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tomanpeach · 3 years ago

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champagne for my real friends – (ran x reader ft. bonten)

a/n: this took forever to finish but i'm happy with how it turned out!!! also this is so humiliating but i literally forgot to write in mochi please don't hate me oh my GOD

content: LIL BIT NSFW!!! JUST SOME MENTIONS OF PAST STUFF!!! drunk!ran, pregnant!reader, bonten members, alcohol/drinking, last but not least there is so much swearing idk how else to write these folks i'm sorry lmaooo just a little meet the bontens fic :')

word count: 4.7k

(( this is a part of my boyfriendification/daddyfication of ran haitani universe please check out the original fics if you're interested! :) ))

"haitani," sanzu calls across the table. everyone's attention shifts over to him. "sorry," he says to rindou. "big haitani."

rindou rolls his eyes at the descriptor. ran chuckles and jerks his chin in sanzu's direction, silently indicating to him to proceed.

"what ever happened with your girl's pregnancy scare?"

there are a few exclamations or remarks in agreement: "shit, yeah!" "oh right, what did happen with that?"

"not a scare," ran tries to conceal a grin. "she's pregnant."

there are a few shocked sounds. he continues, "and we're gonna have the kid."

"shut the fuck up," kakucho's jaw hangs open in shock. takeomi, sitting to ran's left, claps him on the back in congratulations. "is he serious??" koko asks, looking not to ran, but to the more trustworthy rindou beside him, who nods. "that's not fair!" sanzu whines, throwing a childish pout toward ran. "why do you tell rindou everything first?"

"that's a dumb fucking question," koko scoffs, earning a shove from sanzu. ran snorts and takes a long drink.

suddenly, mikey raises his glass. the table goes silent, all eyes looking to him. "congratulations, haitani," he says with a small smile on his lips. "that's big news." everyone else raises their cups, celebrating ran's announcement.

ran hadn't realized how much mikey's approval would mean to him. he knew at some point he'd have to tell everyone. that they'd have to meet to discuss the logistics and the security risks of ran having a family, make sure his pregnant girlfriend and future baby would remain undiscoverable by rival organizations. but he had expected it to just be that: a topic for an executives meeting. never would he have expected mikey to congratulate him on the news, too.

"shots," ran slams a hand on the table. "on me. for everyone. mikey?" mikey hesitates but nods his agreement. "fuck yeah, great." ran waves to the bartender and in moments, they're all being handed shots of whiskey.

ran haitani was not a lightweight; the man could drink. as much as everyone else, and then some. typically, on these nights out for a drink with bonten, he would barely even get buzzed. when things at work got overwhelming, the guys had gotten in the habit of walking to the bar near their office together to vent about everything and have a beer. there were always brushes with law enforcement, court dates, dodged attacks on cargo, and this past week, a near miss involving an unmarked black van trying to run mikey's car off the road. none of this was unusual in bonten's world, but it took its toll when the events started to pile up. mikey had even been the one to suggest getting drinks tonight, signaling that even their leader was on edge: something that rarely happened.

when mikey went out to drink with his subordinates, they tried to keep it more on the professional side. nobody drank until he did, all cues were taken directly from his actions. but mikey had announced that congratulations were in order and something had switched in ran's brain. he was celebrating tonight.

after the first round of shots, he insisted on another. mikey was in a surprisingly good mood, always having been a sucker for happy announcements, and seemed perfectly content as ran ordered more shots and bottles and rounds of drinks.

as the hours passed, what began as a beer after work had become a rowdy, drunken night out. the table soon became the loudest in the bar, though the bartenders and owner recognized the mysterious tattoo they all donned and didn't dare say a word. the drunkest of them all, though, was ran.

"i'm really gonna be a fuckin' dad," he slurs, leaning into rindou's side, eyes on kakucho. "a cool dad, though. like, so fuckin' cool. imagine how cool i'll be as a dad. rin? yo, imagine it, man."

"jesus, slow down, dumbass," rindou shoves ran off of him as his older brother lifts his 5th? maybe 6th?? shot to lips. "how many is that now?"

"6," kakucho answers rindou from across the table, seeming sober enough to be trusted. ran snorts out a laugh and downs the dark liquor anyway.

he folds his long arms onto the table and rests his chin on them like a little kid. "you ever want kids?" he asks to no one in particular.

"you're so fucked up, man," takeomi chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

ran gives him look like he has no idea what he's talking about. mikey is watching with amusement, always intrigued by the behavior of his men outside of work and especially when they let loose in their personal lives.

"get him home, rin," koko nudges rindou.

"fuck no," rindou scowls. "i'm not his babysitter. he's an adult."

"he's trashed," kakucho indicates to where ran has almost fallen asleep at the table.

"should we call his girlfriend?"

everyone's heads whip toward sanzu, who's got the most devious grin on his face.

kakucho is the first to object to the idea, "he'd kill us for that."

"who am i killing?" ran lifts his head an inch. rindou rolls his eyes. the table falls silent as everyone continues to think it over.

"listen," sanzu raises his hands casually. "he's so gone right now, he'll probably just be happy as fuck when he sees his girl show up, right? and none of you have ever even met her! aren't you curious??"

"that's a good point," koko smirks. "fuck it, gimme his phone."

rindou lifts ran's phone from where it sits on the table between him and his brother and holds it up to ran's face. "ran, look up," he instructs. his brother turns slightly, blinks at the screen, and the phone unlocks. rindou places it into kokonoi's outstretched hand.

"hey, hang on," ran pushes himself back so that he's sitting up properly, almost sending the whole chair tumbling backwards. takeomi steadies it with an irritated huff.

koko easily finds your texts– they're pinned to the top of ran's messages. all of the bonten members have become familiar with your name, and there it is under a picture of you, saved with a single fiery heart emoji beside it. "let me call her," sanzu taps koko on the shoulder. "she's met me. it'll scare the shit out of her if you call."

koko looks up as if ready to protest, but mikey gives him a stern look that says listen to sanzu. so he does, handing the phone over obediently.

you answer on the second ring, voice slightly sleepy, "hi, baby."

"hey, sweetheart!" comes a voice that is definitely not ran's. "sorry to startle you. it's haruchiyo, 'member me?"

you feel your stomach drop. why on earth would one of ran's colleagues be calling you from ran's phone? "is ran okay?" you ask quickly.

"he sure is!" sanzu laughs like you've told him a joke. "but he's also piss fuckin' drunk."

"who the fuck is that?" ran's focus settles on sanzu's phone call. he balls the back of rindou's shirt in his fist, "who's he talking to?"

rindou roughly shakes off his brother's grip, "don't grab me. calm the fuck down."

"jesus christ..." you groan, hearing the exchange in the background of the call. "should i... would it be okay if i come to get him?"

"i think that would be a great idea. i hope it's not too much trouble!"

"no, he's always trouble," you scoff, though it comes across fondly. "i'll be there soon. haruchiyo, would you mind texting me the address?"

"sure thing, babe. we'll see you soon." he hangs up before you can clarify who exactly we entails.

once you've gotten the call from sanzu, you don't want to waste any time. luckily, you haven't gotten into pajamas yet; you're still in comfortable clothes from earlier that day. you grab a bottle of water from the fridge and toss a bottle of painkillers in your bag before heading out to your car.

you follow the map to the location sanzu has sent: a divey little bar only a block from ran's office. when you don't see his car in the parking lot, you assume he must've walked. at least the batmobile was safely in the parking structure at the bonten building.

it wasn't often that ran got drunk. try as you might, you couldn't actually remember a time when he'd been less sober than you. usually it was him who took your drunk ass home and played nurse. you inhale deeply to steel your nerves and head out into the cold night air.

the bar is warm, thankfully. it's dimly lit and bustling, almost every table and seat is full. the clack of a billiards game can barely be heard over the loud voices and the sound of the radio. eyeing the crowd, you notice that there's a clear division between one table in the back and the rest of the patrons. and at that table is a bright pink head of hair belonging to a man who you notice is waving you over.

you step carefully through the crowded bar, making your way toward sanzu and the bonten members. as you approach, you recognize the back of ran's long, lean body, sitting with his head propped up on his elbow.

"she's here! our savior!" sanzu exclaims, beaming at you. the five other men at the table turn to look at you. ran doesn't move. "just the ran haitani rescue team," you joke awkardly, earning a grin from the man at the other end of the table who you assume has to be mikey based on... well, everything about him.

sanzu motions around the table, quickly introducing the men: takeomi, kakucho, mikey, kokonoi, rindou. "nice to meet you," you nod respectfully and introduce yourself.

"and, of course, you know this ugly motherfu–" "can you be fuckin' polite, shithead??" koko elbows sanzu sharply. you try and fail to hold in a chuckle. "i know him well," you reply, unfazed. stepping forward, you kneel beside ran to get a look at his face. his eyes are closed, his cheek smushed into the hand that he's resting on.

"ran? wake up, hon."

his eyes crack open. when he recognizes you he smiles, "wow, hey, baby. where'd you come from?? look at you, you look so good. you're so pretty."

"and you're so drunk," you counter, cupping his cheek. ran's smile deepens at the touch, turning his head to kiss your hand. the movement causes his head to slip from his hand and hit the table with a thunk. the rest of the table howls with laughter.

"shit," ran raises his head, nearly chuckling himself. "come kiss it, baby." you lean in to kiss his forehead and he becomes jello, all his weight tumbling toward you.

you stand up to intercept his falling body with your own. he stays there, leaning against your side, eyes falling shut again. you run a hand along his shoulders lovingly. "i should get him home," you tell everyone. "thanks for calling me, haruchiyo. i appreciate it." sanzu winks, waving his hand: it was nothing.

"sorry, would someone mind giving me a hand with him?" you ask sheepishly, nearly laughing out loud when every single member of bonten rises from his seat.

takeomi throws one of ran's arm over his shoulder and pulls him up. ran is practically dead weight as takeomi shuffles him away from the table. kakucho comes around to ran's other side and does the same thing. together, the two men have no trouble carrying drunk ran to the door. "i'll supervise," sanzu follows them through the bar, scarred mouth tugging up into a delighted smile.

"nice meeting you all," you wave slightly to mikey, koko, and rindou, all of whom are still standing, watching their colleague being carried out of the bar. they nod their heads politely to you and you hurry to catch up with takeomi, kakucho, and sanzu.

"where do you–"

"which car, sweetheart?" sanzu asks, cutting off takeomi.

"sanzu... fuckin' kill you..." ran grumbles upon hearing sanzu call you sweetheart. he lurches forward but takeomi and kakucho are holding on tight.

you jog ahead to your car and open the door.

they help you fold ran's long limbs into the passenger seat until he's curled up and cozy against the upholstery. the four of you stare at him sleeping soundly for a moment.

"hey, i've got a great idea!" sanzu exclaims. "you should come back in and have a drink with us."

"thank you, that's very sweet, but–"

"she can't drink, she's pregnant, dipshit," kakucho rolls his eyes at sanzu.

"oh? you... oh..." you sputter. "...you know?"

"he told us tonight," takeomi gives you a genuine smile. "congratulations, by the way."

"thank you," you return the expression, hand coming up to rest on ran's shoulder, smoothing the fabric of his shirt nervously.

"well, at least come have a soda," sanzu bargains. "you can have soda, right? bubbles won't ruin the whole–" he gestures vaguely to your abdomen. "–project?" you can't help but laugh, "yeah, soda's fine."

"then come on in," he reaches to pat your shoulder tenderly. "we're all dying to know anything about you. ran doesn't tell us shit."

you give ran a questioning look out of habit, but he's out cold.

a soft mmm leaves his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, combing it out of his face. "tired, baby?" you ask. he nods wordlessly, eyes still closed. "okay, rest up a little. i'll be back soon."

you follow takeomi, sanzu, and kakucho back into the bar and straight to the table you'd found them at earlier.

"look who's back!" koko exclaims, the surprise evident in his voice.

sanzu presents you to the rest of the men with wide arms, like you're an answer in a game show puzzle.

smiling in a way that you hope doesn't come off as nervous or awkward, you give them another wave. the bonten members who had helped you get ran out to the car reclaim their seats around the table. ran's open chair sits before you, sandwiched between takeomi and one of the only other people you had recognized apart from sanzu: ran's brother, rindou.

you and rindou had met a handful of times, mostly briefly, but all pleasant. despite how much they bickered, you knew ran and rindou were incredibly close and deeply important to each other. ran would never admit it, but rindou's approval of you had been quite important to him. not quite a dealbreaker, but really fucking close.

luckily, from the first time you met the much more subdued and serious younger haitani, you'd immediately gotten along. you had respected rindou's quiet stoicism, the way he closely surveyed situations and people. rindou, on the other hand, appreciated your bubbly nature. he liked how kindly you spoke to him despite his cold facade, and knew that someone like that would be perfect for his brother who also tended to hide his true feelings from others. though ran chose to hide them behind a pearly white smirk. it didn't hurt that you also laughed when rindou made snarky remarks to his brother, and that you even teased ran a bit yourself.

rindou motions to the seat beside him, hoping to ease your obvious nervousness with a familiar face and a welcoming gesture. you sit beside him gratefully. though you and rin weren't particularly close, knowing he was ran's family who he trusted with his life, made him comforting company.

on your other side is takeomi, whom you'd only just met. he seems slightly older than the rest of bonten, and less amused by their shenanigans. from what ran had told you about him, he was much more of a veteran in their world, starting young as a founding member of a gang until now, where he's practically got a hand in every major crime organization in tokyo because of his knack for gathering intel and vast knowledge of the business.

what put you the most at ease, though, was the fact that ran always assured you that takeomi was not a bad guy. ran openly admitted to the fucked up shit he had carried out in his past, as well as that of the other bonten members (which, of course, was all top secret information you'd never share) but he always said that takeomi didn't roll like that. his official title was advisor because at his core– what he did best– was give advice. and apparently he knew what he preached perfectly well, he just didn't practice it himself.

he lights up a cigarette and sits back quietly, observing. surprisingly, mikey is the first to speak. "i wish i could say we've heard so much about you," he speaks in a soft voice, a slight grin on his lips.

"ran is ran," you shrug apologetically. "but i'm here now! i'd love to know more about you all, too."

"first," koko pushes his chair back from the table. "what are you drinking?"

"coke, please," you smile and he heads for the bar. looking back to the table, you add, "it is kind of shit that i can't do shots with my man anymore."

"or your man's friends," sanzu grins, pouring the rest of koko's beer into his own glass. "so, tell us everything."

"everything?"

"yeah, life story." you look over at takeomi and he smirks to indicate that he's kidding.

"jesus, don't stress her out," rindou mumbles, sipping on his beer. "fuckin' weirdos..." you pat his arm in a quiet thanks and possibly catch him grinning as he nods back.

"what kind of stuff do you want to know?" you lean back in your chair slightly, looking around at the faces of the men surrounding you. at ran's closest colleagues and friends. your mind goes to ran, wishing he was here with you while you meet bonten for the first time, holding your hand reassuringly, fielding questions like your own personal bodyguard/PR rep.

"where did you guys meet?" kakucho asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.

your mind flashes to the bathroom of club octagon where ran, who you'd known for 10 total minutes, had bent you over the countertop and rutted into your sopping core as he groaned filthy words in your ear.

"we were out with friends," you say, not a lie. "and we started talking."

"out where?" sanzu's eyes sparkle with mischief.

koko gives him an amused look and tells you, "sanzu's the fuckin' coked up prince of tokyo nightlife. you name it, he's been there."

"it was octagon."

"fuckin' love that place," he leans back in his chair, satisfied with the answer. to mikey he adds, "i fucked a girl in the bathroom there once."

mikey nods, unimpressed, while you try to maintain a poker face.

"why haven't we met you yet?" koko gives you a little pout. "haitani's keeping his princess locked in a tower or some shit?"

"weird that he wouldn't even introduce you to his brother," kakucho nods.

"we've met," you and rindou say at the same time.

"NOT FUCKIN' FAIR!" koko wails. takeomi visibly winces at the dramatics, making you smile. the dynamic between the bonten members seemed a lot like a little family, despite the dark undercurrent that seemed to connect them all.

"can i ask something a bit personal?" mikey speaks suddenly, dark eyes boring into yours from across the table. the way everyone goes silent when mikey has something to say nearly makes you shudder. you nod enthusiastically, wondering what it might be.

"have you given any thought to baby names yet?"

there's no indication that he's kidding at all. his genuine curiosity is endearing, even despite the whole silencing every other person at the table with just a look thing.

you nod, "probably ran jr."

nobody says a word.

"i'm kidding."

with the admission, the tipsy bonten members break; every single one of them howls with laughter. even mikey is chuckling at the joke.

"fuck haitani," kakucho grumbles. "i want a cool girlfriend, too, man..."

"why the fuck would any cool women ever date you with that face?" sanzu blurts through a laugh.

"who the fuck are you even talking to, dude?!" kakucho is laughing despite the subtle hostility in their back and forth.

someone orders another round of shots and soon the men are acting even looser, talking loudly and laughing with you like they've known you for years. you all sit talking, answering their questions, for a long while. their conversation moves so quickly, it doesn't feel like any time has passed at all, though.

"biggest thing in bonten is loyalty," takeomi is suddenly lecturing beside you. you can't help but find his older brother aura quite endearing. "so, you know, i'm sure ran has said it, but you're his one and fuckin' only."

you smile to yourself, nodding along to the man's words, "right. i definitely know that. and–"

"what the fuck is going on here?"

your head whips around to the familiar voice behind you. ran is standing a few feet back, swaying slightly. his violet eyes are so dark they're almost black, filled with confusion and rage. his eyebrows are drawn together, the only indication on his perfect poker face that indicates how he's feeling.

"baby," you stand up immediately. "you–"

"haitani!" sanzu cries fondly. "you're back from the dead!" he balls up a napkin from the table and tosses it at ran who swats it away.

"how do you feel?" you ask, now at his side. checking the time on your phone, you add, "you slept for a while."

he says nothing, just glares at the bonten executives seated around the table. the sleep had done him some good; he no longer felt like the room was spinning now, and could actually create a coherent thought. but now that his mind wasn't so cloudy, it was running wild with every possible thing the guys might have said to you. the jokes they might have made, the dark secrets they could have disclosed. were you okay? he worried. embarrassed? upset? scared?

"your girl's a delight, haitani."

ran focuses his gaze on his mikey as he continues, "you're forgiven for keeping her a secret for so long."

looking down at you, ran studies your face to make sure the calm expression is genuine. ran leans down to kiss your forehead. you're smiling when he looks at you again.

"should we get you home, honey?" your hand wraps around his, your sweet voice like music to his ears.

"it was really nice getting to talk with you guys," you turn back to the table of bonten's upper echelon. there's still a smile on your face, but ran remains skeptical. then the men are all waving enthusiastically, absolutely gushing out their goodbyes to you. ran snorts out a smug "have some self respect, boys."

"yeah, sure. fuckin' gloat," kakucho leans back in his seat, crossing his arms.

"you're such a child," rin sneers, shaking his head at his friend.

ran's arm wraps around your waist, the movement both territorial and because he was still wobbly and needed the support. "goodnight," he gives bonten a small wave of his fingers. "don't stay mad forever, kaku, you'll get ugly." takeomi holds the half drunk kakucho back with one arm while you and ran turn and head for the door.

the night outside the bar feels even colder than when you'd entered the bar earlier, and you cling to ran instinctively. he hesitates just outside the doorway for a moment. "shit, hang on," he nudges you away from him with his arm abruptly. turning on his heel, he promptly vomits into the bushes that line the building's perimeter.

"fuck!" he cries, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and standing up to his full height. breathing heavy, he turns to give you a wild-eyed look and a toothy grin.

"you feel so much better, don't you?" you smile at him.

"like i got a fuckin' exorcism," he says seriously, making you laugh. "i really needed that."

you dig for a tissue and a stick of gum from your purse and you pass them over to ran. the color seems to have returned to his face and he doesn't look quite so out of it.

however, he chooses to focus his newfound attention on you and asks, "so, do you mind telling me what the fuck you're doing here?"

"sanzu called me from your phone and asked me to pick you up because you were really drunk," you take his hand and lead him to your car. he pulls away, "and you listened to him?"

"yes?" you look at him incredulously. "ran, you were shitfaced. i could hear you on the phone."

"i would've sobered up. they just wanted–"

"to meet me?" you cut him off. "is that such a bad thing?"

ran inhales sharply through his nose, watching you cross your arms over your chest. in a kind of demented way, ran liked arguing with you. the way you defiantly talked back to him, raised your voice when you got frustrated, and pouted your lips just the smallest bit: it drove him crazy. ran knew better than to ever try a you're so pretty when you're angry line on you, but it didn't stop him from thinking it.

the dreamy look in his eyes gave him away though. you suddenly sigh, "you're still not 100%. i can tell because you're obviously thinking about something else right now."

he shakes his head, smirking unconvincingly, "i wouldn't do that."

you roll your eyes, though it's lighthearted, "sure, baby. now let me take you home."

when you take his hand again, he allows you to pull him along to your car. "i just don't want you puttin' yourself in bad situations..." ran continues. his voice sounds slightly strained and you can tell it's difficult for him to express these feelings. "scares the shit out of me, like, what if they had said something fucked up, or done something while i wasn't there to look out for you?"

"but it was okay," you hesitate behind your car, holding ran's waist. "it was fine. and i was gonna meet them eventually, right?"

"i guess," he sighs stubbornly.

"everything was good," you take his hands. "they were all perfect gentlemen. i wasn't uncomfortable at all. don't be mad, okay?"

ran bends to kiss you, soft lips melding with yours. he's still a little tipsy and his kisses are messier than you're used to, but you can feel his stress melting away.

you pull apart and get into your car. "you just can't," ran gestures, still not done with the conversation. "can't be so quick to listen to– i mean, any of those guys– but sanzu, of all people, okay??"

you smile and nod, clicking on your seatbelt. ran watches your amused face with frustration "i'm serious! sanzu is legitimately insane."

"ran, stop," you frown at him. "he was very sweet."

"none of those guys are fuckin' sweet!" ran scoffs. "they're in tokyo's largest criminal organization! they've all done terrible things!"

"hey," you give him a chastising look. "i happen to be in a serious relationship with an executive of tokyo's largest criminal organization."

"yeah, and he's an asshole," ran smirks.

"sometimes," you deadpan. ran laughs, reaching over to hold your hand in your lap. "but he loves me."

"you're damn right he does," his hand squeezes yours, thumb running across the back of it lovingly. you can tell he's still frustrated at the events of the evening, but it's fading.

"aren't you kind of glad i came to get you?" you cock your head to one side. "you didn't have to wait at the bar to sober up, i got to be with you at the end of the night..."

ran looks back at you with a look you can't figure out. he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "it was really nice to see you show up."

you smile as he cups your cheek and pulls you close. his lips brush yours softly as he whispers, "i just fuckin' love you. and i worry, alright?"

"i fuckin' love you, too," you kiss his forehead. "let me take you home and put you to bed, okay, baby?"

"deal."

♡ taglist ♡ (to be added, click here)

@deardazais @perfectlysweetfury @pshwaa @dazaisleftballsack @himboos @jeonscream @ohiribasilisk @mitsuyahaitaniackermannanamibae @kashxyou

(i appreciate y'all so much!!!)

#sanzu with subtle wine mom energy #bonten fluff #bonten x reader #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran fluff #drunk ran #pregnant reader #fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years ago

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Succession Chapter 1 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fic

Here is chapter one of my new fanfic!

Title: Succession

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OCs

Rating: PG-13 for language and intense scenes (for now, this is a slow burn, but it will get very hot and spicy in later chapters)

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova that you didn’t know existed has died and you are his sole beneficiary. You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The music blasted from the car speakers as you drove down the main road towards the highway. You had your phone plugged into your car stereo, your favorite Spotify playlist on shuffle. Despite the A/C being on full blast, beads of sweat formed at your brow and rolled down your temple. You adjusted the vents on either side of you, making sure the cold air directly hit your body. The song that was playing had you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, your head bopping to the beat.

The fridge at home was close to empty and it was beyond time for you to go grocery shopping. The grocery list was secure in your purse and you were determined to stick to the items on the list and not make any frivolous purchases. Money was tight and you only had so much money left before payday next week.

The song shut off suddenly followed by your ringtone. Looking at the screen of your phone, UNKNOWN stared back at you. Probably a spam call, you thought to yourself, reaching to press the red Ignore button. Unfortunately, your finger slid at the last minute and mistakenly tapped the Accept button. You watched as the call came through and the seconds ticked off. FUCK!

“Hello?” you greeted with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

“Hello, am I speaking with Miss Y/N?” a heavily accented male voice responded.

“Yeah, this is she,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You tried your best to avoid these calls, ignoring them and letting them go straight to voicemail. Very rarely was it followed with an actual message, which was more than fine with you.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Ron M. Dathermi. I am a lawyer residing in Chisinau, Moldova in Eastern Europe…”

You raised your eyebrows at that. Moldova? Who the hell was calling you from Moldova? Chalking it up to a scam, you were about to interrupt the man when he continued.

“...I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your great uncle, Serghei Popa, has passed away from a short illness and has named you his sole beneficiary…”

You couldn’t help the amused huff that came out of your mouth. This must be some very elaborate scam.

“Umm...sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. I don’t have family from Moldova and I have never heard of this man in my whole life.” You were about to hit the End button when Mr. Dathermi continued.

“Am I speaking with Y/N, born on (your birthday) to (your father and mother’s full names) and the granddaughter of (your grandfather and grandmother on both sides of your family)?”

Your eyes widened at that. “Yeah, that’s me…” you answered.

“I know this may sound unusual, but Mr. Popa was the brother of your grandmother on your mother’s side. He was given up for adoption at birth and taken in by a Moldovan family. He did not have a spouse and had no children, and according to the genealogy report I have before me, your grandmother and your mother are both deceased. Your mother was an only child, yes? It appears to me that you are the last of his living relatives.”

You pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot. The information you were being given was a lot to handle. You didn’t have that large of a family. You were an only child and raised by your parents and both sets of grandparents. Both of your grandfathers had died before you turned 10. Both grandmothers died within 5 years of each other and your father and mother died of illnesses, cancer and pneumonia respectively, in the last year. Grief was a feeling that you knew better than anyone. You kept to yourself mostly and you didn’t have any close friends or a significant other.

“Listen,” you began, “you are correct about all of your information, but how do I know this is not some kind of scam?”

The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat and the sound of shuffling papers met your ears. “I can imagine that this information is sudden and unusual. What I will do is send a copy of his will and a copy of the genealogy papers to your address. I encourage you to take this to your lawyer and have them look over the information. The reason I am calling is because I need you to fly to Moldova, sign these papers, and accept the monetary inheritance that he has left you.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked down at your phone. Fly to Moldova? Is this true? The only thing you knew about the country was that a foreign exchange student from high school was born and raised in Moldova. That about sums up your knowledge of the country. This seemed incredibly asinine and ridiculous. But the word that settled in your train of thought was “inheritance.” What inheritance?

“Mr...what was your name again?” you asked.

“Mr. Dathermi, but you can call me Ron,” the lawyer responded.

“Ron...umm, how much monetary inheritance are we talking about?”

More shuffling of papers was on the other side of the phone, Ron clicking his tongue as he looked through the information. “He has left you 53,806,746 Moldovan Leu...which translates to $3,000,000 in American currency.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!?!” you exclaimed before clamping your lips shut. You heard Ron chuckle. “I’m sorry, pardon my language. It’s just...wow...this sounds insane…”

“I can imagine it does,” Ron replied, “which is why I want to mail this information to you and have your attorney take a look at it so you know this is a legitimate will and testament. If you would like, I can mail the information straight to your attorney if you are still leery.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” you said, shaking your head. Your mind was whirling. None of this sounded remotely true. You felt as if you were dreaming. This felt like something that only happened in books and fairy tales...a girl who had nothing and nobody suddenly inheriting millions of dollars from an unknown distant relative. What are the odds of something like this happening in real life? You gave Ron Dathermi your home address.

“Thank you very much, Miss Y/N. I will send this as soon as possible. I’ll also include my business card so your attorney can contact me and we can iron out the details. Thank you very much, Y/N...I’ll be in touch.”

You thanked him as well and ended the call. All alone in your car in the empty parking lot, you let out an excited squeal and started hopping up and down.

You adjusted the messenger bag that was slung across your shoulder as you heard the overhead speaker call for the boarding of your flight. Taking a deep breath, you got in line, extended your ticket to the airport employee, and walked down the tarmac and into the plane.

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach. Your hands gripped your bag tightly as the flight attendant looked at your boarding pass and pointed down the aisle to where you were to be seated. You had never flown before and your nerves were on alert. Scenes from Final Destination flashed in your head as you walked down the aisle towards your seat. Taking a deep breath and willing your body to relax, you located your seat next to the window and sat down, plopping your bag onto your lap.

The small window was close to the wing of the plane and looking beyond that was a long expanse of grass that met a vast forest. You were thankful that you had the window seat and your headphones so you could tune everything out and relax in your own little world.

