Stiles can see the curse obstructing Derek's senses and tangling his limbs and causing increasingly destructive accidents. And now that the curse is turning deadly, Stiles is damn well gonna break it—whether Derek Hale believes it exists or not.”

Foundations by Spooks, thesuninside

“Spooks: Yanno, I can't believe that for a show set in California, they didn't do anything with natural disasters.”

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane | fantasy au(???)

Beauty and the beast au where Stiles is half-fae, Derek is the heir to the Hales, and they’re both in the middle of a political ploy.

Special Order by bleep0bleep | stiles is a food critic au

Stiles, world-renowned food critic, wanders into the restaurant and life of Chef Hale.

dude, it's wednesday by stressingbisexual | series

Stiles is a twitch streamer, and other than that it’s canon-y.

adhd??? i think you mean GAYdhd amirite ladies by weeabooty

If the title isn’t convincing, there’s nothing to say.

Give Me Shelter by WonderWolf

Animal shelter volunteers au, where Derek gives punny names to cats and Stiles picks up more than one stray.

tie your napkin 'round your neck, cherie by magneticwave

“In the low light from Scott’s candles, Lydia is breathtaking. Jackson is still a butt-ugly lizard monster, but he looks like he’s having a religious experience with Stiles’ trifle, so that’s validating in a weird sort of way.” Please read this, it’s so good, cackling will happen.

Once Upon a Time by lady_ragnell

“Five fairy tales Stiles isn't the hero of, and one he might be.”

CSI: Beacon Hills by Jerakeen | restricted work, must have ao3 profile to access

“Back when Stiles was in high school Beacon Hills didn't have a crime lab, because they simply didn't need one. Those were the days.”

Werewolf Daycare by dinolaur

Stiles is forced to take care of the pack: toddler versions. Derek is not useful.

coffee housing by kellifer_fic

Superhero!pack au.

Kiss the Cook by idyll

“Derek's a professional chef, and Stiles is a blogger who butchers his recipes.”

At All Costs by forestofbabel | time-traveling stiles

“Stiles is sent on a mission in time to protect Derek Hale at all costs. He doesn’t know why Derek Hale is so important to the future, but Stiles takes his mission seriously.”

Stiles Stilinski and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (Well Maybe It Wasn’t That Bad…) by thegirlgrey

Stiles has a very bad day, and then a very good one.

This is Ridiculous by zosofi | future au | Explicit

“There's a unicorn in Beacon Hills. A fricken' unicorn. In fricken' Beacon Hills, California. And it turns out that unicorns aren't drawn towards virgins in a happy-go-lucky let-me-lay-my-not-at-all-metaphorical-horn-in-your-lap way. No. They kill them. And guess who's the only virgin idiotic enough to get sucked into the Beacon Hills supernatural scene? Stiles, that's who.”

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

“Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college.

Well, except for the fact that he's a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica's epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there's this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him.

Oh, and the murders, of course.

But other than that stuff... totally the same old BH.”

Unofficial Stiles Stilinski by elliot_edison | series

“ "So you're the boy he was complaining about the first week of school." Derek tried to remember what she was talking about. When he did, he decided it was his turn to want the world to swallow him whole.

"What?" Stiles frowned.

"Oh, it's nothing bad, sweetie." His aunt Hazel (who has a weirdly calming affect on everyone, which he was grateful for) assured him. "Peter, dear, remind me, what were his exact words?"

"I believe they were something along the lines of 'he spent a whole hour yelling at me and covering me in hello kitty band-aids. I think I want to marry him.'" Peter gave him a look. "Right?” “

Half-hearted Contestant by LadyDrace | not!fic

Stiles is on Derek Hales’s bachelor TV show, but he’s mostly (mostly) there for the food.

Sparkly Pens by mm_coconut | Explicit

Journal entries by Stiles (and Derek.) NSFW

ATLA

Swear by naggeluide

“Toph grew up in the Earth Rumble, and Zuko went through adolescence at sea. Neither of them are shy about using profanity.”

NDRV3

Liar's Gift by booperbeanv3

Ouma gives a bento box, homemade, to Shuichi. They’re dumb and gay.