Once the papers from Mr. Dathermi arrived a week prior, you immediately called the attorney that helped you with the probate and will from your parents’ deaths several months back. He was more than happy to help, knowing that you were all alone in the world after your parents had passed. Two days later, he called to inform you that all of the paperwork was, in fact, legitimate and that Mr. Serghei Popa was the brother of your grandmother. He showed you the adoption papers, confirming that your great uncle had been put up for adoption and the family that took him in had relocated to Moldova when he was two years old. He had remained in the country until his death. Your attorney contacted Mr. Dathermi, who in turn secured a round trip plane ticket in order for you to come to Moldova to finalize the paperwork and collect the inheritance.

At the thought of the money you were about to acquire, another surge of excitement flowed through you. Your parents hadn’t left you much after their death and you worked at a dead-end job that had no room for advancement and no possibility for raises. All of these recent events sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“This is your captain speaking,” the voice sounded from the speaker above your head, “we will be departing in the next ten minutes. Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, your tray tables are up, and all electronics are off until we are at the appropriate cruising altitude. I will inform everyone as soon as the coast is clear. Thank you for flying with us and enjoy the ride.”

You fastened your seatbelt and laid your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous…” a voice sounded next to you. You opened your eyes and looked over to see an older gentleman with wide rimmed glasses and a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, returning his smile.

“It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled, “my name is Bruce Williams. I’m the air marshal on board this flight.” You told him your name and shook his hand. “Just relax,” he assured, “we’ll be flying for the next 10 hours. There are lots of movies and tv shows to watch on the screen in front of you, or you can listen to your music and read a book if you brought one.”

You patted your messenger bag. “Yeah, I have a few books to choose from. Thanks,” you smiled.

Within minutes, the plane had backed away from the tarmac, turned towards the long expanse of runway, and increased speed before leaving the ground and soaring up into the clouds.

The steady hum of the plane’s engines provided a relaxed soundtrack as you slept. It was close to early morning, according to the clock on the tv screen, but your watch was still on your regular time zone. It read early afternoon and that threw you through a loop. You had heard that jet lag could be a bitch and you wondered how bad yours would be once you landed. Bruce had passed you a pillow and blanket once you were ready to sleep and he assured you that your bag and belongings would be safe while you slept.

You were so thankful to be seated next to him. Not only was he the air marshal, but he was a really cool person as well. You two talked about movies and actually watched a couple of them on the tv screen in front of you. Bruce was kind and nice to talk to. The crinkle of crow’s feet around his eyes, his laugh, and his hair color mixed with hints of gray reminded you of your father...maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You shifted in your seat and let out a soft yawn. Stretching your arms above your head and arching your back, you wondered how much longer it would be until you touched down in Moldova.

“You weren’t asleep that long,” Bruce murmured. You looked over to see a book in his hand and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go back to sleep,” you replied, standing from your seat. Bruce stood up and allowed you out into the aisle. You made your way to the bathroom towards the back of the plane. The cabin was dark with little lights dotting either side of the aisle on the floor. Soft lights were shining here and there from people reading, watching the tv screen, or messing with their phones while most of the passengers were asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you did your business, flushed the toilet, and began washing your hands. The mirror in front of you showed a tired and weary version of yourself. Some of your eye makeup was smudged. You told yourself once you returned back to your seat, you’d retrieve the makeup remover wipes in your bag and do away with the dirt and oil.

Just then the plane hit an air pocket and dropped several feet, throwing you forward towards the sink and mirror. You let out a shriek as the plane quieted and went still. “God dammit,” you muttered, putting your hand over your heart, “that scared the shit out of me!”

Once out of the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and walked back to your seat. You tapped Bruce on the shoulder and he moved aside.

You lifted the window shade and looked outside. Natural light from the start of the day began to show. The plane was amongst the clouds so it was fairly cloudy and hard to see.

“How much farther do we have?” you asked Bruce. He shifted the book to his left hand and looked down at his wristwatch. “We should be there in three hours. I think we are flying over Romania right now…”

You nodded your head and thanked him, turning back to the window. The clouds gave way momentarily and provided the opportunity to see the ground below. Tall, snowy mountains came into view. You smiled and marveled at their beauty, wondering what mountain range this was. You cursed yourself for forgetting the basics from your World Geography class in high school. Hell, all you knew about Romania was that it was the setting for Dracula and the real life territory that was once owned by Elizabeth Bathory, who allegedly killed upwards of 650 maidens and bathed in their blood. You shook your head and smiled to yourself. You really did enjoy some morbid and fucked up stories.

Your train of thought stopped short when a large and spacious castle came into view. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. It looked like something out of a Disney movie or from ancient castles that still sat throughout Europe. The place looked like it stood on several acres of land and who knows how many square feet. What a gorgeous and breathtaking place it was. You wondered just what was inside a monstrosity like that and who was lucky enough to inhabit such a place. Maybe there were castles in Moldova that you could explore and visit while you’re conducting your business.

The castle fell out of view and not far from it stood what looked like a village. You were too high up to see any people or any traces of lights or torches. You took everything in with total awe and appreciation. It looked like a small and sleepy storybook town.

A sudden movement close to the village caught your attention. You squinted your eyes and tried to look closer, pressing your forehead to the window. What the fuck is that, you wondered. It looked like a black tree, naked of leaves or any type of growth...and it was moving. It looked to be swaying in the breeze, but the size of it looked way too sturdy for any kind of gust to move it with such fluidity. As you focused on the tree, it appeared to be growing...getting closer to the plane. Was the plane descending? Were you getting closer to Moldova?

One of the branches of the tree slowly drifted to the ground before extending long and rigid, slinging itself up into the air like a bullwhip, hitting the wing of the plane. The plane suddenly tilted as the slithering limb wrapped around the wing and broke it off. You let out a loud scream as the plane turned on its side, Bruce falling against you, squishing you to the wall. “WHAT THE FUCK??” Bruce screamed as yelps, shrieks, and screams echoed in the cabin of the plane. Dozens of people were knocked from their seats, flight attendants falling into the aisle and rolling towards the cockpit. The plane shook and quaked as it dropped several feet in a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” you screamed, grabbing hold of Bruce’s arm. The air masks dropped from overhead and Bruce grabbed yours, making quick work of putting it over your face. “HOLD ON TO IT! HOLD IT OVER YOUR MOUTH, Y/N!!” he commanded, reaching for his own mask.

“THE WING OF THE PLANE HAS BEEN DAMAGED!” the pilot yelled from over the speakers, “WE ARE LOSING ALTITUDE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” People screamed and panicked, holding on to whatever it was they could. Panic surged through your body as your fingers dug into Bruce’s arm. The plane shook as it fell. Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were seconds from impact. You looked out the window one last time before the ground came into view and everything went black.

He leaned over the body on the metal table in the lab of his factory. He fastened the bolts with a wrench and tested the strength of the metal against the rotting flesh. A soft horn sounded in the distance along with the various turns of chains and clangs of steel against steel. He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked to his desk, looking over the blueprints and sketches he had devised the previous day.

Despite the different array of sounds, nothing could mask the loud crash that sounded off in the distance. He lifted his head, silently trying to figure out what the fuck made that noise. Leaving the body laying on the table, he exited his lab and made his way down the stairs and to the factory doors.

With a grunt, he slid the doors aside and looked off into the distance. Black smoke billowed from an area that looked to be close to the village. Other than the crows squawking and flapping their wings in retreat, everything was dead quiet. He looked off to the right just in time to see the long, spindly limbs of mold retreating back towards the earth. Karl Heisenberg’s face tightened in a disgusted grimace.

“Mother Miranda...what have you done?”

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg #heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic

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colormeyondublue · 3 years ago

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First fic ever! Honest feedback time!

This is my first ever fan fiction and I want your complete honesty. If you love it, great! If you hate it, that’s totally fine! If you have any tips or suggestions for a first time writer let me know!

Secrets: Yondu x Reader

A/u where Yondu survived Ego, and the guardians are still aboard the quadrant....

For a couple months now, Mantis could tell something was wrong with her best friend. You were always so cheery and up-beat. You would never tell her what was bothering you, no matter how much she asked. This was completely unlike you because you always told Mantis everything. She wanted to know what was making you feel and act so weary and tired. You seemed so stressed and the others started to notice too. Anytime someone would ask what was bothering you, you would just shrug it off and make something up. But the excuses were getting old.

“Come on y/n, I bet you would feel so much better if you just got it off your chest.” Peter poked you in the side as he bugged you about it for what felt like the millionth time. “Plus, I’m just super curious now. You’ve been sulking for weeks.”

“Just leave me alone Peter!” You snapped. You winced at your words and then took a deep breath. He was just trying to help. It’s not his fault you felt this way. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just dealing with something personal right now, and I would prefer to do it on my own.”

You heard those signature clunking boots come through the doorway behind you, “Do what on yer own?” Yondu asked with his hands on his hips and a quizzical look on his face.

Yondu and Kraglin were still hanging out on the Quadrant with the Guardians since the events with Ego. They were in the process of getting a new ship and a new crew after Yondu blew their old crew to all hell.

“Nothing. It’s absolutely nothing, Yondu.” You were irritated. Yondu was the one person you didn’t want to push away, but you felt like you had no other choice. You tried to push past him and leave the room, but his large hand caught your shoulder.

He looked you dead in the face, and you turned your eyes from him. You couldn’t keep your knees in check if you caught those crimson eyes for too long. His voice was low, “Hey, we don’t do solo missions and we don’t work alone. Ya got something ya have to do, ya take someone with ya. Ya already know that.”

“This isn’t about some mission.” You kept your stare at the floor between your feet as you continued. “I’m not going anywhere, just - leave me alone.” You pulled your shoulder away and quickly returned to your bunk.

You walked into the cabin that you and Mantis shared, throwing yourself onto the bottom bunk in a huff. You let out a long sigh with your face in the pillow. You were too emotional to think straight. You’ve never felt so many conflicting emotions at once and it was driving you insane! If you didn’t vent soon, you’d explode. Nervousness, happiness, guilt...the list goes on. Nervous, because Yondu gives you butterflies to which the likes couldn’t be described. Happy, because you get to spend every single day around him...but on the other hand you feel guilty because you don’t want to put anyone in a weird position. He’s Basically Peter and Kraglin’s dad! His age didn’t bother you one bit, but you certainly didn’t want to ruin any family dynamics going on around the ship. You could accept the truth in your head, but saying it out loud was a whole other matter. The truth was, you had fallen in love. Stupid, annoying, nerve wracking, inconvenient, love. Everything about this situation was so messed up.

Part of you wanted to just give in and fall straight into the arms of the man you’d fallen for. The other half of you was screaming at you to keep your mouth shut. So far, the screaming side of you has been winning. You honestly didn’t think he would return your feelings, and you genuinely thought he was way out of your league. He was brave, strong, smart, cunning, and downright gorgeous. You were short, clumsy, a little curvy, and the weakest of the team. The only thing you had going for you (and the only reason you were able to join the team) was your incredible shooting abilities. Back on Terra, you were super talented with firearms. The transition from guns to blasters wasn’t too bad. You knew Terran guns inside and out. You were definitely a good shot, and you weren’t afraid of anything - except maybe your feelings for the Centaurian on board. Over your time with the guardians you got really good with intergalactic weapons, with some help from Rocket of course.

“Y/n..........Y/N!”

You jumped out of your thoughts, sat up in your bunk and looked frantically at Mantis who was eagerly trying to get your attention. “Are you okay?” She asked with a curious, yet concerned, expression on her face.

“Ugh, yes, Mantis. I’m fine. For the thousandth time, I’m just fine.”

“I don’t believe you. Something is wrong, and you leave me no choice. You mean a great deal to me, and I need to help. I am very sorry, but I feel I have to do this.”

Before you could get another word in, Mantis had her hands gripped around your wrist. Just as you began to pull away, her antennae glowed their bright yellow light and her eyes burst open to look at you.

“Mantis, please, you are my best friend in this entire galaxy. Probably in the entire universe - you cannot tell anyone!”

She stared at you, wide eyed. She couldn’t believe what she felt. So many emotions at once. It was such a surprise! Regardless, she was very excited for you.

“Y/n, this is so exciting! It is happy news. But, also confusing. You feel so many things. Why must this be a secret?”

“Because!” You shouted, a little louder than you intended. “Mantis, this isn’t what you think. If this gets around it could jeopardize the entire team. He may not feel the same way I do, and that would be a humiliating disaster. Look, if it helps, all you have to do is wait until Yondu and Kraglin are able to leave with their own ship and crew, and then once that happens you can shout it to the stars. Deal?”

A low, raspy voice travels through the doorway interrupting your conversation, “so, what happens when Kraglin and I get our own ship and leave?”

You and mantis snap your heads toward the door with nervous expressions. Yondu’s presence and voice sends a chill down your spine. Butterflies are bursting into a frenzy in your stomach. You both just stare at him, completely unsure of what to say.

“Well?!” He boomed. “Why ‘ave ya been acting so fidgety ‘round me lately? And wha’s sis ‘bout waiting fer me and Kraglin ta leave?”

Mantis looked at you, then back at Yondu, and back at you again. “Y/n, you know I care for you very much, and you are my best friend, but I think this is something you two need to talk about.” With that, she ducked past Yondu and fled the room.

You stood up and yelled at her as she ran, “THANKS BESTIE! I’LL GET RIGHT ON THAT!”

You turned to look at Yondu, who was still sporting that classic scowl he wears all the time.

“What?” You snapped. You seriously hated being so crass with him, but building walls was your specialty, and it was the only way to protect this weird little family you’d grown to love. If Yondu ever found out how you felt, it could all come crashing down. Not only could you lose him, but everyone else too.

He eyed you suspiciously, “Ya know, I only known you for a coupl’a months, and you don’t seem right. Mind tellin’ me what that’s ‘bout?”

“No.” You said flatly. “I have nothing to tell.” Heat was rising to your cheeks as you lied right through your teeth.

“Ya lyin’. You’s a bad liar ya know it?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Fine, if ya won’t tell me, I guess I’ll go pry the information I need outta poor little ol’ Mantis.”

“Leave her out of this! She doesn’t know anything.”

“Ah, so there is somethin’? I knew you was lyin’.”

You began to get defensive. “Yondu! UGH just stay out of it! I don’t need to tell you anything! I don’t want to tell you anything.”

Yondu turned his back on you as if he were going to leave. You felt a quick moment of relief until you heard the door slam shut and the bolt click into the door frame. Shit.

He turned to face you again, he took one large stride toward you, and now he was just inches from you. Those butterflies from earlier were trying to come up your throat, but it was getting so tight you could barely breathe. Your mouth was dry, and you swallowed hard to push them back down.

“Now, ya gonna tell me what I wanna know. Why’sit so important that Kraglin and I leave? You plannin’ somethin’?” His voice was intimidating and came out as a rumble. His words made you realize that, even after all this time with the Guardians, he still didn’t trust you completely.

You put on your best poker face and said, “No, I’m not planning something. Stop being paranoid. I would never hurt anyone on this team. Especially not you!” You froze at your last words. Damn it...maybe he won’t think too much into it.

His eyes blazed into yours for what felt like an eternity. You broke eye contact by rolling your eyes and scoffed, “Ugh - I don’t need this.” You tried to push past him and unlock the door, but it was no use. He caught your arm and pulled you back to him. His touch lit your entire body on fire.

“Ohhh ho, no ya don’t. You ain’t gettin’ outta this. Spill. Now. There ain’t no secrets on this ship.”

“But you aren’t the Captain here, Peter is.” You protested.

He shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Okay, yer right. I’m not the Captain here. But I am the one you’ll hafta get pass’ to unlock the door.”

“You’re so infuriating! Why are you even on this?! Why is this so important to you?!” You could feel yourself getting more and more defensive.

“I don’t like secrets.” Yondu said matter of factly.

Of course he doesn’t, you thought to yourself. He just dealt with a pretty nasty mutiny a few months ago. With a deep breath you relaxed, “Look, all I’ll say is this: I am not planning anything, I am not going to hurt anyone, and you really don’t need to worry. I’m going through some personal stuff and, like I told Peter, I just want to deal with it on my own.”

He pondered your words for a moment. “Fine.”

“Fine?” You asked.

“Yep, fine.” He turned to unlock the door and walked out, leaving the door open behind him.

That was definitely weird. He let it go just like that. It wasn’t like him to just let stuff go. You decide to keep to yourself for the rest of the day, buried in your thoughts.

Yondu, however, was not done with this. He waited a while before making his move. After an hour or so he went to find Mantis. She was up front on the flight deck chatting with Drax.

“Mantis, come ‘ere. I need to ask you somethin’.”

She looked at the Centaurian hesitantly. She stood and walked to him, fiddling with her hands. “Did you and y/n talk about what’s been bothering her? It was such a surprise to me, but I am very happy! I hope she will be happy too. You are a very good man.” She said discreetly.

Yondu just stared at her, totally lost. Mantis picked up on his confusion rather quickly. She began to fidget and shift nervously.

She leaned in and whispered softly so Drax wouldn’t hear, “She did not tell you? Oh, no. Well, I cannot tell you anything. I am her best friend and she is mine and I will not tell!”

Yondu lowered his voice as well, “Look girl, I’m juss as worried about ‘er as you are. All I’m askin’ is for a way to help.”

Mantis thought his words over, and hesitated. “I don’t know...she seemed very intent that you never find out. If she didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I should.”

“Come on girl, ya wanna make sure she’s alright, right? I thought you’s was friends. Besides, I sorta have an idea of what’s goin’ on anyways. Juss tell me.”

Mantis’s big, innocent heart won her over and she decided it would be best to tell him if it meant helping you.

“Y/n has been experiencing very much stress and anxiety because she likes you. More than likes you, loves you. There is very much love and sexual desire. She is nervous, excited, and happy, and angry, and sad, and feels guilty too. I felt it all right before you walked in on us talking about her conflicting emotions. It was very confusing. I certainly would not like feeling that way. She is afraid that if you found out, you would reject her and she would have to leave. But...I don’t want her to leave.” Mantis slumped her shoulders at her last words.

Yondu didn’t know what to say. You liked him? Loved him even? But why all that other stuff too? He had to find out. No more games, no more secrets. “Thanks girl, ya been a big help.” Yondu patted her shoulder and walked from the flight deck back to the bunking area.

Yondu sighed and knocked softly on the door. “Mantis, I told you I’m not talking anymore! I’m fine!”

The door quietly opened. “It ain’t Mantis.” Yondu said gently. “Can I come in?”

You sit up on your bunk and look at him, “Sure, feel free to lock the door while you’re at it.” You said sarcastically.

He grinned over his shoulder at you, and locked the door. “You and I gotta talk.”

You begin to panic, it’s happening. He knows, Mantis squealed. “What did Mantis say? I told her not to say anything!”

“Don’t blame her, it ain’t her fault. I made her tell me.” Yondu said with a sly smirk. “So - now that it’s out there, let’s talk.”

The butterflies were back in an instant and about to burst out of your mouth, but what came out instead was just plain sad, “Let’s just get this over with. You’re gonna tell me you know how I feel about you, and then I’m gonna say ‘yeah it’s true, I do like you - like a lot’, and then you’re gonna say, ‘well, sorry, I don’t feel the same way’, and then I’ll take that rejection and shove it way down into the depths of my soul. After that, you turn around and walk out, and I start packing. Okay, great. Are we done?” You stood up and walked toward your trunk that contained your belongings to hide your humiliation and distract yourself.

Yondu looked at you with slight surprise on his face and chuckled. “Uhh no. That ain’t what I was gonna say at all. What I was gonna say was, ‘m flattered. Truly. Women ain’t exactly chasin’ after me these days. I’m just a washed up ravager. No crew, no ship, and I ain’t as young as I used ta be.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he continued. “A pretty young thing like yasself shouldn’t be pinin’ over someone like me. I ain’t worth it.”

You snapped your head his direction and almost yelled, “EXcUSe ME?! Not worth it?! Do you even hear yourself?”

The Centaurian stood there, dumbfounded as you continued.

“Do you have any idea who you are?!” Here it comes - word vomit. You couldn’t stop, it all came pouring out like dumping water out of a bucket. “You are Captain Yondu Udonta. The fiercest Captain of the 100 Ravager Clans! You’re known across the galaxy! You have more experience in open space navigation, survival, and armed combat than I could ever dream of having. You’re incredibly strong, and cunning, and more charming than any man I’ve ever met. AND you’re just plain handsome. Not to mention that arrow of yours! Don’t ever sell yourself short, because you are more than worth it....if anything, I’m not worth it!

Before you could continue your rant, Yondu quickly stepped toward you, whirled you around and pulled you away from your trunk to kiss you passionately. His lips were the perfect combination of rough, yet soft. He tasted strongly of whiskey, and his hands roamed over your body until one twisted its way into your hair and the other pulled you into him by your waist. The kiss was open mouthed, hot, needy, and absolutely perfect. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back desperately and you felt a little chuckle fall from his lips as he pulled away, leaving you breathless.

“Ya have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ ta do that.” He said.

“How long?”

“A few weeks after Peter introduced us. Ya started ta really prove yaself with this group a misfits, an’ the rest of ‘em really took to ya. Including me. I never imagined ya’d be fond of someone like me.”

You both stood in your bunk area holding one another closely. “Well, I have to be honest, I didn’t expect this to happen in a million years.” You admitted.

Yondu pushed you to arms length to get a better look at you. “Why’s that?” He asked.

“Well I mean....look at me? I’m just a dumb little Terran. I’m weak and I barely know anything about space. I’m so new to it all, and I don’t exactly fit in around here. You guys have such incredible abilities and talents. I’m just...me. Terran. What I wouldn’t give to be like...I don’t know, Gamora. She’s breathtakingly beautiful and a total badass! I’ve been contemplating going back to Earth anyway because I just feel like I’m holding you all back.”

Yondu looked over your body and face admiringly and said softly, “I am lookin’ atcha, and none ‘a that’s true. I’m glad your here, and I’m sure as hell glad we met.” He grinned down at you, showing off those gold capped teeth. He leaned in to kiss you once more, deeply.

He pulled away lightly to whisper on your lips, “I can show ya everythin ya ever wanted to see, and teach ya everythin ya ever wanted to learn about bein’ out here.

I ain’t lettin’ you get away.”

#yondu x reader #marvel #gotg #gotg fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fans #yondu udonta #yondu #reader #gotg vol 2 #sfw #short fiction #secrets

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writerpyre · 3 years ago

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Intro/Fic Masterpost

(Updated as of 17/08/21: Dead links have been repaired and minor edits made to layout)

So, I’ve been in the Thunderbirds fandom for officially a decade now, and my first fic series isn’t complete yet. Life gets in the way, as we all know, but unless I specifically have a note on any of my stories on FanFiction.net or Ao3 that say they are abandoned, I always intend to get my stories completed. At some point.

I hang out on Tumblr to vent, muse and interact, mostly about fandoms. These include Thunderbirds (all three iterations), BBC Merlin, Marvel MCU, Star Trek TOS/AOS and The Shadowhunter Chronicles. I do post stuff of my own, but recently it’s just been hop-on-tumblr-to-ignore-the-real-world shenanigans. *grins sheepishly*

Please feel free at any time to drop me a DM here on Tumblr, or on either of my pages at the links above. I’ll always do my best to reply. I may not be actively posting content, (especially with the last two (six) years being a f*cking sh*tshow) but I’m constantly lurking (and working on things as the muse permits). *Waves excitedly*

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

This is a masterpost of all my fanworks, whether they are writing, traditional art/digital renderings that I am happy with, etc. Others will be added as they’re completed.

Click here for a bit of waffle about what I’m trying to achieve with my Thunderbirds ‘Bound’ Universe.

These are my fanfic stories to date. All except one are Thunderbirds so far, and this will be updated as each new fic is added, as well as any supplementary material I create. All these links are for fanfiction.net, but I am currently in the process of uploading all of my stories to Ao3, for those who prefer that site’s format.

Happy reading, and thank you!!

THUNDERBIRDS:

The Bound Universe:

‘The Bound Series’:

Bound: Part I - Bound

Bound: Part II - Determined

Bound: Part III - Fulcrum - In Progress

‘The Bound Series’ - Promotional Pieces

The Bound Series Official Trailer

Bound Series Banners

Bound Series Aesthetic Post - John

Bound-Verse Oneshots: (In chronological order)

For Jeff and Luce (a songfic, my own lyrics, and put to original music - if you wish to hear it, you can find it here.

Red Holly and Hot Cocoa

A Little Family

Amissus Gemina

The Trip (More of a multi-chapter, but didn’t fit in the categorisation. :D)

Sunlit Days

To the Stars

Pater Et Filii

Itchy

On the Road

Down With the Weather

Something Like A Friend

Flyboy

Fire and Ice

Golden

Dangerous Boys

Phoenix (can also be read as tv-verse)

‘The Bound Series’ Trilogy (see above)

Tempered

Tremble (contains spoilers for Chapter 23 of Bound: Part II- Determined)

Breathe (contains spoilers for Chapter 31 Bound: Part II - Determined)

Bound-Verse Multi-Shots:

Threads in Time and Reminiscence

Glimpses Through the Veil (contains background spoilers for The Bound Series)

Virgil Tracy Week Prompts (Aug 2016):

Day One: Skies

Day Two: Stars

Day Three: Music

Day Four: Ocean

Day Five: Heroes

Day Six: Brothers

Day Seven: Change

Day Eight: Bonus Round - (The Hangover)

Thunderbirds Are Go:

Pride Goeth - (Contains spoilers for Thunderbirds Are Go Episodes 1: Ring of Fire (Part 2), and 4: Crosscut) - In Progress

Tidal Force - (Contains some spoilers for Thunderbirds Are Go Episode Ring of Fire Part 1 & 2 - In Progress

Addendum - Skyhook (Spoilers for Skyhook, need I say more?)

Pavlova Peril (Secret Santa 2016 ~ For Argentis, technically a stand-alone but fits within any of my fanon.)

Alea Iacta Est Arc: (Movie AU-Verse)

AIE Multi-Chapters:

Alea Iacta Est - On Hiatus

AIE Oneshots:

An Evening Photograph

**In this universe, much of the basic details are the same; post-film, circa 2059, with the events occurring including my OC Kent. More details will be revealed as the story progresses. The ages for the boys as of the beginning of that fic (on hiatus until I get it completed and start uploading again) are as follows: Scott twenty five, John twenty three, Virgil and Kent twenty one, Gordon nineteen and Alan fifteen. Tin-Tin is sixteen, and Fermat, thirteen.**These fics, unless specified as being otherwise, have absolutely no links with the Bound Universe (the name of my normal fic ‘verse), but you might see a few similarities with characterisation.

Miscellaneous: (each stand alone)

Refining the Antinomy

Nimbus

Paperclip

The Hardest Thing

Ebony and Ivory

The Binary of Five and Six

Musica Universalis

The Other Side of the Page

TOS: (each stand alone)

Health Hazard

T is for Tracy, C is for Chaos

Scarlet Burn

Balancing the Scales - In Progress (Collaborative story with LexietFive)

TAG AUs:

Of Gilded Frames and Silver Crowns - A Companion piece to Space-baegel’s Fairytale AU

Nix:

Fledgling (Original novel experiment - fusion fic)

THE SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES:

Remembrance - (Contains spoilers for The Infernal Devices Trilogy by Cassandra Clare)

A note on my fandom involvement and expectations on your conduct within and regarding my stories:

I feed off of comments/reviews, so don’t be afraid to let me know what you think, either with grammar, flow, ‘isms’ (as most people are not cognizant of differences unless they are told by someone of a different English dialect) or characterisation, but I will say right here and now that I do not tolerate flaming in the slightest. Constructive criticism on how I can improve; yes, unwarranted abuse of how I have incorrectly portrayed your perception of the character/series; no. I would also very much appreciate if you were to contact me before placing any of them into any archive, or on any sites other than my own on here, fanfic.net or Archive of Our Own.

Also, Kent Slayton Tracy (younger twin to Virgil Tracy) is my OC, and no use of him in any way, shape or form may be included without my prior consent.

Thank-you for your cooperation. :)

42 notes · View notes

bibliocratic · 4 years ago

Note

YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD OMG! How are you so talented?! :O your tma dialogue is on point! do you have any writing that you are working on atm that might come out soon? (if you wanna share).

Hi anon! That’s so kind of you to say! :D I do actually - I’m working on a RQBB fic that (fingers crossed) will be all finished for the big event at the end of the month. I can’t share any of it just yet (all very hush hush, I’m so excited to finally be able to show it.) BUT. I am working on a longer fic looking at the S1 OG Archives team and how they’d function as a polycule, so have some Sasha and Martin softness!

This time round, it's Martin's turn to open his wallet, wincing at the price. They alternate who shoulders this particular financial blow – one of them forks out for the tickets, the other buys drinks or coffees or sandwiches after. On their trips, it's only ever the two of them. Tim will only venture near a cinema to see whatever popcorn action flick he's seen advertised on the side of a bus, and Martin will watch those, in fairness, if Sasha badgers him enough, but only begrudgingly, trying and failing not to be a little bit of a film snob about it. Jon, for his part, has only ever said yes once, to a documentary about Macedonian beekeeping.