The Way to a Man's Heart (is through his stomach) by orphan_account

“Shuichi wishes he had at least an hour to think of a response to that, but he doesn't, so he just stares dumbly back at Kokichi. Then, there's a forkful of pancake and strawberry directly in his face. Does Kokichi really expect him to let himself be fed like that? On the same fork, even? When Shuichi doesn't bite, Kokichi frowns again. “Come on, one bite?” His bottom lip juts out, and Shuichi has to wonder if Kokichi can tell that he is hopelessly infatuated after a handful of interactions. It's so bizarre to him, the way he feels like the biggest idiot on the planet and the luckiest guy in the world to be the subject of Kokichi's attention.

And that is decidedly too much emotion for being offered a bite of pancakes, but Shuichi also hasn't ever been in a situation quite like this one before. Every word out of Kokichi's mouth feels like a test and Shuichi just wants to know the right answer. It's overwhelming.”

kokichi is gay and shit at cooking: the saga by hejustkeptonyoing

Crack, but also incredibly funny crack.

Marvel

Bring Your School to Work Day by notoneforreality

“Or yes. Clint waited all of ten seconds for everyone (tonight: Tony, Bruce, Steve, Bucky, Clint, Natasha, Pepper and Peter) to take their seats at the long dinner table before gleefully announcing that Peter had a field trip to the compound next Wednesday. Peter, sat between Bucky and Nat, opposite Tony, buried his face in his hands.

“Lord lend me patience or a handgun.”

Two separate guns were thrust into his field of vision by two separate hands, and Peter blinked. Bucky and Nat narrowed their eyes at each other and Tony snatched both guns away before Peter could touch either.

“Absolutely not. Creepy Russian sensibilities away please.”

Bucky tried to slip Peter a knife, but Steve caught him at it and confiscated the weapon.”

@pbparker by fromstarttofin | twitterfic

“peter parker @pbparker

what i was expecting when i woke up:

-to study for my finals -to eat some captain crunch -for mr stark to brief me on the press conference

what i was not expecting when i woke up:

-500 ??? thousand ??? followers ??????????”

#marvel fic recs #marvel recs #ndrv3 recs #fic recs #teen wolf recs #atla recs #new fandoms oh my #only they're not new i'm just unwilling to spam only teen wolf and instead am spamming old bms #:D i live a hectic term on this plane of existence

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pcttrailsidereader · 4 years ago

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Attitudes and Layers (Part 1)

It is early November and you are just leaving Stehekin with 88 miles remaining to finish your PCT thru-hike. This is Dances with Lizards and Brr’s story as they make the final push north. Winter is well underway in the high country of Washington’s Pasayten. Dances’ journal captures the humor, the spirit, and the attitude necessary to complete the journey in these difficult circumstances.

This is a re-post from 2012. I have been reading old posts as we scour our archives for stories for inclusion in a 10th Anniversary edition of The Pacific Crest Trailside Reader.

By Natalie ‘Dances with Lizards’ Fisher

88 miles to go. We leave Stehekin with our pockets loaded with cinnamon rolls and sticky buns from the bakery that’s been closed since mid October (it’s good to have connections in high places). It’s hard to leave a warm house one more time. We each have about ten days worth of food. 6 days of good stuff. 4 days of boring stuff. Lots of layers. Lots of attitude (Positive Mental Attitude, with a little bit of the other kind). A whole village is now sending good thoughts our way, as well as the whole PCT community. We aren’t just two people out for a walk to see what we can do anymore. We’re being watched. Bets are being made. People are being inspired.

Never thought we’d actually be the last two striving for the goal. Running joke this whole season. The last to Canada wins.

Leaving Stehekin. Brr finally weighed his pack for the first time the whole trip. 80 lbs. Probably always weighed that much.

‘Ready to go for a walk, Dances?’

‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

We’re walking into a snowstorm, and we know it. It’s going to be cold, but we want to try to get as far as we can while the hiking is easy. Of course, with loaded down packs, I only make it a quarter mile before I break down and eat a sticky bun.

As promised, it starts to snow by late afternoon. We make it partway up and out of the valley, cross creeks that are starting to freeze over, and make camp at a place called Hideaway.

74 miles to go. Middle of the night. Wake up to a tent that’s too warm. Realize we’re in a snowcave. Nothing is venting anymore, and it’s all dripping on Brr’s poor down sleeping bag. He eventually musters courage to go outside and uses a snowshoe to clear off the tent. There’s at least 8 inches on the ground. So much for the promised 3-5 inches.