Afterwards, because it's usually a matinee screening, they'll secrete themselves somewhere within the in-cinema cafe, elbows on the table and and playfully dissect the movie inbetween bites of an overpriced panini. Martin favours symbolic films, whimsical scores at odds with the unfolding drama, full of dream sequences and stunning cinematography and uncertain endings. Sasha prefers social realism and emotional acting and a concrete resolution.

Their tastes do find overlap. They'd both been looking forward to this particular film for weeks; Martin had sent Sasha screenshots of raving reviews from Sundance and Canne and the film festival circuit, Sasha had taken a picture of the poster outside the Curzon in Mayfair and captioned it 'SOON'. Which is why, when they came out as the credits rolled, Martin already venting and mid-bitch, Sasha interrupting with her own heated, infuriated additions, heading down the stairs to the ground floor cafe sounding like two enraged magpies, Sasha had bought them both two bottles of beer and overpriced cake slices and they'd taken great delight in stewing in calories and alcohol.

They conclude the night many hours later. Martin's wobbling as they stand at the bus stop, squinting at the sun-faded timetable protected by a scratched and graffitted plastic covering. Sasha's gone sleepy, leaning against his back as he peers at the information blurring in front of him.

“Sash, wu'v misst it,” He slurs. “'s'.... fuckit.....went like, 'n'our ago.”

“S'fine,” she burbles against his back. “I-I'll walk, s'cool.”

“Y' live in, in fuckin' Haringey, 's....'s miles away,” Martin says, and he's got a crease above his eyebrows and he's clearly thinking hard because he spins round and says: “And my flat's.... 's worm-food, innit. So. Right. Up. Tim's... Tim's, what, twen'y minutes away, summin like that?”

It is an abominable hour. Tim will most definitely be in bed, and neither Sasha nor Martin have a key, so he'll be rough eyed and sore about the disturbance. But she is tired and staggering and she wants to go to bed. Martin is gesturing with that stubborn expression he gets, turning around and indicating that she jump on his back. She clambers up like a graceless forest animal, digging her shoes into the fleshy sides of his torso. With a bit of swearing and manoeuvring and a sketchy moment where Martin nearly loses his balance and topples the both of them, she is seated comfortably against his back, arms held like jumper sleeves around his neck.

“Hm, love you Marto,” she sighs into his hair as he sets off, carrying her easily.

After a minute, she gets a self-conscious little 'you too, Sash' and she falls asleep against his hoodie.

#martin blackwood #sasha james #the magnus archives #tma #ficlet

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theepitomeofamess · 6 years ago

Text

this isn’t a vent fic this isn’t a vent fic this isn’t-

this might be a vent fic. one that i did on impulse and that turned out way longer than i expected.

Analogical (can be read as platonic or romantic) w/ implied Royality

Trigger warnings: talk of depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, some cursing

Word count: 4358

ao3 link

“Hi, do you guys have any walk-ins available?”

“Yeah, but I’ll warn you,” the receptionist turned to a drawer full of clipboards, pulling one out, “there are three people waiting ahead of you.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.” Logan smiled as he took the clipboard, finding a seat in the small waiting room. A barrier stood between the main waiting area and a strip of computers against the wall meant for student sign-ins, but he didn’t know that yet. He’d never done this before. Seeing two chairs situated adjacent to the computers, nestled between the partial wall and an end table with a lamp and pamphlets adorning it, Logan decided it was best to keep himself away from prying eyes. Of course, sitting with the majority of other patients would probably draw less of a gaze, the barrier made him feel safer nonetheless.

He’d wandered in at maybe twelve thirty, just after his second class of the day. He’d been on his way to his dorm to work on the homework for his next class, but he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. He found himself asking directions to the counseling center from the receptionist downstairs instead of hoping to avoid an interaction with one of his more conversational suitemates. He’d always known where the health center was - he’d made a point of memorizing where it was in relation to his dorm and each of his classes every semester, just in case he got unreasonably sick - but he never thought that he’d go there. Or if he did, he would stay on the first floor.

He thought about leaving more than once. How hard would that be? Just walk out and pretend like nothing had happened. His dorm wasn’t far. Why couldn’t he just leave?

He would have left if there wasn’t a twenty-five dollar no-show fee. He just couldn’t afford that. Not right then.

It was one ten when a soft voice called his name from the space leading back into the hallway of offices. Quicker than he’d expected. There had been plenty of time for his hands to stop shaking, his stomach to stop churning, his shoulders to unwind. Somehow, though, they kept going.

The man was young, probably one of the graduate students that the center had working in order to prepare them practically. He wore a pastel pink button-down under a light brown cardigan, had round-framed glasses, and carried himself with a posture that on anybody else would have come off as cocky, but on him only radiated welcome.

“We’re gonna come right in here,” he gestured to a room, and Logan entered. “If you would take a seat.” Logan did. “My name’s Emile. I want you to know that I am a graduate trainee. These sessions are recorded, and if you would please sign this consent form so that we know that you’re okay with working with a graduate trainee. If you’re not, then you will be transferred to another professional for your following appointments.” Emile held another clipboard with forms to Logan.

At any other moment, Logan would have laughed at the thought of another appointment. He couldn’t bring himself to laugh. He just nodded and signed the form, consenting to working with Emile despite his lack of experience.

“Thank you,” Emile took back the clipboard. “So, why don’t you tell me what brought you in today?”

“I-” Logan cleared his throat, forcing his vocal chords to work. “I need to get screened for depression.” The words still came out as a croak. Emile scribbled something on his clipboard.

“Can you tell me why that is?” Logan looked at the foot of the chair Emile was sitting on. He could feel his throat protesting the thought of speech. He hoped that the brim of his hat he’d worn to keep the rain off his glasses was also working to hide the reddening in his face.

“Do you know the site 7 Cups?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I talked to two listeners on there, and they both said the same thing. It was effectively, ‘yes, you have depression, seek help.’” He could still remember the exact words of one of the listeners, username GreenTeaInsomniac533: “Honey, that’s depression, please talk to someone.”

“And why do you think they said that? I mean, what did you tell them that made them think that?”

“I…” Logan cleared his throat again, determined not to let himself go. Emile didn’t deserve that. Emile was a stranger, just trying to help. Emile didn’t deserve to see him fall apart. “It’s just this… lack… of anything? I’m sorry, I’m not good at explaining things.” Logan lowered his head further, his elbows on his knees and his back hunched. “And I’m always tired - like, in my head, I know that I’m not tired, but then my head and body are so heavy and just screaming ‘Sleeeeeep.’ And… and I’ve started skipping classes in order to just get five more minutes in bed, and my grades are going down because I can’t get up the energy to do work outside of class and…” Logan should have stopped himself there. “And there is a history of mental illness in my family. It’s mainly anxiety, but that and depression tend to go hand-in-hand.”

“Did you come here on their recommendation,” Emile asked after waiting for further explanation, his light scribbling turning frenzied before calming again.

“God, no,” Logan scoffed, finally picking his head up. The look that it got from Emile begged for an explanation that would satisfy him. “Here’s the thing.” Another clear of the throat, another internal plea to not break down. “For so long, I have seemed to be the only somewhat mentally stable person in my family. Like I said, they all have issues of their own, and they’re pretty major. My friends have those kinds of issues, too. Panic attacks, family issues, depression, you name it I probably know somebody who’s got it. I’ve been the only one that nobody’s had to worry about, the only one-” Logan cursed to himself as his voice shattered and a tear fell behind his glasses. “I’m the only one that’s been consistently stable and- and if I’m not… if I’m not stable, then…”

“You feel like if you’re not there to be stable, then everyone will fall apart.” Logan could only nod, taking off his glasses and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, praying that that would stop the crying. “There are tissues next to you if you need them.” Chancing a glance up, Logan took a Kleenex from the box. “That’s a lot to carry on your own.”

“And it’s so hypocritical,” Logan laughed, putting his glasses back on even though he was still actively crying. “I’m the rant receiver for all of my friends and family, and every time they start to apologize for venting to me, I tell them ‘It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to carry all that on your own.’” Logan hated the way his voice kept breaking, refusing to sound normal, but he couldn’t just sit there and cry until it was over, because then he would have to start talking again and it would start over. “I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t… I never do this, I don’t…”

“Never do what?”

“Just,” Logan gestured out with his arms, his hands focusing near his face, “this. It’s just… the fact that I’m admitting this, admitting that I can’t… that I need help, it’s just…”

“Yeah, it’s very overwhelming.” Emile’s voice was hypnotic to say the least, comforting and warm enough to the point that it could be called a sleeping draught. “ And it’s a lot easier to be nice to other people than to be nice to ourselves.”

“Hell of a lot easier,” Logan muttered, leaning back on the couch and crossing his legs so his ankle rested on his knee.

“Can I ask, just to get more of a gauge, about your past thoughts of suicide?” Logan took a deep, trembling breath.

“Define suicidal thoughts.” Emile nodded, writing something down. “Because I don’t actively contemplate killing myself, it just sort of happens. It’s like, those intrusive thoughts where your brain is like ‘You should walk out into traffic and get hit by a car’ and you just think ‘no, why the fuck would I’- I’m sorry, I don’t know how cursing works with the recording, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Emile waved his hand, assuring Logan that he was fine.

Logan calmed down eventually. A few more questions and he found himself with a steady voice and relatively dry eyes. He kept his hat low over his eyes, but he knew that Emile could see him, even if he was shadowed. He answered all of Emile’s questions as well as he could given that he couldn’t feel himself thinking. Questions about substance abuse, self-harm, how he’d been dealing with these feelings up to this point (he hadn’t) and who his support system was. For that last question, he wanted to list off his closest friends, the ones that he knew wanted the best for him because they wouldn’t let him forget it, but since none of them knew he couldn’t list any of them. So he said no one.

“I just want you to know,” Emile brought up as the session came to a close, “that you should really be proud of yourself for coming in. It takes a lot of strength to admit to needing help, especially when you’ve gotten so used to carrying yourself and others for so long. I know that this was overwhelming, but I am so proud of you for coming in, and I really hope that you’re proud of yourself.”

Logan was too exhausted to do anything but smile, and the session was coming to a close so he couldn’t bring up how he wasn’t proud and how the positivity didn’t help, however gentle it was. He got positivity in massive doses every day from staying on the right end of Tumblr, and that never helped either. If anything, it made it worse.

“Here’s some information on the events we have going on here. My personal favorite is Thursdays when we have a session of using art as an outlet - a different kind of art pretty much every week, if we can manage it. And,” he took a business card off the end table, writing something on the back of it, “if you’ll take this to the front desk we’ll get you set up for your next appointment.”

Logan felt his brain protesting against the thought of a ‘next appointment.’ He didn’t need a next appointment. He’d hardly needed this walk-in. He was wasting this poor guy’s time, probably not doing anything to help his graduate work. This poor guy with the reassuring smile, voice gentler than any he’d ever heard, and lively eyes that glowed with a wish to make at least one person’s day a little better. This poor guy that didn’t think Logan was wasting his time.

“Okay, your next appointment is in two weeks,” the receptionist wrote a date on the card, “and either nine-thirty or eleven-thirty.”

“Nine thirty,” Logan agreed. The receptionist finished putting in the appointment and handed Logan back the card through the window. Logan thought that he heard someone say his name behind him, but he ignored it. “Thank you. Have a good day.” Just as he was turning away to leave, Logan felt a hand on his shoulder.

“L?”

Logan turned around on instinct, but wished he hadn’t. Now Virgil could see his puffy eyes, his reddened cheeks. That would have been bad enough, but the unadulterated worry pouring from Virgil was enough to make Logan want to break down again. He wouldn’t - he didn’t have it in him to do that again - but he couldn’t stand the concern, the stress for him. Logan bowed his head, the brim of his hat preventing him from seeing Virgil, Virgil from seeing him.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” The words were just barely loud enough for Virgil to catch.

“Virgil?” An older counselor - probably one of the actual professionals - stepped out with a file in hand.

“Just a second, Joan,” Virgil smiled over his shoulder before turning back to Logan, leaning down just enough to see Logan’s face under the brim of his hat. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. If you go back to my place and I meet you there after this, will you tell me anything about it?” Virgil knew Logan already had a key to his apartment - he’d given one to each of his friends just in case they needed a safe space or he needed them and wouldn’t let them in.

“I can’t make any promises,” Logan finally muttered.

“That’s okay. Will you at least go back to my place?” Logan nodded. “Great. I’ll meet you there.” Before turning to his counselor, Virgil wrapped his arms around Logan, squeezing him around the shoulders.

Logan was bigger than Virgil - both taller and broader - but in that moment he felt so small, he was curled so far in on himself that he couldn’t tell that he was the bigger one. He felt even smaller by the face that Virgil still rarely hugged anyone. The only one Logan had ever seen him hug was Patton, and that was because Patton always initiated. Logan allowed himself a deep breath, deflating into Virgil for a moment before they separated.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?” Virgil smiled gently at Logan, reassurance radiating from his features.

Logan nodded in response to Virgil’s promise. Turning over his shoulder, Logan assumed that Virgil had done the same. He didn’t know that Virgil had watched him out the door before going back with Joan. He was too tired to think, had too much of a headache to wonder. He just wandered to the elevator, keeping his shoulders back as best he could so that if he ran into somebody else on the way to Virgil’s apartment, they wouldn’t be suspicious. At least, not as long as they didn’t look at his face.

Virgil asked Joan if they could cut their session shorter than usual. Joan accepted, however reluctantly, letting Virgil go a quarter of an hour earlier than they would have otherwise liked. Virgil got back to his apartment as quickly as he could. He hadn’t been able to get the image of Logan’s face out of his head. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes, flushed cheeks, crumpled in on himself, horrified and desperate. He could still hear Logan practically begging - something that had impossible to imagine Logan doing up until this moment - for him to not tell anyone.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he got back to his apartment. Maybe he’d expected an immediate explanation, for Logan to have been pacing the entire time he was there just waiting to give Virgil a reason he was there that would ease his nerves. Maybe he’d expected Logan to be sitting at the table with his laptop open, distracting himself with homework or projects or something. Maybe he’d expected a note on the coffee table, telling Virgil that he needed coffee and he went out to get some and would be right back.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been Logan completely unconscious, crashed on his couch.

Of course, that shouldn’t have been surprising. From the looks of it, Logan had been through an emotional ordeal, something that Logan - to say the least - wasn’t used to.

Sighing to himself, Virgil pulled a blanket from the lounger on the other side of the room and tucked it over Logan. He took the skewed glasses from Logan’s face so they wouldn’t bend, folding them and setting them on the coffee table. He noticed how messy Logan’s hair was when he took his glasses off. Messy and filthy, like he hadn’t taken the chance to wash it in days, maybe a week. Virgil swallowed against the thought - Logan, who always preached self-care and basic hygiene, not washing his hair for days. Virgil pulled the blanket further up to Logan’s shoulders. Logan was so out that he didn’t react to the changes. Virgil wasn’t about to change that. He wasn’t about to wake Logan up.

Going to his table where he has his drawing pad was still set up from last night - this morning? - Virgil sat down and set to work. Drawing always helped time go by faster for him, and hopefully he could be productive in some capacity while Logan recovered.

He didn’t know what he was drawing until he’d drawn it. A robot - gears and screws and metal and all - with its head bowed. A shadow fell over its face, but that didn’t hide the human eyes welled with tears, bloodshot, the streaks down its face revealing skin underneath the metal. Its mouth was contorted in a shape it wasn’t meant to take, cracking the metal around it to reveal more skin, its human teeth gritted. He was hugging himself, hands holding the metal plating on his arms in place while they tried to peel away, to reveal the trembling self underneath. Virgil labelled the file “Please don’t tell anyone” and he almost hated himself for it.

Virgil had just finished making himself a pot of coffee when he saw Logan sit up on the couch. He looked around, confused by the blanket that he hadn’t put over himself and the glasses that he hadn’t taken off. It was only after he put on his glasses that he recognized Virgil in the kitchen.

“You want some,” Virgil offered, pouring sugar into his coffee as he watched Logan stand and stretch from the couch.

“No, thank you.” Picking up the blanket, Logan folded it how he knew Virgil liked it. “I should get going. Thank you for letting me crash for a bit, but-”

“L,” Virgil stopped him. “I’m not going to make you tell me what happened. I’m not going to make you stay here. But I don’t want you do be alone right now. And I don’t think that you want to be alone.” Logan bit the inside of his cheek, lowering his eyes to avoid feeling Virgil’s - concern? Caring? Whatever it was - full force.

“In that case,” Logan muttered, setting the folded blanket on the couch and strolling to the kitchen, “I guess a cup wouldn’t hurt.” Virgil offered a smile, getting down a mug for Logan. It was his favorite, the one that he always used, the one that said “I have the vocabulary of a well-educated sailor” on the side.

Logan did end up telling Virgil some of why he’d gone to the counseling center, but not before he made him swear not to tell anyone, especially not Patton or Roman. They would never look at him the same way. Patton would end up thinking that he had to tread lightly until Logan proved to him otherwise, and Roman… well, as far as Logan could tell, Roman would never let him live it down. It would come up in every argument, every pointless spat. He was sure of it.

He didn’t cry again. Maybe because he didn’t go nearly as deep, or maybe because he’d already cried himself into a stupor, or maybe it was because Virgil was probably his best friend and as much as a stranger like Emile didn’t deserve to deal with a sobbing mess, Virgil deserved it even less. Maybe it was the coffee and the familiarity of the space. Maybe it was the calming effect that Virgil managed to have on him - as much as Emile’s was comforting and opening, Virgil’s energy made it where Logan didn’t shake with every thought.

“I’m sorry,” he finally concluded. “I don’t want you to have to carry this with you. Just forget I-”

“Logan,” Virgil set a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Do you remember what you did when you figured out about my anxiety and tried to tell you to not worry about it? You kept being the stubborn jackass you are and learned everything you could about what sets me off, what to do if I have an attack, everything. You sat with me through I don’t know how many attacks, and you full on screamed at that teacher junior year for trying to make me present while I was having a panic attack.” Logan chuckled at the memory, coaxing a matching smile from Virgil. “You got suspended for that, and you didn’t care because, y’know what? You care about me. And y’know what? I care about you. So if I have to scream someone down for you, I will. I’m here for you no matter what, bud. Whether you like it or not. And I know that that doesn’t feel right right now, I know that it probably doesn’t help. I know that you’re probably thinking that you don’t want to be a burden. You’re not. I can promise you that. You’ve been here for me for years. If you think I haven’t been ready to do the same for you since we met, you’re dumber than I thought.” Virgil heard the huff of a smile before he felt Logan lean to the side, laying his head against Virgil’s.

“Thanks.” The word came out with more breath than voice. There was so much relief that Virgil wanted to apologize for ever making Logan think that he would be anything but supportive of him.

They didn’t move for a while. Virgil heard his phone binging and knew that it would be Patton or Roman or both. They were probably on their way over. After all, it was Friday night. Netflix and pizza night. Logan was in the bathroom washing his face when they arrived.

“Woah, Virge,” Roman gasped. Virgil looked up from the Domino’s app to find Roman gawking at his laptop. Shit. “This is beautiful. When’d you do that?”

“Last night,” Virgil lied. Patton stepped behind Roman, his jaw dropping at the sight of the drawing.

“Kiddo, that’s amazing!”

“Thanks, guys.” Virgil saved the file again before closing it and his laptop.

“Is it an original character, or something?”

“Yeah.” Leave it to Patton to come up with an explanation Virgil could latch on to. “Haven’t fleshed him out completely, though. That’s my first one of him.”

“Well, let me know as soon as you have more,” Roman requested. “I might need to use that for some writing inspiration.”

“Will do. That is, assuming I don’t abandon him like every other one.” Roman chuckled and the conversation dissipated into Logan asking what they wanted to watch this time. Roman reminded them that the new season of Queer Eye was up, so it was a pretty easy choice.

The night went on as easily as ever. Logan had pulled a complete one-eighty from his state earlier that afternoon. He was bickering with Roman, smiling reluctantly at Patton’s jokes, excusing his still puffy eyes as pulling another late night, putting on a perfect act as though he hadn’t completely fallen apart mere hours earlier. Virgil could relate, but he couldn’t quite understand it. Everything was normal, from the way he took the pepperonis off his pizza to give Patton to the way he only replied with “I’m gay” when Roman asked him why he was sitting on the floor, back pressed to the front of the lounger where Virgil was curled up, when there was plenty of space for him on the couch where Roman and Patton were.

Virgil kept an extra close eye on Logan, though not in any way obvious enough for anybody to really take notice. He watched his patterns, trying to piece together his everyday mannerisms with the collapse earlier. He told himself that Logan probably felt like he was just going through the motions. He watched how Roman teased him, only for him to tease back in a way that suddenly sounded half-hearted. He didn’t envy Patton and Roman’s ignorance. Even though it might’ve been easier to be in their shoes, still completely clueless to what was happening with Logan, it wouldn’t have been better for him. He was so glad he knew. So glad that he could understand a bit more why Logan fell asleep again, the side of his face pressed against the leg Virgil let dangle from the lounger, his nose just against Virgil’s knee.

“Must’ve been more than one all-nighter,” Patton theorized through a marble cookie brownie. Virgil nodded in agreement, not taking his eyes off Logan. For the second time that afternoon, Virgil took Logan’s glasses from his face so they wouldn’t bend. Absentmindedly, Virgil tucked his fingers into Logan’s hair, running the strands between his fingers. He was the only one that heard the soft sound of contentment in Logan’s throat, the only one that felt Logan press his face closer into Virgil’s leg. Virgil couldn’t decide whether his heart was breaking or living, but it was doing something.

None of them moved. None of them ever moved. They all fell asleep in their spots, Patton and Roman tangled together on the couch, Virgil a perfect ball in the lounger except for the leg Logan was using as a pillow. Nobody got up until around eight-thirty, when Roman and Patton both stirred. They got up to get Starbucks for all four of them, but not before Roman got a picture of Virgil and Logan, adding the picture in an album called “Proof that these two idiots are in love.”

By the time they got back, Logan was up and moving. They found him cleaning the coffee pot of yesterday’s contents, having already put the leftover pizza and cookie brownies in Ziplocks and in the fridge. Virgil was still curled up in the chair. Patton smiled at the sight.

“You’re real determined to take care of him, huh,” he asked Logan in a whisper. Logan only smiled, grabbing a cloth to dry the coffee pot. He had no intention of telling Patton that compared to how Virgil had taken care of him yesterday, a clean coffee pot was nothing. Not yet, anyway.

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 6 years ago

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Blame It on Your Beats (2)

Bucky x Reader Series

Chapter Content: Fluff

Summary: A brush with the underworld leads you on a run, away from what was supposedly your normal life, with Bucky Barnes. You two do not seem to be in sync as Bucky tries to keep you alive, trying your best not to kill each other. Or that’s what you think you are doing.

Series: contains smut, adult content in there somewhere in the future chapters so please look at the chapter content and warnings before you proceed.

Chapter Warnings: Psychopaths, pain.

A/N: This series is written for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s MK Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for hosting. I am having a lot of fun with the prompts. I hope I can do justice to them and put the entire series up before the deadline. :D

Tags for this fic are open

MASTERLIST

The comms Friday had guided you to in Bruce’s desk worked, helping you reach out to Tony Stark- who you prayed was not busy somewhere in some grand event- to help you and the treasured fabric you were holding so close to your heart.

“Who’s this?”

“Oh, thank God!” you finally inhaled, hiding under the desk now, “Mr Stark, it’s me, Y/N.”

“Y/N, I told you to close the lab four hours ago. What are you still doing there?” Stark authoritative yet caring voice came over the comms.

“I-I know but I had to finish the curing tonight and now I am stuck in the lab with two very suspicious guys with guns standing outside the lab, telling me to hand over the Old Word of the Late,” you explained hastily as your voice quivered, “they’ve cut off the power to the facility and are trying to break through the lab security to get it.”

“Chances of lab breach at 10 per cent,” Friday’s voice came over the comms for both you and Stark to hear.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, making you wonder if he had left you for the dead, your mind stabbing itself to stop thinking the worst and making your heart go into cardiac arrest.

“Mr Stark?” you were on the edge of tears.

“I’m here, kid. Is there anyone else still in the building?”

“No, I don’t think so. Melvin, the security guy, made his last round about an hour or so ago. He told me everyone had gone home.”

“Okay.Good. Now I want you to look inside the second desk drawer on the left of Banner’s desk for a blue box. It will have a ring-shaped tracker inside it.” Tony instructs you as precisely as possible, making it easy for you to find it in your first try. “Found it.”

“Good. Wear it so that it activates using your heat signature.”

Without a delay, you shove the duo-chrome band over your finger.

“I can see her. I’m on my way,” comes another voice.

“Okay, good. We’re getting you out of there-”

“N-no, Mr Stark,” you interrupt the man, turning to watch the men looking at their watch and signalling you the time through their fingers, “there are more of them outside-”

“Easy kid. Breathe,” Stark reassured, making you follow his instruction as you took in one good breath and tried to exhale the anxiousness through your mouth, “they didn’t take over my system. Someone on their side was clever enough to make Friday believe there had been a breach. Friday is rebooting the essentials one by one. I already have their numbers on here, alright?”

You nodded.

“O-okay,” you blurted out after a few seconds of realisation.

“Now keep yourself out of the range of their weapons, grab only the essentials and hide till we get to you. How much time do we have?”

You turned to look at the man who signalled his fingers at you again, smiling at you, his emotions reaching his eyes in the most horrifying way.

“Eight minutes.”

“Where are you going to take those, sweetheart?” The filthy man called out as he watched you- from beyond the still burning fire- gather your laptop, phone and bag, rolling the OWL into its tube container. You didn’t feel the need to respond- mostly because your senses were trying to avoid any confrontation from your potential murderer.

“At least give this poor man a word before signing off, sweet thing.”

And suddenly you froze at the hazy familiarity of those words you had heard over the chat during your last shady tournament that nearly put you behind bars, turning to look at the man- his grey eyes looking more haunting in this absurd fire burning in front of him.

It didn’t take him long to register the horror on your face, making you comprehend what you had just given away.

“You were one of them,” he voiced, his eyes going wide, so did his smile, “weren’t you? The noobs we hired for the security breach.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, you ran back with all your stuff to the safety of the only brick wall and desk, your heart nearly in your mouth as your breaths grew erratic.

“You know I’ll find you, sweet thing,” his voice echoed, making you feel a cold chill run through your bones, “and unfortunately I’ll have to kill you now.”

__________

“Whatever you do,” Clint’s grim voice came through the comms, “do not fart while you’re in there.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Barton,” Bucky mumbled as his bike’s tires screeched to a halt in the soil before he left it on the ground and ran towards the direction of one the hidden passages out of the facility that led straight to the vents of the main building right where you were trapped.

Tapping in the code, he was inside the cooling system controls, watching the tracker beep on his watch, telling him your position.

“How much time do I have?”

“Four minutes Barnes,” Bruce answered, “it seems like they’re trying to weaken the impenetrable glass. W-wait, hold on-”

Bucky was already inside the shaft that was as tall and wide as him, rerunning Clint’s direction to the lab in his mind.

“James,” Tony’s solid voice spoke over the comms, “you have to hurry.”

“I am hurrying,” Bucky asserted.

“The man standing outside the lab hired her for the job she almost got destroyed for.”

The layers inside Tony’s words opened up. Bucky realised the gravity of the situation, accelerating his pace through the shafts that kept getting smaller with the distance.

“Take a right here and crawl till the second opening. That’s the lab,” Clint instructed the sergeant.

Bucky found the opening and slid it open, his gun ready as he slid down and landed on top of a table that had research papers scattered all over it. The transparent walls were all somehow covered in fire from the ceiling to the floor, huge cracks already developing over the glass.

He turned towards the desk while silently landing on the floor, keeping his huge body mute on his toes as he crouched towards the side, your figure hidden behind it partially coming in his view.

Your back- the usual way he had seen you for the past one week whenever he passed the lab, swinging with your earphones plugged in, listening to heavens know what that made you work while dancing about the entire area of this room- was towards him, making him come for your shoulder.

One moment, Bucky’s hand landed on your exposed cold skin, and another, a searing pain ran through him, sending his body into a red swirl of fireworks.

Continued here

TAGLIST

Permanent

@magiclolipopqueen @choke-me-sweet-pea @smexylemony @hazzastyles2471 @lokis-lady-death @lokixme @l0kisbitch @tarithenurse @hiddlestonstansworld @itheoneofmanyfandomsi @nalokoniloki @fuckidontknow @qualitynerdwasteland @cryinglots @unipanda1006 @literalangels @meganlikesfandoms @kcd15

BIOYB

@klmpun

(Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the future chapters/fics. Send me an ask if you have a request/would like to leave me feedback/just want to have a nice chat. xx)

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angstsplatter · 6 years ago

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Why You Should Try to Comment on Fan and Original Works, Not Just Like/Kudos/Bookmark

So I saw a post sorta talking about this, but it was tumblr-focused and talked more about how to reblog/was more of a venting topic. I would like this to be a topic that can go for any site that people post fan and original works on: fanfiction.net, ao3, tumblr, lifejournal, wattpad, patreon, instagram, etc. I also want it to be clear this is for all forms of works, including fan/fic, fan/art, even aesthetics, meta, etc. Honestly, this also goes towards all the kind souls creating Instead of creators lamenting, I want us to explain why comments helps us out so much more than likes/kudos/wordless reblogs/etc.

Hence: Why You Should Try to Comment on Fanworks, Not Just Like/Kudos/Bookmark

Because it shows appreciation and that you actually took the time to look at/read our art.

Likes and kudos are super easy to give out. We get that. But you know what’s not easy? The time, effort, and dedication we took creating something. Liking/kudoing something is great! But it also gets really tiring for us. It’s like a round of applause after giving a speech. It’s nice, it helps break the tension... but then the host asks the audience if they have any questions or comments and it’s just radio silence. Then it gets embarrassing and stressful, and you feel like you must have done something wrong because a good speech should provoke reactions and interest.

If you just like/kudos our work, it could just mean you saw it. You showed up in the audience and clapped when everyone else did. But it doesn’t mean you were present - that you listened, that you really took in or cared about our work. Maybe you liked it because you wanted to read it later. Maybe you liked it because you recognized the name and just liked that we were posting.

Liking/kudoing is nice. It really is. But it’s just not as fulfilling as actually interacting with us.

Because it lets us know that people care and encourages us to keep posting, keep trying, keep working at it.

I’m positive that you all have worked at something in your life and consistently don’t or didn’t get gratitude for it. It wears on you, doesn’t it? Even a once enjoyable task that you were passionate about becomes a grating chore. Nobody seems to care or recognize your effort. Doing the thing becomes annoying and frustrating, like what’s the point? It’s human to just need a little recognition. Just for someone to notice and say thanks every once in a while!

Lack of interaction with people taking in our creations can absolutely wear us down. It can mean our muse disappears and we hit writers block. It can make sharing our work more stressful than it is fun. It can burn out creators from creating that content that you love when nobody interacts with us. It’s happened to every single one of us at some point that we at least take a break, if not leave creating for fandom forever. But if people are saying thank you and are letting us know they do appreciate our work, it encourages motivation so much more and keep us creating and growing.

You’ll see stories of this on other posts, but fanfic writers have been encouraged to suddenly take up and complete years old fics due to someone coming along and reviewing. Really, comments can mean so much to us. If you’re not a creator, you may not really understand this, but I have a folder where I’ve saved screenies of kind comments and reviews for bad days when I need the uplift. Reviews and comments can mean absolutely everything to us.

Because it’s kind. A common courtesy to thank someone for their gift, if at all possible.

In most these cases, you are getting to consume our work for free. The very least you can do is let us know that you saw and appreciated our work. We’re like musicians who play on the street corner. We like to please and entertain you. But we cannot sustain ourselves always doing it just for free. It feels good when people who enjoy our work say something to let us know, do something to show their appreciation.

If a friend surprises you with a gift, do you take the gift and run away from them? Or do you say thank you so much for thinking of me, this means a lot? When someone does something nice for you, when they think of you, it’s kind to tell them you appreciate the sentiment.

Our creations are a gift. We do not share them because we have to or because our work is only valid when consumed or any such nonsense like that. We share them because it made us happy to create them. We want to share that joy with others! We want to entertain you and put you through a journey. We want you to experience that content that you love. That distracts you from your life for a little while and just lets you experience something new altogether.

What we create is a gift. Please treat it as such.

Because it can make you feel happy and satisfied, too.

Whether a creator responds or not, it can give you satisfaction to know that you were able to, in some way, return the favor to the creator for the gift they gave you. It is always nice to be appreciated. Obviously, creator and fan cannot endlessly interact going “thanks”, “you’re welcome, thank you”, “of course”, etc. But a simple comment can make a creator’s night, and you should feel good about fostering that.

Okay, so now you know why creators really, really try to encourage fans to interact with us with comments, not just likes/kudos/etc. But I know from my fandom forum days that a lot of people don’t review because they are intimidated.

We’re the creators. We do not expect each and every fan to write a novel in response to our fic, art, post, etc. You don’t need to do anything more than tell us “thanks” to life our spirits and make your gratitude known! I’m not exaggerating. The different between someone tagging a post “thanks” and everyone either just liking the post or reblogging it with absolutely no comment is world’s apart.

That’s it. That’s literally it. If you don’t know what else to say, if you don’t feel you can particularly communicate your feelings... just say thanks!!! It’s such a nice thing to hear.

If you loved it, just say “i love this!” That’s all that’s needed! You don’t need to make this complicated! Share the positive feelings you felt or simply thank us for creating/sharing. That’s enough!!!

And so few people do this. If even just a fourth of fans started doing this, we’d feel 100x happier sharing our work!

If you want to expand more, here’s some things you can keep in mind to add to your review:

What do you like about the creation? A specific line, a character’s characterization, the colors, the unique style, a specific event, a headcanon, a a part of some analysis you never thought of before?

Do you have any questions? Was there a plot hole or something you didn’t understand? Maybe you learned something or want to know where an artist learned some technique? Are you wondering why character A made some choice rather than what you would have picked?

Do you want to see more? What in particular do you want to see more of? Did you like the plotline with a specific character and want to see how that plays out or you would love to see x character in an artist’s style or maybe an analysis didn’t take a whole episode into account that you think would be interesting to compare?

What feelings did the creation invoke in you? Were you struck with a sense of awe or overwhelming happiness? Were you excited to see someone doing something you’ve always wanted to see or excited at a new idea you never thought of? Did it strike a personal chord with you or bring about a feeling of nostalgia? Were you scared or sad or anxious for intense scenes?

Is there room for growth? Can you help encourage this growth by reminding them how far they’ve come already and how good they’re doing and how you can’t wait to see where they go next?

But we absolutely do not expect this from everyone, though it always, always tickles us and makes our week when anyone does post a longer review. Adding a simple ‘thanks’ in addition to or instead of liking/kudoing/reblogging without comment/etc. will seriously help keep creators creating and sharing.

Anybody else, please feel free to share other reasons why comments help a lot more than simple likes/kudos!

#reviews #reviewing #fandom #fanbase #fan community #fanworks #creativity #creators #readers #reviewers #how to #mine #please reblog

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beatricethecat2 · 7 years ago

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if/then (2.0) - 15 v.2

PSA time: Criticism can be a positive force, especially when it’s constructive, and even more so when it’s given by someone you trust and respect. (Don't be afraid of it!) “But it’s just fan fiction,” the mantra goes, meaning fics don't warrant scrutiny, like "real" writing does. But “It’s just fan fiction,” to me, means I have the ability to go back and reassess, to learn from my mistakes, especially when given sound advice to guide me. I’m writing to learn, as I’m not a writer by trade, so there is no shame in tearing something apart and starting over again. Chapter 15 warranted a serious makeover, so I dove in...the gist is the same but the information imparted differently. I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of "show not tell,” so I’ve gone back and applied that liberally. And here we are, back at Chapter 15, with a (hopefully) more satisfying result. Plus, in the meantime, I’ve plotted out a much better ending (for the story), so it's a win/win situation all around. Edited 6/5.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

////////////////////

Myka checks her phone and looks toward the door again; no new news, but Helena really should be here by now. The VIP preview started at five, and her public opening at six, but now it's near seven, and Helena’s still missing in action. A mix up with her ticket left her stranded until late afternoon, but after some strong words with the manager, she transferred to another airline. She texted over an hour ago that she'd "be there soon," but Myka's beginning to worry she's run into further trouble.

It's almost laughable, her fretting over Helena’s absence, as she was adamant for weeks Helena not join her. But at the last minute, she changed her mind, unnerved about stepping into uncharted territory alone. Helena convinced her she needed a buffer and that she was the best candidate for the job.

After their initial conversation, Helena called like clockwork every day, but at first, Myka didn't pick up. Ignoring Helena entirely seemed the only way to focus, but her heartfelt messages kept creeping into her head. If she was ever going to move past this, they needed to talk, and sooner rather than later was better than waiting.

Their first few conversations were bitter affairs, little more than Helena listening while Myka listed her “wrongs.” Myka vented a laundry list of frustrations, beginning with Germany and tumbling back through their relationship. But over time, her hostility weakened, allowing Helena to steer their focus towards Myka’s show.

“What do you want,” Myka grumbled, tapping "accept" after three full rings.

“To ask how you're faring today,” Helena replied.

“Stressed out. Super busy. Same as yesterday, and the day before.”

“You have been rather agitated lately.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka snapped. It had become a habit to push Helena’s buttons whenever possible, but this schtick was getting old, her heart wasn’t in it as it was a few days ago.

“Were you able to ask for more time off work?”

“Yeah,” Myka answered, a little disappointed Helena didn’t offer her usual apologies. "Leena’s sending stuff I can work on at home, so I only have to go in once or twice a week.”

“Excellent. That relieves much of your burden.”

“True, but there’s still so much to do.”

“Talk me through it. Perhaps I can assist.”

Myka looked across her room at the collection of objects on her desk, the ones she and Abigail rescued from Helena’s apartment. She hadn't told Helena what had happened there yet as she wanted to process her experiences there before inserting Helena's influence. But considering the subject matter, that was kind of counterproductive as she wouldn't be able to keep it from her for long.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were gutting your building?” she asked.

“Are they? I wasn't aware.”

“I think you knew.”

“I’d only heard rumblings. Nothing substantial. Certainly, nothing this soon."

Myka grunted in disapproval. "You couldn't have mentioned it was a possibility?"

"Discussing such destruction seemed cruel after all you’d been through. And I didn't want to alarm Christina.”

When Helena got kicked out, Myka was still a mess, so she could see where Helena was going with that. But Christina was going to find out eventually, whether while walking to the park or from a friend at school. Though she didn't mention it either the last time she saw Christina, probably for the same reasons Helena had kept it from her.

Standing from her stool, she walked across the room towards the group of objects littering the table. She fingered the frayed edge of a worn LP sleeve she dug out from the dumpster, one that once lived on a bottom shelf in Helena's living room with many others. They were visible from the couch while she was lying down, and she'd often wished they had a turntable to play them on. That couch provided so much comfort in those trying times, especially when Dewy would knead in circles and then curl up at her feet.

“I loved that apartment.”

“As did I.”

“Well, it’s gone. Ripped apart. The whole damn thing.”

“How do you—“

“Your couch was in a dumpster. We went inside. Took everything left of you we could carry.”

“We?”

“Me and Abigail."

“Oh. You and Abigail.”

The line quieted.

“Sorry, that was...” Harsh, Myka thought. But no harsher than finding her with Bonnie at the sale.

“A-And what treasures did you gather?” Helena asked, in soft, defeated tones.

“A, um...pen,” Myka said, describing the nearest thing to her. “From that Mexican place on Houston. The one with the soup Christina likes when she’s sick.”

“Pozole.”

“Yeah, that’s it."

“Then it's truly a souvenir worth saving,” Helena replied. Her words were polite but distant as if she was thinking about Christina being sick and her inability to comfort her. Myka wanted her to feel guilt, but over her, not her child. She looked around her collection for something less fraught.

“There’s that pom-pom Christina made at Brownies.” Dust fell to the table as Myka lifted an orange poof of yarn.

“The singular time we attended before she began kempo. It wasn’t for us.”

Myka drops the pom-pom and hones in on another item. “Shells from the beach you said were from Santa Cruz?”

“From our excursion after Claudia’s job interview at Apple. That was…an enlightening day.”

“Tell me more.”

“I shall, one day,” Helena answered. “But it wasn't terribly pleasant.”

“Oh, sorry." Myka searches her collection for something with a cheerier backstory.

“I’m touched you felt compelled to save these trinkets, but I must ask, whatever for?”

“They’re lost memories, like mine, from the fire, and I’m painting them for my show. Or at least trying to, but I’m running out of time.”

“Ah, yes! That makes perfect sense."

“It does? How?"

“Thus far, you’ve been piecing together memories, painstakingly recreating objects you’ve lost. But there’s a distance there as if you're compiling a catalog, much like the registrar you’ve trained to be."

“They’re more than cataloging—"

"But the objects from my flat are extant, and your renderings draw directly from their energy. Mixing our memories with your own adds a richness, describing the limbo we're all experiencing while building our lives again.”

“I, um...” Myka looked toward her easel, at the rendering of the calendar she rescued from the floor displayed there. Various events from that month flashed through her mind, and she realized the amount of baggage she was memorializing. Helena’s interpretation of her motives suddenly made sense, though unpacking them at the moment seemed too intense.

“Can you work on multiple paintings using artificial light?” Helena asked.

“I have been, and it helps. But I need to ship everything at least a week and a half in advance.”

“Ship many as you're able and take the rest with you on the plane.”

“Can I do that?”

“Yes. If you're still using wooden panels, they're not weighty. Pack them securely and pay the excess baggage fee,” Helena explained. “Buy them pre-primed to save time in the studio.”

“I like preparing them myself.”

“You must focus on content. Hire someone to prepare them for you, if that’s critical."

“You’re probably right.” Myka sighed.

“You're allowing too many distractions to get in your way.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka said, her bite from earlier gone.

“I’ll refrain from phoning if—“

“No. Call. I might not pick up, but this was...helpful." It was, but everything wasn't sitting right just yet. "We’re still not ok. Ok? You know that."

“I’m acutely aware.”

“As long as you know.”

“My offer still stands, either way.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Myka said, then tapped end her phone. That was all the critique she could handle for the day.

Positive news also eased tensions between them, as early on, Mrs. Frederic's bid won the sale. The sizable commission allowed her to step away from the gallery, though she promised to help out when needed. And the residency in LA got in touch before her trip and informed her she made it through to the semi-finalist round.

But she needs to get through tonight before anything can truly move forward, a big art night in Warsaw all round. The city's museums and galleries have openings concurrently, and tonight's crowd has already has exceeded expectations. The director's been buzzing around all evening, introducing her to new faces left and right. By the time Helena arrives, all the activity's made her head spin, and she's starting to zone out.

She spies Helena weaving towards her mid-sentence, cornered by a woman asking detailed questions about technique.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I must steal the guest of honor,” Helena says and hooks her arm through Myka’s. She leads her back across the room towards the entrance, then steps back and sweeps her eyes over her outfit. “Lovely as ever. More captivating in person. Though I did appreciate the preview over the phone.”

Myka blinks a few times, a little stunned by Helena’s actually here. “Y-you look nice, too. You didn't say you were wearing a dress.”

“I’m hardly well put together, but I did try my best. This event is too important to arrive both late and unkempt."

Myka searches for traces of unkemptness, but Helena's close-fitting dress is wrinkle-free. It compliments her frame so perfectly, she finds it difficult to look away. When she meets Helena's gaze, Helena's eyes fill with apology, and Myka's soften, accepting the gesture without reproach. Her show wouldn’t have come together without Helena's help, and she’s glad she’s finally here to share it with her.

"I thought you'd be here earlier. Was there lots of traffic?” Myka asks.

"I stopped by my hotel to change.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Yours was booked. Mine’s further away.”

“Oh. I didn't—“ A patron squeezing between them cuts Myka short.

Helena turns to face a painting on the wall. “This one’s mesmerizing in person. Nothing like the photo you sent. Its surface seems holographic, but that can’t be right.”

“I added mica powder to the pigment, to create a shine.”

“Myka power?” Helena quips, raising a brow.

“Very funny. You know what I mean. Christina said it should be shiny, like the sticker.”

“She is you’re harshest critic.”

“At times,” Myka says, with a smirk. “It is her sticker.”

“But the rendering is yours. And the sentiment an ode to childhood obsessions."

“It's about the resilience of materials in the harshest conditions,” Myka snaps, repeating the line she’s used all day. "But I guess it is a kid’s sticker, so...” She looks hard at the likeness of a curled and soiled Pegasus she created. Helena's interpretation wasn’t her intention, but she can see what she means.

“Have you repaired all the damage from your shipment?” Helena asks.

“Don’t get me started. I can’t believe the crappy repacking job they did."

“Manhandling must escalate the longer goods fester in Customs .”

“If they’d been held up anywhere but London, I don’t know what I would have done. Thank you again for convincing me to ask for Mrs. Frederic's help.”

“In my opinion, the paperwork error was inconsequential. They should never have been held back in the first place.”

“That’s what happens when I don’t double check things—"

“Myka, come and meet Priska," a woman interrupts. She places a hand on Myka’s shoulder and glances at Helena. “Ah, this must be the long-lost Helena. Welcome!"

“I’m pleased to have finally arrived,” Helena says, holding out a hand to shake. "You must be Eva, the director. Very nice to meet you,”

“Likewise,” Eva says, accepting the gesture. "I've heard much about you.”

“All good I hope.”

Eva smiles and looks across the gallery. “Come, talk with Priska. She’s intrigued by the calendar piece."

“There's a lot to be said, isn’t there?”

As they walk across the room, the mischievous look in Helena's eye leaves Myka wary of what "a lot" entails.

Helena shifts into dealer mode as they meet with Eva’s client, her charm on high as they check in with various guests. Myka chimes in when Helena's interpretations don’t line up with her own, but after their umpteenth conversation, she’s happy to let Helena speak for her. Helena mostly gets things right, plus she’s wiped from repeating herself, and watching Helena work, in her favor, is still a turn on.

There's a dinner after the opening, then drinks after that and Myka's running on steam by the drinks portion. Helena stays ever by her side, chatting with guests, refilling her glass, ensuring she's having a good time. It's comforting having Helena there to care of her, as she'd been mostly holed up alone for weeks.

During a lull in socializing, Helena glances at Myka and smiles a smile she knows is just for her. She slips her arm around Myka's waist, and Myka instinctively leans towards her, smiling back with equal sentiment.

As the hours pass, and the wine takes hold, their touches become more intimate. At some point, Myka tunes out the room entirely, and her eyes hanging on Helena's lips. The way they lift and stretch to match her cadence and inflection makes her wish they were moving over her skin. She aches to kiss her, but not here, somewhere private, somewhere alone. She snaps out of it when she realizes that’s not out of the question.

She asks the time, it's late, an appropriate time to leave. They say their goodbyes, then pile into a car someone called for them. Myka gives the driver directions, and when Helena adds a second stop, her heart sinks; it no longer makes sense to have asked her to book a separate room. It was an easy way out if their evening went unfavorably, but she assumed they'd be in the same hotel.

“I can’t wait to pass out,” she says, slumping back into her seat. She closes her eyes as the car drives away.

“You deserve a rest. And you’ll sleep soundly knowing tonight was a great success.”

“It was, wasn't it?” Myka says. She cracks an eye open to peer at Helena and sees she's sitting stiffly, too far away. She slides a hand across the seat and lays it over Helena’s thigh. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you for allowing me,” Helena says. She covers Myka’s hand with her own.

The car turns at a light and Myka settles back, closing her eyes again, resting her head on the top of the seat. The car turns and slows after continuing on for several minutes. When it stops, Helena removes her hand.

“Come up with me,” Myka says and squeezes Helena’s thigh.

Helena looks down at Myka's hand but doesn't answer.

"If you want," Myka adds. Was Helena's doting all an act? She did offer her hotel address rather quickly. Maybe she misread her; maybe she wants to be alone.

“I’d be happy to,” Helena says, laying her hand over Myka’s again and smiling as she meets Myka’s eyes.

They exit the vehicle and walk straight through the lobby, directly into an open elevator. Myka presses a button, and as they move skywards, she steps back and examines Helena’s shimmery ensemble.

“Your dress reminds me of the one from our first ‘official’ date.”

“Do you reckon?” Helena glances down at her garment.

“The cut’s the same, but the color's different. Did you do that on purpose?”

“I may very well have,” Helena replies.

The door opens and they walk down a corridor then stop in front of Myka’s room. Myka slips her keycard into the slot and upon entering, sheds her jacket and bag, throwing both over the arm of a chair. She turns and faces Helena, who is standing a few paces away.

“Take your coat off," Myka says, motioning for Helena to come closer.

“We should talk,” Helena says, her tone weighty, beyond the current mood.

“I know, but...” Myka steps behind Helena and reaches over her shoulders, slipping her fingers underneath her lapels. She leans forward and angles her head, so her lips nearly touch Helena's ear. “Let's keep tonight about me.”

Myka tugs on Helena's lapels and Helena circles her arms back, allowing Myka to slip her coat off entirely. Myka throws the coat on top of her own, then pads in front of Helena and threads a finger under the strap of her dress.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” Myka says, her eyes following her finger as it slides up towards Helena's collarbone then back down to where the strap meets Helena's generous neckline.

“A what?”

“A do-over. For our 'official' first date.” Myka angles her eyes up, meeting Helena's questioning gaze. "We are in a hotel, and you are wearing a dress.”

"So it seems,” Helena says, her eyes falling to Myka's lips. She leans forward for a kiss, but Myka dodges, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the bed. As they reach the edge, Myka spins Helena around and taps on her shoulders so she falls into sitting position, Helena lays back and Myka crouches down, lifting Helena's foot, slipping off one heel and then another. She removes her own and drops both pairs to the floor while Helena shimmies up the bed until her head rests on a pillow. Myka crawls across the bed until her body is hovering over Helena’s and Helena adjusts so they're in perfect alignment.

“This is where we left off,” Myka says, dipping down for a kiss. Helena lifts her head, but Myka stops an inch short. “No, wait. You sit up and kiss me.” Myka settles back on her haunches and takes hold of Helena’s hands, placing them, palms down, above her knees.

Helena lifts slowly at the waist, palms skimming up Myka’s thighs as Myka cups Helena’s jaw and guides their lips together. Helena's thumbs slide inwards as they reach the hem of Myka's skirt, stretching eagerly towards tender, intimate flesh.

“Hey!” Myka yelps.

Helena freezes. “I thought we were continuing where we left off?”

“It was our first time, remember? You wouldn’t have moved that fast.”

“You haven't a clue what I would or would not have done.”

“Then tell me," Myka says, but kisses Helena her before she can answer, a strategic brush of Helena's thumbs impossible to ignore.

Helena rakes her hands up, over the curve of Myka's hips, and wraps her arms tightly around Myka's middle. Myka presses into Helena as Helena’s tongue parts her lips, the need for closer contact rushing through her like lightning. When they're forced to break for air, Helena places kisses across Myka’s cheek and lets her lips linger near her ear.

“Any flesh I’d longed to touch would have been unclothed immediately.” Helena reaches behind Myka’s shoulders and drags down her zipper. Myka leans back and lifts her arms, allowing Helena to peel her garment off entirely.

"I'd have mapped every arc and every crook; cataloged each utterance of pleasure I'd earned." Helena slides Myka’s bra strap over the slope of her shoulder and places a soft, lingering kiss on the rise of her breast.

“Wait," Myka says as painful memories trickle back. “If you wanted me so badly, why did you leave?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Helena says, laying her forehead on Myka's chest.

“But I still don’t understand,” Myka says, tipping Helena's head up, needing to see Helena's eyes as she answers.

“I thought tonight was to remain about you.”

“It was but…why were you so scared that night?”

“I’d only just learned I’d be deported.”

“That’s not it. Not enough for you to bolt. It was something else, something out of your control.”

“Myka...“

Myka sits back, distancing herself, brow furrowing as she replays the details of that evening. “You asked a lot of questions about Mrs. Frederic. But you already knew who she was, didn’t you?”

“Her reputation precedes her—“

“No, you knew her. You’d met her before. Were you working for her then?”

“I hadn’t met her until the day I was called into her office." Helena's eyes narrow and Myka shrinks back. She hit a nerve, as she did so often over the phone. “I think you're over-tired, and perhaps a bit tipsy,” Helena says, taking hold of Myka’s hands and drawing them towards her.

“I’m going to change,” Myka says, slipping her hands free and sliding off the bed. She walks towards the bathroom and after entering closes the door.

She leans on the counter and stares into the mirror, seeing what Helena saw. Her eyes are red and puffy, her hair fairly frazzled, but it's been a really, really long day, so she's not surprised. But maybe, just maybe, she's overreacting as she is both overworked and overtired.

She begins pulling out pins and thinking over the situation; was Helena spying on Macpherson for Mrs. Frederic all this time? And was Bonnie clued into the situation before now? Helena said Mrs. Frederic knew her, or rather knew Emily before London, but did she mean “knew of” or “knew her personally?” And if so, wouldn’t she have known the "other" Emily first? Unless she only knew "this" Emily, Helena's Emily, the one from the trial.

She yanks the last pin free and runs her fingers through, combing her hair out into rough, curled strands.

If Helena was telling the truth and she wasn’t Emily before their date, then it is possible, at dinner, she hadn't met Mrs. Frederic yet. So maybe she's jumping to conclusions, mixed up between Claudia's research and Helena's murky past. It is easy to fall into old patterns, so she probably should chill out until they can talk for real. They have a whole three days to hash things out, and it's best to do so with a clear head.

She brushes her teeth and gives her face a quick wash before swapping her clothes for a t-shirt and shorts. She hesitates before opening the door, how does she want to handle this? If things hadn’t gone sour so quickly, they’d be otherwise engaged right now. And she'd rather be doing that than confronting Helena. Maybe it's best to pass out and deal with it tomorrow.

When she opens the door, Helena's standing near the entrance, her coat and shoes already on.

“At least you didn’t sneak out this time.”

“I was certain you wouldn't want me to stay.”

“No, I do." Myka walks toward her suitcase and rummages through, pulling out a fresh t-shirt. “Here. Go change.”

Helena removes her coat and shoes then moves toward the bathroom, taking the t-shirt from Myka’s hand as she passes.

Once the door closes, Myka climbs onto the bed and burrows under the covers. She breathes deep breaths and closes her eyes, hoping to calm her nerves before Helena emerges.

Too few moments later, the bed dips down, and Helena sits motionless for what seems like an eternity. Myka doesn't move either, unsure of how to proceed, waiting for Helena to set the tone.

“Are you asleep?”

“No. Not yet."

“May I say something?”

“Sure."

“Our past may be irreparable, and our future...unpredictable. But our present is something we hold agency over.”

Myka rolls onto her side and bends her arm at the elbow, propping her head up with a hand. “How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Since you first entered to bathroom."

"It's good. And I get it. You mean tonight is what we make it.”

“Yes,” Helena says. “You’d asked this evening be kept about you and I'd hoped you'd allow me to hold fast to that. You deserve a grand finish that only I can deliver. Let's end your successes on a high note."

“Selling yourself, instead of my paintings? Classy.” Myka huffs a short laugh.

“In a manner of speaking. Is that of any interest?"

"Kinda." Myka shrugs.

“Then I clearly misinterpreted your earlier intentions." Helena looks down at her hands.

“No, you didn't,” Myka says. “I'm interested. But it wouldn’t fix anything. And we’d still need to talk. A lot.”

“And we shall. Eminently.”

Myka slides her hand across the duvet and brushes a thumb over Helena's wrist. She may regret this tomorrow, but it is what she wants tonight.

Helena lifts her legs onto the bed and stretches out next to Myka, angling her body so they’re lying face to face. She cups Myka’s jaw and brushes a thumb over her cheek, looking into her eyes as if asking permission. Myka covers Helena’s hand and slides it over her lips, kissing it then laying it on the bed. She then eases Helena onto her back and straddles her hips, planting her hands on either side of her head. She dips down and kisses Helena as Helena's hands skim up her thighs, fingers sliding under Myka's hem with zero protests.

-TBC-

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indeedbeagod · 7 years ago

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date night

for the lovely @guccimetti for @dpsficexchange!!! i tried to work in charlie/meeks and anderperry, and i’m not sure if this is quite what you had in mind, but i hope you like it and i hope you don’t mind if i’m a little late on posting this!! college is hard and time draining

but basically charlie, steven, neil and todd sneak out to go on a double date at a diner. shamelessly self-indulgent cute first date anderperry with a little cheeks on the side. the original prompt was “anderperry or charlie/steven ditching welton for the weekend to go on a date in canon time frame” so here’s hoping i did that justice.