While all this excitement is happening, I see a cinnamon roll sticking out of my jacket pocket. We’ve recently had problems with mice, and the only thought in my sleepy head is: I don’t want the mouse to eat my cinnamon roll! Brr jumps back into the tent to find me mawing down on the sticky treat without a care for snow or anything else.

64.5 miles to go. It’s a slow day to get up to Rainy Pass and beyond. We make burritos and a hiker mocha at the pass, and consider how easy it would be just to hitch out to Bellingham and be warm. Instead, we march on. Past civilization. On to camp above 6,000 ft and tuck in for another snowy night.

Surprised in the morning to hear voices as we’re packing up camp. Flatlander and Bouncer arrive on scene. Snowshoes on, GPS in hand. Making one more attempt at the goal.

I have to admit there was some trepidation on our part at meeting them. We had heard that Flatlander was going to try to meet up with us, we were glad he arrived with a hiking partner.

At this point in the game, joining up to hike with someone is no casual contract. That’s for summer business. Brr and I have been practicing in this kind of weather for the last month. We’ve got a system down that works for us. We know each other’s skills well. As Brr puts it “She doesn’t freak out. Ever.” On an expedition like this, the last week out is not the time to meet someone new and try to fit them into your system. We were happy to say hello. Short conversation. Have to move to keep warm.

They continued. We finished packing and followed their tracks up to the top of Cutthroat Pass (scary name, easy pass), where we sat down to have second breakfast and watched as two figures traversed the ridge and rounded the corner. Then we watched in surprise as one figure, and then another, were coming speedily back across the ridge.

Huh? We wondered with mild curiosity as we slowly packed up and continued on our way. We chatted again as they passed us. The ridge got steep and the snow was a bit icy around the corner. Too much for them. The fun stopped.

I have the utmost respect for Bouncer and Flatlander that they recognized when something was too much. They knew when to call it. That is an important skill. One most people ignore. I also respect that they didn’t try to turn us around. In our heads we were wondering if they would be saying ‘these kids can’t make it, it’s dangerous… etc…’ But they didn’t. They simply said it was too much for them, and wished us well. Thank you.

We continued on.

Traversed the ridge and made the steep descent in a couple feet of snow to Granite Pass. Then across the next ridge. The going was slow. We didn’t have snowshoes on yet. The snow was at the point where it really wouldn’t be any easier in snowshoes. We’d posthole one way or another. The trail following the contour on the ridge had perhaps six inches of snow. Passable enough.

55 miles to go. Setting up the tent. Exhausted. Bummed that we couldn’t make it any further. At this rate, we might not make our rendezvous.

There’s a crack. We pause. Stock still. Assess the damage. One of the tent poles broke. Shattered on one end due to cold. Nothing to do but wrap it with Tenacious tape, and hope it holds.

48 miles to go. Get to the top of Glacier Pass. Another steep ascent just ahead of us. Time for another hiker mocha as the sun sets. Bodies are complaining. Nothing to do but tape what hurts, hope it holds, and don’t look again. Pep talk to the body. Come on, just need you to get me thru a few more days.

We begin the next ascent. Switchbacks across a meadow. Why couldn’t they put them in the trees?! Wading across snow drifts at each turn. Brr gets fed up. We’re about four switchbacks from the top. Pull out the GPS to double check our location. We can just go straight up. The trail stays on top of the mountain for a while. We’ll hit it.

Switch to the microspikes. Glorious microspikes. Time for some mountain climbing. Brr pulls out his ice axe, I put my trekking poles in my pack and use his very sturdy hiking sticks. Up we go.

I climbed up a mountain on a starry night with microspikes and broomsticks.

I didn’t exactly like where I was. It was icy, extremely steep, the alternative was no easier. At that point, the only way to get out of a sketchy spot is to move. One way or another, you have to move. I chose to move up.

Up the mountain.

It was worth it.

Hit the top. Absolutely stunning. Make another hot drink.

We are the only people out in this wilderness. Two small people on top of a snow covered mountain gazing at the stars. One of those nights where I felt like the stars were watching us.

I get this feeling that Mother Nature has finally decided we are worthy to pass. That all the gods have us in their favor. And they are watching. It won’t be easy. She will never let us off the hook, but she will let us pass.