Charlie is the one who suggests the double date. Which is funny, because as far as Neil knows, Charlie isn't dating anyone. Neil isn't even dating anyone. But apparently one night of talking about Todd was enough to convince Charlie that a date was necessary, and that Charlie had to be there if only to "keep you from fainting or something, jesus christ". (To be fair, Neil had spent nearly forty-five minutes on just the topic of Todd's smile, and about four hours talking about the rest of him. And yes, maybe he would possibly lose consciousness if Todd laughed at too many of his jokes. But that was a slim chance at best, really, and anyways, what license was a few hours of venting for scheduling a date?) It's a rather one-sided conversation- Neil can't get a word in to protest or even to ask who Charlie plans on taking- and by the time he's alone again in his room, he's got plans to not only go out, but sneak out. And true to Charlie Dalton fashion, there had been no specifics, only a request (a demand, really) to meet by the clock tower at 10:30. Neil wanted to chase him down the hall and grill him for details (was he supposed to ask Todd? Where were they going? How in the hell did he plan to not get caught sneaking out on a Friday night? What was even open that late around Welton on a Friday night?), but by the time he'd managed to get through the door, the other was nowhere to be found. Todd follows the same pattern. Neil doesn't see him once for the entire day, not even in Keating's class, not even during evening common room study. In fact, he's not even there when Neil goes back to their room that night, and something between confusion and worry worms its way into his stomach at the sight of the empty bed. But he believes in Charlie's haphazard planning (for what reason, he doesn't know), and at 10:25, he slips out his window and heads towards the tower. The three shadows backlit by the clock (one, Neil notes with relief, is Todd-shaped and seems fully intact) come into focus as he approaches, but it's not until he's three feet away until he can make out faces. Charlie's there, grinning like he's pulled off some extraordinary bank heist, and Todd has a scarf piled around his shoulders covering his face to the nose. The third figure, he realizes, is Meeks, and he has to cover his mouth to stifle the surprised noise that escapes him. "What- why- since when is this-" "I told you I was coming, didn't I?" Charlie's shit-eating grin is ever-present, and he slings an arm around Steven's waist as he speaks. The latter rolls his eyes, even as he leans into the grip. "I wasn't about to be the sad lonely one in this situation, who do you think I am?" Neil can't help at laugh at that, if only because it's the most Charlie response he could've received. Todd smiles too, and Neil's heart jumps a little into his throat. It's nothing, it's nothing. Half an hour later, they're trudging along the path off campus, chilled night air occasionally blowing upwards what fall leaves don't crunch beneath their feet. Neil and Todd trail behind Steven and Charlie, the latter leading the way towards whatever destination he's got planned. Steven's tried his hardest to wheedle it out of him- constant complaining questions of "where the hell are we even going, oh my God, why did I agree to this"- but as far as Neil can tell, there hasn't been any response past gentle refusals and the occasional "breathe, you nervous wreck, you'll see soon". He can't help but be jealous of how comfortable they seem to be; they haven't separated more than a couple inches, and the way they touch is so comfortable, so /easy/. He doesn't know how nobody's noticed them, because it's clear they've been doing this for awhile now. He looks over at Todd, like he has about a million times since they set off, and when he gets a small smile in response he ventures his hand out to lace their fingers together. He hopes he's not imagining the gentle squeeze Todd gives him. "So where've you been all day, huh?" Neil asks, quiet even though they're far enough from Welton that there's no need to be. "Just dropped off the face of the earth." That elicits a chuckle from Todd, muffled behind the scarf. He pulls the fabric down to speak, though, and Neil can't help but notice that his cheeks are wind-flushed pink. It's almost painful how much he wants to kiss them. "Charlie helped me. Said something about, uh, keeping me from flaking out? I think he thought I'd get too nervous if I had to- had to see you all day. I've been in his room instead." Todd's voice is just shaky enough for Neil to hear the falter, and it makes his chest warm in a way he almost feels guilty for. It feels good to know that the nerves are mutual. "So were you going to?" Neil asks after a moment. "What?" "Flake out. Were you going to?" The flush in Todd's cheeks goes darker. "No," he answers quietly. His eyes are trained diligently on the ground below, but the grip on Neil's hand tightens a bit. "No, I wanted to see you." It takes Neil a minute to remember how to operate his mouth. "Well in that case," he manages, "I'm sorry Charlie kept you hostage all that time." When Todd laughs again, Neil makes a mental note to thank every deity he can think of for this night. He also sends out a general prayer that he doesn't mess this up too badly.

It turns out that the only place open at this time of night is a 24-hour diner a short ways away. Charlie and Meeks must come here often, because they both address the ancient woman behind the counter by name ("Joanie! Babe!" "Hey Joan- I'm trying to get him to stop that, I promise"). Joan, on her part, seems to have been in on the whole...thing they're doing, because the table in the back corner of the building is decorated with a couple candles and a pretty, if worn, red-checked tablecloth. Neil is in the middle of gauging how many times the other two have come to this place when Todd squeezes his hand lightly. "You wanna sit?" he asks, nodding to the table. Somehow Meeks and Charlie have sat down already, and from the way Todd is looking at him (somewhere between confusion and worry) Neil realizes he's been thinking longer than he thought, so he nods and lets Todd lead him forward. The meal goes about as well as any plan of Charlie's can be expected to go; in fact, it goes better than most of Charlie's plans can be hoped to. Neil chalks a good amount of that up to Meeks, who, as usual, seems to have been the mediating factor in this whole event even without knowing exactly where they were going. The pie Joan brings out towards the end also looks suspiciously similar to the ones that appear in Neil and Todd's room during finals week, so Steven's either been stress baking or he just wanted to make this special. From the way he keeps glancing at Todd and him, Neil would guess it was the latter. For his part, the blond boy stays relatively quiet, but the smile on his face doesn't leave for more than a few seconds at a time. It must be some blessing, Neil knows, and for once there's no overstatement in his thought.

It's not until on they're safely back in their rooms (two close calls with professors on night rounds and about twelve snarky comments from Charlie later) that Todd manages to speak past a few words. "Thank you," he says, his initiative almost as uncharacteristic as the way he sits beside Neil on his bed to say the words. "For tonight. I, uh- I didn't know if you'd like it, y'know? Like, the whole dinner thing. Charlie said you would, but- I mean, I couldn't be sure till it actually happened, and I'm terrible at planning so I had no idea what I was doing, thank god Charlie and Meeks helped me-" Neil cuts him off the moment his brain makes the connection. "Helped you?" he asked. "This wasn't Charlie's idea?" His mind is working a mile a minute, simultaneously trying to process the fact that he didn't catch this earlier and that, more importantly, Todd Anderson had had the organic desire to go on a date with him. The chaos in his head is only compounded by the way the other's face goes red at the question; it's not a distraction he needs right now. "No." The word is said through a nervous laugh, and Todd's toying with his hands as he speaks. Neil has to suppress the impulse to grab them. "I mean, um, the restaurant and the timing and stuff was the other two's planning, I wouldn't have known the first thing about where to go, but-" He takes a deep breath like he's trying to steady himself. "-I told Charlie about wanting to ask you to dinner and he helped me from there. I think I might've spent half an hour stumbling if I tried to ask you myself." The shaky smile Todd manages is enough to make Neil want to kiss him then and there. As it is, he reaches over, taking his hand like he'd wanted to and shifting close enough to lean into the other's side. "Well you know what this means," he replies after a moment, thumb tracing over skin lightly. "I'm gonna have to repay you for all this. But do you mind if we don't sneak out next time? I think worrying that much took a year off my life." Todd's laughter is a yes before he even says the word.

#dps fic exchange #guccimetti #i really hope there's no glaring typos or holes or anything in this oh my #anderperry #cheeks #dead poets society #dps #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #steven meeks

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katrandomwrites · 7 years ago

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We Come At A Cost

me: Needs to write next chapters for other fic

me: Writes entirely different fic with similar premise

...nice

Read it on AO3

A vigilante by the name Soldier:76 has been working to clear the streets of Santa Fe of an invading gang from Mexico. It isn't until he does some major property damage that the police send and officer after him.

Gabriel has been given the job of taking out 76 on his terms. Taking up the identity of Reaper he chases down 76 in secret, hopefully Jack doesn't wonder where he is.

Reaper skidded back as another round of helix missiles took out the crates he’d been using as cover. He pivoted and sprinted down the alley with the sounds of reinforced boots chasing him.

In the hunt for the notorious anti-hero, Soldier:76, Officer Reyes agreed to take up an alter ego to help draw the other man out. It had taken weeks of work and staged robberies before the ruse had finally bore fruit, hence the current chase through the alleyways.

Soldier:76 had popped up in Santa Fe nearly two years ago as a solo vigilante locked in an uphill battle with the Los Muertos who had been trying to establish themselves in the US with the help of the Deadlock Rebels. Police had been given numerous descriptions and tips from numerous citizens throughout the city of 76 fighting the intruding gang but none were every quick enough to help catch the man.

Many of the officers hadn’t seen a point in chasing the man down, in fact many claimed he was doing a better job of controlling the gang activity than what the department could ever hope to achieve while still functioning within the law. It wasn’t until 76 brought down an entire apartment building that they started to put up an effort in hunting him.

Now Reyes had the menace, or rather, 76 had him. The pair had been locked in battle for close to a half hour with Reyes on the losing side, officers had been stationed across from where the original staged event had occurred but by some unforeseen trick, 76 had managed to get him far from the original area.

“Don’t you even get tired?” Reaper demanded as he dodged another volley of pulse munitions.

“Not when I have my target still in my sights,” the vigilante growled, strafing to the left to avoid the shotgun pellets loosely aimed back at him.

Reaper glanced back and stopped abruptly in the slightly narrower alley they’d entered, 76 had gotten close enough that the sudden stop sent him stumbling behind a dumpster but not before he caught a shell in the side.

Officer Reyes was a transfer from a very corrupt department in the LA area, he and his family had sold everything and moved after a not so subtle threat from his department lead. Not wanting to risk the lives of his husband and their adopted daughter, he had put in for a transfer and was placed several states away.

Jack had been fine with it, all he had to do was file five stacks of paperwork and do a lot of reorganizing to move his law firm to a new location. Having a rich and smart hubby with his own business had more perks than Gabriel had ever thought possible. It was definitely worth all the Spanish lessons that Jack had begged for.

The biggest challenge at this point was getting out of here alive. The mission had been very confidential and it absolutely killed him that he couldn’t vent to his own husband about how annoying it was chasing some white dude with a military fetish around the city while wearing too much leather. He was sure Jack would appreciate it considering their own ties to the Marines and Navy which had led to them meeting in the first place.

It also didn’t help that Jack worked with many of 76’s victims, younger boys who grew up in such horrible poverty that they had never seen a choice in joining a gang. Jack had been determined to get them the help and care they needed to recover both from the damage 76 had inflicted and the damaged the system had been doing to them for years.

Reaper ominously glided over to the spot 76 had disappeared to, sure enough the man was tucked into a corner applying pressure the gushing wound in his side. Jack would probably be happy to have his case load lightened once 76 was behind bars.

“Still having fun?” Reaper hissed, the vocal modifiers in his mask made the sound reverb in the tight space.

76 looked up and cocked his head before swiftly bringing his foot up into Reaper’s chin. Reaper spit curses as he grabbed his mask before it could actually come off.

“Eat shit,” 76 growled even as he curled tighter into himself. The bravado he usually had was quickly fading.

“Not likely, asshole, your time is up. It’s your turn to live a comfy life behind bars, hope you know a good lawyer.”

Soldier:76 flinched hard at that and then even harder as Reaper’s gauntlet made contact with his face and sent the mask and visor he wore skittering across the gravel. A look of absolute horror worked its way onto his face.

Reaper gripped 76’s chin and forced the vigilante to look at him only to be met with the tired blue eyes of his own husband. He froze in shock and didn’t move even as 76 tore his face from Reaper’s hands and shuffled deeper into the corner.

Ice worked its way through his veins as regret, betrayal, and confusion opened a chasm in his chest. He’d just shot his husband. His husband tried to shoot him. Why was Jack running around shooting gang members?

Thoughts raced through Gabriel’s head as he tried to figure out what he’d missed. Jack wasn’t overly combative, he’d spent years in the Navy but, as far as Gabriel knew, Jack hadn’t seen much action. In fact, one of the biggest reasons they had gotten together was the fact that Jack was such a calm and forgiving person.

Reaper looked at the man in front of him. 76 was most definitely not calm, the man’s face was contorted in pain and yet he still managed to look savage and ruthless. His eyes flicked back and forth as if he were trying to figure out how to escape even with a hole in his side.

And then it clicked.

Jack did that during their arguments when he wanted out. If he was going after a case and could see how to win he wouldn’t rest till it was done. The lack of contact the last few months wasn’t because Gabriel was busy, it was because Jack wasn’t around.

“The great defense attorney, Jack Morrison, is out playing vigilante,” Reaper growled, anger starting to burn in his voice. Jack had been laying to him for two goddamn years, “You like beating the shit out of kids now?”

76’s head snapped up and he gave a feral growl, “Those things aren’t kids. They’re no better than animals tearing through the gutters of this city spreading disease.”

Reaper barely managed to catch 76’s fist before it made contact. The sudden power and animosity in Jack’s face was something Gabriel had never seen before.

“They do nothing spread their beliefs through the slums to kids who feel like they have nowhere to go. They give them a false solution to their problems,” 76 snapped before swiftly kicking Reaper in the chest causing the other to fall on his back before 76 stood up, “Do you think I like shooting fucking children? At least I’ve been trying to do something useful unlike those idiots in the police department.”

Gabriel pushed himself up from the ground and stalked towards the shaky vigilante, “It’s their job not yours, no matter what you think. Besides, what happens now that you’ve been caught? What happens to your family or do you even care?”

Reaper almost wasn’t fast enough to dodge the pulse fire as 76 snapped. He turned to fire back when the fire escape above him was shot down and pinned him to the ground.

“If I quit now I won’t have a family to go back to,” Jack growled as he limped closer, the side of his jacket was stained completely red with blood, “They want to take my daughter, but they can’t have her.”

The seriousness of the situation was suffocating as Gabriel took in the fact that the Los Muertos were trying to get a hold of Sombra, his baby girl. She was a genius in every respect, she could hack and program faster than anyone he knew plus she could outsmart even the SWAT team’s captain in tactics.

An explosion erupted behind them, igniting the piles of garbage surrounding the pair. Two young boys, no older than 15, in ragged t-shirts and body paint strolled nonchalantly around the corner.

76 turned his face away from them and glared down at Reaper.

“If you want me so bad you can drag my corpse back for your reward,” he spit before turning running towards the boys and firing.

Gabriel could only watch as another grenade came flying towards them, he realized that both of them dying was a distinct possibility. That is, until Jack caught the projectile midair and flung it back at their assailants.

The explosion was blinding. Once the chaos died down, Gabriel worked his way out from under the fire escape and surveyed the damage.

The kids seemed to have gotten away but Jack was lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Gabriel scrambled over to him and checked his pulse before sitting back on his heels and deciding his next move.

If he turned Jack in it would ruin him, even as pissed as he was about Jack being out here he still loved the idiot with all his heart. Hell, if Gabriel was being honest with himself the fact that Jack cared enough to put himself at risk to help those who needed it from both sides while protecting his family in the process made him almost proud, but mostly pissed.

Gabriel sighed and made his decision. Carefully, he stripped Jack of everything that made him 76 and tossed in into the trash that was still raging next to them before gently picking him up. The hospital didn’t question them man in black as they whisked Jack off to surgery.

He went home, changed, and waited for the call. Nearly an hour later he and Sombra were at the hospital to see Jack who had been brought in after being brutally attacked coming home from a late night at the office. Sombra curled into his good side and fell asleep while Gabriel held his hand. Jack hadn’t woken up yet and the staff wasn’t sure when he would finally open his eyes but Gabe wasn’t worried.

Carefully, Gabe stood and leaned over the bed to place a kiss to Jack’s forehead. He studied every familiar wrinkle, curve, and dip in his face and smiled.

They would be okay.

#r76 #reaper76 #morreyeson #Jack Morrison #gabriel reyes #vigilante!AU #overwatch #fanfic #whispers from the scrapheap #my writing

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sanerontheinside · 8 years ago

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*sets laptop on lap* *grabs coffee* *leans back* *throws feet up on desk* *carefully wiggles into semi-comfortable position*

right, I’m just gonna vent a little here, don’t mind me

@deadcatwithaflamethrower pls come laugh at me?

about 5 yrs ago there was this fresh new show, had some great ideas. the premise goes, Magical Characters From All Your Favourite Fairytales Get Dropped Into Our Horrible, Horrible World. where they get no happy endings (because apparently happy endings begin and end with meeting your Intended Mate but w/e noI’mnotsaltyatallhbu)

(That aside...) they mixed fairytales in a kinda fun way and a whacked up family tree, but it was cool when they started. so I decided, hey, why not write a fanfic for it. nobody ask me why I started with the Real World part of the show tho, idk, for the Angst probably. Modern AU with a lot of angst.

but also, this was the first time I was coming back to writing after a decent break. it was kinda about throwing ALL the ideas and tropes I could at the wall to see which ones stuck, or just... make all of them work somehow.

the fic quickly turned into ‘how about I write a history of this fantasy world’ of about 300 years (why?) and then became more like 1000+ years (WHY?) with a consistent mix-and-match of fairytales and popular stories with bits and twists. there’s One Thousand and One Nights, there’s Arthurian Legend, there’s the Princess Bride and Legend of Zorro and pirates and Dragons and Shakespeare’s plays (idek bro).

i really don’t wanna do greek mythology..... that shit’s weird for me on a good day....... ugh I’m probably gonna have to do greek mythology tho, it was, like, one of the possible explanations for the origin of Mad Eye Moody’s Eye, man

WHICH BRINGS UP ANOTHER POINT. I never actually intended to pull HP into this fic, but there are all sorts of hints and nods to other universes/popular works of fiction as you go.

this tho. this is the part where brains are actually horrible. because Brain one day up and said, well, this doesn’t have all that much to do with the show you started with, so, uh... you could... well in theory, you could profic it....

me: NO. too much to change in the parts that are show-based. and also, how do you explain Princess Bride references? am I supposed to change all the names of the characters who appeared in BBC Merlin?? (oy yeah—it became a fusion fic, too) how on Earth am I supposed to deal with the modern world characters and their storylines?

Brain: ok

.... 4 months later ....

Brain: okay get this: Arthurian legend has been fucked by everybody six different ways, calamity and incest. it’s completely public domain. let’s not talk about The Princess Bride just now, tho. and get this: there’s enough difference between your stories and the original tale or movie that it probably isn’t easy to recognise. you’ll be fine.

me: ... why don’t I believe you... oh right, because you give me bad ideas, like Let’s Write Profic! No.

.... and a month after that ....

Brain: hey look so Dragons, right? they’re people, but they’ve essentially created a magical form for themselves for ‘protection’, yeah?

me: I’m making lunch, please don’t make me burn it

Brain: well, why would they need a gender?

me: ...th’fuck... you’re telling me they go dragonform to have clutches of eggs and solve any incompatibility problems thusly?

Brain: well, yeah. I mean if you had magic and wanted kids and adoption wasn’t exactly totally an issue for a population that likes to raise its young in nontraditional, sprawling families, why not? gender identity could be pretty flexible for them

me: cool, cool, very cool. nice. I like this thought, please keep going.

Brain: wouldn’t it be a shame if you didn’t fucking write it tho

me: BITCH NOT NOW

.... and a few days after that ....

Brain: ‘sup

me: ceiling.

Brain: yeah I know you think you’re funny. but I’m funnier. question: your dragonfic, it’s kinda historical, right? ish? I mean when you picture the geography you’ve literally set it around the mediterranean, and your Dragonfolk cross the region from fantasy-Italy to fantasy-Egypt and then plonk themselves in the Sahara where nobody else lives atm, to survive after a damn volcano blew them off their mountain?

me: your punchline better be worth this set-up

Brain: base your timeline loosely on world history. pull in fairytales not just from Europe and mythology not just from Greece. they’re living in Africa, use that. go around the world, maybe check out Norse mythology. figure out what the deal is with how Dragon magic affected Agrabah, and then explain what it did to places between their city in the damn Sahara Desert and all the damn way into Agrabah, IT’S A DECENT DISTANCE—

me, three years ago with fingers in my ears: lalalalalalalalalalalalala

.... last week ....

Brain: you know, you could frame it as a meta!universe thing

me: what even the fuck are you on about now.

Brain: okay, you basically explained the One Important Wise(ass) Person for your civilisation as a holdover of how they were created, i.e., one day an author sat down and wrote something, then decided to ‘step in’ and basically never left, which is how they get to see all directions any moment or event can theoretically sprawl off into?

me: I give up.

Brain: you could frame it as a story about a fanfiction. at some point you reveal that your main characters are actually written characters, and you’re really telling the story about someone writing it. There’s the Modern AU, there’s the Pirate AU, there’s the Princess Bride crossover, and so on

me: convoluted. probably still illegally infringing on something or other. kind of a hopeless premise? like living in a dreamworld? that’s... that feels... fake? unsatisfying? like happiness only happens there. you know that’s a lie.

Brain: ok, maybe. but you could try.

Brain: maybe you can even do it better.

me: oh, fuck you.

tbh I really think Brain might’ve won this round.

So if you’ve gotten this far in my tale of woe, pls feel free to rec me any sources for ancient myths and fairytales from all over the world, and some good history sources, because today I’m looking up whether Cinderella is based on a French fairytale from the 1700s or the 17th century, and also travel in the 1600-1700s (was it reserved to nobles/high-income folks? where did they travel to?)

Anyway, chances are it’ll be another 5-10 years before anything comes of this.

but Dragons.

#sample chapter #I've a few already written that needed a serious rewrite #started migrating this to ao3... woke a sleeping dragon #dragonfic #ugh

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the-heroic-changeling · 8 years ago

Photo

Decided to make a separate post for my latest Legend of Zelda fan fic, and I might as well post these bio cards in the process. There are three more weeks until Breath of the Wild, and the following story is meant to sorta bridge that gap. It doesn’t take place in the canon timeline of course, but it is meant to end up near the same place. It takes place in Timeline splintered off from Windwaker, which I have written for before. Those stories can be found here.

http://the-heroic-changeling.tumblr.com/post/156780159408/so-i-decided-to-post-my-old-legend-of-zelda-fics

This particular story talks of the end of an era, where almost all progress and advancement society had made is destroyed by an irrational monstroud flood of hate. Spoiler, this gets political, so if you are stressed by current events, please be aware going in. A lot of real life problems get referenced, and I do vent at some of the more passive Americans.

Other things to note, I decided Medli is autistic for this timeline because reasons. Most of them how much I relate to her. So yeah, it doesn’t come up much in the story, but it is there.

Linkle is not necessarily an incarnation of Linkle from Hyrule Warriors, same with Mīfa. Medli is Medli though, so if I write her weirdly that’s on me.

A sapphic relationship is the main and only romance in this fic, and I tried to make it cute. Whether or not I succeeded, I don’t know, but none of the queer ladies die, so that's a plus. But yeah, it's for Femslash February.

This story is a bit sci fi, which the Legend has embraced recently with things like the Ancient Robots and pretty much everything Spirit Tracks. Magic still is key as are the gods, but they also have steam powered space shuttles. Again, this is meant to be the pinochle of New Hyrule, just before the tumbling fall.

I will try to tag people on my other blog, at the least the cards are new and maybe worth tagging for. Other than that please enjoy, and hopefully this is entertaining if a bit melancholy at points.

What if this World Ends?

A Legend of Zelda fan fic inspired by current events and the Breath of the Wild trailer, taking place in the distant future of a variant of the Adult Timeline

"What's Past is Prologue"

Medli was immortal, she had lived for centuries already. She had seen kingdoms rise and fall, and she had seen art burn and be restored. But still, gazing out over this lunar city, it was one of the most beautiful things she had seen. She stroked her feathered head, her attention mostly on the monorails that linked each building on the moon, allowing her people the Rito to travel between the domes they had built on the surface and underground. She stimmed a bit, feeling the fluff of her feathers between her fingers.

A smile lingered on her face as she stared around New Dragon Roost, watching one of the trains rush into a dome filled with salt water and fish, the "Lesser Sea" as it was known to the Rito. Fishmen swam here, and from the monorail you could see the environment that once dwelled in the Great Sea of the World Below. Life that may have come extinct below still lived her, evolving and changing as the bird-like Rito had evolved from the fish-like Zora.

The trains along with the city ran mostly on the artificial volcanic activity the Rito had ignited inside their moon. The moon's core lived on a mix of alchemy, magic, divinity, and science - fueling their home, an eternal engine. The so-called Bird People flew on the drafts of thermal wind that flowed through the city, and used the heat pulsating inside the moon to power their city and the cannons that linked New Dragon Roost to the smaller outposts on the moon, as well as the World Below.

Up around the city Lobsters flew, they looked sort of like a hybrid of the old New Hyrule steamships, a crustacean, and a bathysphere - large vessels with claws for lifting cargo and massive magnetic generators that propelled them through space. They traveled between the World Below, New Dragon Roost, even the Sea of Satellites. Helping link the RotGS together.

She stretched out, stood up, and began to walk into the airlock that defended the dome. Her people were mortals, they needed air while she did not. Her current body was synthetic, powered by the gelatinous electric Chu Chu batteries, and her Ghost controlled it from beyond mortality. It would never breakdown and never stop. As she stood in the chamber air hissed and she laughed, the vents purifying her of any lunar toxins.

The city smelt of salt, ash, and fish, and she breathed in the taste. Even now, as generations of Rito are born on the Moon, they have not forgotten the life of the Great Sea. It was like a breath from her childhood, and to her autistic thoughts it was a warm hug.

She walked inside, her small yellow feet tapping against the hard floor. She felt the heat waft from the floor, an invisible mist that made her skin tickle. She grinned, spinning around on her heels, twirling through the heat as Rito glided above her. Unlike her their skin was brown, peaked with white feathers. She stepped forward, tapping in a whirl, letting out a laugh, before whipping into the hot air.

She landed back down, and began to run through the city. Great buildings towered above her, shaped almost like mountain peaks. Carved in the organic towers were caves, homes and businesses dotting the sky. Each glowed with the red heat of the volcanic heat, pumped from below the surface. Along the way other homes grew underground, like a bee's hive.

She cartwheeled, it was good to live. She had seen the world grow and change, been there watching the first Rito probe land in space, personally captured the Bokoblin submarine that helped kick start the Era of Steam. She landed on her feet, her wings expanding out of her arms. She beat them, before blasting off into the air.

She blasted into the sky, gliding on the drafts that lifted up from the moon's core. She soared above the city, streaking along with other Rito. Laughter danced out of her mouth, her large yellow beak glinting in the light of the sun poking into view.

The Moon was away from the World Below, and though it fueled the tide and the light of night, still scholars debated if the Moon was a part of the Golden Goddesses' creation. They had created the First World, which over millennia had split into other timelines, separate realities where paths went different. New Dragon Roost existed in the so-called Rito Timeline, a split of the Adult Timeline.

Medli had been there when the Timelines were discovered, and when they had been breached. One of her closest friends years go was a trans girl from that reality, whose ashes had sprinkled from the Moon to the World Below. She had loved Medli's home, a place that was less hateful than her home of Skyloft.

Her name was Green, and with her retractable Mag-Shield she could deflect any metal, and her Mag-Beetle let her launch a robotic beetle, which would latch where it landed, and magnetically pull Green through the air like a grappling hook. Both were gifts by Medli, thanks for Green being Green. Green had lived over a century, but all mortal things pass. Still, there was a hope in Medli that Green would reincarnate, and they could be friends again.

Medli sighed. Centuries had passed without a new Green. But Medli knew it was possible, especially for someone as important as Green, a possible Hero. It was possible, it had to be. One day Green would show up again, dancing and swinging across the World Below.

Green had asked her gifts be entombed somewhere of Medli's choosing where a Hylian might one day find it. She had chooses the Kingdom of New Hyrule, the new home of the Hylian Race where steam had ruled, trains linked the country together, and balloons sailed overhead. At least it had ages past.

Medli swooped through the air, her feathered wings sweeping her across the dome. She raced up, before pirouetting in the air. She spun, before catching herself on her wings and returning to gliding through the dark grey and crimson red city.

As she flew a bell dinged, and she altered her course. Speeding past one of the Spirit-Radios that dominated New Dragon Roost's skyline, she came upon hundreds of small cylinders launching into the air. As they rose the cylinders transformed, swinging and shifting their frames to turn into metallic bird-like Weldos.

The Weldos split off, sweeping over the city, searching for the day's damage. Medli chased one of them, following as it hovered in front of a cracked wall. From its beak blasted a beam, which sealed and melded over the cracks.

"Thank you Weldos," she hovered behind the drone, dipping her head.

"You_are_welcome_Medli." The drone replied, before divebombing away to complete its rounds. She nodded with a smile, and swooped away, twirling in a barrel roll as she arced around a tower.

Heat pumped through her arms, sending her into a whirlwind. She laughed, twisting in a circle, before diving straight down, wings raised like she was about to cartwheel. With a fluff her wings retracted, and she landed on her arms, vaulted, and landing on her feet. She laughed, and then wandered into the greater hub of buildings.

She stopped presently, as a large Spirit-Radio flashed in front of a crowd. "The so-called Steam Arrow is to launch in one year, with a crew of New Hyrule colonists to found their first settlement on the Moon." Three dimensional muted images crackled above the box, showings the large arrow shaped spaceship. It was a gold and blue thing, vibrant with the symbols of the New Hyrule Royal Family.