All the stars gazing down at us. Watching our progress as we finally donned our snowshoes and crossed the ridge to Grasshopper Pass and continued to traverse the next ridge. Our slogan becomes ‘When in doubt, follow kitty.’ We know the right direction to go, can’t see the trail, but there are lynx or bobcat prints that seem to know where the trail goes. We follow.

No matter what else happens, I have this moment. This moment in time. This moment on top of a starry snow covered mountaintop. Everything that has happened before, is worth it. Anything that happens after, doesn’t matter.

I have this.

This one’s for the memory books.

Editor’s Note: Because of the length of Dances and Brr’s story, it was broken into two parts. The remainder of their story will be posted on November 21, 2020.

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junkyardlynx · 4 years ago

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As the wind stroked his boyish face, Gran found himself smiling softly. Not one of previously unrealized joy, nor the fragile countenance of someone on the edge of sorrow. No, it was a smile of resignation. Not over anything huge, really, but more a persistent fact of his strange life.

He would always be underestimated.

The breeze’s affection turned fickle and slipped away, leaving only stillness and birdsong to fill the tree he was perched in. The light armor he wore fit him well - a black ensemble, decorated with geometrical splashes of red and trimmed in gold. The plates were near-weightless, but they were tough enough to take all manner of punishment; the master artisan six islands back claimed the whole set was forged from adamantite. The matching gauntlets fit him like a second skin, responsive and pliable and even as he leaned forward on the spindly branch, the greaves gave not a creak or a groan.

By all accounts, the armor was fit for a majestic king, or perhaps a revered general. Not a boy who barely looked sixteen summers. So, who then? One would be forgiven if they mistook him for a prince, or perhaps an up-and-coming knight-commander. His features were handsome, if boyish, and people always told him that he had a “very dashing” air to him. As if that actually meant anything.

No, Gran was none of those things. By birth, he was a nobody from the edge of the known sky, left with his friend that was definitely not a lizard. By trade, he was a skyfarer captain. By destiny, one who shared his life with the Girl in Blue. And by effort? Well, that was the one he was most happy to share. Not that anyone ever believed him at first.

By effort, he could be summed up in four words.

Conqueror of the Eternals.

A boy of sixteen, now going on twenty-two, was the one who bested all ten Eternals in single combat? Even to himself, it sounded like a nice story and nothing more. Even though he lived every moment of it. The more spectacular details, like the defeat of the Erste Empire and his rejection of the True King’s offer were public knowledge. Though, well, it was true that they tended to draw his likeness a bit taller, and his face a bit more rugged. Artists paint what they feel, even if they don’t know it, even if they try and hide it. The bias creeps in. Surely whoever performed these fantastic deeds couldn’t be a sixteen year old kid. It was probably a part of the tale added later to spice it up and make it marketable for local papers.

Well, they were sort of right. When he rejected the “True King” and his poisoned wish, Gran was just about to turn twenty-two. Four months later, he now found himself intervening in a messy war between two kingdoms with his friend and crewmate Altair.

Six years. Six years had passed. Six years that showed nowhere on his face, his countenance. Nowhere save his eyes.

It started six years ago. He’d died protecting a terrified girl. A girl he didn’t even know. Even now, if Gran was left to his own devices, he could taste that choking pain -- not the way his lungs seared from the hydra’s flame, nor the gash in his side from the hydra’s claws. No, it was the pain of being powerless. The pain of not being able to reach his hand up to the sky and ask his father in hated grief if he was proud. Proud that unlike his old man, Gran didn’t abandon a child in their time of need.

So when that girl in blue did something impossible, he made two little promises inside of his weak heart.

One, never let anyone hurt her again.

Two, never feel that way again.

Six years and four months showed only in the tone of his muscles and the strength of his gait. The softness of his steps, the way he would round a corner like a prowling lion due to the endless combat he found himself engaged in. How long was it until he figured out the peculiarities of his resurrected body? His hair and nails grew, he still had to eat and sleep and still smelled awful when covered in silverslime after a successful hunt. Open wounds bled and illness forced him to bed.

But he didn’t age.

He probably realized it after teasing Rackam about his patchwork scruff one day. Rackam had lost his razor and was pilfering through the kitchen for a spare, muttering about the “damn gremlins” who “sneak aboard even though people are on watch duty.”

The exchange wasn’t noteworthy, really. Rackam had laughed and jabbed his index finger into the captain’s cheek, wondering when his peach fuzz would finally pack its bags and leave for more hairy locales.

Rackam’s voice echoed in his head.

“C’mon cap, aren’t you eighteen now? You gotta have more than this in ya!”

---

Weird how such a statement could open a can of worms. Last he checked, he wasn’t in the worm business, either. Well, unless Altair’s little solo mission for me involves worms somehow.

Gran hadn’t honestly asked for details since Altair didn’t seem to think they were important. The gist of his part in the greater plan amounted to “stop the western advance.” Simple and concise, really. The field he was scouting below the tree was still and peaceful, seemingly unaware of both the passage of time and the rumblings of war. The breeze kicked up again, carving gentle waves through the grass, and memory pulled him back under.

---

After that, it was impossible for Gran not to notice everything strange thing going on with his body. Despite nearing the age of nineteen, not a single hair managed to grace his face. Meanwhile, he could still tan (and burn) under the blazing sun and if he chose, he could grow the hair on his head as long as he liked. As an experiment, he’d left one toenail to grow as long as it could, just to see what happened. Other than a supremely stubbed toe one early morning followed by a string of swears angry enough to make Eugen blush, nothing came of his experiment.

If was as if nobody has given his body the blueprints for life after sixteen, as if the existence of “Gran as a person” was tied to his current general appearance, as if something altogether removed from natural biology had decided that “this” was Gran. Whatever was supposed to come after simply...didn’t. Naturally, Gran lost his mind a bit. Only a bit, though. He had the good sense to seek out the famous alchemist and self-proclaimed cutest girl in the world, Cagliostro. She’d joined the crew a while ago and had a keen intellect when it came to matters of the body and it’s intricate workings. After all, she’d made one for herself, probably countless times. Her verdict?

She was stumped.

Apparently, senescence - the process of cells deteriorating after copying themselves over long amounts of time, leading to aging - had stopped in Gran. Sort of. The truth was much stranger. She’d been having him report to her little workshop on the Grancypher twice a week, taking blood and tissue samples much to his immediate and mildly painful dismay. This process continued on for three months before her exasperation and wonder lead her to discuss her findings with “cute, baffling little Gran.”

“Basically, captain! You’re aging just right for the first eight samples. The only way to tell is to be able to “find” the itty bitty little bit of info that goes missing from the blueprint of “you” every time your cells divide. I imagine the Astrals put it in as a sort of safety fe-errrrr, moving on! So! Being the inimitable genius I am, I noticed something about the ninth set of samples. They’re alllllmost the same as the first. Way too close. You don’t just get that bit back for no reason, and you really don’t get THAT much back for any reason.”

Gran nodded slowly, already onto what she was talking about. However, knowing that Cagilostro loved a.) having a captive audience and b.) herself, he let her continue.

“I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure, and positing a hypothesis that early on when I might have just mixed up the samples would be irresponsible. So I waited until that Saturday when I got to stab and slice you again, triple-checking that alllll the samples were out of my workshop. Same result! They looked just like the second sample, even fresh farm-to-table.”

She turned an adorably calculated and seemingly malicious smile to Gran as her explanation ended. Though it wasn’t exactly news, her words were still unnerving. After all, his cells were basically rolling back the clock of aging every four weeks. You know, normal things.

“You know how much I’d give to figure out your secret? Even ignoring the fact that it certainly has to do with whatever Lyria did to you three years ago, this is a discovery so amazing you’d think I’d invented it. Your body is pretty much just removed from time! It’s almost envious enough to make me cry. I can’t believe you, making a genius cry. It’s honestly ridiculous. You can obviously still put on muscle mass and your brain isn’t fried like one of those Golden Friday SHRIMP.”

For a bit there after that, Gran lost a...well, a bit more of his mind. If he had to be honest. Three days locked up in his room, not letting anyone in, not even Vyrn. He poured over alchemical texts, medical documents, arcane and state secrets, anything the Grandcypher had that might be pertinent. After three days of intense study, stopping only for the necessities of life, Gran came to an answer. Well, his answer.

Did it matter?

Had his sword arm stayed the same over those three years? No. Was his cut not deadlier, his stab not sharper, his fist not faster? Had his body not taken on the tone and muscle of someone who fought primals -- and prevailed? The difference between the weak Gran of three years ago and the Gran of today was immeasurable. The young man who had once fallen to a single tortured hydra now found himself battling ancient primal beasts of war and guile on a monthly basis.