The image changed, to a group shot of the current crew. A Goron stood among them, along with one of the Guardians - New Hylian tech developed by the Sheikah. The Guardian was an somewhat octopus-like robot, with many tentacles and linked by screws and springs. Guardians were not very intelligent, but the were smarter than many dogs, able to grasp concepts and orders. They were guards as the name suggested, protecting New Hyrule from Bulblin bandits and monsters. More and more of the Constructs were built every year, and from what Medli heard they were almost common now.

Some Sheikah stood in the crowd, their dark skin and red eyes making them stand out in contrast to the Hylians. The Hylians made up the bulk of the crew, of course, and their skin varied from brown to peach, their eyes equally as differing. They were the most common race in New Hyrule, and they counted the Royal Family among their ranks...

"Who is that child?" Medli flew up to the picture. The girl in the picture wore a simple dress, which had elements of a blacksmith's apron. Wrenches clung to her sides, and her skin was a light brown, her eyes red - she might have a Sheikah parent. She held a Fire Rod to her side, a magic-powered staff used by Hylians for welding. A Hookshot hung from her waist, useful in maneuvering in space. A mechanic probably.

But it was the girl's smile, the way she held her hands, the way she positioned her feet, her stance, her posture, the way her eyes shined...

Medli flew away, soaring onto a platform suspended off the buildings. Taping a button with her foot a box rose up, a small Spirit-Radio hooked up to the networks that ran New Dragon Roost. In New Dragon Roost terminals were available to the residents in every dome, for a quick fact check, a read-up on a new journal or short story, or research.

She had a Slate of her own, a beautiful portable computer powered by Chu Chu Batteries that she currently had latched onto her back, but it didn't update wirelessly, it needed to be within range of a signal to work. There were plenty in New Dragon Roost but oh, she was too excited to find one. Regardless, she spoke firmly, trying not to shake, "crew of the Steam Arrow mechanics."

The radio crackled, before showing a number of articles. "Soon form top." The image flickered, and then it showed all the mechanics' portraits in a row. "Fifth from the right, second row," she directed the machine, letting it select the girl. The image adjusted as text appeared, and now a Medli could see the girl's blonde hair.

"Linkle Greencloth - minor engineer - from the town of Papuchia. Parents unknown, found abandoned at a Temple of Hylia." She scrolled through the information. Linkle was ... different from Green in origin, but there was a resemblance in movement. An ... air.

Medli pulled away, letting the radio retract. It was ... Medli felt her feathers go electric. It was ... it was a year away. She could look up more by then. And maybe the first thing she could do would be to send a message. Maybe offer Linkle the challenge of looking for the Relics of Green. If she can find them, earn them, well then that's a good chance it's a reincarnation of the Heroine. And really, no one ever got this far before.

She flew away, she had things to do of course. And if the Heroine had reincarnated, then perhaps the Moon would need a savior in these coming years. She couldn't inform the guards, the Sage Medli was lost to history now, a footnote in the current age. Most assumed she just had a family heirloom that let her leave the domes, gave her air. She had the sway of a normal Rito, which was some, but her word didn't matter much when it came to possible dangers she couldn't prove. Still, she would get to be there for when the Steam Arrow landed, in case help was needed.

Chapter One

Linkle smelled of Cucco feathers and grease, the stink had never left her even as she had grown older into the young woman she was now. Clutched around her neck was a chain, with a compass strung to it. It was a relic of the Age of Steam, she had bought it an a yard sale, given it to her grandmother. Her mother had been worried she was being swindled. Linkle probably had been. But she loved that compass all the same.

Her fingers danced at the weightless feeling she felt, a massive grin on her face, a giggle off her lips, she could feel New Hyrule's gravity dwindle and fade, as she rose like a shooting star. Like ... like a Cucco on the warpath, seeking vengeance for someone hitting part of their flock.

But even still, there was a fear. A nameless fear. Not that the ship would veer off course, or that it would crash, or that Lunark would not be habitable, nor that the Rito would be hostile. As far as she was concerned the future moon colony of New Hyrule was the safest place to be right now. And that, that crept into her smile and twisted it in on itself.

She shook her head, she was no coward, she had signed up to establish a colony when most of the Hylians had shrugged away from, she had been qualified too. She was grave, facing the terror of space.

And deep in her heart she felt like she was running. It made her stomach twist, even more than the sheer pressure did. The rocket was blasting into the sky, but the motion sickness from the speed seemed only worsened by her fears for her home. Things had not been going well.

Breathe!" Captain Marlon ordered over the intercom, as Linkle gasped. She almost ... almost forgot to breathe. The force had been so strong. Still she could hear other colonists gasp, they had forgotten to breathe too.

She glanced to her side, unable to stand, the force against her too strong. She strummed her compass, twisting the chain around her fingers. Gradually she relaxed, forcing that unease down. This was awesome. She was ... she was going on a life defining journey, she was doing great things. And she was one of the first non Rito to reach the moon! She smiled genuinely, still stimming her hands against her chain.

Besides her by her window she could see a photo of Lunark, the colony as it currently had been built by small drones on the surface of the moon. It was nothing like the great New Dragon Roost, the Rito had built a true city over decades and decades. Lunark was just a starting place, New Hyrule's first steps into space.

Linkle was a short biracial girl, half Sheikah, half Hylian. She wore a bulky spacesuit, it made her feel itchy. But soon they would reach the moon, and she could slip back into her freeing hood, feel much lighter. And then the suit would only be needed for when she had to repair the colony, welding together damaged bases and pipes, repairing generators.

She was an engineer aboard the ship, one of thirty six colonists sent by New Hyrule to establish Lunark. There was a Goron, nine Sheikah, Linkle, twenty two Hylians, and at the last minute three Zora had been able to join the crew as well, in part for their expertise in three dimensional environments. Previously the Zora had been unable to be sent, the water needed for the amphibious race was thought to be too heavy to bring. But luckily the drones had found a nearby patch of ice on the Moon, and had mined enough of it to convert a room to a shelter where the Zora could refresh their skin.

She tightened up again, straining to see out the faraway front window. The Steam Arrow was drifting through space, nearing their target on the moon. She couldn't see it yet, it was too small and still too fire away. But she could see the light of the Rito's city of New Dragon Roost, a series of linked domes and tubes that spread far. Their Lobsters flew around it, the magnetic spaceships clutching cargo in their claws.

The year was 317 FNH - the fifth hundred and thirty first year since New Hyrule was founded. Linkle's Hylian ancestors had sailed from their island homes to the continent, using great steamships and frigates to sail to the new world. They had built trains, castles - they had built an elaborate civilization, which they had named after the legendary kingdom of Hylians spoke of in ancient lore.

New Hyrule was ... very Hylian dominant. Linkle knew that well. The Royal family were Hylians, most of the Castle Guard was Hylian too, not counting the mechanical Guardians that also protected Castle Town. But the major mayors were Hylians, the most well known knights were Hylians, it was very ... focused on them. And that was without the Children of Hylia and their special brand of hate. Linkle ... well she was a coward wasn't she?

The ship continued to drift forward, the extreme force formerly ramming into the colonists had subsided. Now they were just propelled forward, towards the large rocky moon.

Among them were the Sea of Satellites, small metal contraptions launched by both countries. They swarmed around the planet, broadcasting radio signals from city to city. They had helped revolutionize communication, mapping, and some were even manned. They even had a joint space station, though it frequently had problems

The Steam Arrow chugged through the sea, passing by the assortment of probes and machines that maintained the world below. It was utterly quiet, the only sound was the ship's Guardian, a large mechanized octopus-like machine built to defend the new colony from asteroids. Linkle was not very skilled at repairing them, still a bit clumsy on the detailed jobs, but she knew the basics. Mostly however other engineers aboard the crew would need to repair it if necessary. She was more of backup.

For now the Guardian was just humming in place, held in the ship's cargo with other supplies like grass seeds and a few Cucco eggs. The fowl birds would be hatched only when they could afford to have them eat alongside the colonists, and that depended on if the lunar drones had been able to start a successful farm. Linkle had some say in that, aside from helping with maintenance, her farm upbringing meant she was a good person to occasionally help with the farming. That was, when she wasn't working on that ... kind of weird assignment. Weird, but incredibly cool. She knew things were looking up when she got that mission.

They continued to drift, sailing deeper into space, ever nearing the moon. In the bowls of the Steam Arrow glowed crystalline batteries, magic gems with one purposes - to boil water. The water pumped through the vents on the ship, expelling steam to propel the ship forward, to turn, and to slow. The rocket that had launched them to space had already fallen away, now the traditional reliable steam power took over. In the absence of gravity, a small burst of steam was all they needed to maneuver.

Radio signals to and from Lunark were ... scattered. The sheer distance, and the lack of known magical sources on the moon meant the colony relied solely on steam power and what magic sources they could had sent to the surface. The Rito's empowering of the moon's core helped, but it was geothermal, which was a technology New Hyrule had little experience in.

The ship adjusted suddenly, and Linkle tightened, clutching her seat. The insides of the ship was lined with blue velvet and golden polish, a regal color that made the Steam Arrow resemble a flagship of the Royal Armada—

Linkle felt her hands twitch at the thought, her smile drooping — everything was going to be okay, everything was going to be okay. The ... the nation would reaffirm Zelda as their Queen, this political madness would end, everything would be okay. No one honestly would vote for Hilda. Well, the Children of Hylia would but ... but they wouldn't win in this coup. They wouldn't.

Linkle felt her brown skin become lead, drowning her in a sea of fear. Her hands jittered and she clutched her compass chain, threading her hands through it. With her other hand she pried from her belt her Shekiah Warparty Knife. She twisted its appendages in and out, different sized wrenches, different screwdrivers - not the knives - but the other tools, flicking them back and forth to stimulate herself.

Finally her breath calmed, or at least it balanced out. They were now much closer now. She smiled, everything was okay. She glanced over, relaxing more as she spotted Mīfa. A young Zora, her skin was red and white, her head-fins and her head-tail draped gently on her shoulders. The fish-like girl was sleeping, her eyes shot and her chest rising softly, like water lapping against the sea at low tide.

Linkle felt her cheeks go maroon as her smile widened, looking at Mīfa sleep. Then the girl worried that her staring was creepy, and quickly turned away, shifting to look out the widow to the stars beyond. From her window she could spy the edge of the moon, it just coming into her view. The better view was the window at the front of the ship, but she was feeling a bit uncomfortable about looking so close to her crush.

The Steam Arrow suddenly began to shift, a series of bursts of steam spurted out of Linkle's side of the ship. The ship began to turn in space, twisting as the vented gas propelled them to turn on its side. They were landing.

Another blast of steam erupted, then a wave erupted from every side of the ship. Mīfa bolted awake, eyes wide, and impulsively Linkle grabbed her hand. The Zora flinched, then spotted Linkle's smile and vibrating eyes. The Zora whispered "thanks," before squeezing Linkle's hand hard. Linkle tried not to faint.

The ship by now was descending sideways, leveling out so that when it landed the windows and seats would be flat with the rocky terrain. There was no lander, because this was not a two way trip. There was not enough water to get them both ways, it would weight too much to carry, and the discovery of lunar ice came too late. They would spend their lives on the Moon, and die there too.

Lurch.

Mīfa squeezed hard at that moment, and Linkle stared ahead of herself in surprise. Mīfa had such ... powerful a grip for a archivist. Or were all archivists really tough, were they like library knights? Mīfa could lift so many boxes of boxes with that strength, but she probably also really gentle with the delicate parchment of ancient scrolls.

It occurred to Linkle while she was blushing a fierce maroon that she didn't really know the details of what being an archivist entailed. She should ask Mīfa. But she wouldn't right now, and instead she would just try not to pass out from Mīfa's strength.

They were ensnared in the Moon's gravity, weak as that pull was. Now the steam stopped venting behind them, it was all focusing on slowing their descent and stabilizing the fall.

Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

The craft shook as descent slowed, but Linkle had little view of it. She could just about see the light of a Rito outpost, and Lobsters hauling mined resources from the mine towards their city.

Hiss.

She laughed as a burst of steam disheveled her hood. She was wearing a small green jacket underneath her thick and blubber-y navy blue coat, and the hood rested on her head. As she giggled she caught Mīfa smiling at her. The Zora was rolling her eyes a bit, but her smile didn't seem angry or rude. Just ... happy.

Hiss.

Gradually metal and glass rectangular came into view, each with air locks and tubing linking them to other buildings. Little octopus-like mechanized drones scuttled about, their bodies controlled by Spirit Stones, one of the pair was built into their chassis, and the other stone was back in New Hyrule controlled by a scientist.

Thump.

They had landed.

Linkle stared at the base around them, it looked flat against the lunar landscape, made up of vaguely hemispheric chambers chained together with tubes, creating a system sort of like the piping of a city or like a tree's branches.

"Alright everyone," Captain Marlon announced over the intercom, "we have landed. No pressure, but our nation depends on us. The drones will begin emptying the cargo of supplies, but right we need to wait for the ship to be hooked up to the base before departing. Engineers, mechanics - grab your gear and any personal affects you need, you get first run if the base."

Linkle put her other hand on Mīfa's hand, who nodded and released her. She and the five others stood up, ready to go. She picked up her Slate, Fire Rod, Hookshot, and her special cargo bag, and put away her Sheikah Warparty Knife. She nodded, and walked down the ship towards the next compartments. She passed the rest of the crew, stimming with her compass as she walked. She climbed into one of the changing rooms, it sealed behind her, and she grabbed her soft mesh change of clothes, and began to slid it over her thick coat. Between her hooded tunic, her leggings, her installation coat and pants, and the mesh - it was a wonder she could move freely. She wore more than the rest, but she wasn't going to be nude.

She clasped the Dragon Scale mask over her mouth, and a bubble of liquid air flowed from it over her. She breathed, the bubble filling her lungs. Linkle was not particularly skilled at magic, she was better at tinkering and mending with stuff, but the magical device didn't rely on her own magic potential, it had a battery.

She pulled the lever on the small compartment, making a timer begin to click. Then in a blast it swung open, and she stepped outside.

Immediately she drifted in the exposed lunar atmosphere, her steps uneasy. Gravity was ... she had prepared for it but not well enough. She had never been coordinated but - whoa! She jump-skipped as she leapt out, hooking her gear to her belt. She stumbled, skidding about, nearly falling, before a large rocky hand grabbed her.

"Careful wee one," laughed Gorogroose over their suits' radio. He was a Goron, one of the rocky mountain people who lived mostly apart from New Hyrule society. They mined and crafted the metalwork of the nation, and occasionally helped maintain and improve the railroads of the country. She nodded at him, her smile beaming a lightless glow, as a Zora and three Sheikah descended from the ship as well. She nodded to them with equally excited grins, before hobbling over towards the hatch. She ran a bit too fast for the gravity, soared, and fell over.

Gorogroose picked her up, and she bowed, before scooting to give the others space. The group grabbed the ring around the hatch, and began to unscrew it, extending it into an inflatable tube. The tiny drones grabbed the tubing, and hauled it along the moon, while the people extended a metal floor. Gorogroose grabbed the nearest hatch on the base, and by himself he pulled it out too. Finally they both linked, and Linkle came forward, using her Fire Rod to help weld it shut. The ship wasn't moving again, it could be welded in.

"Okay Ma'am, we're about ready for you. Just got some checks to make..." he trailed off, staring behind them, "Linkle, check that out will yay, through I saw something moving out there, bigger than a drone dat's far sure."

She nodded, and leapt away, stumbling on the landing into a tumble, before jumping up again. Linkle traversed across the base, until she say a Rito girl.

The girl waved to her, before smoothing her feathers. Linkle couldn't see an oxygen tank or a mask, was this some new Rito tech? The girl in the meantime extended her hand, a smile on her face. Linkle grabbed it, nearly falling, before laughing a smile at the Rito. This was incredible, just look at the stuff Linkle was doing already! Making first contact! Kinda.

"Hello, I am M-E-D-L-I" the Rito signed, dipping her head, "Welcome to the Moon! Sorry for intruding, the other who are coming wanted to wait to welcome you, but I guess I was just a bit too excited." A large yellow beak peaked her face, red eyes illuminated her, brown hair, and unusually pale skin for a Rito. Perhaps she was biracial somehow?

"Hello, I am Linkle. Thank you for greeting us. How are you breathing?"

"Linkle!" The Rito said excitedly, "I have a message for you. Did you find the Treasures? Oh, sorry. I had to have some of my body rebuilt when I was a lot younger, it made me not require air."

Linkle stared, sure enough Medli had mechanisms built into her, it was subtle, barely noticeable, but she could see some signs, her eyes especially were mechanical, they looked like a Pictobox's lens if you looked close enough.

Linkle then gave a thumps-up, beaming, "I found them yeah!" Then she slowed. How ... how did this Rito girl know about them. That was a secret mission, only the Captain knew and whoever gave her her super secret mission. So how...?

"Awesome," Medli signed, "sorry, that's rude, you are stressed, no need to talk about it. Sorry for being creepy. I'll explain later, but right now I brought a gift for your colony." She held up a small capsule, with a red and blue swirled gem embedded in it. Linkle grasped it from her, feeling it. "Weld-O-S?" She asked, her heart beginning to pump quickly.

"Yep. It's altered to work on your radio wavelengths, it should be able to follow your messages and help weld and repair your base." Linkle clutched it to her chest, smiled, grabbed Medli's hand, and led her towards the Steam Arrow.

Chapter Two

"I want to show you something," Linkle signed, as she stood outside the Zora cabin. The barracks she was in was close to the the Zora pool, where fresh water mined from the ice was dispersed, becoming a small pond for the three Zora to dwell in. She had volunteered to help make sure there were no leaks, as the water might eat at the container. That would be her shifts her maintenance, the rest of her work would be her mission, at least until the farm got set up.

Originally the chamber was meant to be a barracks for a total of eleven crew members. But when the ice was discovered the Zora had lobbied to get three of their best and brightest aboard the Steam Arrow, along with some scores of frozen eggs. The Zora Monarchy was politically subordinate to the Royal Family, they were just one territory in New Hyrule. But Queen Zelda had been responsive, and had granted three members passage along with a variety of frozen eggs, in place of the eleven Hylians originally planned.

Queen Zelda was not perfect, but she had been working with her people in mind. She had outlawed the child labor of the past centuries, giving children a free education, whether them Hylians, Zora, or even the Bulblin tribes who got along New Hyrule. Well, the tribes that were conquered by New Hyrule, and in practice the Bulblin children were being punished for their traditions by many teachers, though it wasn't endorsed by Zelda. Still, it was clear Zelda was not perfect, or even wondrous. And there were rumors about her orders regarding the use of Guardians in other countries.

Still, she did good things too. She had helped decriminalize transgender people, now people like Linkle had some rights. Like, now if the girl was murdered her killer couldn't claim he was just shocked by her and killed in surprise. That had been a 'valid' defense and ... Linkle was happy to have lived under Queen Zelda. And Zelda had legalized inter-racial marriages, now Linkle's parents didn't need to hide their love, except when the Children of Hylia were mobbing. Oh ... oh gods above please.

Queen Zelda was in a scandal. A fake scandal, but it was all the radio talked about. About her carrying vital documents in a meeting with the Rito, risking valuable state secrets. The Guard had already confirmed that the action was nothing new, but the radio stations just ... and now the courts were debating between giving Hilda the throne. Hilda, the cousin who everyone knew was with the Children of Hylia, who wanted to build a wall blocking off the whole Great Sea and exiling all Zora who had Rito sympathies.

"What is it?" Mīfa asked, shaking her body off as she stood up.

"It's a long story," Linkle signed frantically, trying to focus on the excitement. Soon enough it over took her with a genuine joy, "but I was told by my guild to track down an artifact before the launch, to study. I found two, and was told to bring them, not cataloging them to senior engineers. And ... the things are old. And the Rito girl who greeted us first, she knew about them."

"What? I ... what do you need me for?"

"Well, you are really smart, you know a lot, and I-I like you. So if, if anyone could tell if they are some Rito artifact, you might?"

Linkle meant that genuinely.

"Okay," she nodded, then smiled with her sharp teeth. Linkle smiled back.

"Come on," Linkle led her away, stopping periodically to sign, "I ... the girl seemed genuinely exited to see us, and a bit nervous, looking for approval I think. I don't think she is bad. And it's not some conspiracy, I mean that would be ridiculous. I think it's a favor. Like her grandma had them, and she had helped New Hyrule."

"Ah, that makes sense," Mīfa grinned a big tooth smile, "so if there was a past Rito who helped New Hyrule, it should be in history. I'll check my Slate," she stopped over, picking it up, "I was going to say, Rito tech is ... hard to come by in New Hyrule, but if you think it might be from a warrior, then I should be able to find something."

The two women walked away, squeezing through the tight tubing that linked the base together. It was squish-able, the floor was hard and firm but the roof and sides were like a balloon, filled and given its shape with air. They passed through the kitchen, stepping into another tube, then Linkle's part of the barracks.

She leaned over the bed, it was a small compartment of a room, with a bed and built in drawers and lights. She slid open a drawer, pulling out a bag. She emptied it, exposing two golden bracelets, one with a small circle made of adjustable mechanisms, and one with a beetle on the outside.

"Strange they ... they aren't really in the style of the Rito," Mīfa grasped the first of them, "more like ... Hylian Royalty. Your idea of there being a link between this girl and New Hyrule could happen. Where did you find it?"

"In a cave," Linkle signed, "full of traps and Keese. I think it was a tomb, the objects were resting besides an urn. The Rito burn themselves when they die, right?"

"You know your stuff," Mīfa grinned, "yes, they do it in honor of their dragon god Valoo."

"V-A-L-O-O?"

"In Rito lore he was a lesser God compared to the Three Golden Goddesses, but he was their chosen protector. When Old Hyrule was flooded by the Three the freshwater Zora were poisoned and hunted by the new ocean predators. Some of the Zora adapted and fled, they became my ancestors. But others could only find refuge on the new islands, and though they were amphibious, they still needed water. They nearly died."

"But then Valoo descended onto Dragon Roost Island, and granted each Rito a scale. The scales were mutagenic, and helped the Zora evolve feathers, wings, and a terrestrial lifestyle. The new Rito in turn made a pact with him, serving him with Attendants and honoring him in their art and beliefs. And so it remained for centuries, until finally he faded away."

"Wow, do ... do you think it is true?" Linkle flapped her hands, almost in awe of the story of gods and covenants.

Rito laughed, "I don't know. But the Rito evolved in an incredibly rapid amount of time, we know that from their archives, and we know a dragon did live on Dragon Roost for centuries, and the Rito would climb to him to receive a scale as they reached adulthood."

"...Do you think Valoo died? Can ... can a god die?" Linkle signed, frantic in her signs. It was incredible, but scary too. If even a god could pass, it was so much to ponder.

"...Are you sure you want to go into this?" Ruth laughed, rubbing her head tail with her hand, looking away. Linkle was silent, then offered her hand. Mīfa grasped it, and then took a deep breath.

"The Rito believe he is not dead. They believe he just left for heaven, choosing champions in time of great stress like their fabled sage Maud Lee, and the greatest inventors of their Republic of the Great Sea. They still worship him, most of them they keep to his deal, though every Rito has an opinion on what his words meant. The Rito beliefs encourage debate and interpretation, for the most part at least. They are ... a bit less religiously fervent than some."

Linkle signed carefully, "If I ever make you uncomfortable, please let me know and I will stop it."

Mīfa blushed for the first time, her cheeks bursting into a magenta glow, "I-I didn't mean you. I ... I know some Hylians think the Goddess Hylia has made them in her image and appointed them the masters of the world but I ... you don't seem arrogant."

Linkle blushed too, signing, "I-I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable, I think Hylia loves all kind life, from her followers to the godless. She ... I think she passed away, died a long time ago for us. Because she ... I do not think would be okay with what her followers do. It's ... it's not what her word says."

"...Hold on," Mīfa changed the subject, making Linkle smile, "if these are Rito tech, they must have abilities. Clasp them on, maybe they will work."

"But you are a Zora, you would have the best chance. And if they are meant for Medli—"

"I thought you were curious," Mīfa grinned, "and I can't figure out what they are if I'm the one wearing them, I need a good view."

Linkle nodded, and clasped first one bracelet on, then the next. She looked at them, they shined. She signed, "should we do this outside? Where the camp can't be damage?"

"Right," Mīfa nodded.

A short while later both were dressed in their Space Mail, a score or two of yards away from the camp. Mīfa gave a thumbs-up, standing not too far away.

Breathing, Linkle held up her left arm, focusing. From what she had studied, they seemed to be designed to react to thoughts—"

Buzz-Zap.

The circle expanded and unfolded, before a curved four pronged star. A blue glow flowed around and in between the prongs, like a bubble of electricity.

"Oh my Naryu," Mīfa radioed her new friend over their suits' frequency, "I ... I've seen something like that. I can't place where, but I think it's a shield. It should be able to repeal any metal attack, whether gunpowder-powered, arrow, or blade. It couldn't protect you from like a Guardian's beam, but it could protect you from pretty much any soldier. It's old, they know have better tech, armor that does the same thing both for their ships or their people. But still this is ... this is incredible. And the other?"

Linkle wondered if it was a weapon, the offense to match the shield's defense. She aimed her right bracelet at a fairly far off rock, focusing. She could do this, she could do it - just imaging it impacting the rock, striking it like some energy weapon—

Suddenly the beetle blasted off of her bracelet, flying like a missile into the rock. And then suddenly there was a glow, before she was hurled after the beetle, a blue recoiling chain of electricity linking bracelet and beetle.

Linkle landed at the rock in a heap. Breathing she pulled herself upright, this ... this was a grappling hook of sort. Like her Hookshot only much more range, and powered by magnetism not gears.

She shot besides Mīfa, before being dragged in a burst of speed up to her. She stumbled from the sheer speed, and Mīfa helped her up.

"I swear I have heard about a matching magnetic grappling hook and a shield," she said, "its ... it's something. I'll check my Slate right now. Come with me, it'll take a bit for the info to load, so far away from New Hyrule, but I think I know where to look."

The two started to run, when Linkle's instincts took over. Grabbing Mīfa's hand, she fired her beetle, launching the two of them through the air. With a tap they tumbled into the air, laughter crackling over the radio.

Shortly Mīfa was pouring through her Slate, activating rune after rune. "Ah," she said suddenly, "the legend of Greensky. It's centuries old it's hard to read, looks like much of it is in Rito databases, and I don't have a Rite. But..."

"It looks like ... she was a Hylian from ... another country? The key word can mean history or country, it's a bit ambiguous, context means it's probably country maybe? Ugh, this dialect is kinda obscure, I think it's east coastal? Give me a second..."

"Okay she gained favor with the Rito because ... ugh the original parchment is faded, I think she saved a flying island? But the word island is weird, it might be a Rito experimental ship or it might have been one of the literal flying islands, but for saving it she received these two treasures, and the friendship of ... I can't make out that word, maybe the Rito - ugh we really need to keep better track of information, this is why for centuries the Great Sea forgot it was over the flooded ruins of Old Hyrule. Thank goodness the Hero of Winds rediscovered it, that led to a rebirth of knowledge."

"So it is a Hylian heroine's gifts? A Heroine?" Linkle almost flapped from her excitement, could this be meant for her? Was she some sort of destined hero? That was incredible, she would have to work really hard, being the first Hero on the Moons was not going to be easy, but she could do it.

"I think so, you think someone put her up to retrieve them? If she seemed so nervous and worried about your opinion, maybe she is being blackmailed to retrieve them, like whoever told you to retrieve them. Do you know who it was?"

Linkle pouted, and shook her head. Mīfa had a point, she supposed she would have to be careful. Still, just because there might be a conspiracy didn't mean she couldn't be a real Hero.

"...Does Captain Marlon know about all this?"

"She knows I had artifacts to study. But she did not know this story or their abilities. Sorry that was obvious wasn't it, since we just learned about it ourselves. We ... we should tell her too. She is in charge of the colony, she needs to know all our resources and potential obstacles, right?"

"We should," Mīfa nodded, and the two of the made their way back through the maze of tubes and chambers. Finally they found her in the Spirit Radio room, her head in her hands.

"Linkle, please tell me you have good news," Marlon said, not lifting her head. She was a large Hylian, built a bit like a temple - legs of marble pillars and eyes of gold. As she held her head her other hand pressed against the radio, shoving it away from her body.

"Um, we might know what the artifacts are?" Mīfa said, "there is a legend of a Hylian heroine who gained favor with the Rito, and was given treasures like the bracelets. We also found out at least some of their functions. Is ... is something wrong?"

"Mīfa, you are Zora royalty right?" she muttered.

"Um, distantly. I am of the royal line, but my mom is not very closely related to the Monarchy. I'm very far from the throne, barely linked at all. W-why? Has something happened back home!" Linkle squeezed Mīfa's hands, trying to comfort her.

"I ... I thought ... I am very disappointed in our country," the captain rubbed her face, "I ... I thought our people ... the courts, the nobles they ... I ... I'm very tired. I just ... I worry some of us were sent here to escape. Sergeant always had a soft spot for me since I was a cadet."

"What, what is happening?"

"Zelda was stripped of the throne this morning. Hilda is going to be crowned Queen of New Hyrule."

Linkle flopped over, Mīfa catching her. The Zora's hands grew cold, "has ... how are my people doing?"

"The Children of Hylia have been overjoyed," Marlon spat, "they have gotten ... a lot more bold. The Zora palace was splattered with pig's blood in a frenzy, two young Zora were assaulted in Castle Town when they walked too close to a victory celebration. That's the first of it too, it can only get worse."

"I ... oh," Mīfa was quiet, her hands clutching around Linkle. Linkle was limp, just unable to move. It ... it couldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible. It ... the leaders of New Hyrule couldn't ... look at Hilda. She refused to reject the Children of Hylia, refused to hold them accountable for their violence, and now ... now that their champion was going to be Queen, they would be emboldened. They would become bolder, more cruel, more violent.

Chapter Three

I leapt into the air, before expanding my wings. I swooped, gliding, before touching the ground and vaulting back into the air. On my back was not only a bag, but the city. New Dragon Roost illuminate behind me, the gunmetal and crimson city out of view save for its glow. I skipped and launched again, vaulting into the sky.

I tapped down, and then flow again, leaving a puff of dust behind me. I swept my wings behind me in strokes, I couldn't fly in this atmosphere, not enough air, but I could glide a bit.

Around my neck was a small Slate, designed to be capable of interfacing with New Hyrule tech, though it was clearly a RotGS invention. It bounced and jiggled on its cord, whacking lightly into me as I soared closer.

Up ahead I could see the glint of metal, I was getting closer to Lunark.

Phew.

A blast of energy blasted through the air, closer but not striking me. A warning shot? I swooped down, tapping my feet down onto the rock. A Guardian was up ahead, patrolling. It reminded me of an Octorok, the large mollusks of the Great Sea that hurled rocks at intruders. Though, this machine was a lot more dangerous. That beam could shred a Hylian to death twice over.

I began to dance.

As my feet tapped and leapt across the ground, the moon began to shake. With a twist and lurch rock erupted between me and the Guardian, forming a barrier.

Phew.

The wall of rock shook, but it did not break. Okay then. Flicking my fingers through my feathers as a nervous stim, I plucked up a Spirit Radio from my bag. It had taken a few days to dissect it into its current form, but I had succeeded.

"Hello, Lunark?"

Phew.

"This is Medli of New Dragon Roost. I was hoping to offer my aid to your colony?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm scared, and I need to do something."

"...You know magic?"

"I know some, mostly earthen magic. I can help you mine or build emergency shelters. I also know my way around my people's technology, but I am not sure how much use that will be to you. I will live outside of the colony in plain view, and you may look through my personal objects if you need to."

"...What do you want from us?"

"...Friendship might be nice?" She was quiet for a bit, I know the request was loaded, of course it was, but I was being honest.

"...We'll look you over. I am ordering the Guardian to let you pass."

"Thank you very much," I grinned with my voice, before putting the radio away. I momentarily checked my bags, before walking towards the colony.

Lunark seemed okay, but I tasted something in the air, an emptiness. People were not moving around much here, kicking up dusty or debris. They were just staying in. I hoped I could help.

I stepped forward, as two Hylians greeted me, holding out pickaxes. I bowed, before they grabbed me, squeezing on my body. I ... ugh, lot of touching. I felt shivers of unease, I nearly phased out of my body. But I held firm as they searched searched searched uh I wanted to vomit. But I didn't. Too many people counted on me.

Finally they stopped, before a Zora walked up, and gestured to my bag. I complied, letting her look through it. A spirit-radio, a charger, a few old scrolls, a couple of figures, an old drawing - nothing too interesting. The Zora radioed their fellows, and they let me in.

I walked into a large chamber, with a desk and a small bed. Towering above me was the Captain, her arms folded her eyes trying not to narrow.

"Your parents know you are here?" Captain Marlon asked, looking at my size. She was a wide woman, and she radiated heat like Dragon Roost Mountain itself, boiling to the invader but soothing to the people she took care of. I still laughed a little, and shook my head.

"They died ages ago," I explained, "My people know I am here though, I accept individual liability if this goes wrong. Sorry, it won't go wrong."

"Uh huh. So just to clarify, what do you want?"

"I am worried Lunark might have a hard time adapting. I do not mean to be rude, sorry if that sounded doubting, but I know the moon is a difficult place to colonize. I wanted to make sure all of your people survive and thrive."

"..." the Captain nodded slowly, "...I understand. I hope all of us, Zora, Goron, Sheikah, and Hylian can flourish here too, alongside you Rito, and I will lay my life on the line for that." She said that firmly, passionately, I wanted to believe her. So I did.

I smiled, "So, if you are okay with my help, what would you like me to do. I could strength your foundations, try to prevent any tremors, I could help excavate ore, maybe manipulate earth to haul ice to your base - what do you want?"

"...First familiarize yourself with the crew," she said at first, then suddenly she scowled, "no other reason you are here is there? Just helping everyone get along? Nothing to do with some old bracelets?"

"No those belong to Linkle," I laughed, then added softly, in case any of her guards were listening, still smiling, "they were a gift to New Hyrule. If Linkle has them, she had to have earned them. She is a good person, with the soul of a Heroine."

"...What are you saying?"

"Rely on her. I know some magic but I am better at the divine," I dropped my voice low, "I believe that Linkle is a reincarnation of someone with a divine nature, an ancient Heroine from a long forgotten history."

"...What?" Captain Marlon stared, unfolding her arms with surprise.

"There is a sense I got from seeing her, meeting her. Many of my people forgot her legend, but I think she might be a reincarnation of this champion. And since she found the Bracelets of her possible predecessor, I believe my faith is well placed."

"...Are you a priestess?"

"Something like that," I answered, looking calmly at her face as best I could, "I am a bit of a Sage."

"...You are aren't you?" the Captain murmured "is 'Medli' your real name?"

"It is the only name I ever had," I answered.

"...Go along and meet the crew. And don't talk to Linkle about this idea you have, okay? Too much pressure on her, she flusters easily. Anyone is gonna tell her, it should be me. Not gonna bar you from her, but don't pressure her, got it? She's still a kid, and she hasn't been doing well recently."

I curtseyed, dipping my head, "okay." I departed away, heading into the base. I hadn't planned to confront Linkle about being a reincarnation of Green, that could come later. Right now it was important that she and the others were okay.

I found my way to a Goron, blocking the way. I curtseyed to him, "hello sir Goron. I am sorry to intrude—"

"The Captain briefed me on yar arrival," he grabbed my hand in his large stone finges, and swung me around with an enthusiastic shake, "pleasure ta have ya! We need all the help we can get, but don't tell the Captain I said so, she got ta keep up a strong face, ya know?"

I nodded, "I will try to help as best I can. How are things going? You have been here about a week - has your food lasted? Do you need me to create fertile soil?"

"Ya can do that?" He smiled wide.

"Well I ... I have done it in the past, not with moon rock but I think I could do it. I hope. I could get it rich enough for grass to grow at least—"

"Hey, then our birds will have plenty to eat," he laughed, then frowned, "sorry, is bird rude? Haven't really meet a Rito before—"

"Birds are fine, we are okay with being called the Bird People," I laughed, "don't about that, there is enough to fear. But you are an engineer right?"

"Aye."

"Can I ask about what you think the base needs most right now?"

"Captain dan tell ya dat, right now ya supposed ta be socializing," he laughed, and I blushed.

"Right, sorry. Well um, you are Gorogroose right? Named for the train engineer?"

"Aye, he helped expand our mines, gave us some trains of our own. Good man, me pop really impressed with him for a squishy folk," he laughed, "you, your name Medli right? Where you get that name? Named for that ancient Sage Maud Lee?"

"Um, no," I blushed, rubbing my hands behind me. I ... was it wrong I felt a bit embarrassed about that name? I should just be happy people remember me at all, let alone remember I was a friend to the Hero of Winds.

"Ya seem a bit ashamed wee one. It ain't wrong to be named after a great Sage, trust me I know about being named for famous people," he grinned, and I grinned back, though a lot more nervously than he did.

"So um, how is everyone handling it?" I rubbed the back of my head. He nodded, and leaned in.

"Air tastes like its thick with smog, most of the squishy folks seem like they can hardly breathe these days. Everyone too scared ta talk about it, well, most of us. Hylians keep saying that everyone will get through this and all will be fine, that we've survived bad Royals before, sounds kinda hollow from them ya know?"

"I understand," I nodded, "you doing okay?"

"Eh, I'm used to being distant from politics, it don't really affect me much up here either. My brothers, them might be in a bit of a bigger rockslide, but we keep ta ourselves and we can handle any lynching them Children of Hylia try ta pull."

"...if you need anything, just ask." He paused at my words, something on his mind, before he simply shrugged, eyes closed.

"Eh, da Captain got me situated, ya can trust her ya know. She a good ma'am, ya need help she will answer."

"Thank you," I grinned, "Um, I hate to be rude, but what are ya guarding?"

"Dat obvious huh? Well I be watching out for two of the wee ones. The Zora room beyond here, and Ms. Mīfa be trying ta cheer up Ms. Linkle. The wee mechanic in a frantic slump, she hasn't been able to do much of recent, too disheartened."

"Do you think I could talk to her?" I asked.

"Ya, course ya could. Just, Captain says if you do, I gotta be there, ya know?"

I nodded, "okay. Did she tell you want I think about Linkle?"

"Aye. Don't go telling her though, not too share if the added pressure might make her fold, she barely doing her work as is. Lot of the squishy folk are running low, but she took it harder than some of the full blooded Sheikah."

I dipped my head, "I will try not to put any more pressure on her. But, what if it might give her confidence?"

"Not ta risk it ya see?" He was firm. So I nodded, and headed inside.

Chapter Four

Linkle was drifting in the water, just trying to feel. The water lapped into her, the cold lingered into her pores, but she just — it was a numbness. An overwhelming emptiness. She should be reacting, she should be doing things but ... energy was gone.

She couldn't move much. She wanted to, she wanted to study those bracelets, to figure how they worked. She wanted to do her jobs, to maintain this cabin and her other assignments, she needed to do all these things. She was chosen to do this job, people relied on her, thirty five people depended on her sharing the work.

But she just ... she felt like a leech had latched on to her back, and had drained the life out of her body, until her mind was a cage in a still rotting prison. And she hated it.

Mīfa was swimming near her, watching out for Linkle. The Zora had needed to ignore her own pain and fears, her own terror, and instead help keep Linkle moving. She felt like a parasite, clutching the life out of Mīfa. And that made the depression only grow.

"Hi."

Linkle flickered her eyes over, looking as the Rito girl approached alongside Gorogroose. She held her arms behind her back, her legs were bent in - she was making herself seem small and not threatening. Linkle wanted to wave, to swim towards her, but right now she felt tightly chained, unable to free herself.

Medli stood by the edge of the water, dipping her head. "Sorry to intrude, is this a bad time?"

"No," Mīfa said quickly, "come in. Um, are your implants waterproof?"

Splash.

"They are," Medli answered, wadding towards the two of them, "hey um, sorry for being weird that one time. I was just excited. Sorry, it was selfish. I want to make it up to you. I am ... just not sure how."

Linkle kept looking at her, as Medli treaded water. She was dressed in a blue dress with a red sash, and had a strange looking Slate around her next. Medli caught Linkle's eyes, looking around, and then grabbed the Slate. "Kind of the twin to your compass," she laughed, "us autistics and our love things."

Linkle tried to life her head, but it was too heavy. Instead she drifted her hand, and signed, "your Slate is very pretty."

"Thank you," Medli trended towards her, "your compass looks beautiful too, was it made in the style of the age of the Hero of Winds?"

Linkle nodded, her other hand flopping onto her chest, before stimming her fingers against the chain. Weaving her hand in and out of the chain, letting the metal links dance between her grip, she couldn't move much, but she could do that.

"You know your hair looks like your chain," Medli smiles, "all braided into interlinking loops. You must work hard to keep it that way."

"Mīfa did it," her hand managed to gesture, her head drooping.

"That's fine, I'm so glad you have someone you can rely on to help you like that," Medli's voice beamed with so much warmth Linkle wanted to close her eyes, "I know my friends saved my life countless times, I never felt like I could make it up to them. So all I can do is appreciate them and do what I can. Even if that isn't much that day."

Linkle looked back at her, as Medli hovered besides her, "anything I can do?" The depressed woman shook her head, this girl didn't even know her, she couldn't accept her help.

Medli drifted around, "Mīfa, is there something I can do for you?"

"No I ... I'll be okay," Mīfa sounded uneasy, and Linkle felt worse. Then suddenly she felt a beak poke into her chest, as her belly rumbled. Linkle bolted upright, blushing, and Medli stopped blowing on her chest.

"Sorry, impulses," Medli offered, but Linkle wasn't so sure.

"Hey, Linkle," the Rito said as the biracial woman joined her in treading in place, "Um, I want to make a deal with you. If that's okay. But I know a bit of my people's technology, I could help you analyze the bracelets. But I'm not an expert on New Hyrule technology. So maybe, we could work together to figure it out. Sometimes I could join you on your rounds, help get a feel for the way your technology works, and I could teach you what I know. We could experiment with that Weldos I gave you."

Linkle nodded, then signed, "I ... won't be much help. I feel like I'd use you."

"Don't worry," Medli said, "that's how I feel about me. Between the two of us, even with our limits, we should be able to get some things done. Sound good?"

Linkle stared at Medli, as memories began to dig out from her subconscious. The legend of Greensky could ... the idea that she was some sort of Heroine - Medli knew things. She ... knew about the Bracelets, she had given her the Weldos now that she thought of it, she might have choose Linkle, she ... she had things to do. She had to do things, she had a great destiny, she had to fulfill it. But this weight she just...

"What would a Heroine do now? What would Greensky do in this world?" That was the thought that Linkle mused in her hand, waiting for Medli to reply.

Medli blushed, then answered slowly, "I think, um, I think she would struggle, but she would try her best, even when she was overwhelmed. And you are doing that already."

"Cough," Gorogroose suddenly had a cough, might be all the moisture in the air messing with him. But usually the Goron was so invulnerable, why was he coughing?

Regardless Linkle nodded, and faked a smile. "I will do my best," she signed, still numb and tired, "I ... will keep fighting. I ... I will keep trying. I am ... I have a calling, I have ... I will need your help. Mīfa's help, sorry. But I ... will fight." She surprised herself with that thought, but it felt right, like it was obvious. She still quaked, her struggles wouldn't end now, but she ... with some pressure off Mīfa, and another friend helping, maybe ... she could do it. She would at least try to fight, as best she could. She ... she would do it. Hopefully.

Medli nodded, and blasted her with a big smile. Linkle tried to answer in kind, but this time the smile was too heavy, she couldn't make even a fake one. She blushed a bit at her failure, as her kicks slowed.

"Mīfa," Medli changed topics, "Um, something wrong?"

" No," Mīfa's face went from her normal red and Peach-tan to a bloody scarlet, "I just ... sorry for staring it's just ... I didn't know your people's robotics was so ... sorry for staring it is rude and classless I shouldn't—"

"It's fine," Medli dismissed, swimming to the edge of the synthetic pond, "I know my face is mechanical. Heck it's hard to find a part of me that isn't. It's all good."

Linkle stared up, now renewing her gaze at Medli. Her eyes were the most obvious mechanism, but there were glints on her fingers, her face — Linkle couldn't see where her body began and the implants ended. It was like all her exposed flesh was metal.

Medli pulled herself out of the water, continuing, ".Mīfa you are an archivist right? Looking up history and discoveries and all. I could get you access to some of the Rito databases if you want, let you hook up to the computer in New Dragon a Roost."

"Th-thank you," Mīfa managed, "I would love to have access, especially since my connection to New Hyrule is so slow up here. But if it's a strain on your people—"

"It's not," the Rito pledged.

"..,Mīfa are you sure you don't need anything?" Medli said in a hush, "even if it's just me visiting. I will have plenty of time to help, I don't need sleep."

"Everyone needs sleep."

"I don't," Medli laughed. Linkle looked at the strange Rito, for a second ... for a second she would have sworn that Medli's red eyes were glowing blue.

"Something wrong?"

Linkle's skin turned maroon, and she threw up her hands, waving them 'no.' Desperately she signed, "Um, so um, I should um, I should leave Mīfa alone now."

"It's no problem," Mīfa objected, but Linkle really wanted to get out of that room. Between the mystery girl who had secrets and an interest in Linkle, to everything and every part of Mīfa - Linkle was starting to feel her skin physically tingle it was, between the two of them and her depression it was ... it was—

"But if you want to go it's okay," Mīfa gave Linkle permission, "just don't feel like I need you to leave. We're alone together on this moon, we gotta look out for each other."

"I just wanted to touch base," Medli nodded, "I don't mean to rush anything—"

"No I ... I need to um, continue my rounds, look on the outside of this room, make sure nothing had cracked or been weathered. Also make sure the Heat Stones are still keeping the water fluid, not freezing. If it starts to freeze then the metal will crack as the water expands and the structure will be damaged. So I ... you can watch I guess."

"I will keep my distance," Medli bowed low.

To Mīfa Linkle said, "I ... I am not trying to be rude. Do you ... how about I ... we listen to music tonight? Something relaxing?"

"Sure. If ... if you want to. You don't owe me anything of course—"

"—I want to."

"I want to too."

"Awesome."

"Yay."

By now both their cheeks were as scarlet as Medli's eyes. Except when her eyes were blue of course, if they changed color but they were red now and gosh this room was hot it felt like Linkle was sucking on a Heat Stone - she hadn't done that of course except when she had been really tiny or when she was distracted—

Linkle suddenly felt Medli holding out had hand, offering for her to squeeze it. Linkle practically tackled the Rito grabbing Medli's hand, pulsating her grip as she tried to steady herself.

Finally Linkle calmed, bowed to Mīfa, and headed out to find her equipment for departing the corridors. Her hands were still a bit shaky, her mind felt very turbulent.

Then inspiration struck, and she stimmed her fingers against her compass, stringing them in rapid succession. Feeling the smooth links, the clattering of metal, the texture of the chain's hoops rubbing against her hand...

When Linkle was a kid, she had broken her grandmother's compass. She had been horrified, frozen in terror. She spent a day panicked. And then the next day she tried to fix it. She was ... not skilled then. Well she was skilled at raising Cucco, but not mechanics, not metal working and all.

It was ... a bad job, but she resealed it. It wasn't great, but her grandmother seemed happy that she had done her best to fix her mistake. And Linkle was happy to have helped too. So she spent more time trying to fix things, most of which weren't broken. And eventually she started figuring out how the things worked too.

Her grandmother gave her the compass on her next birthday, through the latch was stuck, she couldn't open it. Linkle felt bad she broke it but ... she couldn't take it. Grandmother had said it was her most prized possession, she couldn't.

But her grandmother wore her down, saying that Linkle could return it when she got it open. And ... she never got it open. And in the mean time it ... it was very nice to clink her hands against. And now, it was like a little memento of her grandmother, pulsing against her chest.

Linkle shuddered suddenly.

She had to fix this. Somehow she ... she couldn't just panic and huddle. She had to do something. She stimmed across the chain, slipping her fingers back and forth through her clutches, weaving in and out.

"You aren't alone," Medli said softly. Linkle stared at her and nodded, before leading her away.

Chapter Five

Linkle's hands shook as she sat in the meeting room of the New Hyrule colonists, her hands jittery. She could feel the world vibrate like an earthquake ripped through the universe, as Mīfa reached over and clutched her hand. The two of them held to each other, as Captain Marlon continued to speak.

"So, yesterday, on only day seven of the new regime, Queen Hilda hypocritically banned all Fishmen, Rito, Korok, Bokoblins, and even islander humans from traveling to New Hyrule. Hylians aren't even from New Hyrule, it's stolen Bulblin land, but you know what? Doesn't seem to matter. Also doesn't matter that it's completely illegal, not that it has stopped the Guard from enforcing it without pause. And again this was days after ordering troops to quell unrest in the political distant Fire Region."

Linkle was suddenly keenly aware that Medli was not in the room, and that Gorogroose seemed very small compared to his normal posture.

"So, about two hours ago, the Republic of the Great Sea released a statement rejecting Queen Hilda," the Captain explained, "announcing that they did not accept the new regime and they would accept any refugees fleeing from her."

"My old friends in the guard sent a coded message recently, said New Hyrule has also silently been invading Bulblin Camps in the last few days, tearing apart their lands to built new Spirit Tracks. It looks like the goal is to build new mines to fortify the Southern Oceanic border."

"Do they really think they could build a wall across New Hyrule's massive coast?" Mīfa said softly, clutching to Linkle, "it would cost billions of Rupees, and where would they get the labor."

"Right now some of the prisons have been 'volunteering' prisoners to labor in the mines and to build the encampments. This is day Eight of Queen Hilda's reign, and slavery is already being brought out in force."

"And most of it wilt be fa da rest of us!" Gorogroose pounded his fist down, smashing a table, "Even under Zelda most Hylians get less sentences, it charged at all. Hylian smashes up a warehouse, just some ill boy who loves his motha. Goron do it, he an uncontrolled beast!"

"Hey, calm down, no need for viole—" Gorogroose swerved around towards the Hylian, his eyes cold with wear and tear. Linkle could only nod. She ... she felt for him.

"We ... are in a difficult situation," Captain Marlon redirected the discussion, "New Hyrule is beginning to militarize, and word is RotGS is too. Which is bad enough. But the Rito have a real city on this planet, they are fortified and self sufficient. We are an outpost at best. If war breaks out—"

Linkle bolted up, signing, "w-we are not going to war with the Rito!"

"I know, we would not survive. And I ... I do not want my crew to perish because of some militant bigots pushing the button of one of the strongest nations on the World Below. I do not give a damn about being hanged for treason if I do my duty." She grew quiet, looking around, "we need to think what our options are if war is declared."

"N-neutrality," Mīfa managed. The Captain held out her hand to lower her volume, glancing around. She darted her eyes back and forth, quietly.

"Damn drones been following me everywhere today," she muttered, "willing to bet the old scientists aren't piloting them anymore. And I do not want this leaking to New Hyrule. Our country has no more rockets, but it has a Guardian here."

"They ... they won't kill us," a Hylian laughed.

"Yeah, we aren't traitors we ... you are suggesting we defect right?"

"I am suggesting we can fight a single Guardian better than we can all of New Dragon Roost," she muttered, "and honestly, I would rather be in cahoots with Bird People than following orders of those beasts. The new parliament Hilda is appointing, they are a new breed of hate. Most are openly Children of Hylia, unqualified, untrained monsters who would dismantle the roles they were assigned to.

"Yeah but we can't just rebel," a Hylian laughed. He was Spensal, an archivist who lauded himself as progressive, "like, we can't just throw up our own leadership and break New Hylian law. Then we are no better than Hilda."

"I don't think any of us are planning to wipe out minorities," Captain Marlon said coldly, "something that many of her new leadership openly suggests. One of her inner circle runs a Children of Hylia radio station that openly suggests that "New Hyrule doesn't need a Sheikah race," and questioning if "Zora and Rito are people." Unless we are planning to wipe out entire races, we are not as bad as the new regime."

"But then it's just semantics—"

"D-Dammit it how how naive are you?" Mīfa shouted with a slight quiver, "you cannot act like this is normal and we should just respect the Queen. If you allow these bigots to preach their hate unchallenged, they will just squeeze in. You can't treat them like they just have a different opinion! They want us dead!" Linkle leaned into her with relief. She would have shouted if she could have.

"We are gonna have a vote," Marlon said softly, "do we declare neutrality or not?"

"...We can't just secede."

"—Bad as them."

"—have to work inside the system."

"Maybe she will be reasonable—"

"—don't want to act violent like Mīfa and Gorogroose's display."

Linkle felt her skin burn, and she clutched Mīfa tight. She ... her hands won't move, they just flailed, she couldn't talk, couldn't shout them down. She ... she was non verbal but usually she could still ... still.

The Hylian members of the crew were going to doom Lunark. They ... they were just going to fold to the new monstrous leadership, they...

Linkle decided then and there she would only answer to being Sheikah. She didn't want to be Hylian, and it's not like being biracial ever helped her in life. And her Hylian heritage, it was cowardice and fear, not bravery.

She glanced towards Captain Marlon, who was standing stern, firm, but her foundation was quaking. Her hands fidgeted but she was not autistic like Linkle and Medli. She was nervous, and regret was on her face. Good...

...Linkle stepped out of the airlock, and the only sound was the hum of static. She stared up at the night sky, distant stars gleaming in speckled light.

"Hey," she nodded at Mīfa's voice, as the Zora bounced up to her. The Zora youth fell against Linkle, clutching her like a Keese clutching its perch. The two of them just held each other and breathed, trying to steady themselves.

Lunark would not take a stand.

Linkle turned to the edge of the base, and offered Mīfa her hand. The Zora girl took it, and Linkle fired the beetle from her bracelet. It latched scores of yards away, before hurling the two of them forward.

They stumbled on the landing, now a ways away from their fellow colonists. Linkle rolled over, laying crumpled up on the lunar surface.

Linkle didn't know where Medli was, Marlon had said she had needed to use her personal Spirit Radio, and she had needed to do it away from the colony, Linkle knew what she was doing, on important matters (as definitely by the Constitution of the RotGS) the Rito and their fellows, every citizen would debate and vote on a course of action. Hopefully their vote would go better.

She didn't know RotGS politics very well, there was trade between the two nations but even under Zelda it had been tightly regulated. She knew that there five races native to the Great Sea, including a race related to Hylians. She knew the Korok mostly were farmers and kept to themselves, but that might be a stereotype. She knew the Fishmen also kept to themselves, and politics were mostly decided by Rito, humans, and Bokoblins. She also knew the Rito were the most common race of the Great Sea.

But she didn't know the politics. And she didn't know the technology of the Great Sea. She knew they had had a city on the moon for decades, and outposts long before that. But what were their weapons like. Could ... could they survive New Hyrule?

She had been working with Medli to understand the Rito technology, they had disassembled and reassembled the Weldos multiple times, gone over the Chu Chu Batteries again and again, Linkle had some grasp of it now. And the entire setup, the way it operated - it was complex. They used living jelly batteries to power their tech and her implants, and had some sort of transmitters to send power. Linkle had been trying to replicate it with some extra supplies, but that ... that was unimportant now.

Linkle had realized she did not want her country to win the war. Eight days and all this already? The government felt destabilized even from the Moon, and all this abuse, this hate, she couldn't support it. And a war felt certain, she could hear cannons firing even from the moon.

She reached over, and Mīfa did the same. They held hands, as Mīfa and Linkle looked at the stars from their huddled shapes.

Zelda had ... she had done bad things. There were rumors she had used Guardians to rampage through Bulbin camps looking for terrorists. But she had ... she had held some restraint. Hilda had none, no self control.

Guardians invented by Zelda's scientists were now patrolling the streets of cities, radio stations were being threatened not to speak out, and Hylians kept towing the line. Marlon was their eyes to the outside world, and everything she knew was filtered through whatever people back in New Hyrule told her.

Marlon had ordered half the colonists to abandon their work on research to focus on finishing the farms. She made it clear that they should not expect supplies to be sent up, and they needed to be self sufficient before the food they brought dried up. So the research of the two Bracelets was put on hold so Linkle could focus on helping prepare for the Cucco to hatch and to make repairs. Simple.

Linkle shivered. She ... she felt like a coward, like she was hiding on the moon from her problems.

"I love you," Mīfa whispered.

Linkle squeezed her hand back tight, and the two of them clung to each other.

They laid there silent, holding each other's hands in a loose embrace. Every so often Mīfa would make a tight squeeze, then Linkle squeezed back. Their grips pulsed like twinkling stairs, periodically sending waves of sensation through their palms.

They squeezed and relaxed, along shouting to each other that they were still there, still holding the other' hands. The only sound was the humming of their Spirit Radio, frequncies crackling in their heads.

The sky above the moon was black as a Sheikah monk, broken up by eyes of light. The stars seemed to peer down at the two colonists, warmly like ... like ... like a zoologist seeing an endangered wild breed of Cucco flourishing.

"Heh. Heh heh heh."

"What's so funny?" Mīfa turned to look at Linkle, who was laughing. Linkle smiled through her laughs, her hands flapping wildly.

"Come ... come on, why ha, why are you laughing now?" Mīfa began to chuckle softly, her sides beginning to quake. The two just laughed and laughed, before rolling onto each other.

"Cucco. Cucco. Cucco Cucco Cucco," Linkle signed frantically, "I'm gonna call you my Sea Cucco," she snorted as she flapped her arms, still laughing at the random tangent.

"Sea Cucco? I ... I'm not a water fowl," Mīfa tried to act indignant, still laughing at Linkle's explosion.

"S-sorry Royal Sea Cucco," Linkle signed.

"And don't you forget it," Mīfa giggled, as tumbled before she and Linkle flopped back against the lunar surface, both staring back up in the sky. They laughed and laughed, burning their energy off.