He may not ever have a thick Draph-sized mustache and his cheeks might permanently retain their tender charm no matter his age, but his body was fit to fight. To protect. To chase his absent father until the end of the sky. That’s what mattered. Though he was quite sure Cagilostro would tease him endlessly for his answer.

With newfound determination, Gran threw himself into what the rest of the crew considered hellish training simply because he knew he could endure it. It was a way to prove himself - even after death, even after abandonment, he was worth something. He had value and merit and talent, but also the drive and yearning to turn it into something. In the wake of this new regiment for himself and his little visit to a certain alchemist on board, rumors crept up. Slow and steady at first, they soon burned like wildfire through the decks of the Grandcypher, spreading out of context and control. He finally became privy to a good chunk of the downright goofy rumors via his afternoon footwork training on the vast open deck.

His footwork training was simple. He would empty his mind and fill it with visions of attackers, then repel those attackers as they came at him from all sides and angles. Though it didn’t hold up to real battles, it offered a sort of vision training and group combat scenario that duels never quite could and best of all, it could be performed anywhere with ample space as the only thing required was himself.

Being simple in those relative terms, it provides opportunities for a capable multitasker to easvesdrop things they shouldn’t, like the hottest Grandcypher gossip. On one such afternoon, in the early days of summer, things came to a head as crewmates found themselves unable to contain the rumor mill around their captain any longer.

“I heard the captain’s immortal!”

Not entirely inaccurate. His nonexistent blade swung a tight arc, lopping off the head of something never there. With his arm extended, he challenged the thin atmosphere between the islands. Nothing came.

“Yeah, I heard he was like a six thousand year old primal beast?”

Missed the mark a bit there, he quipped internally. It seemed both directed at the conversation and himself as he danced between the attacks of no ones and nothings. His sweeping kick, though near-flawless in form, barely grazed the torso of his last imagined attacker in that scenario. With a click of his tongue, he noted to himself that an actual attacker couldn’t simply stop on a dime like the one he imagined did. Even in his mind, he was tough on himself, as no one else seemed to want the responsibility. With a little consternation, he ended up giving himself the point for his made up little game. The points didn’t matter, but they made him feel better.

“We have a few of those in the crew, so it makes sense.”

It would, but that’s not the case. Gran’s feet shuffled to and fro, dancing softly across the wooden deck of the Grancypher. To the casual observer, it almost appeared as if he was simply rehearsing one of the dances Anthuria had choreographed with him. He ducked under an imaginary bullet, fist rising from below to smash the jaw of the illusory gunman.

The nothings and nobodies fell to his invisible sword strikes, his matchless kicks and punches, to the spells he snap-conjured between the thrust of a lance and the flight of an arrow. Finally, panting hard with exhilaration and the flow of combat, Gran slew the final “attacker” with a quick reversal and stab to the gut, ending the dream with its own weapon. Nothing and no one fell, other than comfortable silence, but he still felt a measure of success as he picked up the warmed vacuum flask that had his lunch in it.

“No, no, he’s only thirty-six and he’s the son of that one legendary adventurer. It’s his hero’s blood. I hear his dad bathed in the entrails of the primal beast he slew, though, so maybe that’s what caused it in the end?” Why would a hero be forced to stop aging before he could legally drink? The snort of his barely contained laughter sent soup up his nose, straight from his vacuum flask. Hot soup. Hot, spicy soup.

“That makes a lot of sense.”

More than the six thousand year old primal beast bit, yes.

“He’s still our captain, so who cares? That’s good enough for me.” Oh. Ah. I...

That last overheard comment had humbled him, but the clear ring of all the affirmations that followed from crewmates in it’s wake shook him to his core. Somehow, he’d gained the loyalty and friendship of some of the most accepting people under the great blue sky. His training, already considered to be a form of self-punishment by the rest of the crew, grew in scope and desire. If there was a mountain in his way, he would cut it. If there was a river in his way, he would part it. If even the great ocean of stars spanned the distance, it would be crossed.

For all the things he could still protect.

For the dreams he had thought beyond him.

For the sake of surpassing the absent father that had abandoned him long ago, leaving only a note.