"...sorry," Linkle signed, "not appropriate is it?"

"No. But I ... I needed a laugh," Mīfa signed back.

"...We are going to be alone up here," Mīfa signed. She was not speaking over the radio, just gesturing, her motions were not the most articulate.

"Alone together."

"...Gorogroose has our back, I know the other Zora agree with us, they talked to me about it after the vote, they were just intimidated by the ... Hylian comments. And the Sheikah, you saw how they voted, only one was against neutrality."

Linkle nodded, and signed, "Captain Marlon agrees with us too I think. But she is a bit too reliant of regulations."

"...What are we going to do?"

"Find Medli, ask her what she knows so we can plan," Linkle decided.

"She might be busy voting still, the whole population of the Great Sea had a chance to advocate and suggest courses of actions, it could take a while. But Gorogroose ... when we meet her he watched over us, and hung around when she was nearby. I think he was trying to stop her from doing something. We should ask him first."

Linkle gave her a look and she shook her head, "I think Medli does not intend you harm, but I think .Gorogroose knows something. At the least if he tells us, Medli will not have to."

Linkle thought it over, and then squeezed Mīfa's hand. It was worth checking out at least...

...Linkle and Mīfa walked back into their ship, and immediately they were bombarded with a sickly sound, like a dog dry heaving. There ... there were no dogs on the moon, or Wolfos for that matter. Though what would they howl to up here?

It was hard to focus, with the scratchy vibe Linkle felt. A think miasma seemed to oozed through the ear, like swimming in syrup. It was really hard to stay focused. Linkle felt a buzz in her heart - she needed to do something.

She ... she had fallen into a thick muddy swamp of depression and anxiety, and there was no easy way out of it. But she ... she had just had a good release, expelled her frustration, her fear, her worry - and she had Mīfa.

She would fight. She would ... she would find ways to fight. She ... she would ... she could reach out to Medli at least, that was the first step. She would be connected to the Republic of the Great Sea, she would have news from the World Below, at the least she who know more than the rest of them did about the Surface.

It was so strange, now that she thought of it, that a society like the Republic who focused so much on getting voices to all her citizens, keeping so much of her knowledge and information network separate from New Hyrule.

Point was, Medli was a link to the Surface. Linkle thought she was good, she seemed caring and nice, she trusted her to be honest with her news. And Medli seemed to care about Linkle. She would tell them what she could. And Linkle and Mīfa would pass their discoveries onto the rest of the colony, at the least they could do was keep each other informed.

That was the first step, knowledge. And Mīfa did not think Marlon's radio could be trusted long term, eventually, she would stop getting real news. And already their Slates had gotten a lot worse connection to the Sea of Satellites.

She and Mīfa held hands as they walked up to the Gorogroose. He was sleeping, sitting cross-legged and breathing slowly. He had fallen asleep among the main steam engines of Lunark, snoring among the hum of machinery. Steam vented around him, misting up his armored rocky body.

"Um, Gorogroose?" Mīfa asked, walking up to him, wincing. Linkle held her hand, which Mīfa clutched tight. The heat was a lot more than she was used to as a Zora.

"Hello wee ones," he sighed.

"...we want to do something," Mīfa said softly, "we want to reach out to Medli. As a Rito she has access to the World Below, and when Hilda cuts us off from the radio—"

"And ya need ta know if ya can trust her?"

"We think we can, but we aren't sure exactly everything about her, how she knew Linkle was sent to find Bracelets, that she brought them - or where the order Linkle's guild gave her came from." Linkle nodded aggressively, smiling. It was partly forced, but Mīfa was a glow that cheered her up, at the least she made Linkle fell not alone. And her voice had weight.

"I think the Captain wanted you to make sure she didn't say something around Linkle, like she didn't trust her not to speak her mind. And I ... I am not sure of Medli's motivation. I think she is good, but she is clearly hiding things, she has secret motives. I want to make sure I know what we would be getting caught up in working with her.

"Yeah, I know a bit of the wee birdie's interests," Gorogroose gestured for the two younger colonists to sit, "the Captain told me a bit of it, Medli admitted to it fully. Not sure I should be telling ya what she thinks, not my place, not my expertise."

"Is it worse than everything that's been happening?"

"Fair enough lass," Gorogroose rubbed the back of his head, "ya must understand, the Rito can be a bit strange, way they see the world and all."

"Medli be older than she looks. She no youth, she old," Gorogroose said in a low voice, "older than me and any of us colonists. She seen lot younger dan she is. And her body, I got a good look at her, it is not merely implants that are part of her body. So much of her is mechanical, the traces on her skin..."

"...What does that mean?"

"She knows a lot lass. And she thinks she has seen something of Linkle before."

Mīfa looked to Linkle, who shook her head. She had never seen Medli until she reached the moon. "Linkle had never seen her until the Steam Arrow landed here."

"Yeah, I know. Tell me, ya ever believe in the reincarnation of the Hero."

Linkle felt her heart flutter, and signed, "I ... I know the story. The Hero of Winds; the champion who killed the monstrous demigod Ganondorf, the same Hero who discovered the steamboat that kicked off the Era of Steam and who colonized New Hyrule. The friend of the Sage Maud ... Lee. Medli."

Gorogroose did not speak, only nodding, as Linkle continued, "he was reincarnated a hundred years after he discovered the steamboat, into the Hero of Steam; the Royal Engineer who saved the Princess Zelda of that era and killed the Demon King. And that was two hundred and seventeen years later."

"Do you think I am some sort of 'capital-h' Heroine?" Linkle asked, "a ... a reincarnation of Greensky, the Heroine who impressed the Rito—"

"I know nothing of prophecies and reincarnation," Gorogroose shook his large rocky head, "Ah got no opinion on it, save that it be an awful lot of pressure to be the next life of a champion of da world. I just know Medli believes ya are a reincarnation of someone I think she knew once, long time ago."

"Why did Marlon not want her to tell Linkle that?" Mīfa asked as Linkle flapped her hands like a fledgeling bird, excitement flowing through her. She ... she had potential, a destiny to fulfill. It was ... there was hope.

"Like I said, it a lot of pressure. Guessing she read wee Linkle wrong."

Linkle quickly turned to Mīfa, who squeezed her shoulder. As she clutched Mīfa, the Zora asked the Goron, "What does Medli expect Linkle to do?"

"Um well," he glanced at Linkle's ever growing smile. Then he grinned warily, and laid his hand on her head and rustled her hair.

"I think da birdie expects ya to save us."

Linkle's hand danced across her compass's chain, her very fingers tingling with goosebumps. She shivered as she smiled, one hand on her love thing, the other clinging to Mīfa. She ... she could do things. She could save New Hyrule...

Chapter Six

...Linkle flapped her hands inside her thick thermal clothes, as she and Mīfa walked through the lunar surface. Her face was covered by her Dragon Scale, letting her lungs breath even in the barren wastes of the moon.

Mīfa signed suddenly, "Linkle do ... I've been thinking about what the Captain said? Do ... do you think I'm ... visible?"

"...Yes I can see you."

"No I mean do you think me being gay was ... obvious?"

"Oh no I was scared you won't like me like that. I mean I am not very good at reading people and I thought you might be interested, but I wasn't sure if I was just projecting. Why?"

"If ... if my family knew but ... if they knew I was gay, and they suspected New Hyrule was going to descend into this ... evil, if they knew that I would be at risk would ... would that be why they sent me up here, far away from politics."

"Isn't that good that they care?"

"Well yes but ... if they knew, if I was so easy to see, did everyone know? Were the Children of Hylia in particular watching me, plotting to kill me?"

Linkle offered her hand, and Mīfa squeezed it tight. "They won't hurt you, and won't let them," the Heroine promised.

There was silence, and then Mīfa pointed. In the distance sat a structure made of rock, a tiny grey thing that looked like it had been stabbed out of the surface.

They headed towards it in great leaps and launches of the Beetle Bracelet, and gradually Linkle recognized it as a hut summoned from the lunar stone. Closer they came until they spotted Medli, sitting along in the hut, her hands clutching her knees, her fingers rubbing against her kneecaps over and over.

"Hello?" Linkle sighed as Medli looked up. Medli smiled and stood up, before sweeping her wing in greeting.

"Come in," she offered, and the two followed her inside.

It was very empty, just a Spirit Radio and a collection of metal parts and goop. Some sculptures also filled the space, include a rock bed and a stone handheld harp. Medli tapped her foot done, and immediate the floor shifted to form rock mats.

Mīfa took the lead, signing, "we know you recognize Linkle."

"I am sorry."

"Why?"

"It felt selfish, and I felt like a stalker running right up to you right as you arrived. I have no excuse."

"...Have you been lonely?" Linkle asked, offering a smile.

"...That doesn't matter, it was still rude and I am sorry."

"Did you know Valoo?"

"I was his Attendant," she signed, smiling with her eyes drifting in memories, her head glazing over a little.

"Is ... is he truly dead?"

"...Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

Medli sat cross-legged across from the two of them, and rubbed her forehead, "I still feel him. I know in my heart my God still lives, still watching over my people. And I ... I have a connection to the divine."

"Can you hear him? Has he told you anything?"

"Fifty years ago I dreamt of him and my predecessor Laruto," Medli signed, "they urged me to go to New Dragon Roost, to protect the Moon City. So I came to do my duty."

"Do you see the prior Attendant much?" Linkle asked.

"Well um, no. Well, kinda. She was not the Attendant before me, she was the prior Sage of Earth, a Zora from before my people evolved. She became a ghost, and has mostly faded from the world, but I can still see her sometimes."

"Are you a ghost?"

"Yes. I possess this body through a special one-way Spirit Stone."

"Will you fade?"

"No," she laughed, "I will not die. I am too busy anyway."

"What do you do now?"

"Well right now I am trying to keep my distance so you don't get in trouble. But I am still making rounds to strengthen your home's foundation, and going to help unearth the dirty ice below the moon's surface."

"But what did you do in New Dragon Roost?"

"Oh, well my power comes from music, dance. So I would entertain the Rito, Fishmen, humans, and Bokoblins of the colony."

"I thought the Korok loved music?"

"They do, but most of them are not comfortable being so far from the Great Sea in a metal Lobster or being launched from a Space Cannon. So until we can find a way to warp Korok here to the domes, most of them decline to come."

"So," she gestured to the harp, "I play music and dance, and sometimes use a bit of my powers to make clouds of dust dance like an illusion."

"Do the Rito know you are the Sage of Earth?"

"I think most in New Dragon Roost suspect, especially since no new Sage has been chosen, and many of my songs are ancient prayers."

"Prayers?"

"The Sage of Earth and the Sage of Wind are destined to empower the Master Sword; the divine sword the Hero of Winds used to kill Ganondorf. When I pray, I am strengthening the Master Sword."

"But, the Master Sword was lost," Mīfa signed frantically, "do ... so you know where it is? Is it on the moon?"

"The Master Sword was left sealed inside Ganondorf's skull, permanently wedged into his head and turning him into lifeless stone," Medli said softly, "the Rito used to make a pilgrimage there, though it was since lost."

"But if it's sheathed in rock, why keep empowering it?" Linkle offered.

"...I fear Ganondorf may still live inside his petrified form. From what I have seen in visions he is an incarnation of a forgotten God, older than Old Hyrule and the equal to Hylia. He has escaped his seal before too, the Hero of Winds was not the first Hero, just as the Hero reincarnated so does Ganondorf. I worry if I do not regularly empower the Master Sword, or if it is removed or even rusted till it snaps, his spirit will be unleashed."

"Could it have happened already?"

"...My people know other Timelines, other versions of the World Below. In some, Ganondorf possesses the Queen of Hyrule."

"Hilda?"

"It might give her too much credit. But it is possible. And my people fear it too."

"What will they do if war is declared?"

"Reduce New Hyrule to the Stone Age," Medli closed her eyes, her hand quaking. Linkle grasped it, and she squeezed him tight. In that moment he could swear he saw her synethic eyes wrinkle and age.

"Could ... could your people do that?" Mīfa asked frantically.

"The Great Sea is home to many sea monsters, some almost common. To ... to lower their numbers to not overwhelm the oceans we ... we developed a weapon, the EM Bomb. It uses a carefully harvested Chu Chu battery to send a shockwave of electricity and magnetism for fifty feet. I-i-i-it fries everything alive, cooks them. And everything mechanical becomes deformed."

"...Fifty feet?" Mīfa leaned into Linkle.

"They are monstrous. In our vote, some of us suggested to engineer bigger more destructive ones, ones th-th-that could level whole New Hyrulean cities."

"Who? Bokoblins?"

"What does it matter? It passed, and a motion doesn't pass without Rito support," she dug into Linkle's hand, trying to draw strength from her squeezing.

"They ... they would use these EM Bombs on people?"

"Yes." Linkle realized that if Medli's body could cry, she would be sobbing right now.

"Lunark too?"

"No I ... some of us managed to convince the RotGS that attacking Lunark would be monstrous, it was a scientist expedition, it was mostly civilians, it was helpless against normal bombs, kept alone EM Bombs. And thankfully, New Dragon Roost and our faction of the Sea of Satellites ruled we would not support any attack on your colony or your satellites."

"They can do that?"

"We are not in the Great Sea, we are not completely bound by its laws. We have some self governance, and the bulk of us voted that we would not harm you. I ... It is not enough. The Sea would still have to bomb New Hyrule."

"How will they use the Em Bombs, I know you can be specific with usage."

"If New Hyrule launches a state sponsored attack, whether or not it is an official declaration of war, then the Republic has decried it will drop EM Bombs. They ... we still only have the kind for facing Big Octos, but for the past hour or so my people have been designing newer versions, and I fear they may have some being built."

"Already?"

"My people are very quick. And I fear some designs were already dreamed up long ago, perhaps from when the Demon King briefly usurped the Zelda of that era."

"You were going to invade?"

"It has always been hard for me to tell what our goals were then. But I fear yes."

"You need to come with us back in Lunark right now," Linkle pulled Medli to her feet, "Marlon and the others need to know this right now!"

"You sure—" Mīfa began as Linkle pulled her upright too.

"Yes, they have to know what they are facing. Captain Marlon does not know."

"It won't be the best encouragement to secede."

"New Dragon Roost isn't really a part of the Republic of the Great Sea, neutrality and allying with them isn't seceding to the RotGS."

"It's a bit of a technicality—"

"Come on!" Linkle wrapped her arm around Mīfa, and launching into the air, soaring across the lunar surface. As they soared she glanced back, Medli had shot herself out of a rock catapult, and now was gliding above them.

Linkle couldn't explain it, but she knew she had to get back to Lunark right now. Because she just felt in her heart that if she did, everything would turn out okay. And the quicker she got there, the better things would be. She knew it.

Chapter Seven

The first thing Linkle spotted was the sweeping beam, reflected off into the moon's sky. It soared at an angle into the air, before dissipating from the sheer distance. Linkle froze as she saw the energetic beam, her blood running cold. It was ... it was the light of a Guardian's beam.

Linkle suddenly felt Mīfa squeezing her hand and shaking her shoulder. Linkle gasped wordlessly, Medli had flown ahead, gliding with all speed. The Heroine swallowed, and fired her beetle, latching onto Medli's leg. With a burst of magnetism Linkle and her girlfriend weee hurled after Medli, tumbling after her as she flew.

Finally the pair caught up, latching to Medli's leg. Linkle released, and from this high angle she fired, latching onto a roof of Lunark. Then with in a rush she and Mīfa were flung forward, tumbling into the expanse of Lunark.

As Linkle pulled herself up she saw a chunk of tan rock. She fell backwards, clutching at her mouth, trying not to gag. It was ... it was a patch of Goron hide.

Mīfa pulled on her, and Linkle stumbled upright. The Heroine shook her head and ran, racing towards were the beam emanated from. As they drew closer the beam sputtered and shook, sweeping about unevenly.

As they ran up Medli was dancing, drawing earth and rock from the lunar surface. The stone rose up like spikes, piercing into the gut of the Guardian. The Octorock like beast staggered on its many tentacles, aiming its beam at her. But she only danced, blocking the beam with a wall of rock. A rock cage surrounded the remotely controlled machine, cutting off its attacks from landing.

"Linkle, Mīfa," Medli signed in a brief pause, "you need to hurry. All your drones have turned on the camp, and are trying to kill your people, or at least the non Hylian ones. I can keep the Guardian busy, but Gorogroose was wounded reflecting the drone's attacks. I got here as he fell."

"What ... what can I do?"

"Find the Weldos I brought you, you should know how to program it. Have it target the drones, its laser is hot enough to weld metal, it could melt the drones still. As it does that protect your people. Mīfa, can you watch over Gorogroose?" She gestured beside her, were Gorogroose lay slumped over, his body ruptured by the beam of the Guardian. Mīfa nodded, and raced over to the Goron.

"Linkle, I trust you," Medli urged, summoning a spike through the Guardian's base. Linkle nodded, and ran towards the drone worship. That was where Linkle had left the Weldos, and no one really touched it but her.

As she ran a drone scuttled around her, chasing after her on its assortment of tentacles. It leapt from roof to roof, gaining on her. Linkle swallowed, and summoned her shield from her left bracelet.

As the drone leapt she twirled on her heel, letting the machine slam against her magnetic shield. it impacted the small collapsible shield, before being hurled off and smashed into a capsule. Linkle resumed running, as the drone collapsed.

Linkle dove into the airlock, stomping her feet as air hissed around her. Her hands jittered, before she began to run through the maze of tubes, she was close to the...

She stopped, spying a good seventeen Hylians all hiding in the workshop - Gorogroose and her workshop! She shook in rage, marching up to them, specifically to Spensal

"Ah Linkle I was wondering—" she punched him in the genitals, forcing him to slump over."

"Hey, we don't need more violence—"

"More!" She verbally shouted, making all of them flinch. Her hands shook, and she began to sign.

"People are dying out there, people - your colleagues and your fellow colonists are being slaughtered - and you are hiding in the shadows just letting them try to survive?" Her hands were a blur, signing.

"They ... they shouldn't have voted—"

"So they deserve to die?" She signed in a flurry of movement, "I saw a chunk of Gorogroose's skin fried off his body like a chipped geode. He was mutilated!"

"We ... we can't just rebel, if ... they will—"

"Turn on you?" Linkle signed slow and deliberate, "you know, Hylians love to talk about how progressive they are. 'Oh if I had been there in the time of the Hero of Steam, I would have helped him infiltrate the castle. I would have protested the enslavement of Bulblins. I would have hid my neighbors from Ganondorf. I would have been a good ally.' Will the time to be a good is now, and you all hide!"

"..."

"You would have allied with Ganondorf," Linkle signed, "you would have sided with him to save your own necks, no matter how many people had died. You think you are progressive allies, when push comes to shove you would only be collaborators."

She swerved on her heel, plucking up the Weldos. She pulled out her Sheikah Warparty knife, and began to screw and adjust it, tweaking it silently in the darkness.

Finally she released the canister, and it transformed, wings expanding from it, growing a vaguely avian head. It flew off, leaving Linkle and the collaborators alone.

"What is that gonna—"

Linkle walked away, building up speed to run through the passages of Lunark. She knew where she needed to head now.

She burst by the pool, the waters red. A Zora - Gluggle - stood in the water, her hands shaking and her body cut up. In her hands was a spyglass, dented and bent. In front of her was two drones, their bodies snapping.

Linkle immediately fired her beetle, smacking it between the drones. As the magnetize pulled her forward she swung her shield, crushing one of the drones under her defensive tool. She immediately turned and thrust her shield, knocking the machine across the water.

"Th-th-thank you Linkle," Gluggle cried, dropping her spyglass club, "I ... I thought that was it. Is ... is Mīfa okay?"

Linkle nodded and signed, "Medli is with her, and Medli is taking on the Guardian, she has access to divine magic. She can keep her safe."

" Are ... are you sure?"

"I love Mīfa, I would not leave her there if I thought she was unsafe. Are the eggs safe?"

"A cluster of them were ripped apart. One of two of those might live but they would be deformed. The other two clusters survived I ... I got there in time. But Puffafis..." she trailed off, and Linkle dove in the water besides her.

Linkle laid her hand against Gluggle's hand, squeezing her webbed fingers. The Zora squeezed back, her eyes welling.

Finally Linkle released, "I programmed the Weldos to fry the drones. It can fly and fire long range, it should be able to destroy the weaker drones, Medli believes so."

"But there are so many."

"I know," Linkle swallowed, then offered a soft smile, "but I ... I think we can win. I ... I have to believe it. Medli is powerful, I trust her."

Gluggle nodded, and dove underwater. She soon dragged up her spyglass, her hands quaking but ready to protect her race's future.

"...the Sheikah, do you know where they are?"

"They ... I think two of them were killed immediately with Puffafis. Captain Marlon rallied four of the Hylians and the other Sheikah to try to destroy the drones, while Gorogroose helped them escape the Guardian. I ... I feel like a coward—"

"You saved your people's future, that is not cowardice," Linkle promised, "can you handle being alone for a moment? I am going to try to find the twelve of them and lead them here."

"You ... you swear you will come back?"

"If I die I swear on the Golden Goddesses and Hylia that my ghost will guard you, Mīfa, and the eggs," Linkle pledged, crouching onto her knee.

Gluggle's eyes welled and she whispered, "hurry back." Linkle nodded, and began to run to an airlock.

As she dove out she hooked the roof with her beetle, hurling herself into the air. As she rose above the moon's surface, she spied them. Eight Sheikah and Hylians, fighting with an assortment of wrenches and hammers. Linkle hook the ground in front of them, and launched herself at them.

With a slam she hit the ground, smashing a drone with her shield. Immediately she fired her beetle, smashing it through the torso of a drone. It tugged her behind it, before she bashed another drone into shards.

"Linkle," a Sheikah said. Her name was Impa, she was built like a train, her legs like pumping pistons, "you made it back? Are you the one who sent the Weldos?"

She pointed in the sky, where the Weldos was firing a constant beam into a group of drones, shredding them in great sweeps.

Linkle nodded, "are ... are you—"

"We are the only ones standing besides those ------- cowards," Impa spat over the radio, "glad to know you are there for us Linkle, you have saved our lives."

Linkle smiled, then shook her head. Focus. "Gluggle needs your help. She's protecting her people's eggs but—"

"Blast it, how could I think she was hiding?" Impa cursed, "of course she was protecting the future— we are one our way."

"If you can spare someone, Gorogroose is down but I think he is alive. Mīfa is Guardian him. If you could help us haul him inside—"

"He lives? How I—" Impa clutched Linkle's wrists, "he ... how?"

"Medli arrived, she is using her magic to destroy the Guardian."

"Marlon told me as she fell," Impa said, "she's a Sage huh?"

Linkle nodded and Impa smiled, "glad to have you here, Heroine of the Moon. You have saved us all."

The Heroine blushed, her eyes wide, before Impa pointed to a Sheikah with a large monk tattoo under his space suit. "Oman, follow Linkle to Gorogroose. We are not leaving one of our to die. The rest of us are after Gluggle."

"Of course," he bowed, before Linkle led him across the rocky terrain. As they reach a capsule Linkle grabbed the monk's hand, and fired her beetle onto the top. The two of them launched into the air, before drifting down besides Mīfa.

"Linkle, I heard Impa over the radio," she said, embracing her, "the eggs are safe?" Linkle nodded firmly, while the monk crouched down over Gorogroose. He tore off bits of his own suit, using them to bandage the massive Goron.

"Help Medli," urged Mīfa, "the Guardian is mostly destroyed but..."

She trailed off, and Linkle looked after her eyes. In the sky was a massive mechanical ship, with two large pincers on its front. Linkle recognized it as a Lobster, one of the ships the Rito used to carry goods and supplies.

The Lobster's cargo hold opened, before twelve Rito swooped down, all dressed in heavily armored suits. The suits were orange, red, yellow, and with green wings, and looked like they were forged of metal. They slammed down, slicing the Guardians with their wings. The mechanical thing sliced up and broke from their cuts, as some of the Rito split off.

"Medli?" A Rito walked up, signing to the small Rito. She curtseyed low, as he kneeled.

"My name is Shetawk of the cargo ship Crustacean Wings. We crew spied the beams reflected into the sky. Are there still survivors?"

Linkle nodded and Medli added, "yes. Can you please help the Goron? I know you do not have medical supplies but—"

"I will help carry him aboard while my crew cleans up the rest of the job. Thank you Medli, you have done us proud."

"I barely did anything," she shook her head, pointing to Linkle, "this is the Heroine."

"Truly?" He walked to her, before crouching onto one knee, "thank you Heroine, you have saved many lives."

Linkle nodded as he continued, "New Dragon Roost has currently seceded from the RotGS in response to the EM Bombs being approved. We can help you as much as we can."

"Is the Great Sea upset?" Mīfa asked over the radio.

"They are a bit busy, New Hyrule has launched an attack, and they are moving to destroy their rivals," Shetawk tensed up, "I swear my crew will help you as much as we can."

Linkle nodded slowly and signed, "I am not in charge, I guess that would be Impa. But I ... we will need all the help we can get." As Shetawk nodded she saw a thump, as the Guardian collapsed dead.

Epilogue

"Still just static?" I asked. Linkle stood besides me, her hand squeezing Queen Mīfa. The pair of them had been busy try to keep New Skyloft afloat, we all had. Weldos were still sealing up torn open holes in the hulls of the base former called Lunark, and Rito and Bokoblins were still shipping ore.

The drones had been salvaged for parts, and two had been repaired, their Spirit Stones reconnected to some stones salvaged from their fellow machines remains.

Shetawk put down the long range Spirit Radio and nodded, "I just checked in with the rest of us again. Contact with New Dragon Roost is still easy enough, same with some of the outer satellites. But the bulk of the Sea, New Hyrule, every Lobster close below, and the Great Sea; there is nothing."

"It can't be just the EM Bombs can it?" I said softly.

The Captain rubbed his forehead, "the magnetic storm covering the planet is ... I don't know enough about the bombs none of us do. But ... to scale them so much — and the Great Sea is nowhere near New Hyrule, there is an ocean between."

"Do we ... do we know if any of them are alive?" Linkle signed.

"We do not know. The Satellites we still have contact with are sending us maps of the World Below, we can supply them with repairs and food indefinitely. From what we can see thick storm clouds have completely blanketed the World Below. We are completely cut off."

"A Dark World," whispered Mīfa.

"...I could projectile below," I whispered.

"I know," Shetawk said, "but not now. If your warning is true and an incarnation of Ganon is behind this Calamity, then we cannot risk you."

"I cannot die."

"But you can feel pain, whether it is grief or horror; we cannot ask of you to descend where our Lobsters would not. One day we will ask of you to descend, but it will be generations from now. And by then, our Lobsters may have enough defenses to reach the depths."

"...I could brave—"

Queen Mīfa shook her head, "we aren't ready. If ... if Ganon is awakened in this Dark World, we can't have him turning towards us. Not until we are ready."

"...I am sorry the Lesser Sea is saltwater," I offered my hand to Mīfa's shoulder. She accepted it, but she still smiled.

"My family was wise, sending eggs from so many families. There is still hope."

"They have grown so big," I grinned in turn. The tadpoles were still far smaller than a Zora, but they were beginning to grow their limbs, they were maturing, and Mīfa and Gluggle were good teachers. Linkle helped too, but she also have over work to do."

Linkle now wore a green hooded tunic when she was indoors, with a pair of red shorts underneath. Hair hair was short, save for a few braids that flowed besides her neck.

She also wore a pair of iron boots. After studying Rito tech for a few months, she had beautifully crafted these boots to release shockwaves of magnetism, letting her walk on any metal surface and to kick away meteorites.

Linkle saw my gaze and signed, "thank you for your teachings."

"Oh I just knew the basics, you made it your own," I shrugged, "and Impa is still okay with us sending teachers. I know some Hylians were wary."

"Screw those cowards," Linkle signed, "we need knowledge if we are to survive on the moon, not just supplies and repairs ... what are you calling your new nation?"

"I-it's mostly the old one," I swallowed, "There are some suggestions for names but nothing firm. I ... are you sure you don't think I should check?"

"Ganondorf would kill us easily. I know you fear for your people, especially the Korok, but please just wait."

I ... I feared so much had been lost. Maybe there would still be survivors below the storms, I prayed they were. But I ... I knew their lives would be hard, hard and filled with dangers, away from sun. A magnetic winter had descended over the world, and there was no way to rescue them.

"I worry 'the Dark World' as you call it will suffer a dark age, without stable sunlight and contact of the stars, and with all the destruction we know happened, I fear almost all knowledge will be lost," Shetawk whispered, "worse than after the Great Flood."

"Do you think they will remember the moon was colonized? That we still exist?"

"I would be surprised if they remembered the Golden Goddesses," Shetawk admitted.

I shuddered, and Linkle offered me her hand. I took it, and gave her a squeeze. "We are alive, there is still hope. Now the war is survival, enduring Nd resisting the cold. And I ... I know we can do it."

#legend of zelda #medli #linkle #femslash february #breath of the wild

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