When still a boy in a backwater nothing, Gran wielded a simple short sword and fancied himself a sort of knight as he grew up. Wearing a slightly ragged blue tunic with a hood, a few pieces of spare platemail strapped to his right arm, and holding a sword containing more rust than blade. Training with Vyrn in the forest every day, the boy dreamed of something bigger. A fighter, a protector, a guardian of what he loved and treasured, not a bandit that cut and run from his family. That’s what he wanted to be... That dream was, for lack of a better term, driven from his chest. By a hydra. Just so we’re clear.

He abandoned defensive posture after that, seeking to end fights as quickly as possible. An axe found it’s way into his hands and for a time, he was satisfied by the devastation it wrought. Teenage postmortem angst seemed to be quelled by a felling cleave to an enemy’s collarbone, and chunky plate scraps held together with red leather and white fur served him well enough as protection from the elements and the enemies he faced.

Nothing so simple satisfied for long, though. Gran took to himself in a sort of hermitage for a while, studying magic under the occasional tutelage of his talented crewmates. There was a certain ripple of insecurity in his scouting party’s mood when he’d shown up late one day, his usual armor stripped down to basic protection and his axe nowhere to be found. They tossed light jeers at his green cloak and the staff he carried, even as they set off for their destination - a bandit camp they had been hired to uproot. Peace talks were attempted by the bandit’s leader and an Erune comrade of Gran’s, one better suited for diplomacy than the boy-faced captain.

Things deteriorated quickly. Gran had quietly stepped forward once the leader made it clear he had no intention of retreating peacefully. With the green hood still covering half his disappointed face, Gran slashed the tip of the staff in a dismissive motion to the right, as if telling them their time here was over. Before they could protest or retaliate, wild magic burst into life around them, sealing off all escape and action. Concentric rings of frost and fire cradled in the stony embrace of the earth, carved into being with the fierce wind tore at everything inside the bandit’s camp. With the oxygen burnt out, the earth lashed and the encampment in shambles, the dazed and injured bandits were easy prisoners.

No one jeered after that.

As his prowess grew and the crew took on more work, that cloak had weathered with time. It faded to an almost dull grey, and with this Gran had added a black half-mask to the ensemble. Admittedly, it was mostly to hide his youthful features and force enemies to take him somewhat seriously for once, as the sting of his blessed curse grew more apparent as he approached his twentieth year.

For combat, a middle ground was found. He embraced not pure swordsmanship, nor did he place his trust only in magic. Instead, he channeled his power into debilitating his opponent’s often unworldly vigor and vitality, then coaxed those weaknesses open with his unmatched swordplay. Victory after victory piled up at the crew’s feet, and the legend of the “boy captain” grew.

It also provided the fodder for what Gran considered a highly embarrassing piece of “art.” Somebody had caught him resting his right hand on his jaw, leg crossed over the other almost lazily as he read a scrap of paper in his left. It was a failed betting ticket, so close to winning millions of rupees, save for the upset victory in the sixth match. An enterprising somebody, who’s name begins with L and ends with -unalu, had committed this terrible and dreadful sight to memory. She then committed that memory to paper with her talent.

Only, well.

She’d used her license of artistic interpretation to replace the slip of paper held in contempt with a comically oversized sword. Stabbed unceremoniously in the ground. The barstool? That was now a throne carved of stone. The title of the piece, an unknowing and fortunate soul might ask?

“Chaos Ruler.”

The print she made was reproduced and sold to more than a handful of people on and off the Grandcypher. Copies of it hung from stray support beams and walls on the ship, as if to lovingly taunt him and people switched their mode of address from “captain” to things like “my liege” or “ruler” or “chaos kid” for the better part of a month. Gran said nothing, choosing to keep what little of his dignity he felt he had left.

Nobody saw Gran wear that outfit again.

In hindsight, he had to agree that the metal half-mask was a little much. But, ah, Ejaeli and Predator had convinced him it was cool. They made masks look cool, after all. The palpable disappointment from them almost made him walk back on that decision. Almost.

From then on, he’d taken to wearing a simple outfit when on duty, reminiscent of his teenage years. Having turned twenty some time ago, he decided to make a simple blue hooded tunic the mainstay of his combat attire. On top went a basic but functional steel breastplate, covering his heart and ribs. His arms were covered in gauntlets of the same make, and steel greaves offered his feet and shins ample protection as they went on over a pair of loose beige pants. What it lacked in flair it made up for in comfort and capability. A sensible choice. It gave nothing about his combat style away either, other than the obvious caveat that he might engage in it at some point.

---

Funny to say teenage years, he supposed, looking down at the peaceful field. Fires were beginning to rise and march in the distance, headed this way. An army. For now, though, he had time, and the world seemed to move so perilously slow. Memory reeled him in once more, as if the grass and the trees of this island made him long for another time and another place.

---

Thinking seriously on it, the reason his legend had spread as that of the “boy captain” probably had to do with two things. One, the Grandcypher traveled an awful lot between three different skydoms, and two? The crew of the Grandcypher loved events.

It probably had to do with a third thing, too.

His crew really, really loved to tease him about his age.

Every birthday, it’d be “Happy sixteenth, Cap!” They reused the same banner six times now, adding a tally mark just above “sixteenth” every single time. It was as endearing as it was maddening. Eugen and Rackam pulled the same thing at every new bar, ordering three beers and then pretending to flip out at Gran when he took his. It caused its fair share of problems for Gran, so sometimes Gran would flip the script before they got the chance and get angry at his “dad” and “brother” for getting drunk while “mom” was at home alone.

Some of the Grandcypher ladies would tease him with lines about “when he was older” and what an “earnest young man he was” if they saw him during the more romantic holidays, much to his chagrin. He learned to reverse that too, going on the offensive by playing the straight man to their act. He paid them straightforward compliments with toothy grins and presented them with chocolates during White Day as a form of playful revenge.

A few times every year, the crew would be called to an ancient island where a sort of...war game took place between skyfaring crews. An Astral experiment run amok meant that otherworldly and ferocious beasts overwhelmed the singular island now and then, and their presence courted the attention of primal beasts. As the people of the skydoms always sought to turn misery into growth, they established a way to turn it into a competition. Extremely rare treasure was brought in from all across the skyrealms and the monster problem on the island was handily taken care of in what they called Guild Wars.

Ten times, the Grancypher emerged victorious. Each time, for his troubles, the Captain would receive an ancient weapon of unparalleled power, power that courted disaster - and inevitably the attention of those that would protect the sky from unparalleled threats.

The Eternals.

Ten times over the years, Gran wore his convictions on his sleeve and fought the strongest people in the sky, all to prove that he would remain himself in the face of that dread power. In truth, Gran didn’t plan to use those relics of war. He simply reveled in the chance to face those brilliant, blazing souls in single combat.

It was a way to prove himself. Both to those who he had grown to admire after hearing their legends, and to his eternally absent father. Surely, even his father would have to notice if he conquered the ten strongest people in the sky--

He didn’t, but it didn’t matter.

In the end, the people he met and bonded with mattered.

After an incident involving the mafia bearing down on Stardust Town, the Eternals got together and presented Gran with a suit of armor and his own cloak, signifying his status as the eleventh Eternal, an irreplaceable part of their group. While Siete was still the de-facto leader and Uno was the first of the Eternals, Gran - given the new title of Jedenáct - was the end-all-be-all when it came to pure combat strength. As they had joined the Grancypher’s crew, they wanted him to join the crew of the Eternals and share in that camaraderie.

He might have felt sixteen behind those misty eyes when they draped the white jacket over his shoulders and popped the celebratory drinks open, but he’d never admit it. Openly. Nio knew, because of course she did. His heart’s plaintive melody was clear to her ear from the moment they’d met. He’d been seeking a place to belong, a place that respected him since the day he understood that his father had abandoned him. Between the Grancypher and the Eternals, he’d finally felt like part of a family.

A family more real than the blood that spawned and abandoned him, all the while burdening him with purpose.

This is where I belong.

---

Of course, it was just after this heartfelt moment that Altair had been roped into this awful and brutal war. As a member of the Grancypher family, Altair’s problems were Gran’s problems. And now, that advancing army was coming into ambush distance. Concentrating his mana for a second, Gran summoned forth an ethereal bow, shaped like the one Song used but made of pure, blue light. Standing up on the branch of the tree, he took aim at the ground some twenty metres in front of the enemy general’s advance. Luhua was said to be a fearsome combatant, and Gran secretly hoped for a chance to resolve things with a non-fatal, honorable, one-on-one duel. The best kind of fight.

Of course, he would always be underestimated. There was a chance that no such duel would be found, and it might turn into a bloody melee.

Either way?

Time to keep the sky’s sweet peace.

#granblue fantasy #gbf #gran #fanfiction #writing #my writing #self-indulgent bullshit

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